Brenlin, Aide-de-Camp have been dismissed.

2 Rubino and Zaffria guards have been dismissed.

Jewel, a Maelstrom Forest Cat have been dismissed.

Juana, a harried Lady's Maid have been dismissed.

Marcen arrives, following Josephine.

Alright!!! So Mirk, Delilah and Miranda were in Miranda's room and discussing Brenlin. Brenlin, aide-de-camp of Miranda, is sitting on the couch, pale and listless, relatively uninterested in .. well.. anything. He normally is a chatty, lively sort who is very proud of his position as aide and takes pride in his work. He laughs easily and worships the ground Thea Malvici walks on. His love knows no boundaries for her! But that man's been gone since the attack upon him and now...

Mirk had suggested to Miranda that she contact Josephine. Delilah suggested they look at his hands and feet. For a few moments, Miranda sends and receives a few missives - To and From Thea, who was Brenlin's healer after the mercy initially took a look at him, then To and From Josephine. Here, she says, as they settle in to remove his boots to look at his feet, "Guildmistress Josephine is coming. She says to look for a lump or wound and can tell where it will be." She takes a moment to move all items of metal she can from the room, as requested.. She's a knight. There's a lot. But she keeps Kindling, her alaricite sword because, one would be an idiot.

Soon enough, Josephine arrives and the Halvshav, Shepherd, and Rubino have waited until her arrival before proceeding...


Mirk is seated, gloved hands clasped together in his lap, unarmed except for a dagger. Though, at the news that Josephine is coming, he takes a moment to tease off the charms that normally dangle from his beard, due to the stygian metal as a base, and cover the clasp on his cloak. Nothing left of the metal out in the open, out of deference to recent tragedies. Still, he's waiting patiently by the time she arrives, watching rather than interfere with their attempt at an examination.

No snow or the ache in her leg is going to keep the jeweler from making her way through the city to the Rubino's. She's not altogether unfamiliar with the place. Marcen is with her though he leaves her with that burning lantern when she knocks and is shown in. A little more fragile and frail looking these days, her hands grip cane and lantern quite hard. "Stygian out of the room." It's the first words out of her mouth. There'sa glance to Mirk and his pieces that he tucks away. "If you please. SO I can best listen for this little shit that's killing your boy."

Lilah is not a knight, not by a long shot, though she can wax on about southeastern chivalric traditions or the formation of half the knighthoods in the Compact if asked. No one has. Neither is she positioned casually, the lantern of Lagoma sitting on a table and its doors generally shut given the apparent pain it caused the gentleman. Sadism is neither part of her general disposition, hence limiting its everlasting glow through shuttered apertures and, if necessary, some length of cloth draped over it as though containing a particularly naughty parakeet or budgie who refuses to have his nap. Metal about her hasn't been removed, alas, though every last piece is iridescite to start with, if not good Oathlands steel or rubicund folded, refined, and reshaped by Dame Ida's gentle hands. She glances aside to Josephine as she enters, inclining her head in quiet greeting. "Is there anything else you need?" she asks quietly.

Miranda removes her wreath upon her head as her Lady's Maid, Juana, nods towards it. Then she steps out of the room with it. Miranda returns, her own vial of holy water is on the table nearby, perhaps just behind Delilah's lantern so as not to continue to cause Brenlin strife. But it's present. She looks to Josephine, ready to help in anyway. She does stand near Brenlin, her gaze moving over him and narrowing slightly. She loses focuses as she studies her ill aide.

Mirk raises an eyebrow at Josephine, but he does as requested, passing a pouch to his assistant, who departs from the room and does not return. "After," he stresses that first word carefully, "I'd like an explanation as to how stygian might interfere with this process. But for now, focus on the task before you." He sounds more curious than offended, at least.

Miranda checked perception + occult at difficulty 20, rolling 29 higher.

