A Recognisable Face

Something was wrong with Billie. The older woman had been glancing awkwardly at Emily ever since she'd come back.

Now, Emily didn't really have the option to approach and ask what was wrong. So her alternative was to walk up while Billie was preparing the skiff, lean on the guard rail next to her, and wait.

After a few seconds, the ex-Whaler sighed.

"Thank you." She muttered. "For bringing Sokolov back. He means a lot to me."

Emily nodded, and signed 'same'.

"Hm. I suppose so. You grew up with him, didn't you?" Billie looked away, but her gaze was eventually drawn back to Emily. Or, more specifically, her shadow-arm.

Emily didn't need three guesses to work out why.

"Does it hurt?" Billie asked.

Emily thought, then shook her head. In truth, her senses from the limb were very dull. Most of the pain came from her stump.

"I'm sorry. I know what it's…" Billie trailed off, then sighed. "Damn it. I should be feeling vindicated, shouldn't I? There I was, needling you for having everything you could possibly want, for never losing anything. And then you come back like this. And I don't know whether to be gratified, or empathise with you, or feel guilty, or be annoyed that you fixed the problem so easily, or hopeful that—" She stopped herself, grimacing.

Tentatively, Emily reached out and laid her marked hand on Billie's shoulder. 'You want?' She signed, nodding at her shadow-arm.

Billie met her gaze, with a good deal of uncertainty in her eyes. "Is…is that possible?"

Emily shrugged. She didn't know. There was very little certainty in anything when it came to magic. She hadn't thought that she'd be able to replace her missing limb until she'd done it (not that there had been much thinking involved, in the immediate aftermath of the slash).

Billie gulped. Then winced, as if in pain. Emily noticed the splotches of bruising around the woman's neck, and winced herself.

'Hurt?' She asked, touching her own neck.

Billie snorted. "Of course it does, you choked me. Bitch."

'Sorry.'

"Don't be. I deserved worse. Emily…I've done a lot of bad things in my life. Spent a long time trying to atone for it all. I wasn't expecting to survive you finding out."

Emily drummed her fingers on the railing, then pulled out her notebook.

'I don't know if I can ever forgive what you did.' She wrote, frankly. 'I certainly haven't forgiven Daud. But desperation does a lot for forming alliances. And…' She tapped the pen a few times, then sighed. 'For fuck's sake, I like you. You're one of three people I know who'll call me out on my bullshit.'

"That any kind of language for an Empress to be using?" Billie asked, looking up from the page to her face.

'I can say whatever I want. It's you peasants that should mind your words in my presence.'

"Censoring freedom of speech, are we?"

Emily rolled her eyes, breathing through her nose in an approximation of a laugh. An uneasy silence fell over the pair, before Emily started scratching in the book again.

'This isn't over. I'll decide what happens to you and Daud when we return to Dunwall. Assuming we all make it there in one piece. But for now…I'd still like your help.'

"…That's fair." Billie agreed after reading it. "Like I said, I deserved it. And you've helped save two of the only people I've ever cared about, so I'm yours for as long as this takes."

Emily nodded, marked hand clapping the shoulder of Billie's crippled arm. It paused there for a moment, their eyes locked together. As the seconds passed, Emily began to feel something open up between them—

Then clamp shut, as Billie snatched her arm back.

"No." The Captain shook her head. "Not like—I'm not ready for that."

"What in the Void are you two talking about?" Thomas called, approaching from the other end of the ship. "Emily, did you just try and seduce her?"

Emily flipped Thomas her middle finger even as Billie spluttered at the accusation.

For the love of the Strictures, of all the times… 'Prefer Daud?' Emily signed to Billie, before the conversation was properly over. Lacking a fun nickname for him yet, she resorted to spelling the word out.

"For magic, or to seduce me?" Billie joked, before cringing. "Eugh. Can't believe that just came out of my mouth…I don't know. I don't think so, at least not anymore." Billie sighed. "I'm just not the type to be loyal to anyone. Trust me, given what I've done in the past, you probably don't want my loyalty."

That was probably important, but Emily wasn't paying any attention to the words. She frowned, and her fingers once again shaped the letters D—A—U—D.

Her eyes widened, and she darted to the side of the ship, peering over the edge.

"Uh, Emily?" Thomas called after her. "I know it's depressing to be rejected, but that doesn't mean you have to jump off the boat—"

"That's not it, police boy." Billie grumbled, not sure whether to smile or scowl. "She's got it."

