Once Claire's initial fright had subsided, her hands shakily dropped from her mouth, eyes like a deer's caught in a headlight as her fingers dumbly raise and touch upon the golden lines that seemed to be burned into her flesh. It felt hot to the touch, yet the burn didn't feel on her skin. It felt more to her soul, like it'd been branded in some way. She traced the lines that made up the odd tattoo, seeing that it looked like some kind of skull-like emblem. Perhaps it was a remnant of Angor Rot's clan, but either way, it seemed to shine under her fingers. Even when she clamped her hand over her afflicted cheek, the parts of the lines still glowed through her fingers.
It wasn't fading.
"This.. this isn't happening." Weakly she reached towards her make up kit, trembling hands bringing the foundation closer to her. She gathered some of the powder on her brush, gaze unwilling to raise to her reflection for a moment, though the image was rooted in her mind. Claire forced herself to look up – letting out a startled breath at the bruise on her forehead, too. In such a short time she already accumulated so many bruises from crossing Angor. She was beginning to regret ever picking up the staff.
Clipping her fringe back with one of her fallen hair clips, she tended to the bruise first, minimizing the size of it into just a small blemish that could've been explained away by an inflamed pimple. Embarrassing, but it was better than saying 'Oh yeah, an ancient troll assassin headbutted me and then gave me some freaky tattoo without my consent.' With it concealed, she dabbed her cheek after renewing the powder, frowning as her suspicions were correct. It just simply glowed through the foundation, no matter how many layers she applied.
Wiping her cheek with a makeup wipe, she stored her kit away to her purse, pacing in her room. How can she make it go away? How did Jim make his mark go away? It had to disappear, right? Angor Rot wouldn't 'give' her such a thing only to incriminate the one ally (she used the term very loosely) he had. He might've been sadistic, but his infamy as a skilled hunter did not come from mere brutality. He called it his assurance.. though right now, she was feeling far less assured that he'd keep his bargain once she got the ring.
Something she hadn't even begun to plan for.
Her trepidation made her migraine cringe, and thus, so did she in turn. First things first: paracetamol to at least alleviate the headache of epic proportions. Then, call Jim, explain the situation, get the Trollhunters gang on board, get the Inferna Copula, which would make Angor Rot turn out to be a half decent troll when he wasn't browbeaten by Strickler, rescue her brother and have her only troubles be either or not she had to bail Mary out for fraternizing with the enemy school.
Right..? Right?
Baby steps, she thinks, nudging her room door open enough to peek through, before slipping out and towards the bathroom where their medicine was stored.
As Claire waited for the tablets to dissolve, swirling the fizzing glass of water-mixed medicine idly and staring at the disintegrating bits, her thoughts turned towards Jim. The problem with involving Jim was his noble heart. No doubt he'd go straight for Angor Rot once she revealed the past two days.. especially since they both shared a fate worse than death, now, if Blinky's whispered doom was anything to go by. They all knew none of them were ready to face an assassin of that calibre yet. Jim still needed the Triumbric stones if he ever had a chance of facing him.. and he only had one of three.
It was calculatingly clever that Angor had went to her. She glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, at the tattoo, as if it was directed to him. If she involved Jim, Angor still did what he was ordered to do, and killed the human Trollhunter due to the teen hero's brave heart mixed in with recklessness. He'd waited thus far to be free from the ring, no doubt he'll find another way if the plan with her didn't work out. If she failed, then not only would the revelation of her lying deal a blow to their gang and ultimately weaken them, but Jim would still have to face Angor. The only way out of such a fate is to succeed..
No matter what happened, Angor Rot won in some capacity.
Once her drink had stopped fizzing, she drained it, pulled a grimace at the bitter taste before cleaning the glass and storing it away. It wouldn't work straight away, but the knowledge that it would in a few moments offered a placebo assurance. Speaking of, the tattoo still hadn't faded away. What had Jim done to make it disappear.. ?
