London, Day 5

It was not hard to find Barnes' new favourite.
Jill wrung her hands as she followed the colourful procession of minion-borne paintings to the purple carpet of the hall of memories, where the drowned woman in the blue dress directed the drab paintings she wanted to the vein-framed portals that sat upon dark, capillary-laced walls.
As Jill came closer, her gaze inadvertently met that of one of the paintings' focal points - a cavalry officer of the British Army, his eyes drifting in resigned despair, entirely at odds with the steely scowl they sat beneath.

"Shame to burn them." Jill said, tearing her eyes away from the cavalier's pleading gaze as his painting was carried away.

Morgen turned around to her with a pale, sardonic smile. "For storage or rearrangement. No burning's to be done.
The girl made that mistake once already."

Jill forced herself to smile back, to stop fidgeting, to appear calm. "There's always more subjects for your art. Replaceable."

Morgen shook her head, irritated. "It's not that; I don't care for the problems such burnings spawn. I'm grateful we had the noon witch handy to wrangle the escapees, and that our master knows how to discipline your girl.
Who is now my girl, I suppose." Morgen noted, her voice lilting.

Jill's smile broadened to show off her teeth. "Yes, let's suppose that's true."

The two women stirred at the jarring thud of a painting's frame striking the carpet. Morgen rounded on the servant that clung to the painting, her eyes flitting over the canvas before focusing him down.
"You doddering- water features in here, all others outside! What is this?!" She snarled, stabbing the painting of a mountain range with a finger.

"Why not the banqueting hall?" Jill volunteered.

Morgen left the cowering servant and turned to Jill with a tightened smile. "Is there something you wanted?"

Jill knew it would not be in her best interests if they fought - though part of her wanted Morgen to speak out of turn, to goad her into it. She raised her hands, clearly conceding. "I have concerns about the vampire."

"Oh, the curse she put on you?" Morgen asked wearily.

Jill shrugged. "That, but more importantly, I fear the amount of damage she could inflict on our operation-"

Morgen interrupted her. "Our operation?"

Jill would not be dissuaded, "-should she have the servant girl on her side."

Morgen opened her mouth before closing it again. "That... is a possibility. You didn't treat her especially kindly, after all."

Jill didn't bite at the criticism. It was true. Whilst she'd never laid a hand on her, she'd encouraged Edwin's disciplining of the maid and allowed him to teach her. "Indeed," She forced the word out, "As a result, she may be disposed to help miss Scarlet in the war our master insists on."

"So you want my help in driving them apart?" Morgen asked with an eager smile.

"Yes. For the good of the house-" Jill started.

"Then kneel." Morgen grinned obnoxiously, her voice oozing with amusement.

"...You're serious?" Jill stated woodenly, her eyes darkening.

The servants slowed in their work to replace the paintings. Morgen stood where she was, smiling her sickly sweet smile. Jill loomed over her, a growl building in her throat.

Morgen showed her hands, a chuckle shaking her shoulders. "A joke, miss werewolf - you've heard of those, right?"
Like that, the tension broke. The work resumed.

Jill closed her lips around her teeth. "So you are willing to work with me on this?"

"Of course," Morgen said, her words seeping from her mouth, "And it shan't be hard. You and mister Barnes have rendered the servant girl, well, servile, and Remilia believes she has power over you.
We shall use both of these facts to our advantage."

Jill nodded her head, her shoulders untensing. "Excellent. Shall we inform the master?"

Morgen shook her head. "No, no. He's far too busy fussing over 'Dredshanks' new... 'configuration'."

Jill nodded in resignation, knowing where he'd be. "Thank you. I'll inform him that we work to disentangle his maid from the vampire's clutches."

Morgen watched her go, her voice rising, "You realise you will have to admit that I've replaced you, I trust?"

Jill's smile grew frigid. "Of course," she said, turning her back as she smiled secretly to herself, "For as long as you hold his interest."

She travelled to the foundry by carriage, striding through gates, courtyards and cordons of their foot soldiers until she walked into the musty blackness of its principal workshop. Even with her lupine eyes, she struggled to see through the tenebrous gloom that had settled in this place of pain.
She could see Edwin's rangy form standing in the eye of the shadowy storm. Beyond him, smouldering brands and knives jumped and wavered in the hands of nervous workmen as they surrounded their pet.

The chains jingled with their pet's jittering, a low rumble edging into its keening cry as the humans dared to approach.
It was right to be afraid. It was not a friend, not a precious life, not even a fellow myth to be respected. To Barnes, it was merely a tool to be broken and reforged, to be aimed and launched at troublemakers - and it was Jill who had both unmade and made it into what it was today.
The humans cried out as the thing lashed out.

"Get it done. Don't make me wait." Edwin Barnes barked from behind them.

The humans fearfully obeyed, rushing in. One died, pulled apart by the thing's long, nailless fingers, before the beast was reminded of its position. The chains were pulled taut as the creature was beaten about the head, shoulders and arms with the glowing tools as it was pulled into prostration.
As Jill joined Edwin Barnes, the workmen started to scrape and saw the beast's scales off with their blades, and the thing's shuddering grew more intense as they prepared their canvas.

"Hello, Jill." Edwin said blithely.

"Hello, Edwin," Jill replied evenly, turning to watch the workmen as she went on, "Reckoned you'd like to know Morgen and I look to dissolve Remilia's interest in our girl."
Jill waited for a reply, but Edwin said nothing. The only sounds were the wet tearing of a burning blade working through resistant hide and tough meat - and the keening wails of the beast as the wounds cauterised.
Jill went on, "It is a plan that will benefit us, no matter what we elect to do with Remilia."