"because in that man, is a piece of stygian and I, Lord Mirk, can hear that sliver of it, clear as day as you hear me speaking." The lantern is set beside the other lantern, some of Josephine's reserve gone because of the situation at hand. "I didn't hear it in my daughter, because I was too focused on other things. But each piece of metal thus far involved with this malevolent arse of a spirit, has been Stygian. The bird in my forge, in my daughter. So it goes to stand that somewhere, in him, is a piece of Stygian and so long as there is no other piece of stygian in the room, I can figure out where in him, this little shit is hiding and then, then the rest of you can get to work and save him." And then she's approaching Brenlin, making to sit on the couch.

here, she softens. Brow crimping as she regards the man. "You poor boy." She murmurs. "Not if I can help it." And she closes her eyes then, and listens.Stygian after all, has a distinct sound and feel and she listens for it's song or it's words.

"Does that link the spirit to the stygian as the transmission material?" Delilah murmurs aside to Mirk, the better not to interrupt Josephine's efforts. The master metal-singer is not someone who needs her concentration broken. Pulling back her braids and tucking them under the neckline of her seasilk shirt, she rubs her fingertips together and pulls out a pale comb of exquisite make -- if somewhat antique, and elegant in its strange way. Carefully picking it out from the inner pocket of her coat, she traces the raised stamping and sets it in her hair with a strangely bleak reluctance briefly glimpsed on that closed expression.

Josephine checked perception at difficulty 10, rolling 3 higher.

Miranda narrows her eyes a bit, her honey-brown eyes are still unfocused, as if looking through Brenlin. She moves to Brenlin's left side and says to the others, "Here... tendrils of that faint blue glow, like at the house. Like I've seen on him here and there before." She gestures, indicating how they're spread out, "They start here." On his left side, and go this way. They look kind of like veins or.. like how our veins look." Her voice soft and she nods to Delilah.

"Or roots. Consistent with Mistress Demetria," Lilah adds in a strangely soft tone.

"I'm not sure," Mirk admits in a quiet aside, shaking his head slightly. He rises to his feet, now that the examination has begun, and stands behind and off to one side, his hands clasped in front of him. "So there is something inside of him. I don't dare attempt a rite to drive the spirit out of him, without understanding what the Stygian would do to him."

Miranda frowns and as she watches the tendrils, she looks up... Towards the ceiling. Her body turns, head following it to.. the hearth. She frowns and moves closer to the fireplace, but as there is a fire in it, doesn't get TOO close. "What the..?" Her eyes return to the ceiling, then, as if following the path of something, back to the chimney.

'They'll spread out from the silver." Josephine nods and tilts her head then looks angry. Though angry doesn't seem to very much cover it. Enraged really. "Cut and pull, get it all. It remains in him, it will kill him. Leave no tendril. He will scream and beg, do not stop. Do not let it take him." Miranda notes where she thinks is tarts and josephine nods, pointing to the hip. "There. It's hungry, it quarrels with itself. It's hungry but wants to keep him sick. It wants to take all of him, it... wants to spread and feed through ash." Ash. Josephine opens her eyes and looks to the fire. "send it away like little threads, links o f ash carried on the wind. Carried away to feed. That's what it's saying. It turned to ask when it left Demetria."

Delilah checked mana + occult at difficulty 30, rolling 47 higher.

Miranda frowns and says, "So we cut it out of him? Or should I cut the tendrils?" She gestures to the air above. A breath, "I want to do this right and do it once." She looks determined, if nothing else. She does note where Josephine points, her eyes still a bit unfocused, seeing what others may not.

"Do not cut the tendrils. We cut the tendrils. I gave in to her screams, we cut the tendrils. I thought that I could deal with what remained inside, that Juniper could. But what was remained, took her. Extract the stygian, carefully. It will fight you, it will wriggle and move and lash out. Go slow and carefuly. Or leave it within and you find another way but do not cut the tendrils." Josephine warns.

"Dip the knife in holy water," Mirk suggests to Miranda. "Perhaps it will help. I can't guarantee that, but..." He trails off, gesturing vaguely with one gloved hand. Then he steps forward. "It sounds like one of us will need to hold down. I can, if needed." He glances towards the ceiling, where Miranda had indicated before, frowning thoughtfully.

Brenlin stirs a little when the words 'cut' are repeated. It's a dull response, a slow pull away from those gathered. A shake of his head.

