[Cairo] Swift and Sure

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane paused the group as the conversation veered toward confirming her suspicions. She took care only to look at her companions. Her sharpshooter eyes could see far and read people well, but they weren't magical. "If they are, we're plain stuck. If we suddenly turn roun n follow, easy t make us. If we don, good chance we waste days tryna find em gain."

As Ruarc's gaze fell onto the trio they had passed, he saw they had struck up a quiet conversation. It was almost immediately interrupted by a cafe waiter stepping into their path while looking over his shoulder. The short and mousy one collided and rebounded; the gangly one caught her. They all stopped and the waiter-- Ruarc would recognize it as the very man who had served their table-- began yelling at them in Arabic. There was a fresh coffee stain at the waist of his white shirt.

As the waiter pressed his way through the awkward gaggle of foreigners, they turned to watch him go and finally gave Ruarc the view he needed. The man was indeed portly, and his third eye was now visible, glaring after the waiter while his mundane features remained placid. After a few seconds he turned back to his companions and they faced him. The taller woman, her hair black and pinned up, easily exposed her third eye. A breeze pressed against Ruarc's back and coursed down the street, blowing back the short woman's dark brown hair; no eye.

[Straken]

“Bingo,” Ruarc muttered as he turned to his own companions. Trading out his glasses for a pair of square prescription sunglasses. Hiding his eye would allow him to keep the enchantment active without drawing attention. If they decided to follow it would be valuable for keeping on their trail and reveal the presence of illusions, but at the cost of putting a strain on Ruarc. Extended use would wear on him, but so would the over-exposure to ambient magic and unrelated magical third parties. “We’ve got a scent. Short one isn’t tri, but the other two are. How we proceeding? One of us trailing while the other two drop off baggage?”

[Kokuten]

While the other two coordinated a plan, and reflected on ways forward for their fortuitous situation, Eryl began to fidget. Her hands, shaking with a lack of surety, gently rose and tugged up her head-scarf, revealing her own top-eye. Unlike the others, Eryl’s top-eye was only hidden from the mundane. It was a quiet gesture, and nearly unnoticeable save for those that were looking for it.

That is, until she slammed her palms flat on the table.

“Fine!” shuddered Eryl’s shrill voice as she stood up. “If that’s all you can see, so be it.”

Tears forming in her eyes, she hastily pawed at her luggage bag, a rolling hard-case. She grumbled as she tugged it along, her face reddening from a sense of embarrassment that was half-real and half-forced. Then, she tried to stomp away, or she would have if her boot hadn’t caught on the curb. The triclops stumbled, and one of her possessions went clattering to the ground from her belt.

A bladed wand, one that was keenly similar to the kind a Librarian would use, one that Eryl had used until recent years.

Hastily, she snatched up the focus, and tucked it away. Without another word, she began to stamp down the sidewalk, opposite of the direction of their hotel, sniffling.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane almost blew Eryl's improve before it even began, instinctively reaching toward her as she lashed out. She lingered in that posture to give the appearance of hesitation and watched her friend storm off. She folded her arms across her chest. Outwardly she frowned, but inwardly she was smiling. Damn clever gal. "Ruarc," she said quietly. "Do you have a way to track her, or are we luggin our gear?"

The suspicious trio all turned at the new, loud voice, clearly oversensitive to the slightest possible provocation. They all wanted to disappear from the public eye. Thankfully for them, Eryl took everyone's attention with her outburst-- even theirs. All three were shocked when they saw the wand, and exchanged glances before following after her.

"Miss. Miss, excuse me. 'Afwan, sayiditi!" The pair of triclopsi and their companion hustled to catch up, the man leading once more. "I'm so sorry, young lady, but I couldn't help but notice..." He waved a hand as if trying to pull his next words from the air, then gave up and merely gestured to his forehead, where he briefly dropped his glamor to reveal his third eye. "Are you lost, sister? We happen to be on our way... home as well." He said home with special emphasis, as if hinting at a shared secret-- one they seemed to expect Eryl to also share.

[Kokuten]

Eryl’s heart was thumping like the thundering engine of a freight train. She was incredibly embarrassed at being so loud, and acting so brashly in front of Jane and Ruarc. The triclops was very sensitive to what Jane thought of her, and she had a deep respect for Ruarc’s opinion. Being the bait was not something she normally did, not since she was a green Witch training under Kir. Already she was doubting her own performance in the act.

Thankfully, this seemed to make her fear all the more convincing when she whipped around to face her three pursuers. A hand went up to snatch down her headscarf to cover her eye. Her three eyes darted between the three of them.

Her fingers began to clench at her chest, scooping in growing hand-fulls of her fatigues in her nervous hands.

“Where–...” Eryl’s wild eyes loomed in on the kind leader of the group, hissing a pained whisper, “-- Where is everyone… My… They… They’re gone. I’m the only one left—...”

Eryl wringed her hands, trying to hide the false, telling signs of being a Librarian more as the seconds ticked along, “I thought I was the only one left.”

[Straken]

“If I’d had a chance to give her a rune, I could’ve,” Ruarc muttered as he leaned close to Jane. Thinking quickly, he came up with an alternative that would spare him and the cowgirl needing to pack horse their entire inventory. “Pass me whatever you can do without. Take this coin and keep an eye on Eryl. I’ll catch up.”