Edwin spoke up then. "You still counsel peace? Do you fear that she's cursed you, o' sister?"

Jill's predatory eyes glanced Edwin's way. "I suggest caution for our sake, beloved brother. Our sakes.
I love you, you know."

She saw Edwin seem to shudder, looking away from her. She wore a smile as she dared to touch his arm. "From that fateful day to this one, I've protected you, haven't I? Like a real sister might. I'm as good as family to you, aren't I?"

Edwin began to pull away, but he didn't get far, her fingertips hooking on his sleeve. His plastic scowl softened. "You have... protected me, in the past, yes."

She smiled as kindly as she could. "I do so now, Edwin - is that not loyalty? You've pushed me aside, after all that I know about you, all I've done for you, after all you've done to me, and still I toil to protect you.
Trust me."

Edwin tried to shrug off her grip, but she went to him, her body closing with his, her voice a sultry growl against his neck. "Morgen enjoys the trappings and privileges of power, but do not mistake her affection for loyalty, dear brother. She'll betray you, just as the others did, just as I never will. Know that I stand chastised, Remilia is truly a danger for thinking she can take the servant girl from us. You were right, and I was wrong, perhaps peace is only a dream, but I can still protect you from the humans, the monsters, the vampire, from all that the world will surely throw at us, so please, keep me at your side for that..."

Edwin swallowed as he glanced down at her lovely, long face, her doe eyes staring lovingly up at him. His lips were lured downwards-

With an almighty crack, Dreadshanks recoiled into racks of sign posts and plaques in its efforts to escape the workmen's ministrations, the beast's struggles sending the signage crashing across the floor in a jangling sea of metal.
Jill froze, the mood spoilt, her attention on the mess.
'Tomorrow night there will be a clatter of thunder, as God demands you prostrate yourself before me.'
She realised too late that Edwin was moving past her, shouting at the workers. "Hold him steady now, he's not made of glass!" He bellowed before looking around for his sister.
But she was gone, her perfumed scent rapidly fading from the growing stench of sulphur.

"She is already hurrying back to your chateau, master Barnes." The disembodied voice with its Arabian accent drifted over him.

"I see." Edwin said archly, his eyes returning to Dreadshanks as it was brought to heel - a shallow, bloody trench having been dug from its brow to its crown, an uneven red line crossing the head.
Edwin indicated the symbol carved into Dreadshank's head. "This'll do the trick, will it?"

"This, and the secondary sigils we have yet to carve, yes... Whilst genuine faith is preferred," Alhajin purred around him, "The beast's understanding of its lot will give the wards a different strength. A desperate strength."

Edwin sighed pleasantly as he watched a pair of tongs carry the glowing crucible across the darkness to the struggling beast. "So we have a countermeasure for the vampire, and her gate-guard. Was there anyone else unaccounted for?"

There was a pause.
"The witch that lurks within their walls will not be an issue. I will kill her, on your command." Alhajin promised, his voice a whisper.

"You're certain you can handle her?" Edwin asked without enthusiasm. He could feel the air around him cool and crystalise before Alhajin's voice rumbled in his ears.
"I have toppled kings, laid waste to armies and slain scores of witches, warlocks and wizards that thought to out-think me.
One teenage magician will not be a hindrance."

The chains thrashed. The workmen cried out in alarm as they held the writhing creature down beneath the upturning crucible. The beast's jaw hung open in a shaking, silent scream as the bubbling, white-hot metal slopped into the red-raw wound in a rush of hissing pain.

Turin's Private School of Magic, Italy, 1907AD

Remilia had found the school quite enthralling - even as she was hung upside down - though she found the hissing rain intolerable.

She'd come to the school in the dead of night on fate's whim, the books of her library helping her secure the way whilst her otherworldly vision afforded her a fantastic view of the renaissance styled architecture. The gables of the school's roofs played host to an assembly of stone carvings depicting mighty sorcerers and magicians of old engaged in magical battle with one another, their duels surrounded by fearful and fantastic creatures that cowered before their magnificent spellscapes. The motto of the school - 'Potentia Omnia Est', - loomed large on stone ribbons beneath the carvings, the whole display apparently supported by yellowed stone pilasters, the ostentatious style remaining constant throughout the covered walkways that surrounded the building's perimeter, which in turn was surrounded by rows of trees. Remilia had thought to hide there as she eavesdropped on a lone student who had been up to late night spellcasting.

The student was short - shorter than Remilia herself was, and certainly wider - but she moved seemingly without fear through the school grounds. Her face was as unmoving as granite, her fatigue-shadowed eyes and her bowl haircut both the colour of lavender. She walked in drab school robes of black and grey, but as the girl lifted a robed arm, Remilia spied a tail of red and blue ribbons hidden within the folds.

Just out of sight, the student's hand had shone as she summoned up a fizzling portal that shone bright that illuminated the trees.
She started to speak to those within it.

Remilia had naturally followed her; her own curiosity left her wondering who the student spoke with, and perhaps she could lead her to a magician of repute. She'd watched the student's lips move and her expression gradually darken, her mouth falter as she was cut off again and again by the beings she communed with. At last, the child magician raised her voice.

"You're right. Naturally, as always, you're right. Thank you, father, mother, for hearing my words. I must be going, class is starting." The child said, her tone cool yet affected. The light died away, but as the child turned towards Remilia...
The student's expression had reminded the vampire of charcoal. Burnt through until only an expended, fragile darkness remained.

The magician had passed her. Remilia's gaze had followed her, her mouth opening.

"Bravo." Remilia had declared.

The girl had rounded on her, her purple eyes wide open and her hands splaying, her mouth rushing out words of power.

