What's the Catch?

[Cinnabar]

"What became of the orphan?" Details. Either a mark against the madman, or another witness to pursue. Though given Glenn's talent for provocation, was it any wonder Catch had lashed out? A singular talent to find exposed nerves, sore points, and to tweak them - rarely debilitating, but frequently enraging.

Copious notes, line upon line of loops and flourishes, neat for all that the pen moves swiftly across the page. Those who might seek the horn, those who might have the means to take it.

Ah, now they were coming to the heart of the matter - the core reason for Calomel's presence, for the whole twisted story being told. A glance back through his notes so far, a few moments for grey eyes to skim across words underlined, emphasised, fleeting thoughts pinned to the margins. With deliberate care he set his pen aside, closing the book as he leaned back in that comfortable chair. Calm, but intensely focused as he met the Governor's gaze, fingertips lightly tracing over the book's embossed cover.

"You're giving up." On recovering the horn, on returning it. On all of his careful plans. On Catch.

No judgement in that, no censure or disappointment. Faced with such a threat - erratic, powerful, dangerous, impulsive - and with his options exhausted, Calomel might well have made a similar decision. Cut his losses, declare the creature a menace and turn the attention of his office to its destruction. Risk no more innocent lives for the sake of misguided compassion.

Perhaps.

[Glenn]

"Hm? Orphan." Oh, yes, it. Useful urchin, actually. It's who Glenn learned about Faeryl and Catch from. Granted, Cat had probably repeated any number of horrible rumors about the governor to people as well. "The orphan was fine. Renea, Agnie, Aleksei and I were all there. We all rather leapt into action at the same time," though he was about half a step behind everyone else. Delegation, after all. If they had failed, he would have been there to hold the line.

"Catch himself told me not to give it back to him, that I couldn't. There's always.." Ah, a wry smile, a tiny thing. He'd give Cinnabar that much to go along with the words he was about to speak. A smile, not a frown. He met he eyes of the silver-haired man across from him. "a chance, when dealing with someone who had lost himself, a chance that he had been a monster. Powerful. Deadly. Unstoppable. I was willing to give him the benefit of that doubt before. Now, we've run out of time. I've given up on getting the horn, Cinnabar. I've not given up on Catch." For all that he could have used Cinnabar Calomel for, he had chosen this. "I want you.." And then the smallest of pauses. "Both of you. To find him, to speak with him, to try to help him. You're right, Cinn. You're absolutely right. There are things that I cannot fully understand for I have not experienced them. You have. I want you to do what you can for him, because I've done everything in my power."

Finally, though, that smile would fade. Still, his gaze would not falter. "You know the whole story, Cinnabar. If you do what YOU can, and you think it is not enough, that it CAN not be enough even with your understanding, then you come back to me, tell me, and I'll do the rest."

[Cinnabar]

There was a subtle shift in Cinnabar's posture as the Governor gave him his brief, explained the nature of the task ahead of him; an ebb of tension, resting more easily in his seat. Still focused, still thoughtful, but with one concern assuaged. A correction, however:

"I know as much as you do." Or as much as he's willing to share. As much as he deems relevant. "You're nothing if not thorough, but I'd hazard that's by no means the whole story." Quibbling, really. It was unlikely that anyone would ever manage to piece together the entire affair, and Burnie was probably near the limits of what could be known. But it did not do to consider one's understanding complete, or even sufficient.

"You're still looking for the horn?" Matters with Catch might be too far advanced for the horn to be a solution, but it was still something worth pursuing, if only to keep it from the wrong hands.

The book was open again, pen retrieved and charged with ink, plans already pouring from its tip onto the page.

"I'll need to know more about Catch himself - not just what he is, but who he is. From those who've had direct contact with him, for preference. You say..." Flicking back a couple of pages. "...Renea spent time with him in the gaol? I'll need to speak with her. And any other of his friends you might know. How best to react if he becomes agitated, signs to look for ahead of another outburst." Practical considerations, first of all.

"I'll need to know how to find him."

[Glenn]

"As I said, Cinnabar, months of false trails and dead ends, of thinking one thing until the next bit of knowledge fell into our fingers, of researching through storybooks and fables in order to find anything even slightly of use." Had he told him everything? No, but he had told him a clear and direct narrative which put forward the important information. He had told him more than enough. "It's my life's work to make sense of the chaos here." He wasn't truly offended though it seemed almost as if the former governor was attempting just that. "But yes, there are still details I do not know and holes. If Catch is an ancient creature, then his history could have a thousand useful moments hidden within it. I'll fully admit that part of why I want him restored is my own curiosity, but that's a part I've learned to sublimate given my duties. More practically, the events of his sundering are not fully clear. Did the Fat Man, the Butcher, cut off his horn? How does the wolf factor in? Why would he go on about an eye opening at the lake when it was the horn that was found there?"