Miranda takes up her vial of holy water and pulls a dagger out of a sheathe in her boot. She dips her dagger into the water, leaving it there for a moment. "Yes, please, let's move him to the floor." A nod to Mirk, "Yes, if you would please. He's mine. I'll cut it out." She then pulls the dagger from the vial, "And I can see where it is, now that our Guildmistress has shown me." Her hands are gloved, with luck, it won't simply slip into her own fingers.

Miranda puts brilliant blue lizard skin gloves in A useful wide bag with gold trim and an amethyst clasp.

Miranda gets decoratively cuffed, steelsilk gloves from A useful wide bag with gold trim and an amethyst clasp.

Mirk checked perception + occult at difficulty 45, rolling 0 higher.

"The MArquessa dipped in holy water I believe, after quenching the blade in flame. Might I suggest running it through the flame from the lantern that I brought, and then doing such." Josephine doesn't assist in getting Brenlin down, but keeps listening to the metal. "A container for the sliver might be wise too. Duchess."

Mirk checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 10 higher.

For a good while yet, Lilah has remained quiet. She nods to Josephine's warning, but the tilt of her gaze lifts upwards into the vagaries of the room. Whether she happens to see the fireplace is something, but she arises from the seat, hands clasped in front of her. A slow, deliberate turn might be assessing the general security of the manor: windows, doors, fireplace, evidence of ingress or evidence. Well, she /is/ the Inquisitor in the room. That might well be worth something. "We have two lanterns of Lagoma, I surmise. If we expose him to the light it will hurt him. He will fight. Do we wish to secure him and do it?"

Brenlin is starting to rouse, his head lolls slightly before his eyes -- Were his eyes always that luminous shade of blue? -- focus on Josephine. His teeth are shown in what should be a smile, but is a far more meancing expression. His lips move but the voice that speaks is *not* his own. The accent is not Lycene, nor is it any familiar accent, though the closest it might be compared to is western Crownlands. Sort of. "I see you there, Mistress of Metals and baubles. How is your heart?" Brenlin's head is angled in a way that screams uncomfortable, the sneer on his face alien, an expression he has never used before. "Does it ache still? Your poor daughter died, crying Mommy Mommy!" Those two words are said in an eerie impersonation of Demetria's voice. "So you are here to make sure this boy dies too? Oh don't do that! He's so... TASTY!"

Josephine checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 1 lower.

Mirk stares upwards for another long moment, pale and almost ill, looking for a moment like he might be about to throw up. But the moment passes, and he draws a deep breath and lets it out slow, steadying himself. Of course, then Brenlin begins to speak, and his expression hardens. "Silence, Butcher. Your time in this world has passed long ago. Your interference now harms yourself as much as anyone else. One need only see what you've turned yourself into to know that." As he speaks, he moves to brace both hands against Brenlin, to hold the man down with bodily weight if needed.

Delilah checked intellect + occult at difficulty 25, rolling 20 higher.

The reaction from Josephine is unfortunately fairly visceral. Mirk tells it to silence and Josephine's hand comes out to do the same with a resounding *smack*. "Shut your mouth" Only, in truth, it's only really probably poor Brenlin that bears the brunt of that smack. "You'll not be taking him with you when you go to the Queen." Rage permeates Josephine's being. "I hope that she makes you suffer."

Miranda nods, moving back to the lantern. She opens the lantern enough to slide her blade through the flame. Turn it. Slide it back out so it's been coated on both sides. Then a dip back into her vial of holy water. Better safe than sorry, right? She will follow the advice of those who have done this before. She kneels down before Brenlin, making sure Mirk has a good hold on him. For her part, she ignores the Butcher and focuses on Brenlin's hip instead. A slight grimace as Josephine just smacks her aide... But then back to focusing on business. She says, "Brenlin, if you can hear me, I need you to trust me." Then her tone turns firm, "Fight him." Then she uses the dagger to slice a section of his trousers away, out of her way. Then, a slice over where Josephine pointed, where she sees the darker blue.

Mirk checked strength + brawl at difficulty 10, rolling 10 higher.

It is Brenlin's voice that screams, his body jerking, trying to evade the touch of the blade. Weakened as he is, Mirk is able to hold him down effectively, while Miranda's blade slices into her aide's flesh, "MIRANDA! STOP! Don't... don't! Please, please stop hurting me!" The blood that blooms from the sliced flesh is red and normal looking, though once the fabric is cut away, there, under his pale skin, it can be seen. A black sliver, the size of a large seed, maybe half an inch in length, a quarter inch in width. As the blade touches the skin, it enlarges further, little shoots errupting from one side, blue black and veiny.