Remilia had expected that. With a playful grin, she leapt from the tree-
Only, she didn't. She'd cried out when the branch had yanked her back, its creaking wood strangling her ankle.
"What-alive-" Remilia remarked.

That's when the rains swept in. Remilia hung there, blinded and deafened, her bat-like ears foiled as the rain loudly spattered and pounded on stone, grass, branch and raiment.

The child tottered through the rain, coming to a stop in front of Remilia's tree. Her face was pouting, her half-lidded eyes staring down at Remilia.
She didn't seem to mind the rain.

"All trees are alive, stupid," The girl in school robes said derisively, "And a Babylonian Noose Tree, especially."

Remilia pouted. "Don't hafta be rude. I was only complimenting you."

The student said nothing after that, her own expression as unfriendly as the storm that whipped at them.
She seemed reluctant to speak.

Remilia made a show of blinking slowly. "Could you help me down from here? I'm starting to feel dizzy." She lied.

The magician shook her head warily. "You're a vampire. Any blood in your system is staying right where it is."

"Nuh-uh! It moves a little!" Remilia shot back, her red eyes widening when she'd realised she'd given herself away.

The magician's frown wavered. "I guess we'll see the truth of it tomorrow. I imagine the instructors'll find you a perfect specimen to perform vivisection on. Maybe I'll get extra credit."

Remilia scoffed at that. "I'm not scared. My fate winds on beyond the morrow!"

The student blinked down at the vampire. "You seem awfully sure for a vampire trapped in a tree and a surrounding rainstorm."

Remilia shrugged. "I have my methods.
So the rainstorm... that's not the school's doing, is it?"

The student's expression softened, her chest lifting a little. "No. No, that was me."

The corners of Remilia's lips lowered as she nodded. "Not bad! You supposed to be some kind of rain wizard?" Remilia asked.

For a second, the girl looked as though she was about to laugh at Remilia.
"I'm... supposed to be something else." The girl said.

Remilia's eyes narrowed as she smiled brightly. "Ahhh, you want to be a rain wizard." Remilia said with a slow and conspiratorial certainty that made the student laugh.
"What's your name, vampire?" She asked.

Remilia puffed up her chest, her arms spreading.
"Remilia Scarlet, queen of the night, mistress of fate!" She declared as though expecting applause. All she got was the hiss of the rains.
She indicated the student with her hand, suggesting that it was her turn. Flustered, the purple-haired girl took a step back.

"Patchouli Knowledge."

The two girls talked. Patchouli said nothing about her own circumstances, but Remilia was talkative enough for the both of them. She told her everything, how they were running away from other vampires and how they'd met a Chinese girl and how they were going to escape to a world of fairytales. Patchouli found herself developing a liking for the blue-haired devil.

"I'd be more careful, talking about this kind of thing with strangers." Patchouli mumbled.

Remilia waved her down. "Pfft, you're too effable to be strange."

Patchouli blinked. "What?"

Remilia ignored her. "Though, that does bring me to why I'm here - Patchouli Knowledge, do you know any time-space wizards?"

Patchouli seemed to pause for an overly long time, her expression no longer so resigned.
"I-I might do." She said gently, nervously.

Remilia lifted her chin, her red eyes seemingly boring into Patchouli's.
"Bring them hither." She demanded.

Patchouli smiled, speaking with more certainty now. "It's not a field of magic that comes easily to me, nor do I particularly enjoy it... but with the right texts and ingredients..."

Remilia's eyebrows rose, her open mouth cooing, "Ohhh, you're the one I was to meet!"

Patchouli furrowed her brow. "I beg your pardon?"

Remilia once more waved her question away. "As well you should, though you may consider yourself excused. I should mention, I am obviously nocturnal, and so expect you to adjust your sleeping schedule accordingly. I demand much of my subordinates, I've no time for slackers and I am very precise in my wants. Can you handle all that?"

Patchouli slowly nodded. "I understand."

Remilia smiled. "Perfect! But you must want something in return for your services! What is it? Money? Power? Tomes of ancient knowledge? We have a whole library of them at home."

Remilia watched as Patchouli seemed to look over her shoulder at the school before speaking. "I should like to be left alone.
When you don't have need of me."

Remilia gave her a puzzled look before she lowered her chin. "A... peculiar request. Consider it done! Now, would you get me down from here, now that we have our bargain?"

Remilia did not see what Patchouli did, but the tree began to groan, its limbs disentangling and unceremoniously dumping Remilia onto the ground. Cursing, she rose to her feet as Patchouli spoke up.
"Where is your home? Let's go."

Remilia blinked at her, a little surprised at her eagerness. "In that direction," She'd point into the darkness of the trees, "But you got the ground all wet! You shall have to carry me. Besides, don't you have effects to pack up?
Someone to say goodbye to?"

London, Day 5

Patchouli felt a curious sadness begin to well up from within her as she heard the cased vegetables slip beneath the frothing oil, the potent bubbling giving way to a roaring hiss that provoked her nostalgia.
Beneath the oil's fizz and pop, she heard the familiar click of Remilia's shoes behind her.
"By the pricking of my thumbs..." Patchouli hummed, her purple eyes smiling as she turned to see Remilia stalking across the spotless black-and-white tiles.

"The monster lurks within our walls, now!" Remilia declared, her expressive pout letting Patchouli know what this conversation would be about.

"Oh, a monster? That's a little overblown, isn't it? She looked far too mild." Patchouli murmured.

"She has a forked tongue, believe you me!" Remilia insisted.

"I do! I do." Patchouli promised. She'd be sympathetic.