Rubbing her temples yet again, Claire knew that if she kept all of this information to herself, it'd eat her alive. She couldn't believe that she was going to confide in a changeling, but.. NotEnrique is the only one she could trust to keep his mouth shut, with a little bribery of a few dozen socks. She tiptoed towards her baby brother's room, slipping inside the room that was illuminated by a night light.
"NotEnrique," she whispered to the bundle in the cot, though he didn't stir. Sneaking closer, she poked the lump. It wiggled. "NotEnrique, wake up." She poked again. It wobbled even more threateningly. Claire rolled her eyes and yanked the covers back to be face to face with one mother of a stinkeye from the baby. One that promptly melted away to genuine fear.
"Holy shiitake mushrooms!" he proclaimed, wisely choosing to avoid swearing even if the teen had no doubt heard worse from television or friends pretending to be 'grown up'. His stubby paw of a hand reached forward, glamour of his baby's guise dropping to reveal his trollish form. A single claw touched the golden line, which made Claire wince a little. "What the hell have youse been up to, sista'?! Because, this – this is a joke right, it's just, makeup. Copying Jimmy. Please tell me you're just copying the Trollhunter."
The flat look on her face otherwise, though it was a touch concerned. She hadn't expected NotEnrique to actually display any sort of panic over the Sigil.
The aforementioned changeling dragged his hands down his stony face at the revelation, a mixed look of pity and horror mingling together unabashed. He didn't even try to play his tough guy act regarding this. "Oh jeez.. okay, sista', so uh, it really was nice knowing ya. Make sure to tell your mom in your will that I want your room."
"Not helpful, NotEnrique." Claire told, incensed. "What's the big fuss – "
"The big fuss!" he repeated incredulously, stubby paws gesticulating wildly as he tried to convey the gravity of the situation, crawling forward to grab her cheeks, tugging on them. She tried to swat his hands away to no avail. "The big FUSS is that you've got a huge magical bullseye for Rotface!" Claire didn't question how NotEnrique caught onto Toby's nickname. "Look, I know I don't seem to know much magical whoo-ha but I can tell ya that you're looking like a sitting duck. You didn't just interrupt the game between a hunter and prey, you BECAME part of it!"
So much for assurance, she thought sourly. "Well, is it going to go away? Because I can't exactly go to school with half my face looking like unfinished artwork from a metal band."
"You mean, like, forever? Nah, sista', that mark's permanently on you for as long as youse and Angor Rot lives. But it'll disappear in a few hours when it's not in use." the changeling informed, rocking in his crib hesitantly before adding; "Dunno why he marked you, though. Aint like you got the amulet, so what can he wield?"
" … the Shadowstaff."
They exchanged a look. " – Nah. No way. Cause, like, the staff is something physical, right?" the changeling reasoned, shrugging as the truth is he didn't really know if it applied or not. "An' the Daylight sword kinda, manifests from the amulet."
Whatever the case may be, it made Claire slump against the crib with her head in her hands. She didn't know the purpose behind why Angor marked her the same way as Jim, especially when she was, in essence, trying to help him. Even if it wasn't out of the kindness of her soul, but rather a mutually helpful decision. She barely even felt her not-baby brother pat her back, seemingly for once, look truly sympathetic to her plight.
"Eh.. besides. How did you manage to get the big guy's attention anyway?"
With a deep breath, Claire slowly began explaining everything, with strict emphasis that she didn't want the others to find out.
What seemed like a bad idea in the making, telling NotEnrique all about Angor Rot and what he requested of her, it turned out that the changeling was plenty empathetic about the situation she was in, and offered his discretion. Though she didn't know how much that would amount to once socks were on the line, it made her smile nonetheless that he was thoughtful enough to at least offer it. As for the task at hand, NotEnrique spent some time working with Strickler, which turned out to be helpful when plotting to steal the Inferna Copula. She ran through each of her plans through him to see how they would stand up.
"Okay," she narrated, mind's eye to the events of her plan. With decent memory, it was easy to picture Strickler's office, and the man himself behind his desk.