"Got what?"

Emily jumped into the air, holding her notebook above her head in victory, before showing the front page to them both.

'Dreadful Wale'

'Farewell Daud'

"Yes, well done, that's it." Billie sighed. "Can we go?"

"Daud isn't even a real word!" Thomas protested. "That's cheating!"

"It's a name!"

"And you couldn't even find a way to make it work without spelling whale wrong?"

"Just get in the fucking boat."

So. Robbery.

Emily, generally, did not steal things. It was a bit pointless to, considering that she was the Empress. As she was capable of requisitioning the complete reserves of the Imperial Bank at will, and had funds diversified into various businesses, banks and vaults all over the Isles, there wasn't really anyone in the known world who could out-spend her. If she wanted something, she could pretty much have it, and she was more than content getting her thrills from late-night parkour rather than taking things from her people.

Of course, Corvo had taught her how to pick pockets, and she had indulged in a wee bit of larceny during her first stint of thronelessness, but she'd certainly never been on a proper, thievery-intended heist before.

A heist was absolutely what this was. Only, she didn't know exactly what she was looking for, who had it, or where it was.

I suppose that otherwise, things would just be far too easy…

Emily stepped out of a rail cart into the Upper Cyria district, the late afternoon sun warm on her face. She checked her neckerchief was in position covering the lower half of her face, and that the shawl she'd repurposed as a sleeve for her right arm fully concealed her shadow-limb. It certainly helped her look more presentable (so long as one didn't look too hard at the discolouration of her jacket), and she might pass for some rich girl with esoteric fashion sense…were it not for the fact that both Emily Kaldwin and the 'silent demon' would both be wanted by the Grand Guard. After how unsubtle she'd been going after Hypatia and Jindosh, anyone in a mask would probably be treated with suspicion. And even if Delilah maintained that Emily Kaldwin was dead, her face might still be recognisable, especially as a Gristol woman in Karnaca.

Because let's be honest, a cute little half-mask like this isn't going to conceal my identity. I need something like what the Whalers used. I asked Pierro to make me a mask, but noooo, an Empress shouldn't have a terrifying assassin mask, it wouldn't be proper…

Which left her with one other solution. Her powers included the grapples, darkvision, domino, doppelgangers, manipulation of people's shadows, shadow-walking, her now unusable mesmerising song…and one other ability. It truthfully wasn't very useful, and it felt wrong to employ it, so it had languished mostly unused at the back of her repertoire for fifteen years now. But, back when she had first gone to kidnap Sokolov, she had unlocked the power to transform her body…into that of her mother.

Yeah. Only her mother, despite experimentation on her part. There weren't many situations where impersonating Jessamine Kaldwin was useful.

But that Empress was definitely dead, dead enough that a resemblance would see Emily branded a lookalike rather than discovered. And, perhaps more importantly, she wasn't hideously crippled.

(Well. Not visibly crippled. It had thrown Emily into a minor breakdown while testing the ability to find that the sword-wound responsible for Jessamine's death was recreated perfectly on the semblance.)

This particular rail station was abandoned except for her, so she was clear of witnesses. She straightened, took a deep breath, closed her eyes…and then let the breath out, focused. She felt herself grow a few inches, her body shape shifting and changing. This wasn't an illusion, but a physical transformation that—wait.

Where were her—

What was—

She opened her eyes and blinked, looking down at herself. Then jerked back to the rail cart, looking to the cracked wing mirror that was still intact on the right side.

Mortimer Ramsey's face stared back at her.

She recoiled as if struck, staggering away and putting a hand to her mouth. That proved helpful moments later as bile rose from the back of her throat, and she leaned on a nearby fence, trying not to throw up.

Calm down, calm down, Ramsey's gone, its fine, just—okay, no, get me out of this thing.

The power fell, her body proportions returning to normal. She spat what had accumulated in her mouth off the edge of the nearby cliff (mostly bile and some remnants of her breakfast) and took a shuddering breath. After taking a few seconds to gather herself, she moved back to the mirror and tried again. This time, she was able to shift her features into the reassuring visage of her mother. She stared at that for a long moment, then swapped back to her own face, then (deliberately) back into Ramsey.

It was a disturbing addition to her 'catalogue' which only really came with one conclusion, especially when she reached up to the back of Ramsey's head and found it sticky with blood.