Remilia narrowed her red eyes, lifting her chin. "What're you doing in the kitchen with them?"

Patchouli glanced around at Remilia's indication. Beyond the bowls of diced herbs and washed vegetables, Koakuma fretted and jerked away from a spitting pot whilst Meiling expertly shunted the wok across the stove rings, a wave of julienned herbs surfing the lip before cascading back into the iron bowl.

"Supervising the preparation of your meal with lady Olivia de Vere." Patchouli said, turning back to see Remilia present her with a look of disgust.

"Vegetables? I want cake." Remilia replied.

"That is unfortunate, you see, I've already put Koakuma and Meiling to task." Patchouli's voice had an undercurrent of smugness to it.

Remilia narrowed her eyes and smiled. "English ladies eat cake and drink tea. It's tradition, and a fact. Mister Osbourne told me so."

Patchouli allowed herself to laugh, to her immediate regret. "No he didn't." She coughed.

Remilia reluctantly let a smile surface, "No, he didn't, but Patchy, what good will vegetables do me? Olivia de Vere will think us country bumpkins for serving such things at teatime!"

Patchouli shrugged, a secret smile pulling at her mouth. "I was given orders to protect the mansion's personnel. You will eat. We're preparing stir-fry, pizza and spring rolls."

Remilia scowled in disbelief, her lip curled enough to reveal a fang. "Patchy, that's... that's veggies on top of veggies on top of veggies!"

"I ask only that you trust me. After today, you can go back to eating cake." Patchouli explained.

Remilia's expression turned disbeliefing. "Still, three vegetable meals over teatime? No human, magician, vampire or devil would be able to stomach such a trial!"

"Ahh, but you must set an example to your guest." Patchouli replied.

Remilia raised a finger to refute the point, her mouth opening and then closing again.
"Hmph. Know that I accept these conditions under duress."

Patchouli raised her brows. "Do you know what that word means?"

"I'll teach you the meaning of it, if you carry on." Remilia said haughtily.

Patchouli chuckled, flinching as the laugh threatened to force a cough from her system.

Remilia grinned back, though her smiled faltered when Koakuma let out a cry behind Patchouli.

"It spits!" Koakuma squeaked to the fussing Meiling by way of explanation.

"Oil spits. Don't panic. You might spill the oil over yourself." Patchouli sighed, glancing back at Koakuma to see the little devil nodding hurriedly before the magician looked back to Remi-
Who was staring curiously at her. The vampire leaned in.
"Things still not okay between you and Koakuma?"

Patchouli backed, her shoulders hunching.
Remilia raised her brows. "Would you like me to-"

"No, I don't." Patchouli said hastily.

Remilia raised her hands in surrender, her eyes flitting past Patchouli's shoulder to watch the little devil work.
"Sure, sure. I suppose I shouldn't let Olivia de Vere wait any longer. I think she knows who's in charge now," The vampire pondered as she smoothed her red nails down her pink dress, and made her final adjustments to the pink mob cap that sat over her wavy azure hair.
"How do I look?" She asked.

"Striking." Patchouli decided.

Remilia restrained her smile. "I was going for graceful, elegant, beautiful... But I can get behind striking. You have the room, lady Patchouli!" Remilia declared as she turned her back, striding out the room, her dark wings splayed over her shoulders.

Patchouli glanced back at Koakuma, whose ears were bent back anxiously as she listened to Meiling spout cooking tips. Without meaning to, Patchouli caught her assistant's chocolate coloured eye, who shot her a timid smile.
Patchouli sighed, opening her mouth to say something-
Her purple eyes lingered on the wings that sprouted from Koakuma's head and shoulders, reminding her.
Remi.
Patchouli Knowledge turned in time to see Remilia disappear down the hall, the Scarlet Devil's wings beating anxiously. "Glamour!" She called, hurrying out the kitchen after the mistress.

"She seemed off, didn't she?" Meiling asked.

"I don't know what you mean." Koakuma replied with a smile.

"Ah, neither do I." Meiling admitted gracefully, not wishing to agitate the energy coming off of Koakuma any further. "Say, Solomon's Seal, that's okay to put in human dishes, right?"

"Did you seperate the roots? Those are edible, otherwise, no," Koakuma said airily, her gaze passing over Meiling's fretful expression, "Why?
You didn't, Meiling!"

Germany, late 1907AD

"You didn't think you could escape us, did you?"

Koakuma stared up at her two pursuers, the drumming rain leaving their jacketed, cowled bodies grainy and indistinct, cramped close by the thickets of trees all around them. She had no words for them, her breathing ragged from the chase.

The pair parted, allowing a third of their hooded kind to approach, the long device in his hands catching Koakuma's eye.
It was a catch pole. The head of it was a semi-circular ring, studded on the inside with spikes, with two flat, spring-loaded struts forming the gate.

Koakuma forced a breathless laugh from her system. "How behind the times can you get...?"

She was answered with the slick squelch of mud oozing underfoot as they closed with her. Koakuma flattened herself against the tree she sat at, the mancatcher looming closer.

There was a sound.

Koakuma felt it, like a heartbeat in all of her ears. Her assailants felt it too, all of them flinching back, even the raindrops lapsing as the pulse throbbed through the air. Even the trees-

Koakuma's eyes widened as she heard a crackling all about them, like branches being broken and twisted apart. The cultists froze, looking to one another as the noise receded.

Koakuma spoke up. "So, was that you, or-"

The din came from behind Koakuma, an incredible crash followed by a sound like rolling thunder, like bark splitting apart, underlined by a ghostly howl.

