?For most people, it isn't.?
Right. And you are most people. Which is why you step out of the trees calm, cool, and collected and not, e.g., like someone with a guilty conscience. Why would you have a guilty conscience? Only guilty people have those.
You use your forefinger and thumb to blow a hailing whistle— it's good courtesy if you're not in shoulder-tap range. Eloise looks up, then behind her, towards you.
"Charlotte?" she signs, unruffled: she's been underwater long enough to speak unobstructed, but sign is easier at a distance. Hers is distinctive, with an extra flourish at the end of her words, like she's speaking in cursive. "Out for a walk?"
You hesitate. You don't like answering questions. Shouldn't your business be your own? What if she uses the information to assert dominance, later?
?Answer yes, you stupid bint.?
God, Richard's been all over the map today. Is he about to lay an egg? "Yes," you say, a beat too late. "What have you got there?"
Eloise is less sensitive to dominance concerns than you are. "Ah! Crime scene." She points downwards. "Seriously, right here. Check it out."
What is she pointed at? Ah. Skull fragments. You swallow, but trot forward at her request. She has hunched back over.
"Uh," you say out loud, once you're in the range of intelligibility. "A crime scene? Like— a murder— or—"
"Nah, lookit." Eloise's hands are rubber-gloved. She holds a fragment of something shiny. Something… silver. "Someone dropped a mirror."
"Oh," you say stiffly. Then: "Oh. A mirror?"
"Yeah, I came by and saw a glint in the weeds. It's a mirror, clearly, yeah? And it's all over here. Must've been, I don't know, a smuggler. Got spooked by something, dropped his cargo. You hear there's smugglers in the Fen? Whole nest of them. Must be real pissed the Wind Court's moved in, huh?"
You give this story about a twenty-percent chance of truthfulness. Eloise is known for the quantity, not quality, of her rumors. "Real pissed, yes. Incredibly pissed. Sorry, why is this a crime scene?"
She laughs. "Why not? It's more exciting. And it's not wrong."
Okay, it's not wrong. Mirrors were highly illegal on the surface, on account of being made of glass. Glass was highly illegal because it tended to make things so real they exploded, or something like that. (You'd only heard of it through dedicated eavesdropping via hollow wallspaces.) But it's still a wild exaggeration.
"Maybe if you're histrionic," you mutter. Eloise doesn't blink. "Fine," you say, louder. "What are you doing with it?"
She waves a gloved hand. "Picking up the shards, obviously. Can't just leave them; don't want to mutate the shrimp. That was a joke, by the way."
"You're very funny," you say.
"I am! Thanks!" Eloise seems pleased. She always seems vaguely pleased, like the cat that got the cream. "Hey, Charlotte, want to hear what I heard about you?"
>[A1] Ask for a mirror shard. Be polite. [Write-in why you want one?]
>[A2] Take one off the ground when Eloise isn't looking. [Roll.]
>[A3] Leave it be. You can always burgle one later, should it come to that.
>[A4] Write-in.
>[B1] You always want to hear what people say about you. Hopefully it's good. (It's hardly ever good.)
>[B2] You do want to hear something, but not about you. What has she heard about… [Write-in a rumor topic. Could be a person, could be an event, could be general goings-on, etc.]
>[B3] You don't want to hear anything at all, thanks.
What kind of question is that? You are perpetually, sweatily desperate to know what others say about you, so the answer is clearly "yes." Eloise knows full well it's yes. It's just a formality.
"Well," you say. "I don't like to gossip."
?And here I thought your lying couldn't get worse.?
Eloise's smile widens. "Well, hey, I don't like to gossip either! The two of us can not-gossip together, how's that? Ha. Actually, I wanted to tell you something completely factual. Heard first-hand! You like to hear facts, don't you, Little Miss Detective?"
"Well," you say doubtfully, "if it's for the case, I suppose I can... wait. Who said I was a detective?"
"Just some people. Are you sure you want the info? I dunno, kid, you don't sound super convinced!"
This has been happening more and more— her dragging on the pantomime at your expense. If you roll over now, though, she'll snicker at you. A grown woman, snickering. Awful! "I'm convinced. I'm convinced. Okay?"
There's no snickering, but there's still far too much mirth in her eyes. God, you can't stand Eloise. "Alright, alright, look. There's talk you've found something big. You went out two days ago, next thing you've got the boss and his second breathing down your neck— and word's in town you're blackballed. People notice these things."
Richard, wrapped snugly around your forearm, is conspicuously silent. You tug at your suddenly tight-fitting collar. "Well, that's— big how? What people?"
"Just some people. And valuable? Powerful?" She tilts her head. "I gossip! I don't deal in facts! Hee hee."
You bob your head, not listening. (Thank goodness.) You're attempting to contrive a way out of this subject of conversation. "Hey," you say, eyes alighting on the mirror shards, "were you planning on cleaning all this up? Is there any way I could grab one?"
"Huh?" Eloise looks down at her gloves, then up at you. "Charlotte, yes, I was cleaning all this up. No, you can't— why? For your detective work?"
"I never said I was a detective," you mutter. "And it'd be detectivess. I'm a lady."
