Strings.

[Cinnabar]

A pleasant enough spring morning in Myrkentown, and one which brought a returning visitor to the Inquisitory. Former Governor Cinnabar Calomel, neatly-dressed for all that he looked to have been on the wrong end of a brawl, his face a mess of puffy bruises all the more livid when contrasted against pale skin and silver hair, grey eyes startling amid the solid crimson of burst vessels.

Perhaps the Governor had finally made the move to the Meetinghouse, perhaps not; either way, Calomel had an inkling that what he sought was more likely to be found here, amid desks and cabinets and researchers.

So, a brisk knock upon the door to herald an unannounced visit - more of an errand, really, a quick request and then he'd be out of their hair.

[Glenn]

Governor Burnie was not one to waste people, not one to throw away promise. Obviously, successes and failures mattered. Myrken Wood was a dangerous place. The slightest mistake could cause so much pain and misery. He had made it his life work to minimize such easy damage, but carelessness could still undo all. Still, he hadn't thrown away Mary.

That would have been a waste, and they couldn't afford to waste anything or anyone. What they were building here in Myrken took every hand on deck, every effort, and certainly every willing effort. Mary was still willing. She would get her second chance, her third chance, but not without a cost. Now she was opening the door for a few hours a day with the scant secretarial staff the Inquisitory had.

"Oh, Cinnabar!" Her face, which had been rather downtrodden for obvious reasons, lit up at him, the former governor, who she was on a FIRST name basis with, not bad for the daughter of farmers! "Governor Burnie," who she was NOT on a first name basis with, "now works out of the Meetinghouse. If you're here for him, he's not here. I'm TERRIBLY sorry."

[Cinnabar]

"Ah, Miss Mary Ford. Good morning." Only the barest hesitation to recall her name, his tone cheerful where his battered face really couldn't be just yet. A moment spent peering past her into the building, but his attention returned with that explanation and apology.

"Hm? Oh, no, that's not a problem at all. Actually it's probably for the best, he's a busy man. I was wondering if I might ask yourself or someone here for a little assistance with, hm." A discreet glance to the left, to the right, and a slightly lower voice, for fear of being overheard. "That errand the Governor asked me to run."

There was a Meaningful Look to go with it; obviously Mary knew the matter to which he was referring, no? Of course she did. She was, after all, an esteemed member of the Governor's Inquisitory, and he had every confidence that she would be able to help him in this matter.

"May I come in?"

[Glenn]

No question for the battered and bruised face. Mary did not, for a moment, think it caused by a simple barfight. Maybe once, or bandits, or something along those lines, but she had her mind expanded by all this knowledge around her. Oh, she may have been more blissful then, but she was far happier now. There was so much more to life when you just opened your eyes to it and cast superstition aside. She was enlightened, increasingly so, and well knew it. So, yes, she knew that something far worse than the simplest answer had caused Cinnabar's current physical state.

"Of course, Cinnabar." The smile was more than a little wide, and that was with her trying to restrain it as well. "Governor Burnie told us to provide you with whatever assistance you needed." And that was trust, was it not, a sign of it. This was the very hub of information here in Myrken, a center point for plans and plots, for research and files on just about everyone who was anyone. Yet Cinnabar Calomel was allowed in, just like that. A sworn trust. "Do come in." She'd step back to allow just that.

[Cinnabar]

"Thank you." Hm. Whatever assistance he needed, and wasn't that a tempting proposition. On the other hand he was quite sure that the details of whatever he asked for would also be noted, filed and analysed. So, best to exercise discretion.

Once inside the door he dispensed with the air of subterfuge, appearing to relax a touch. After all, was he not among friends?

"It's about Catch, obviously. I've been able to meet with him, and the conversation was quite interesting." No more details offered than that, just yet. "However he did mention an item of his - well, a collection of them, which he thinks he left at the house where he was lodging for a time. A pack bag with some bits and pieces in it, mainly." String. Small treasures.

"Do you know where I might find it? If it's not been disposed of, I mean."

[Glenn]

Whatever assistance he needed. Certainly. This was Cinnabar Calomel. Strangely enough, however, that dictate had come down only in the last week or so, not immediately after the former governor's return. It was recent enough and specific enough that Mary felt the need to be enthusiastic about it. Exercising discretion was always welcome here. It was one of Burnie's mantras to live by, though, perhaps, the young woman with such red hair was not the best at following it.

"Oh! Catch's things. There was a lot of talk about that. Even arguments with the Governor," which were fairly rare around these parts. "But he won in the end, which isn't surprising, because he always does. He decided that Catch's things should stay at the house. Other people thought we should use it as leverage or punishment, but Governor Burnie was adamant," and wasn't that word said with some pride, "that the things not be moved. He said that it would be an unnecessary betrayal. I think he'd rather Catch return to the illusion of everything being normal while we work things out instead of being out in the wilds doing who knows what or going to the Drow."