I can transform into people I kill. Outsider, you son of a bitch…

But, even with his Dunwall officer uniform, Ramsey was probably the least recognisable option. And this wasn't a situation where she could afford to be putting scores of guardsmen unconscious. Scowling, Emily turned away from the cart and made her way to the district proper.

"…I know that raising these concerns may cause me to be branded a heretic by my brothers within the Abbey. Nobody, not even Empress Kaldwin, ever dared question the Oracular Order. But if Ashworth and her followers are interfering with our sisters' prophesy…well. That's why I've put you on the lookout. Find out what you can."

The audiograph clicked off. Thomas and Billie looked at each other significantly. They were stood in an apartment block in the Cyria Gardens district, near the Royal Conservatory. The apartment was perfectly ordinary, except for the (now unconscious) Overseer inside.

"So…" Thomas started. "Guess we know what the Oraculum does now."

"Do we?" Billie asked.

"Well not the specifics, but we know it messes with the religious ladies." He shrugged. "And the last thing we need is them telling the Overseers that Delilah's the true empress. Not sure if any Overseers are still alive in Dunwall, but across the Isles…"

"So we are blowing it up. Let's hope they have whale oil in there." Billie walked onto the balcony, looking out towards the Conservatory. "Problem is, if we're right, it could be full of witches. Word on the street is that nobody's been in or out except Ashworth's personal 'associates'."

"Witches bonded to Delilah's mark…" Thomas mused, coming to join her. "So they're like me. Just not as skilled or attractive."

"If they're anything like I remember, there'll be a real mixed bag of talent." Billie filled in. "Most aren't too effective in combat, but they've got the teleportation and the darts. Maybe the blood-briars. I was confident I was better than them when I was back with Daud. Now…"

Thomas glanced at her. "You really couldn't have just taken Emily's power? Even if you aren't in for the long term, we could really use a magic ex-assassin right now."

"Heh. You sound like me, fifteen years ago." Billie shook her head, then pitched up her voice. "'You have to be loyal before you betray Daud, or you don't get superpowers!' I said something like that to Corvo once."

"You really go on about loyalty." Thomas countered. "You know that's not what the magic's about, right?"

Billie gave him a confused look. "Daud ran a gang, Delilah runs a coven, Emily runs an Empire. It was about loyalty with him; why wouldn't it be with them?"

"Well, I can't speak for Delilah, but…" Thomas thought about to phrase it. "Emily does run an Empire. She has the loyalty of…fuck knows how many people. But the only ones she's ever shared her magic with were me and her Royal Protector. So what do you think it is binding her to us?"

Billie scrunched her face up. "Love?"

"I mean I'm flattered you think so, but she offered it to you, and no offense but I don't want to know what sort of feelings would be going on there."

"Because I'm a woman?"

"Because you're twice her age, I already know she's into women."

Billie rolled her eyes. "You gonna give me a straight answer or keep messing with me?"

"I feel like if I did it would kind of ruin the point…" Thomas sighed, looking back at the Conservatory. "Look, unless you feel like getting over yourself in the next few minutes, I doubt you'll be able to get in there in your state. You might have to sit this one out."

"Calling me old?"

"Old, half-blind, and crippled, yeah."

"Blow off, police boy." Billie scowled, tapping the fingers on her one good hand. "…I might have a way in. But it's stupid, risky, and has no good exit plan."

"Well, that makes it as good as most of Emily's ideas." Thomas grinned at her. "Tell me what you got."

Men were weird. Emily wasn't normally one to ascribe to the whole 'haha women are crazy' 'haha men are oblivious' thing, but physically, they were really weird.

She'd been walking as Ramsey for less than twenty minutes and, well, she wanted her tits back. She was taller, she was proportioned differently, her whole balance was different, and whatever underwear came with this outfit was making her uncomfortably aware of what was underneath them, which in itself was enough to make her squirm.

Seriously, Outsider, you couldn't have just made it an illusion or something?

Not to mention, the cap she'd stolen not only did little to cover up the bloody wound on the back of her head, it also clashed horribly with the outfit she was wearing.

Still, just because she was incredibly uncomfortable didn't mean she looked it. Her stride was fast but not hurried, her eyes were focused forwards, her expression was calm and her hands didn't wander. Amusingly, keeping the seven strictures of the Abbey in mind were very useful for checking her behaviour in social situations. If she could bluff through a meeting with her military generals without any trousers on (yes, that had actually happened), she could manage this.