Even in their cowls, Koakuma could see the horrified faces of the cultists that had meant to catch her. As one, her three assailants spun and sprinted through the woods. The catch pole's circular head caught on a tree trunk and was abandoned in its wielders haste to get away, to live.

Koakuma felt her stomach lurch as she splayed herself against the tree she sat at. She dared to inch around the trunk, her chocolate eyes blinking furiously as the raindrops pattered off of her face.

She'd expected to see a troll, a dragon or some living tree terror. Instead, she saw a little girl in pink and purple pyjamas and rubber boots clutching an umbrella.
Then thunder boomed, lightning lit up the surroundings - and a great red mansion loomed impossibly large, sitting unevenly on a crushed carpet of flattened trees upon a wide field of ploughed earth.

"Who the hell're you?" Koakuma breathed, her heart still fluttering.

"I'm! Patchouli Knowledge, of the Scarlet Devil Mansion!
I would like to make a contract for one demon!" Patchouli raised a finger to emphasize her request with all the nervous energy expected from a child.

Koakuma frowned at the request. "A contract? That's... more than doable." She lied, her smile glib. This Patchouli Knowledge must live in the mansion beyond. That meant food. A roof. Shelter. She could be an ally.
"I suppose I owe you one for chasing away my would-be captors. So, what're you looking for? A trick played on someone? A foot soldier?"

The little girl rolled her shoulders, growing flustered. "They'll need to be able to read!
And to fetch me my books and ingredients.
They'll also need to know how to find answers, and ask questions!"

Koakuma frowned at that before she put on her best salesman's smile.
"...Are you sure you don't need me to mess with someone?"

Patchouli pulled a face. "No... I'd like a familiar."

"I could ransack your neighbour's place? Make it look like a poltergeist is haunting them?"

Patchouli scowled. "No, a familiar."

Koakuma pointed at her ears. "I could be your eyes and ears, I can spy plenty well, and I could inflict such devilry upon-"

Patchouli shook her head in exaggerated fashion that left her purple bangs waving. "No, a familiar!"

Koakuma raised a brow, a little annoyed that her shtick was so... unpopular. She was a trickster demon, a prankster, a mischief maker - but no-one seemed to want to play pranks or practical jokes any more, it was all death and desolation these days. Those who summoned, bound and trapped her put her to work expecting her to be capable - and willing - of so much more, whilst those who hunted, tortured and burnt her thought her so much worse than what she was.
Koakuma gave Patchouli an oily smile as she put her pride aside.

"A familiar it is! My name is Koakuma.
What is your bidding, o' magician?" She asked, giving a theatrical bow.

Patchouli looked up, her umbrella tipping a fraction.
"I feel like rice pudding."

Koakuma's eyebrow flinched as the moment was robbed of its impact. "Right... Do you have some in your, uh, mansion?"

Patchouli nodded. "Yuh."

"Well then! Let's go!" Koakuma said as she led the way through the trees towards the shadowy mansion, thinking behind the smile how lucky she'd been to find a meal ticket in the shape of this chubby, naive little creature. She could stay a while, get what she needs, get out. Simple as that.
So long as she didn't meet someone - or something - wise to her plan.

London, Day 5

Remilia glowered at the glass of green sludge that sat by her hand. Her gaze flicked across the table as Olivia de Vere mumbled an 'excuse me'.

"Miss Remilia, what is that?" Olivia asked.

Remilia offered Olivia a dismayed expression. "A herbal infusion. It's like tea, but not as smooth, not as clear, not as sweet... Oh, my word, you see that? There's still a leaf in there."

"How does it taste?" Olivia asked as Remilia turned in her chair.

"HEY! Who prepared this?!" The vampire shouted through the dimly lit drawing room, her eyes absently searching the curtained, portrait-bedecked walls as her keen ears listened for even a flicker of fearful mumblings from her fairy maids.
"Sorry, you asked how it tastes? Let's see." Remilia decided, grasping the glass and taking a gulp.

Her tongue stuck out as she gagged. "Tastes like frog's feet! Ech!" Remilia rasped.

Her eyes shot open when he heard Olivia's restrained laugh. Remilia gave her an impish smile of her own. "Well, it's safe to drink, honoured guest - here!" She said, her pale fingers clutching the lip of the glass, placing it in front of Olivia with a solid thunk.

Olivia smiled nervously. "Oh - no thank you, I'm quite satisfied-"

"D'oh, taste it, at least! Suffer as I have!" Remilia insisted.

Olivia did not look reassured when she took the glass, adjusting the angle. The mulch barely moved.

"It moves like cement..."

"Drink it. Drink it. Drink it!" Remilia began to chant. She was pleased to see Olivia shake her head with a smile before she brought the container to her lips.

She shuddered, her screwed-shut eyes and the tension in her neck making Remilia chortle. "So? How'd it taste?!"

Olivia said nothing for sometime. "Agh... Should I be truthful, or tactful?"

Remilia's eyes twinkled. "First one, then the other!"

"It's... 'quite'... 'good'." Olivia decided.

Both of the girls started to laugh.

Remilia's laughter was the first to bubble away. "Mmm... so, what do you think of the spread?"

Olivia de Vere blinked, looking at the various dishes laid out before her. To her left sat the starters; crisp, golden-brown spring rolls surrounded a modest bowl of sweet-and-sour sauce, all of which sat next to a plateful of onion-studded pork balls sticky with oyster sauce and wrapped in lettuce. To her right loomed a pizza dark with herbs and heavy with butter, flanked by a bowl of stir-fry that gleamed with half a dozen colours and a dish that brimmed with salad, the white-green slivers of lettuce dressed yellow with cashew cream.
All of it tasted funny. Not unpleasant, just...