[Cinnabar]

Ah. A small, disappointed sigh.

"That makes things slightly awkward." Considering, for a time, gaze drifting absently around the room. "He expressed an interest in the pack specifically, and I said I'd look into the matter. A small favour, you see." A token, something to earn trust.

"Was the Governor adamant" A good word, enough that he's happy to use it again. "that the items not be moved at all, or just not used to enforce compliance? I imagine the Governor hopes Catch will return to reclaim it himself, but I'm not sure how likely that is to happen. He seems quite settled where he is, and to be honest I don't know that he's entirely safe in town. For others, I mean." Some quiet understatement here, given the lurid bruises that mottle his skin. Another idea occurs, however, while he's here.

"Have there been any further changes to the relic?" Tilting his chin towards where he'd last seen the statue in its cabinet.

[Glenn]

"Welllll," Now it was Mary's turn to sound a little conspiratorial; only with a very big breath did she draw out that first word, looking over her shoulder briefly and thinking. "He said it was a matter of trust, but I think he is trying to offer Catch a.." and here the young woman's burgeoning vocabulary fails her, bringing a bit of red to her cheeks. It was right on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't work it out. Really, enough discomfort to cause visible squirming. She had been doing so well. "When you have two things," she finally sputtered. "and you have the one and you show someone the other as a comparison or, how different it is from the one you currently have. It begins with d. When you divide something in two? It's a noun."

Distress began with d too and that was what she was showing before three deep breaths and the rest of Cinnabar's statement brought her back from the brink. "He was trying to show Catch that city life, that civilized life is different, that it has its charms. That it'd be a good step for him! I don't know if you can have it, Cinnabar. That's for the governor to decide. Maybe you should write him a quick letter updating him and asking. He'd probably let you have it."

Now, then, the relic, and that was what really brought her back. "They haven't let me see it for a while, but since YOU'RE here, I'm sure we can open it up and take a look!" The conspiratorial tone, once again.

[Cinnabar]

Patient as she struggled with vocabulary, then thoughtful as she described the word she was looking for. "Distinction?" Perhaps; or something like to distinguish between. And that prompted a slight frown, as he wasn't sure that was quite the word either. Still, her point was clear enough.

"I can see why the Governor'd want to do that, yes, I just don't know that it's likely to work. Catch doesn't seem to deal well with constraints imposed from the outside." A diplomatic way of putting it. "Whether prison bars or rules of civilised conduct. And there are a lot of the latter." Most of them fairly arbitrary to someone not raised with them, and others requiring a better understanding of people than Catch currently possessed.

"Mm, I might have to do that. Or I could let Catch know the pack's where he left it, and let him pick it up for himself. I think his main concern was that it hadn't been destroyed." That should be safe enough, assuming the Jacobs brothers were well out of the way.

The relic, though; he nodded agreeably at her suggestion, a courteous gesture for her to lead the way. "Mostly a matter of curiosity, I'll admit. Have there been any further ideas as to who she might be?"

[Glenn]

Enthusiasm mixed with just a bit of wary self-preservation. There was a head on Mary Ford's shoulders, and within it was a quick, if not relatively learned brain. It was quick enough to get her into this room even if her failings had knocked her down to being a glorified research assistant and go-for. Were she to fall any farther, however, it woulethd be right out that door she had entered for Cinnabar. "I think," She began, chewing just a little at her lip over-dramatically. "It might be best to send the Governor a note before moving forward with the pack. Just to be safe. OR," she brightened, for his sake as much as hers. "He might even have an idea to help!"

Changing the subject, somewhat, she started towards the newly reinforced chamber with the statue in it. "Governor Burnie is thinking of having it moved to the Constabulary's care, just in case. It would be easier to guard there too." A little shrug as she looked about. "I think he's mostly worried about the papers here, about the statue bursting into spontaneous flame or something like that. As for what people think," an incessant tapping of her finger upon her freckled chin as she pursed her lips. "Well, mainly, they think she's no one of real significance. A nature goddess, a figure out of mythology, that sort of thing. Without any further context, there's not much more we can.." The tapping got a bit more furious. She wouldn't be unable to place a word again. It was just about there and with an exasperated exhale, she spat it out. "DERIVE.." That was it. Derive. A firm nod, followed by a sheepish scratch at her neck. "Though they haven't told me everything recently. There might be a new theory by now. Still! Let's take a look." It had been a mad dance of backward walking and spinning about to make sure she didn't overturn a pile of papers or stack of books (or a fellow researcher) as she tried to keep as much attention on the silver-haired man as possible.

Still, no calamities and they were to the door, unlocking it with a key that she had somehow obtained in the midst of that demented ballet of a journey. As she turned the key, every head in the building turned as well.