Collecting the gear they figured they could spare, Ruarc split off and made his way down a side alley. After a couple turns the Irishman found a space with no bystanders. Taking a deep breath, Ruarc focused his will and sent it forth into the stone beneath his feet. A quick chant and a shift of will made the stone yawn open revealing a space below. Tucking the luggage into the space, he accompanied the bags with another tracking rune so he could get the gear back easily. After one more look around to make sure he wasn’t being watched Ruarc resealed the makeshift storage space.

Adjusting his compact golf bag, Ruarc clasped a metal bracelet onto his wrist before pulling out another metal coin. Powering the tracking rune paired with the one given to Jane, he made his way towards her location; taking caution to ensure he wouldn’t accidentally run into the Librarian trio.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane pocketed the coin with a nod. She passed the duffel to Ruarc, who held it while she withdrew her gear. She swept it onto her hips so swiftly it wouldn't have been much more than a band of leather and a gleam in the noon light to most eyes. Then she swept off down the sidewalk, like a properly arrogant American in her clashing wardrobe and brisk stride. All business.

At Eryl's fretting, the shorter, seemingly mundane woman was as a fussy mother, all hands and quiet reassurances. The taller woman closed in on her opposite side, as if to protect her, but said nothing. The man, ever ignorant in the ways of women, fumbled and defaulted to his position as guide. "Ah, yes, well... Fear not, young lady. Fear not. We'll be safe anon. Just a short ways." He gestured down the road, as if there was something to see other than the tourists and locals mingling around stores and cafes.

Then the women veered Eryl into a tall, narrow alley packed tight with vendor stalls on either side selling all manner of local excitements: sugary confections, large jars of local spice, and on and on. The people were fewer, but the close quarters gave it a much more claustrophobic sense than the airy throughfare they'd just departed. Jane broached a thicket of Egyptian teens just in time to see them turn and hurried forward to close some of the distance.

Focus. Deep breath. Her shoulders relaxed, and her steps lengthened and her pace slowed; same speed, but a more languid appearance. I aim with my eye. She massaged away her serious expression and replaced it with something more nonchalant. She wasn't a violent predator prowling, she was a tourist on a leisurely stroll to immerse herself in the local vibe. I shoot with my mind. Her worries about Eryl's gambit were tucked away into the logical part of her mind and filed away for later. I kill with my heart. There was no further change to her demeanor. Jane had been a killer for a long time, and killing pedocidal flunkies would be on par with killing demons for her: easy, without even a twitch in her conscience.

She turned the corner and entered the alleyway.

[Straken]

Winding through his own set of alleys, Ruarc moved with a determined gait while intermittently checking his heading by holding the coin partnered to Jane’s like a compass. These passages and roads had sprung up rather organically over many, many years and as a result caused him to wind this way and that. At long last he found his way to a larger alley filled with a bustling market. Dropping at once back into his casual tourist demeanor he cast about in the direction the coin had directed him. With a careful eye, and a general direction, he picked Jane out of the crowd; and judging by how she was moving she still had Eryl’s trail.

Doing his best to pass as casually as a six-and-some-change foot tall Northerner could through the crowd, Ruarc slowly caught up to the Texan. Sounding an unassuming yet lyrical whistle as he drew close to alert Jane of his presence, the Irishman drew up alongside her with a smile and a companionable hand placed between her shoulders as a show to anyone that may have been looking their way. They were two tourists that had just met back up. He didn’t try to draw her attention away from the targets however, and instead followed her gaze to pick out the three Librarians and Eryl.

[Kokuten]

As the women closed on her, Eryl almost crumpled. Lying came too easily to her, almost so easy that she saw the appeal beyond just now. She was not afraid of being caught, per se, it was that deception was so close to her nature that it threatened her sense of honor. Mental games were easy for Triclopse, and thoughtful abuses of trust were favorite exercise, whether benign or malign.

That, and she was in cutting distance of three probable blood mages. All it took was a drop and they could turn her into a spell that could toast the block. Feeling their hands on her made her shudder, but it played into her masque.

"Are we safe? Is it safe? Is Cairo safe?" sputtered Eryl in a hissing whisper, as she was led along.

One of her hands dipped into her fatigues, and she pressed it flat on her sternum. With a little concentration, extra magic flowed through the abjuration spells tattooed on her body. It would be enough to stop a swift blade to draw blood, but more importantly, Ruarc's Keeper eye would see her fields projecting more strongly from a distance.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

“Yes, yes, yes, child. Cairo is completely safe.” The male triclops reassured her with an exasperated tone. The mousy woman squeezed her arm and offered a silent and empathetic smile. “We’ll be cloistered soon,” The tall triclops offered. She then abruptly steered them down another even tighter alleyway comprised entirely of food vendors and small doors to small apartments. They stopped at the third vendor on the left. It sold only baclava and the man and vendor easily launched into small talk in Arabic: this was clearly a common stop.

Jane’s heart made to sprint as Eryl swung out of sight, but an iron will kept it corralled. With the triclopsi stopping, Jane and Ruarc had to make a decision. As the pair passed the gaggle of librarians, the American leaned toward her companion, head nearly touching his shoulder. “Hon, I wanna get me some o those.” She pointed to another vendor beyond their targets that was serving something doughy, fried, and covered in sugar. It reminded her of churros and the desire was not entirely fabricated.

The ruse seemed successful for the tall triclops, clearly the guardian of the group, gave them the same suspicious look she gave everyone else on the street.