"Herbacious!" Olivia de Vere decided.

Remilia smiled. "Tactful choice of words. Yes, my magician, she-"

"You have a magician?" Olivia de Vere marvelled.

Remilia took the interruption in stride, nodding eagerly. "Mhm! She's," Her smile widened as she grinned up at no-one in particular, "She's a bit of a baby. Always eating and sleeping the day away, pestering me for ingredients and artifact hunts - y'know, she didn't stop sucking her thumb until she-"

Behind Remilia, a wall lamp exploded and sprinkled the carpet with shards, eliciting a squeak from Olivia and an amused chuckle from Remilia.

"Ah. Well- oh, right! It was her idea, filling all this food with herbs and vegetables," Remilia explained, her expression looking annoyed, "For afternoon tea."

Olivia steadied herself, encouraged by Remilia's cool demeanour to speak. "O-oh? If I may ask, why-"

"Ah, for reasons!" Remilia cut her off abruptly with an intense smile.

"I-I see... I must say, miss Remilia, I didn't expect your parents to have a... magician on retainer."

Remilia tensed, her chin lowering. "...Mmm.
She serves a dual role, this mage."

Olivia was quiet, allowing Remilia to speak.

"She's... my parents were... they're distant," She decided to say, "And so are hers, now that I think about it... Pa- my magician is not only that, but she's my guardian.
And my ward.
And my best friend.
I don't quite know where I'd be without her." Remilia said fondly.

She felt a flicker of embarassment as the lights seemed to glow just a little brighter. Olivia didn't notice, puzzled by this magician's many roles for only a moment before she smiled gently.
"I think I can empathise, miss Remilia." Olivia murmured.

Remilia arched a brow. "Oh? You can, can you? Well then, let's hear the story of Olivia de Vere, ballroom sniper and lady of London!" She declared as she leaned back.

It was Olivia's turn to look uncomfortable. "I... should apologise."

Remilia blinked. "Oh, I didn't mean-"

Olivia cut in, "No, please. It's been brought to my attention that my behaviour was... it was unkind."

Remilia squirmed discreetly in her chair, her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what mister Osbourne had said about accepting apologies. How was she to sit? Or speak? Was she to smile, would that come off as understanding and regal, or self-satisfied and smug?
It occured to her after a pause that Mister Osbourne hadn't said anything on the subject.

She sat straight and set her hands on her lap, her face slipping into a neutral expression as she stared intently at Olivia.

The sudden change in tone gave Olivia pause. Remilia nodded and quickly said "Go on.".

Still unnerved, Olivia went on. "My parents, like yours, are... I live in the same house as them, but I do feel very far away from them. My 'friends', you mentioned, they were girls I'd just met. Can't even remember their names... but I felt the childish need to ingratiate myself towards them. I saw you there, looking so very pretty and different and, begging my pardon, unfamiliar... It's inexcusable, what I did. I can only hope I can at least provide some clarity as to why I did you this wrong," Olivia feigned a cough, "and that I'm sorry."

"Oh, how the turns have tabled," Remilia declared as she forgot herself, her elbows propped on the table as she stared down her steepled fingers at the startled blonde, "Olivia de Vere, so high and mighty, now reduced to bowing and scraping- No, don't cry! Gosh, you're fragile!" Remilia's melodramatic airs blew away as she saw Olivia begin to crumple, the older girl doing her best not to shrink into her seat.

Remilia smiled awkwardly, feeling funny as she averted her eyes. She could remember - from her arrival in this city to here - how she'd dreamt up all kinds of schemes and put-downs to pour onto the haughty and demonic Olivia de Vere she'd built up in her head.
This Olivia that sat opposite her did not seem so bad, and all the scorn that had bubbled within the very middle of Remilia's being suddenly seemed surplus to requirement.
A laugh broke out of her.

"Ahh... Olivia de Vere, I accept your apology. Know that I'm sorry for being so rude, myself," She said, lifting the herbal infusion high, "A toast, to your good health.
May your soup be stripped of slugs, and your pie dog-food free!"

Olivia de Vere's brief confusion at Remilia's private joke was replaced with a relieved smile as she - in her haste to join in - took up a half devoured pizza crust. "And here's to you, Remilia Scarlet.
The most interesting girl I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

Remilia's smile reached her eyes before a puzzled frown replaced it. "Mmm... Which reminds me; Olivia, I have questions to put to you, if you'd be so good as to answer them?
They're about January 2nd, 1901."

Sakuya stared down at the snow-white pages and the lines of dark, looping cursive that filled them.

"Well? What do you think?" Mister Osbourne asked proudly behind her, his hands clasped at his back.
Sakuya turned with a smile. "The presentation is wonderful - though, if you've designs on printing this for the public, I'd recommend a font more legible?
Or is this a gift for a certain mutual friend?"

Mister Osbourne smiled wryly beneath his wrinkling nose, the dusty confines of his study giving them both little room to stand. "Well, it's been brought to my attention that one of my students won't be able to stay here in London forever. Best to give her a textbook of sorts to help her refresh on things whilst abroad.
It lacks a title, though; the working title I have is 'A Treatise on Diplomacy'. Think it might be a little..."

"Dry?" Sakuya volunteered the word with a widening of her smile.

Mister Osbourne managed an embarrassed shrug. "I mean- I've written some personal words to her in the back, and I did say it was a working title!"

Sakuya tutted. As mister Osbourne bridled at the sound, she couldn't help but laugh, leafing onto empty pages. "Ahh... the only thing I can nit-pick is that it's not finished, Jared."

The tutor failed to insist upon the use of his title and surname. Instead, he nodded. "Yes. I was hoping you might help in its completion."
Sakuya glanced back at him, her eyes widening.