Miranda checked composure at difficulty 20, rolling 8 higher.

Delilah takes a steel and silver gryphon hairpin with emerald eyes from Twilight messenger bag awash in stars.

Nothing like a leering voice popping forth from Brenlin's throat where it doesn't belong. The duchess narrows her eyes a fraction, though doesn't stop. "Mistress Josephine, stop! We need salt," Lilah abruptly states. "Pulling this straight from his body might disrupt the channel for the life energy, but it would kill him doing it." Delilah darts for her messenger bag back on the chair she left. Finding a glass or metal vial in the front pocket takes a moment. She has one with the residue of a lost perfume, and after uncorking it, she scours it with a cloth. "Something pulls on his life through a river, of sorts. We can halt the draw. The metal piece is the anchor in him. The Lagomans had a record on hand about how to protect him as you pull out that anchor." Her teeth set and she drops the vial on the table, headed for her bag. Out comes a sharp hairpin, wrought from silver, unlike the bloody halo forever gracing her hair. "My lord, have you come across Mistress Mara Elden before? Preparations are needed. We have a holy water, Lagoma's light. Someone fetch salt. The salt goes in the wound Mistress Josephine cuts. Invoke Lagoma and Mangata after the cut is made, and someone has to pour holy water into the incision. That might be enough to render the shard inert, but I cannot say how long for. Use the hairpin, here, you'll need it to dig out the seed. Purging it with Lagoma's fire will kill it."

An unholy glitter in those starstruck eyes turns upward, and she says to the fireplace, "Ruthas, the Queen sends her regards."

Miranda drops Vial of Holy Water of Mangata.

Josephine drops a camp lantern.

Mirk leans in, keeping Brenlin pinned using the weight of his body rather than the strength of his arms. "Spirits keep him and bring him strength," he murmurs, closing his eyes in a quiet prayer. He opens his eyes again, gaze drawn to the seed. He glances up at Delilah, and says, "My pouch. I have salt among my other shamanistic supplies. Take it, the rest is up to you." He indicates one of the pouches hanging from his belt with a tick of his head and a glance.

Josephine has no salt. She's not a cook. There might be a block of it back in the shop to use in jewelry but, no. But Mirk has some it would seem and as he indicates where, Josephine is limping to retrieve it for Delilah and Miranda.

Many might falter at hearing someone they care about burst into pleas, claiming to be hurt. But reality here is, it's a small cut. Even if it hurt, it's nothing compared to what the average soldier might endure simply through a training exercise, let alone battle. Heck, Miranda's been cut in half, bitten, this little cut? It's nothing. Her expression is not cold, but he might as well be mouthing his screams. She is focus on cutting open the skin enough to get around that seed. If it's half an inch, she is cutting three-quarters of an inch in length and half an inch in width. Her honey-brown orbs are still unfocused and yet, the cut is clean. She comments, distractedly, "Salt is on the table. As is my vial of holy water." Suddenly, salt and the vial are there. Miranda takes a pinch of salt, letting it fall into the wound. A pause, "In the name of Lagoma, Goddess of change, growth, cycles, purification and healing, and in the name of Mangata, goddess of the water we drink and air we breathe, let them guide my hand, let them spare Brenlin the fate of others so that he may live his life and fullfill the purpose they have for him." She pours the holy water into the wound next.

With Delilah's words, Brenlin's voice shifts to that other, older and more sinister timber, and the words he uses are... ungentlemanly. There are curses, hisses and threats herrangued to each and everyone present, and as Miranda begins with the salt, that voice shifts from anger to absolute rage. The flesh begins to smoke, those tender tendrils that had begun to spring from the seed withering at the touch of salt. The more she speaks, invoking Lagoma and Mangata, those curses turn to howls, Brenlin's body trying to buck and escape from his hold, to no avail. When the water follows, it bubbles, froths and smokes, the cold seed shrinking just a little, the surface of the Stygian pitting.