So it was that Mortimer Ramsey walked through the streets of Upper Cyria while only getting a few odd looks from the other citizens and constabulary.

Emily's objective was the Red Camellia, a tattoo and beauty parlour. Daud had overheard that this place was ran by the Eyeless, so hopefully it either included information on the other members or someone she could interrogate. Working her way up the ranks until she found the magic knife might not be the best way to go about things, but it seemed like a solid enough plan to her.

The front door said 'closed'. She opened it anyway.

"Hm? Oh, I'm sorry!" Said a maid, looking up from cleaning the floor. "We're actually not open right now. You can see the opening times on the—"

Emily opened her mouth, and found that she couldn't speak. Drat. Still, she had alternatives. Specifically, pulling out a coinpurse from her pocket, dropping it in the maid's hands, patting her on the shoulder, and walking right past.

"…Oh. I see." The woman said, as Emily opened the door and went further into the shop.

Fancy décor, tattoo chair, Thomas mentioned seeing that symbol on a lot of the Eyeless cultists, but I'm not here to get inked…aha! Office!

There was an appointment book lying open on the desk, and Emily started scanning through it. Plenty were ordinary enough. 'Eyeless motif' was also a very common one, and plenty of its recipients were apparently from the same district where Daud had been pulled from. But then, for a particular tattoo described as 'Cultist's blessing'…

Well well well. Isn't that interesting.

In a street in the Upper Cyria district, two guards were leaning casually on a wall, overlooking the main street that led from the Spector Club to the bank. Captain (captain!) Belladonna was scratching the neck of the wolfhound they had with them, meriting the occasional approving noise from the dog, while Bridget was boredly looking around the road.

"I'm bored." Said Bridget, one hand idly holding her own abdomen.

"Of course you're bored." Bella replied in a monotone, not looking up from the wolfhound. "Nothing's exploded in at least five minutes."

"Hey, I resent that." Bridget huffed. "It's not like I cause the explosions."

"I didn't imply that, but you defended yourself anyway."

"Oh, shut it."

"Oh shut it, captain." Bella corrected, with a smirk.

"Right, right. 'Captain'." Bridget rolled her eyes. "How did you get that promotion again? I didn't even use my unlimited political capital to commission it."

"I believe it's because Emily Freaking Kaldwin tore through our mansion and we survived." Bella pointed out. "That might have been because you suggested I cut my patrol early, but it still counts."

She frowned, thinking. "She didn't get to you, did she? I didn't see you after I left for the mess hall, and you've been clutching at your ribs ever since."

"Oh, what? No no no." Bridget laughed, uncomfortably. "Like I'd be crazy enough to try and fight that monster? No, I, uh…" She glanced away.

"How embarrassing is it?" Bella asked.

"I tripped down some stairs, passed out, and didn't wake up for like an hour." Bridget said, sighing.

Bella's eyes widened. "Void, Bridget, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

"I hope so! I don't want you getting yourself killed."

"I almost did…" Bridget looked down for a moment, then shook her head. "Sorry, enough of that, what were we talking about? You're a captain. That's a good thing. You look great wearing captain's pips."

Bella flushed, and turned her attention back to the dog. "Th—Thanks. You too."

"I'm…not wearing them, it's you that got the—"

"No, I mean, in general."

"Oh! Uh, thank you." and now Bridget was flushing as well.

Breaking into the houses of the nonmagical continued to be a piece of cake.

Emily sat down at the harpsichord (in her own body this time) and stretched her fingers. She checked that the door to the padded room was wide open, ran through a few scales to warm up, and then launched into Sokolov's Minuet no 7.

During her teenage years, it had overtaken number 3 as her favourite. Less of the precise speed and complex rhythms she'd enjoyed as a child, but it had a lot more feeling behind it if played properly. Woo, character growth…more importantly it means I can dramatically pause more easily if I get a little lost. Sue me, I've not touched a harpsichord in over a month.

It would be a little embarrassing if a regular guard came up and saw her. Fortunately, she soon heard the warbling voice from the room next door cut off abruptly, as its occupant presumably heard her.

Emily was in the house of Shan Yun: Tyvian-born singer, celebrity, heartthrob, 'the boreal songbird'.