Mister Osbourne smiled back. "You're quick with a pen, and you've been raised under my roof. You know everything I have to teach."

Sakuya thought initially to object, but it made sense. She'd never flaunted her ability - her grip on it was fragile, but firm enough to at least maximise her use of the little time given to her. She'd experienced Osbourne's tutelage first and second hand, so she had the knowledge to complete his work, and...Remilia would have to move on, and soon, if she was to avoid a war with Barnes.
She would leave them, one day.
They'd be left with Barnes.

"...Hey, c'mere." Mister Osbourne whispered, gesturing her close. Sakuya blinked away the tears, not realising she'd started to cry. She went to him, trembling.

He was not overly familiar or even warm at the best of times, but for once, mister Osbourne crushed Sakuya to him in a fatherly embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder, saying nothing, doing nothing.
She stilled. Her breathing steadied.

"You ought to go with her." He told her.

"No." Sakuya managed, her voice a whisper.

"You ought to," He said so again, "This place is killing you."

Sakuya shook her head. She was bound to this place, like he was. Her life was not in her hands, and it was all she could do to keep her master's knives from mister Osbourne. Her fate was not hers to decide.
Sakuya tried desperately to stop crying as mister Osbourne held her, his expression one of sorrow as the servant girl's shoulders shook against him.

Scarlet Devil Mansion, late 1908AD

Patchouli was grinning.
That scared Koakuma.

"So... what is it we stole, exactly?" Koakuma asked.

"Liberated!
We liberated this." Patchouli said archly, her chubby cheek resting on the translucent, red block of crystal that now sat in the middle of the library. It was wide enough so that she struggled to wrap her arms around it, and it was five feet tall, a few inches taller than the witch that coveted it.

"I stand corrected," Koakuma said gently, trying not to smile down at the pouting magician, "So... what is it?"

"A stone. The stone." Patchouli spoke imperiously, though her smoshed cheek on the crystal diminished the effect. "A stone that is said to turn lead to gold, revitalise the body and bring immortality. Humans have used entire lifetimes seeking this stone out, this stone that could upset the balance of the World."

Koakuma felt her hairs stand on end, wondering if this moment would be different from all the others. "I... I see.
What are we to do with this power?"

Patchouli pushed off of the stone and pursed her lips as her purple eyes stared down into its brilliant red crystal. "I think we should have someeee strawberry cake."

Koakuma frowned. "And what about the stone's power?"

"Oh. Oh!," Patchouli exclaimed, ignoring the little devil's raised eyebrows as she went on, "I dunno yet. No, I do! What's that gatekeeper's name? The one that's scowling all the time?"

"Meiling?" Koakuma proffered.

"Yeah, her! She told me about, about elemental magic! I'm gonna show her what we have, and she can tell us more about Woo Shing!" Patchouli declared.

"Wu Xing." Koakuma corrected.

"Precisely, my familiar!" Patchouli gave her an unabashed grin.

Koakuma felt a smile winning its way onto her own face. "So, what will we do then?"

"We'll become more powerful!" Patchouli declared.

"And then what?" Koakuma asked, nonplussed.

That took the wind out of Patchouli's sails. She looked at Koakuma, the little devil's neutral expression coaxing an answer from the little magician.
"I... I dunno."

Koakuma blinked. She'd expected some nefarious plot or arcane, world-changing scheme, not... 'I dunno'.
"Mmm... Wanna know what I think you wanna do?" Koakuma asked.

"What?" Patchouli asked, his expression adrift.

"I think... I think you think you want power because you were told to.
Told to all your life, in fact." Koakuma noted.

Patchouli looked up at her quietly. Koakuma saw it then. The oppurtunity to direct this impressionable genius down a multitude of paths. Towards great mischief, dark and terrible deeds.
She stared down into that nervous, chubby, trusting little face.

Koakuma shrugged. "Which isn't a bad thing, exactly.
You've got to be capable if you want to help people."

Patchouli blinked. "What?"

Koakuma shrugged.

"Well, keep helping people, I mean. It's not like you haven't already been doing that."

Patchouli blinked again. "What do you mean?"

Koakuma scratched at her cheek, feeling strangely responsible. "Well, who fixed Flan's wings after she shredded them?
And moved this house so many times to keep Remilia's little gang ahead of their winged friends?
You were the one to point them in the right direction to find the wand and the spear in the north.
Why'd you do all that?"

Patchouli's eyes went to the corner as she contemplated her answer. Koakuma could fill the gap in the conversation with plenty of her own. For food and board. You're biding time before you turn on her - or maybe you're getting ready to leave when you're ready, like I am? An armful of these books would sell for a fortune-

Patchouli spoke up at last. "Remi and Flan are my friends. They've been real angry these days. My books tell me people sometimes get angry when they're scared... and sometimes when they're hurting.
They're my friends, so... If I can help them, I should like to."

Koakuma smiled ever so slightly. "Good enough. Besides, I'm hardly one to judge."
Koakuma's eyes widened at her own slip up, hurriedly asking, "Say, do you want me to get you that cake?"

"Yeah. Two plates." Patchouli stated firmly.

"That hungry, huh?" Koakuma asked.

"Koakuma must be hungry too," Patchouli said as she hid her face against the crystal, "And she finished alphabetizing the library. That's good work."

Koakuma paused. "Alright then." She said gently as she turned to leave, her emotions an uncomfortable bundle in her chest.

She turned and almost walked into Remilia Scarlet, who was already snarling one word up at her.
"Move."

Koakuma almost tripped over herself as she stood clear. Remilia Scarlet's poisonous glare followed her.