"Detectivess! I love it! You want it for your detectivess work?"
"...No." Damnit! Who told her Madrigal hired you? "I just want it. And I never said I was a detectivess. I'm actually a noble— I'm going to be Queen, as soon as I surface. Did you know that? Queen? So you really better—"
"Ha! Queen! I love it! Sorry, Your Majesty, but glass is really dangerous. Highly restricted. All that stuff. What do you need it for? Going to off a royal rival?"
"No! I just..." God! Richard? Hello? Isn't he supposed to be feeding you the good lies? You can't tell her it's the potential remains of the man you proxy-murdered. "I want some. It's neat."
"Well, god, of course it's neat! It's too neat. It's break-universe neat, if you let it percolate, which is why I'm going to destroy the stuff." She plucks another couple shards out of the mud. "Citizen's duty, all that. So is it true?"
"What? I told you, I never said I was a det—"
"Not that! Did you find something big?"
"What?" you say, affecting a befuddled expression (it isn't too difficult, given the day so far). "No, I didn't find anything."
Eloise toys with her hoop earrings. "Really? I'm not saying I don't believe you—" She doesn't believe you. "—but there's some pretty strong circumstantial evidence, is all I'm saying. It's just a coincidence?"
Hello? Richard? Hello? "…Yes."
"Hmm." She turns away from you. "Must've gotten a bad source, then. Maybe I'll just check in with Madrigal, verify—"
Eye contact with handsign is vital. Turning away from someone: this conversation is over.
?Nice going.?
Nice going? You're not the one conveniently absent when you're actually necessary. This can't remotely be blamed on you.
You twitch as Richard spirals up your left arm. ?I was otherwise occupied. Now, look, you have to provide her something. She is not slipping you information out of the goodness of her heart. She'd have to
Eloise has busied herself with picking up shards. You pick at your sleeve.
?Eye for an eye. Tit for tat. Lex talionis. Quid pro quo. No such thing as a free lunch, Charlie, so pay your—?
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
God, you get the idea. He can go away again, please. "Eloise?" you say aloud.
She extracts another shard.
"I didn't find anything big. I said that. It's completely unrelated. There's just something you might—"
She turns back. A lock of hair has fallen over her face. "What's that?"
"I don't suppose you keep tabs on relationships? Around camp?"
A big grin. "Easier to list what I don't keep track of! Sure do."
As you thought: Eloise is a dangerous woman to cross. "Okay. Yes. You kept track of Madrigal and Ellery? Their whole stupid thing?"
"Ha! It was a stupid thing! They drove each other crazy, Charlotte. Bonkers. But, oh boy, the passion was off the charts. They'd get into a fight, she'd drag him off to the Fen, and the next thing we know—"
"STOP! Stop! Stop! Stop. Please stop. I am a—" You take a deep breath. A calming breath. "—I am a polite young lady, and I do not need to— I do not want to— cease with the details. They were in a relationship. Now they are not. Are we on the same page? Stop laughing."
She's snickering, exactly as predicted. Could Richard make your arms really strong, so you could more effectively wring her neck?
?Yes.?
Will he?
?No. But I like your thinking.?
He likes your thinking. Great. Eloise has ceased snickering, on your command, but has not clamped down on her visible amusement. "Thank you," you say. "I will assume we're on the same page. Now, Madrigal has requested that I— that I look into the circumstances of the dissolution of their relationship. Being as how she didn't see it coming, even a little."
"She asked you?"
"Yes! Of course she—"
"Because you told her you're a detectivess?"
"No! I mean, maybe! Stop focusing on me! Start focusing on Madrigal, who's all 'oh, Lottie, please find out why he broke up with me, I'm desperate'— scraping around on her hands and knees, practically. So I say yes, out of the overflowing goodness of my heart, and—"
"Your heart?"
"It's not…" You glance down at your chest. "I have a great heart! Better than yours! So that's the deal."
"That's the deal. 'Kay! Good to know. I'm surprised she's so surprised. I'm surprised she's so beat up about him. Nice guy, but I don't see it."
At last: you and Eloise on the exact same page. "I don't either! He's dirty!"
"Okay, not what I was going to say, but yeah. Don't get me wrong, he's not a dumb— he's smart. Real badly-educated, but damn smart. But trying to talk to him? I mean… listen, three years ago, he drops outta the sky, Madrigal drags him into camp, yeah? He walks straight into my tent, I try to go, you know, 'hi, I'm sorry you're stuck here'… I swear to god, he doesn't blink; he just walks straight out."
"No." Your good breeding quavers at the thought.
"Yes. So I think, well, he's probably in shock, right? So a day after, or a couple days, maybe, I go find him, and I'm all, you know, 'hi there'— and he stammers something about starting fires and leaves again. Just walks away."
Your jaw hangs open. "No!"
?It's for the best he's dead, sounds like.?
"I'm telling you, this happened. So that's my dominant impression of him, right there, and I have to say— he's not done a whole lot to shake that. The man can't stay on one topic to save his life, you know that? Even if you get him talking, it's ridiculous. I can't tell if his mouth moves faster than his brain, or his brain than his mouth, but—" Eloise pauses, brushes the hair from her face. "What I'm saying is, if it were me, I wouldn't screw him."