Emily did not like Shan Yan.

She'd never really liked opera, period, but Shan in particular grated on her nerves. As far as she was concerned, he was massively overrated. His vibrato went too wide, and his songs were all the same vapid romantic trollop. What was worse was that, since everybody knew Emily Kaldwin liked music (it was in her witch name, for goodness sake), those doing business with her would often try to curry her favour by inviting her to musical events…which meant that any time Shan Yun was in the same city as her, she not only had to put up with his eyesore posters everywhere, but would be pushed into attending the man's concerts by people she couldn't afford to dismiss out of hand.

But apparently he's a cultist, which means I get to bully him! Mwahahaha!

"Ah, excuse me?" The door opened further, a figure leaning through. "While that is a lovely rendition of a modern classic, I'm afraid that I still don't accept uninvited visitors."

Speak of the Outsider…Shan Yun himself stepped around the harpsichord, moving to a position where he could see her. "You wouldn't be the first to try and impress me in such a matter, but I really must insist that you…ah…oh my." He saw her face, and his eyes widened.

Still got it.

Emily smiled and stopped playing, folding her hands in her lap and looking up at him.

Wanted and presumed dead witch shows up in your music room. Let's see what you do, Shan…

"Em—Empress Kaldwin?" He stuttered.

She inclined her head.

He stiffened. Then rushed forwards.

Emily stood abruptly, preparing to lay him out, as his hands reached out and—

—Took hers?

"It is an absolute honour, your majesty!" Shan Yun wailed, falling to one knee.

…Uh?

Emily stared at him, freezing up.

"Long have I hoped that the day might come that I would finally get to meet you, but I never expected it to happen, and certainly not like this!" The singer gushed, not looking up from the floor. "When news came from Dunwall that you had been killed, I was so utterly distraught, my darling Eolina half suspected me of infidelity!"

Emily regained the sense to pull her arms away, and Shan took the opportunity to stand up. The opportunity to stop talking, however, he completely ignored.

"I told her that she had my heart, of course she does, and she always will, but that I am above all else a musician!" He insisted, raising a finger. "I said 'Eolina, if I could see but one face, taste but one pair of lips or run my hands through but one head of hair, it would be yours. But', I said, 'but if I could only hear one voice, it would be the voice of Emily Kaldwin!'"

what.

Emily blinked. Raised a hand, and pointed a finger at herself.

"Yes, you! You are an inspiration!" Shan's eyes were gleaming. "Your voice is positively divine! The way you bring such feeling into fairly simple melodies is the result of a raw unbridled talent for oration, the likes of which I have never heard before! I have first release recordings of every one of the tracks you allowed to be publicly sold, and if I may say so your majesty, the fact that so few such recordings were ever made is borderline criminal!"

…Oh. Okay.

Emily was fairly certain she was blushing furiously. She'd…well, she'd had her singing praised before, of course she had, but usually just because she was the Empress and it was expected, and never by someone who actually knew what they were talking about.

And she had wanted to properly record more music, get more lessons with professional tutors, she'd just been embarrassed that she'd look like one of those nobles who got such things distributed based on wealth and power rather than talent, she did not want an Emperor's New Clothes situation where everyone praised her singing to her face and mocked it behind closed doors…but then, this.

She officially had no idea how to respond.

"Oh, but then the magic. The magic! I'm aware that this is a request I could never have dared make in polite company, but I would give my right arm for the opportunity to hear your more literally 'enchanting' singing." Shan Yun was moving around the room now, gesticulating wildly. Emily dimly thought that if the guards hadn't come up at the sound of this, he must produce a serious racket on a regular basis.

And then her ears caught up to what he said, and she gave him an incredulous look.

"Yes, yes, I know, it's just that…well, not to put too fine a point on it, you're everything I've ever aspired to!" Shan admitted. "Of late, I have begun to feel myself falling into something of a creative rut. My inspiration is lacking. I thought that the Void, in all its mystery, might provide what I sought. But while I hoped I might get the chance to bear witness to your magic, I never dreamed that you would come here personally to…" he paused. "Um, why exactly are you here? You've been rather quiet so far."

Emily was rapidly re-evaluating the situation. She'd been expecting to need to intimidate a cultist, not…well. Improvisation was a key skill for empresses and criminals alike.

She pulled down her neckerchief, and opened her mouth.