[Cinnabar]

"You're right, a letter would probably be best. I'll be sure to mention your invaluable assistance." The girl was offered a wink at that, advice noted and heeded. Just to be safe. He followed her with unhurried steps across the room, hands behind his back, slipping into the quiet tone and restrained mannerisms of Governor Calomel like a familiar coat; careful to leave enough distance between them that there was little risk of colliding with her irregular pirouettes. .

"That's possibly a good plan, yes, they've some good solid cellars that would probably suit it. Though I'd've thought the damp would be more of a threat to the papers here." A slightly oblique reference, yes, but no doubt she'd heard of the statue's... properties. The blood. The copious blood.

"I'm not sure I'd agree, though. About the significance, I mean. It's not every carving that starts doing that sort of thing." Nor that lies hidden at the bottom of a lake with a mythical beast's horn across its lips. "I'm sure your colleagues will be able to enlighten us, if anything new has come to light." Yes you, scribe over there, with your sidelong look and unmoving pen.

Still, a nod in approval at her being able to recover the correct word eventually, and he stood patiently to one side as she unlocked the door. Perhaps to spare the other researchers from having to crane around him to peer into the room. His head tilted slightly, as the key rattled in the lock. Listening.

[catch]

Cool, cold intelligence would greet them, but not from the empty, expert-crafted eyes, or marble tongue. There is nothing different at all about the statue, and if one had not known it from it's resting-place in the Lake. Cobwebs. Webs and cobwebs stray and sprawl across the entirety of the locked cupboard, and there is a spider, resting on the face of the strange edifice. Such things are not unusual; locked cases were meant for bigger things. It is easy to explain away, save for the sheer size of the creature that squatted, gibbous, across the carving; it was enormous, gigantic, and black, and it is this intelligence that greets the once-Councillor and the former farm-girl, cobwebs fluttering about her, like a cloak, with the wind of the passing doors.

It is Catch's spider, a creature that, by rights, should have been with his belongings, along with the howling parrot, the toys, the dolls. Yet it is here, and it has made it's domain. It makes no effort to escape. On the contrary, it makes little effort to move at all, save to curl two legs, inquisitive, waving sensitive hairs to taste the air.

[Glenn]

Books. The very lifeblood of the Inquisitory. Sacred objects to be awed and revered, a means for knowledge to become immortal even as men turned to dust. Every researcher here held them with such regard.

Mary did as well, a tome of the One True Faith being the very thing she learned to read from as a young farmgirl. Of course as a farmgirl, she knew about spiders, welcomed them as helpful allies against other bugs.

Unfortunately, they weren't on a farm now and this was not a normal spider by any means. Unfortunately, there were so many large and potent books within her reach. Was she surprised? Alarmed? Of course, but she was a Myrken farmgirl by birth and had seen far worse.

One of those tomes (an easily wielded treatise on the effects of iron on fae) was snatched up even as the startled Mary let out an undignified shriek. It was positively elementary to guess what would come next. If not halted by an external presence, she would brutally and incessantly attempt to smash the spider with the book shouting out a barely recognizable mantra of "Diediediediediediediedie!"

[Cinnabar]

What had he expected? Some new horror of blood, perhaps, or the stone visage turned even more ferocious and bestial. Or perhaps nothing at all, a somewhat unnerving piece of sculpture in an empty room.

Whatever it was, he hadn't expected that. So there was a moment of silent incredulity at the swathes of ragged silk that drape the room, shortly followed by a sound from the back of his throat as he recognised the source of it all. Simultaneously repelled and fascinated - Where had it come from? How had it got in? How had it grown so huge? - before Mary's shrieking and frantic grabbing for something with heft drew him back to the moment. And the risk of her inadvertently toppling or smashing the statue in her frenzy.

"No no no." He was quick, yes, and strong with it, as was surely noted in the Inquisitory's files, and here was a demonstration for them. His hand flashed out to grab at her wrist as she raised that book to strike; if successful, his intent was to haul her back, away from the door, enough to let him dart forward and pull it firmly closed.

"Let's not."

[Glenn]

There were holes in Inquisitory's files upon Cinnabar, holes and more than that, a blacked out area with a red seal. Rare, but not as rare as one might thing. It indicated that no matter the curiosity or the need, so long as Burnie was active, no investigation was to be taken in the direction marked. In the former Governor's case, it meant that his origins, his strength, his invulnerability... none of these paths were to be pursued. Burnie KNEW. The others didn't need to. That was the end of it. It chafed, but considering the sheer amount of information processed in this building, it only chafed so much. There was always something else to do and some other secret to unravel.

So yes, Cinnabar's almost preternatural speed was known, but hardly explored. It meant for a few continued gasps from the crowd. Everything was happening so quickly. The door was open. The spider was seen. Mary's rash assault had begun, and as quickly as it had begun, it had stopped. She shot the silver-haired man a perturbed look. She had been hauled away. The door was closed. Her voice was stormy. "I take it... that is,... you weren't being chivalric at all, were you?" Unless it was for the spider, it seemed.