"I wait for him to fall asleep," The figure of the principal slumped a little in his chair, chin and head supported by the hand of his propped elbow. A dark portal rippled into the office, with Claire tiptoeing in. She pictured the setting to be around the evening, given the lack of students and the sundown approaching. "I use the Shadowstaff to sneak in and ever so gently – "
"Yeah, problem there, princess." The changeling interjected, causing the imaginary Claire to stall with her fingers wrapped around the hell's bond ring. "He don't sleep in his office. In fact I don't think I ever saw him asleep."
Claire grimaced as the snarling image of Strickler's true form came to mind. She struck the plan from the record of her journal, rubber tip of her pencil tapping against her chin as she contemplated. "Can he be drugged or knocked out? If so for how long?"
"You know you gotta knock out solid stone, right? A hit in the head's gonna hurt him but he's not going to pass out. Drugs.. eh, probably just make him sick. Even if youse somehow accomplished that, trolls are known to regenerate faster than humans can on the account that you can polish stone a lot better than you can fix skin."
"Plus.." she remembered with a vexed sigh; "If I knock Strickler out, I knock Dr. Lake out.. What if she's in the middle of, like, an appendix removal? That's too much of a risk.." Another plan erased out of her journal, absent-mindedly brushing the used rubber off from the page, then she paused.
"Wait. What if I drug Dr. Lake instead? Then just, use the Shadowstaff to hop over to the sleeping Strickler, steal the ring and – "
"Goodluck explainin' to the Trollhunter why youse gotta knockout his mom." the changeling scoffed, stone arms folding. As much as Claire wanted him to be the voice of reason to cast doubt on her plans, he felt a little sorry seeing her brows furrow in frustration at the lack of progress. On the bright side, in the hours it took of her explaining and discussing, the sigil had faded to near invisibility. "An' Strickler's still a troll. Even if you do drug the momma, he's not effected by the medication in the same way. I mean, go ahead if you wanna give him a killer stomach ache though."
NotEnrique jumped a little when Claire threw the book across the room, with it hitting the wall with a loud thud. She'd sunk down to sit at the crib, knees up and arms tangled over them, face partially buried against her drawn limbs. The changeling baby tapped his claws together, not so good at dealing with emotions, especially the saddened one his familiar's sister displayed. He slipped out of the bars easily, little paws grabbing her arm and trying to tug her into shape. That seemed to only spark Claire alive.
"Maybe I'm going about it wrong. I'm jumping before I can even walk, right?" She shifted in her position, scooping up NotEnrique into her arms, letting the changeling hold her jacket out of habit as he squinted at her, uncertain where she was going with her words. "Angor Rot calls me a huntress. So like a huntress, I need to bide my time, observe, and prepare. I've just got to see Strickler as, like.. big game in a hunt."
NotEnrique stared at her.
"Yep, you've officially lost your mind, sis."
Claire shook her head, rising from her seat to settle the changeling back down into the crib, though he didn't remain seated for long, padding up to the railings and clutching it tightly, his voice barely a whispered hiss as he thought it prudent to remind her; "Disregarding the fact that youse don't know how much time Rotface's even gave you, Stricklander's been plottin' and scheming before your parents were even born. Probably before your grandparents, too! The point is, he isn't going to be outwitted by a sixteen year old girlie! I'da hoped you caught onto that!"
"If Jim can beat him in combat, hell, can beat Bular, then the least I can do for him is this, NotEnrique!" she spat, turning on her heel and advancing upon the changeling whom stumbled back a little when she jabbed him in the chest with her finger, before they gesticulated her words angrily; "And, in case you've forgotten, I don't have a CHOICE! Either I do something, or sit and wait for Angor Rot to kill us all whilst he remains trapped in an eternal service!"