You wouldn't have put it like that, but... "I think that hardly needs to be said!"
"Or, ehh, I don't know. He has to be a good lay. That's the only explanation for it all. If it were me, I might screw him, but I wouldn't date him. Yeah?"
Scratch that: this conversation has gone to a strange and uncomfortable place. You busy yourself by squatting down to look at the mud. It's mucked up with bootprints, but no flechettes and no blood— just twinkling mirror shards.
"Would you?"
Eloise would notice if you picked a big one straight up, and you're not sure the tiny slivers would do you much good. "Would I what?"
"Screw him. Or date him, I guess."
You flush an unattractive crimson. "No!"
"Harsh! Why's that?"
He's dirty, he's illiterate, he talks too much. He's nowhere near your social standing. Your aunt would never approve. Nothing about him is attractive. He might be an automaton, or a demon, or on drugs, or not real, maybe. And, crucially, finally, his head was blown clean off, an hour or two ago, right where you're standing. Can't court that. You swallow. "Isn't he like… 30?"
Eloise has to think. "Oh, shit, you're actually a kid. It gets hard to tell. I think he's 33?"
"I'm 23!" Practically ancient.
"Well… I dunno. Could work out. But that plus everything… yeah, I gotcha." She chucks you on the shoulder. "Got any last shards?"
You've been working out a plan. You stand, placing your foot on two large pieces, and pour into the baggie Eloise has produced the handful of smaller ones you've collected. "Oh," you say, and pause, "hang on, I think I've stepped on one." You extricate one— and, while hunched over, slide the other into your sleeve.
It works beautifully: Richard's silence is proof enough of that fact.
?Remove it as soon as you can, Charlotte. You don't want your skin turning to paper.?
Ah, you jinxed it.
"I think that's most of it," Eloise says. "I'll take this back and neutralize it. Hey, you're not so bad, huh?"
She doesn't seem to mean this as an insult. "No?" you agree.
"Right on."
>[A1] Say, she seems to know things about glass. Will she tell you about it? (What will you tell her in return?)
>[A2] Say, how does she know things about glass? It's secret and illegal, more or less. (What will you tell her in return?)
>[A3] Say, was she collaborating with Ellery on something at any point? He claimed she was the "E" in his notes.
>[A4] Say, does she know anything about codes or the decoding thereof? You've got these papers back in your tent…
>[A5] You've got nothing else to say to Eloise.
>[A6] Write-in.
>[B1] Start on back to camp with Eloise.
>[B2] Keep her here. You have other things in mind for Tom's Cave.
>[B3] Write-in.
You fidget. "Wait a tick. Shouldn't Margo be back by now?"
Eloise glances towards the empty rocking chair. "...Maybe? She was gone when I got here. I assumed she stepped out to do... whatever she does."
"Mmm." You can't say Margo's been gone for over an hour— it'd tip your hand. You're smart enough to know that much. "I don't know, it's just odd. She's normally here all day, right?"
"Yeah, I think so." Eloise scratches under her chin. "What's the issue, though? Even if she comes back, she's not gonna do anything about us clearing a biohazard, even if it is in front of her weird cave. Relax! Her bark's worse than her bite."
Two shotgun blasts. You bite your lip. "I suppose so."
"That's the spirit! So, c'mon, we should get going. Unless you see any more? I don't."
"I don't… I'd rather stay. For a while." Eloise has put you on the back foot from the start of this. You have to gain some ground back somehow.
She raises her eyebrows. "Suit yourself, I guess."
Score. You stand a little straighter. "Right. Did you work with Ellery on something this Kitemaker?"
"Did I…" Eloise cocks her head. "Yes. Why?"
That wasn't a lie, then. "It's for the—" don't stammer!— "investigation."
Eloise's quizzical look increases.
"That Madrigal asked me to do…"
"Right! Right, gotcha. Your detectivess investigation. It's cute you're calling it that. I like it." Eloise waves a hand. "Carry on, carry on."
"It's not cute," you mutter.
?Pick your battles, Charlotte.?
Fine. "So, yes, the investigation. What was this collaboration about?"
"Oh, funny story." Eloise holds up her baggie of mirror shards. "Mirrors."
"Really!"
"Small world, right? Yeah, no, it was weird. He was convinced mirrors had some kind of special property. I kept telling him, you know, glass is glass, doesn't matter what kind of backing you put on it… but anyways, there was some joint experimentation there."
"What kind of results did you get?"
She smirks. "That's confidential."
>[1] What she means is: she wants reciprocation. Tell her something in exchange. [What?]
>[2] Try and find out without giving anything up. [Roll.]
>[3] That's fine, that's all you needed to know. Change the subject. [What?]
>[4] Write-in.
THE CHARACTERS OF DROWNED QUEST, AS DRAWN BY OTHER PEOPLE #5
@sennamatic, an absolutely stellar character artist! Maybe you wouldn't call something so simple "gorgeous," but I've been in love with this art since whenever I received it (2020?): it does such a phenomenal job of capturing her personality and features with so much economy. Also, that red background!! Talk about art goals.