More ABOUT Catch? Fine. Fingers ticked up. "Renea, though I don't think her people skills are particular strong. She'll give you the view as a den mother. Dulcie at the Dagger. The barmaids could shed light upon his behaviors in general, I imagine. He's mentioned a former squire from Malaroth's bunch, one Elliot Brown. According to Rhaena, who saw the boy recently, he's fallen in with the wrong crowd, but they were apparently friends. Zerdali had some affection for him, certainly. He spent some time at her gypsy camp. You can talk to the Jacobs' but I doubt you'd get much out of that, again, behaviors.There's a demoness, Pantha, but I'd rather you avoid her. Unavoidable, however, are Kacela and Zilliah, though I suggest not mentioning my name to either. For what it's worth, Kacela is of the woods. A hunter, a tracker," a werewolf, yes. "I imagine either she or Zilliah, through his power, could find him. She might be more receptive, again, so long as you don't mention me to her." There's history there after all.

"And yes, of course, I'm still looking for the horn. If you happen to talk to Zilliah, you can carefully inquire if he can sense it, though, as always, don't trust fairies." Ah the sort of advice one had to dole out in Myrken Wood.

[Cinnabar]

Yet more names, more leads to pursue. More questions. More notes scribed into that book, Cinnabar's pen moving for a few quiet moments after the Governor had finished speaking. A pause for the ink to dry before he snapped the book shut and looked up again.

"I shall do what I can, as far as I can. Speak to him, help him as best I am able." And that was that. Acceptance of the task offered, the challenge posed. Ideas were already forming, possible avenues of approach. Ultimately, though, it would depend on Catch himself.

"If you find the horn - or should whoever took it decide to make themselves known - what then?" Bearing in mind the warning given, the conflicting statement of need and denial. A madman cured or a horror unleashed? That was the risk to be weighed, and there would be a cost in blood if they erred.

"Also, do you have the statue here? I'd like to take a look, if I may." He was no student of sculpture, no scholar of ancient artworks, so a large part of his request was pure curiosity. But who knows? Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes might bring something new to light.

[Glenn]

Yes, it was best not to mention Glenn sometimes. It was a shame Aleksei hadn't quite realized that yet. Glenn always had known when not to mention Cinnabar. That's partially why the combination of Genny and Aleksei would have been so potent, but one worked with what one had to work with. That's all they could do in Myrken. So Cinnabar had an initial list and surely the people he spoke with would point him to others.

So it was a quick, even curt. "Thank you. As for the horn. Much depends on who took it and why." He would do whatever he had to in order to handle this before it escalated further. "Before I had intended to give it back to Catch, to make him whole and then to deal with the fallout one way or another. It seemed the most just solution. Now, even if you find yourself unable to help Catch, I do hope you come out of this with some insight on what would happen, on what I should do. In the end, I will not make this decision lightly." Cinnabar wanted to help. He wanted something to do. Some way to make amends. Apparently, the governor did not take THAT offer lightly either.

He had promised a look at the statue before, and there was no reason to withhold it. Burnie rose from his chair and started around the table towards the door to his office. "Come along then." The statue was positioned in the corner of the large room with all the desks. A closet had been built around it since some of the researchers found it unnerving to be stared at all day. If Cinnabar was right behind him, then Glenn would unlock and open the door, unveiling it. "I've tried poking it in the eye," he spoke idly. "No reaction."

[catch]

The statue. It was carved from the purest of marble, and yet was unlike marble, in that the texture of it, somehow, gave the feel of a sort of soapy, spongy texture, as if were a death-mask made from poured plaster than any stone known to man, from sea to mountain. The back of it was flat, giving the impression of a bas-relief rather than a proper, towering statue, a face to be trod upon, to put one's foot upon the lips and reverently mutter prayers of good fortune and riches. The neck was cut short, the jagged edges worn smooth through the passing of time, a part of some greater, more massive whole. It's beautiful features, that of a woman, had a suggestion of darkness at her eyes and lips, or in the crevasses carved by some long-ago artist, that would have been natural dirt if the surrounding, soapy stone were not a lewd suggestion of crusting red.

In that way, it was the same as Glenn, as the researchers, had seen it. In this way, it was now different. That suggestion of blood had become a reality, and those pupiless, sightless eyes stared at the men wept tears of blood, blood gathered long-ago on the steps of some ancient, Hyborean city of Gold. Those beautiful, perfect lips have parted, revealing the carved teeth of a monster, as if the artist had been invited to chisel out every piece of her, hidden or not, and now the statue howled silently, and bled silently, the viscous liquid splattering suggestively across the floor as the doors were opened wide.