"Oh, please don't tell me ya' feeling sympathetic to the, news flash sis, ASSASSIN! D'ya need me to get the mirror to see the big shiner he gave you to your forehead? Or why not mosey along and ask the Trollhunters how they felt about Rot. Oh, wait, you can't, because he KILLED THEM!" the troll's distress was, surprisingly born out of concern and worry. He hated to see the sigil on her, or the position she was in and he could see how much it was tearing her up inside. Something that the staff, no doubt, was relishing in the negativity. Dark magic.. horrible stuff. "Youse don't have to do this alone. Jim can do that stuffs 'cause he's the champion of Merlin! Nobody's expectin' you to single-handedly take down Rot and Strickler."
NotEnrique flailed his short, rocky limbs when Claire silenced him by tossing the blanket back over his head, to which his struggling and writhing got him all tangled up. Pacing in the room for a moment, the teen didn't have an answer. She didn't expect NotEnrique to know the history outside of what it looked on the surface. But she knew there wasn't a way a ring like the Inferna Copula came into existence for no reason. Angor Rot had been forced into submission somehow. The changeling baby heard Claire mumble just before she left;
"I have to try."
Once the morning rolled around and school hours began, Claire was more determined than ever. Still lacking a half decent night of sleep, and people did snicker and stare at the mostly covered blemish on her forehead, she had a plan in mind that eased her doubts. Even if it wasn't much of a plan, it was the stepping stones to one. She met up with Tobias at the bike rack, blinking somewhat in confusion when Jim was nowhere in sight. Worry settled in shortly after, though the rotund friend did not seem too bothered about his lack of presence.
"Where's Jim?" she asked once she'd secured Jim's bike and slung the helmet to the handle, dragging her bookbag to her shoulder – and halting entirely. It was light. She swung it to her chest, tugging open the cover and seeing nothing but her school textbooks and one Trollish book in there. Wait.. had she taken out Blinky's books last night? She had been so caught up with the shock of Angor's sigil and her argument with NotEnrique that she completely forgot about the magical study she promised she'd do. She knew they hadn't fallen out of her bag, either..
Her eyes narrowed, but put it towards the back of her mind before she missed what Tobias said.
"Oh, he's doing one of the activities in the Spring Fling competition. If he moves his hand, he forfeits his right to the title. Luckily Blinky, Wingman and I can hold the fort for just one day." he told. Claire's eyes widened. She utterly forgot about the dumb dance in light of all the events that had happened, though scowled when Tobias purposefully did not include her in the Trollhunters gang "You would've known if you were at Trollmarket this morning before school. Where were you? Didn't you get Jim's like, bajillion texts?"
"No.." she rummaged in her pocket to pull out her phone to prove it, only to notice that she did indeed have a bulk of missed texts and calls alike. She looked between the phone screen to Tobias' expecting face, and quickly laughed awkwardly. "Oh, silly me, it's on silent. I totally missed it."
"You never looked at your phone once in several hours?"
"Tobes, I've had trouble sleeping. Get off my case." At least that part was true. Tobias could see the dark shadows under her eyes, as well as the small bruise on her forehead, but he couldn't help but feel like there was more to the story. She bristled when she heard his tone dip accusatory, like she'd committed some crime for just making a mistake.
"Yeah, why is that, exactly? Could it be the super evil-life-stealing staff that you've refused to let anyone touch or look at? Or is it – " She raised her hand to silence him, disgruntlement rolling off of her in waves. She needed something to shut him up, and there was one way she knew how.
"Alright, Tobes. You caught me. You really want to know what's up?" He nodded, leaning a tad closer in suspicion. "I'm on my period."
Silence.
Claire somehow managed to keep her flat look, despite the grin that threatened to raise over Tobias' incredible discomfort at her dropping that lie. It was one way to utterly shut down his line of questioning and more importantly, shut him up. A beat passes and he awkwardly rubbed the back of neck at the unknown territory, eyes squinting as he offered an unsure; "My.. condolences?"
The bell rang, causing a great look of relief to cross Tobias' face. He mumbled something fast and quick about goodbye and an apology before he headed off, probably the fastest she'd seen him scurry away. Claire, however, did not walk towards the block that had her biology class.
She headed towards the principals' office.