Shan Yun recoiled and gasped, and she was already reaching for her notebook because there was no way this idiot knew sign.

He was still in the middle of a monologue about injustice, tragedy and evil when she thrust the paper into his face.

'You. Ivan Jacobi. 'D.M'. Cienfuegos. The Eyeless. Twin-bladed Knife. Explain now.'

This was, absolutely, a terrible idea. Billie knew this. She would have felt much more comfortable with a sword at her side (or with an arm at her side) but instead had to make do with the pistol holstered inside her jacket. She tried to distract herself with amusement at how quick her mind had gone into 'heist' mode; cataloguing open windows, sight lines, light levels, optimal places to teleport to. Not that much of it was useful to her anymore.

Instead, Thomas dropped her off before the front door, and she opened it and went in.

The sounds of bickering became audible the moment the bustle of outside went quiet, bringing a scowl to Billie's face.

"I'm just saying, Melinda said she did it, and hers was perfect."

"Melinda's a lying whore, you know that. I've heard that she just steals Karen's work anyhow."

A discussion up ahead, and she made her way towards it at a steady walk. Just the same as it was at Brigmore. Children on a power trip, the lot of them; thinking their magic means they can do whatever they want without taking responsibility. No discipline. If Daud had just deployed the Whalers against the witches, we'd have torn them to shreds. But noooo, let Corvo do everything…

"Still, kingsparrow feathers?" Continued the voice. As Billie approached, she saw the distinctively mucky, plant-adorned clothing of a witch. There were two of them, standing in the courtyard and talking. "Do we even have kingsparrows in Serkonos? I don't see why we can't just use pigeon feathers instead."

Billie took that moment to speak up. "It's not the feathers themselves, girl, it's what they mean. The perceptions the world has attached to the object. Or do you think we use whalebone because its cheaper than the bones of dogs, cats, or cows?"

The two young women spun on her, bodies shifting colour as vines wrapped up around them. Right, I remember all the little charms and rituals they used to increase their power. Because they didn't have the patience to actually train their abilities…

"Who are you?" One hissed. "How did you get in here?"

"You weren't expecting the guards to stop anything, were you?" Billie raised an eyebrow. "My name's Billie Lurk. I'm here to talk to Breanna."

"Nobody gets through to Mistress Breanna!" That witch snapped—but the other put a hand across her chest.

"Wait. Lurk, Lurk…I know that name." The witch tilted her head. "I think I've heard some of the elders mention you. The originals."

"Glad to know I left an impression. I suppose you're both too young to have been there at Brigmore." Billie looked across them both. "I worked for Delilah fifteen years ago. That's why I'm here."

One of the witches vanished. She probably thought she was being creepy, but Billie heard the sound of the traversal behind her and proceeded to track the girl's footsteps.

"Is that so?" Asked the witch still in front. "Looking to re-enter the fold, are you?"

"Oh, what a fine joke." Said the one behind Billie, steps moving closer. "Look at you; all broken and decrepit. Do you really think our mistress would want anything to do with you?"

"I'm not the one trying to make a charm out of pigeon feathers." Billie replied in a monotone.

There was a 'shiing', and Billie did not flinch as a sword came up from behind her and placed itself in front of her throat.

"Think you're a funny one, do you?" hissed the witch from behind her. "Want to lose that tongue as well? I know all sorts of things I could do with it…"

Billie just snorted. "That so? Name five."

Thomas was almost certainly watching, ready to jump in if she gave him a signal. But faced with such amateur intimidation work, she hardly felt the need to.

"W—well." The witch behind her coughed. "I didn't mean off the top of my—"

Billie took that moment to reach up, grab the sword arm, and flip the witch over her shoulder in one smooth movement. The poor girl couldn't even react fast enough to avoid it. Her back slammed into the tiles and she cried out in pain before teleporting away.

The witch in front just laughed.

"You bitch!" The other one called, clambering to her feet some twenty feet away. "You…I think you broke something!"

"Are we done posturing?" Billie asked. "And if so, can I go and talk to Breanna now?"

I amuse myself.

Billie demonstrates her general disdain for Delilah's witches, while Emily's out talking to Shan Yun. He always struck me as a sort of lovable idiot, despite the fact that he's in a cult and he will try to kill you the moment he sees you. Still, coming up: What happens when the Eyeless cultists are met by a real witch?

Review!