The lanterns burn with steady light. Delilah snakes a path wide around Brenlin, giving as much space as she can. Swiftness comes naturally to her, the indexing of books or clinging to icy precipices probably responsible for those adder-strike reflexes playing out. Nimble digits release the catch on the Flammas lantern she brought, the other from the camp lantern of Josephine's. The additional vial to transport it might not be necessary but she brings it over, the traces of a fougere scent within somehow cheery rather than grim. Let the man rage, she ignores it completely, singing a hymn to Lagoma under her breath.

Josephine continues to assist where she can, watching with trepidation, unsure if it will work.

"It's working," Mirk breathes, looking down at the seed. He presses down heavier, keeping Brenlin in place as well as he can, and adds his own voice to the prayers, praying to Mangata more than to Lagoma, to the gods rather than the spirits, for once.

The touch of silver to the wound releases a foul stench, old decay. But as the silver blade works under the skin, touching the seed, it seems to stick to the shining metal, and when it is drawn out, the stygian looks almost brittle. There is a final howl uttered as the seed it thrown into the lantern, and Brenlin, when they look to him, has pink returning to his skin. He is covered in sweat, and he is clearly sleepy, but his eyes, when he looks to Miranda are his own. "Thank you... Thank you, Lady Miranda."

Miranda hears the hymn in the background and sings along, softly. Her voice is well-practiced, easy on the ears, but not that of a bard, certainly, or a battlesinger! But it's nice. She lifts her blade out, tosses the sliver into the flame, then looks her aide over. Even hearing his voice clearly and noting the color returning. She takes a moment to look his body over.. then, only then, does she smile and move her blade away. "Guildmistress, I see nothing blue now. Is he clean to your 'eyes' as well?"

Delilah puts a steel and silver gryphon hairpin with emerald eyes in Twilight messenger bag awash in stars.

Not until the fire is fully spitting and consuming the seed does Delilah stop her watch on that lantern. The murmured prayer spins around on her tongue, transitioning the the Lady of Light and back again. It wouldn't do to be seen as the unfortunate Scholar with zero knowledge of the Faith! Not her. Especially not as Brenlin regains some colour to his complexion and stops bucking or stifling in pain. "Not yet time to visit the Queen, and tell her your story, Messire Brenlin." A weary sound escapes her lips. "So that tells us how to deal with the infected, though /finding/ any other victims. Do we know of anyone else troubled?"

Miranda's question is met with sadness. Josephine looking to the man who is pinking up. Lips press and the Old woman starts to rise. "He is clean." She murmurs. "You have no more need of me."

A flick of her steelsilk clad fingers and the dagger's pointed edge is aimed down. The blade is smoothly set into her boot sheath and then Miranda leans up to hug Brenlin. "Brenlin," she gives him a tight hug, kissing his cheek. "We will get this wound tidied up and then you will rest and heal up." She looks to the others, "Thank you, all of you." A look to Josephine, "I owe you a great debt, Guildmistress."

Once Brenlin speaks with his own voice, Mirk releases the man and rises to his feet. He nods his head to Josephine and says, "Thank you for your knowledge and your aid. Soon, we hope to visit a place the Butcher haunts, and perhaps confront him there. I will write you after, since your interest in his eventual fate is personal." Then he reaches into his pouch, producing a small offering of an herb, and ignites it using one of the lanterns, before allowing it to burn to ash in the palm of his hand. He's insulated from the heat by the fireweave his gloves are woven from. He whispers a quiet prayer of thanks to the spirits, as his offering burns, his eyes closing.

"You have my sincere regrets, guildmistress, this was not something I could present to you earlier." Sorrow bedims the voice and glitters around the frosted edges of her summer-sky eyes. Lilah cups her hands before the lantern, as though to banish a cold that can't possibility originate from the room so much as the heart. "However, I will ensure the knowledge of the rite is shared with the Physicians Guild, the Mercies of Lagoma, and the Scholars that it might not happen again."

"You owe me nothing Lady Rubino." Josephine states, a glance to Brenlin then to Mirk then finally Delilah. "Do not let her have died in vain. That, is all I ask." And then taking up her lantern, then cane, Josephine is easing off toward the door with that ever present limp.