Patchouli spoke up. "Remi, please be nice. Koakuma did really well today."

Koakuma gulped. For a moment, it seemed as though the mistress of the mansion wouldn't let up.
The vampire's red-eyed gaze didn't leave her, her sneer fading into a contemptuous curl of the lip.

"Congratulations, little devil. Take care not to make yourself too indispensable."

Koakuma's eyes widened further, feeling the contents of her stomach churn.

Remilia's snarl widened a touch, just for her. "I have business with your keeper, little devil. Buzz off, but don't stray too far, lest I seek you out."

Koakuma glanced at Patchouli, the anxious little witch nodding and waving her off.
The little devil thought to say something, volunteer to stay, even - but she instead turned and made to leave the library.
It's not like she was going to hang around for much longer, after all.

London, Day 5

"I'm feeling like sorbet, today.
That, or ice-cream." Patchouli decided quietly as she stared into the crystal ball, her quill hurriedly scribbling notes on the page.

"Look at all this pizza." Koakuma hinted quietly, lifting a slice so abruptly a pile of butter-wet herbs sloughed off the bread and onto the plate.
"Say, Koa'," Patchouli murmured as she watched Remilia and Olivia through the glass, "Nothing on that table is toxic to humans, right?"

"Nah. I curated the dishes that Meiling brought up.
Anyway, we don't have sorbet or ice-cream in stock at the moment." Koakuma said.
After a pause, she'd go on to add, "We do have cinnamon rolls-"

"No, thank you." Patchouli rushed out.

"...Alright then," Koakuma bowed her head, her chocolate eyes lifting to regard Patchouli's writing arm. "What're we writing about?"

"Compiling notes.
According to the crystal ball, Mister Osbourne believes the date to be 1888, when he believed he'd encountered the ripper in person. An unnerving experience, to be sure - but he was aware that this is a past event, when Remi quizzed him, yet it maintains a hold on him.
Meanwhile, the glass showed Olivia de Vere's date of significance to be 1901. Remi's teasing out the story, apprently she was told the story of the killer by her nanny as she prepared the girl for bed. Quite the bedside manner."

Koakuma nodded, an eyebrow perching. "Curious."

Patchouli nodded. "'Tis."

Koakuma waited. "Any theories?"

The nib of Patchouli's quill paused. "I shouldn't make a habit of positing theories with so few facts and so many unknowns... but let us review what we have.
Fact one; the creatures we've encountered in our travels required belief, worship or fear to sustain themselves. I count ourselves exempt - Meiling and yourself are special cases, and the sisters need at most a pint of blood and a few alleged vampire sightings, and they're happy for the foreseeable. But such adoration or terror must be bolstered with acts as time passes, diminishing the effect.

Now, fact two; the time here in London is being affected in some way. The destination itself, Olivia de Vere, mister Osbourne, all of them... are trapped, I suppose you could say, in various places in time - and Whitechapel apparently refuses to be neatly determined.

Sakuya the human is both uniquely terrified of the master she serves... or served, and has shown herself capable of space-time manipulation, according to Remi. In an ideal world, we'd conduct more interviews of the populace, test the maid and move ahead with more evidence, but based on these two facts?
I'd theorise that this Edward Barnes has found a way to stop the time for every individual in London he chooses to, turning them into a time capsule, keeping the people of London's most traumatic, powerful or otherwise relevant memories of the Ripper fresh and in the present. If they did this to enough people, the collective weight of their fear, of this preserved fame... it would make even London a safe haven for him to live, even after a rampage or two."

Koakuma's eyes widened at the scale of Patchouli's suggestion. "Like with the Lions... no-one seemed to care. There was scarcely any public outcry."

Patchouli nodded. "I do wonder just how involved Sakuya is in all this. Is her presence all that Edwin requires?"

As though summoned, Sakuya appeared next to Patchouli, eliciting a startled cry from Koakuma.
"Where the hell did you come from?!" Koakuma blurted out, raising a book as though it were a weapon.

Patchouli gestured at her to ease down before she looked to the maid. "Welcome, Sakuya."

The servant girl stared at them, her silver eyes dulled and tinged red from exertion. She indicated the library doors. "I'd hear where mistress Remilia and miss Olivia are, that I might attend them."

Patchouli nodded gently, her purple eyes observing the ink stains on Sakuya's hands. "They're in the drawing room in the east wing. Would you like a cup of-"

As quickly as she'd arrived, the servant girl disappeared.

"...Huh." Koakuma sounded, "She's not so shy with her power anymore, is she?
Heyyy," She cooed as she glanced around to the crystal ball, "It looks like our mistress has struck a milestone, too."

Sakuya rounded the drawing room's open door.

Olivia de Vere's mouth was a thin line, her eyes troubled as her hands gripped the scarlet tablecloth. Remilia had leant forward in her seat, a comforting hand on one of Olivia's, a sympathetic look on the mistress' face.
The vampire's red eyes spotted Sakuya, and her face gently lit up.
"Well, if it isn't my champion.
Would you make us some tea, Sakuya? I may have pressed miss Olivia too far with my questions." Remilia asked.

Olivia smiled bravely. "I'm- I'm okay, miss Remilia, really."

Remilia turned her brightening smile on Olivia. "Alright, some tea for my sake. I swear there was garlic somewhere in this...
Sakuya?" She asked, her smile fading when she looked at Sakuya properly and saw her flushed and strained expression.

The servant girl smiled through it all, standing right where she was. She was happy to see that Remilia was moving forward, at least.
Even if she would not be able to follow her.
"Right away, miss Remilia.
Excuse me."
And she was gone.