[Cinnabar]

It was a careful balance between honesty and discretion. Hide one's motives, risk mistrust; declare one's associations, risk outright hostility. But he had enough experience of such things to know the importance of caution, a light touch. He'd find a way.

Following the Governor into the main office, he paused and cast a casual eye over Burnie's researchers while the cabinet was opened, the statue revealed.

It was hard to say what he'd been expecting. Some age-stained piece of stone, long immersed in lake-bottom silt and muck; perhaps with the remnants of weeds or suchlike growths still clinging to it; some remnant, some fragment of a forgotten monument to... whatever.

Blood and fangs, though; he was certain Glenn would have mentioned those, even in passing. He glanced sidelong to the Governor's features, checking the young man's response to the relic, before peering closer at those unseeing eyes and bared teeth. Cautiously he reached to touch a fingertip to one red-streaked cheek, if not prevented; to rub the liquid between finger and thumb, to scent it, seeking confirmation that it was as it appeared. At once intrigued and faintly repelled by that contrast between the graceful and the grotesque.

"Who is she, do you know?"

[Glenn]

The researchers all seemed to take a collective breath as Cinnabar exited. Few meetings with the Governor lasted quite that long. In that time an number of things had come up and everyone wanted to get the first word in with Glenn. Obviously, though, the opening of the closet seemed end such thoughts. There ere a few gasps, certainly, and a rush of screeching chairs as everyone jumped up to huddle around behind the two men.

Dramatic and unexpected. Almost reflexively, Glenn commented, staring not at the eyes but at the teeth. "Well, now I don't feel so bad about poking her in the eyes."

Everything seemed to freeze as Cinnabar reached in to touch the liquid. Behind Burnie, three or four researchers groaned outright at the silver-haired man's gathering of the liquid on his finger. Then again as he put it towards his face. What an unnecessary risk! Someone shouted from the mass. "Don't taste it!"

Glenn seemed to ignore both Cinnabar and the crowd. Only now would he look up to those eyes. "I haven't the slightest idea, to be honest." From behind them, another voice rang out, Mary's voice, this time. "If he's a unicorn, I think she's the maiden who caught him." To that the Governor just shrugged. It was as possible as anything else.

He smiled a little to the man beside him. "If you uncover any clues about that, do let us know."

[Cinnabar]

Once he'd satisfied himself that it was blood - the stickiness, the metallic scent of it - he patted down his pockets with his clean hand until he located a handkerchief on which to wipe his fingers. No tasting, no, but thank you for the warning. That may yet be an experiment for another, more desperate time.

For now he contented himself with a visual examination, leaning to observe those graven features from different angles, squinting more closely at the bestial fangs framed by delicate lips.

"The horn was across her mouth? As if placed, or fallen by accident?" Hard to say whether those stony lips had been wrought deliberately to hold the thing, or if its resting there was pure happenstance. "And the eyes were closed until it was removed. Has the stone been cleaned, or is this -" A gesture for an unbloodied portion of the statue's features "- as you found her?"

Curious. Curious and unsettling.

"I'll do what I can to see what Catch knows, though I don't think him seeing this will do him any good at all. In the meantime I'd recommend a stronger cabinet."

Just in case.

[Glenn]

Glenn considered tasting it, or perhaps having Maxwell do so. He knew what Catch's blood did, what effect it had upon the body and mind. He even had a very small sample of it left, preserved, just in case of any number of things. It would be interesting to know of this was the same blood. Still, too many witnesses, and really, as Governor he couldn't have the same sort of psychedelic experiences that he was allowed just a few months before. The weight of responsibility.

"Aleksei is the one who saw it most clearly, right at the end. It was even murky and covered for Tennant. You should talk to him anyway, but yes, that is what has been reported to me." It was frustrating that he hadn't been able to see it for himself. Even what Rhaena got through being linked to Tennant during his voyage was limited.

"A stronger cabinet, yes." Glenn nodded staring at the statue. "Well, good luck, Cinnabar." It was hard to focus more fully on the silver-haired man when this was before them. "If you need anything, resources, knowledge, someone's file," as a creature like Zilliah, for instance, certainly had a file, "just let me know."

[Cinnabar]

A brief return to the Governor's office for his hat and coat, but stopped to take one last look at the statue as he pulled on his coat.

"I'll make my own inquiries to start with, but may well be in touch later on." Hat settled firmly on his head, and that leather-bound book tucked away in his coat pocket. "Whatever the case, I'll let you know if anything of note comes to light. Governor. Ladies, gentlemen." A nod for Glenn and his research team, before he turned for the door. Things to do, people to track down.

"Be seeing you."