2020-08-28 - The Merciless Eyes of Deceit

They knew. They knew something bad was coming. When Byron and Lilith got back to the Penthouse the night of his birthday party, they were giddy and cuddly. That changed when they saw a bone crow on the terrace. It had names to say, but it's the spook of it isn't so simple as just hearing a couple of names. It's what came with the names. Then there's the dreams that start that night and persist through the next few days. They compare the dreams while holding each other in bed after waking, knowing it doesn't bode well, there's no real way to prepare, there's only waiting for the inevitable.

Both of them have a thirst those tired, sleep-meager days as they try to go about life and work. It's horrible, it's persisting. Eventually, though... it happens. And now this is where they are with no sense of who exactly they are, not really. There's certainly no way to prepare for that.

The brunette woman (Lilith?) sees the oasis and she wonders if it can possibly be real. But their options are slim, they need water. She tugs the lead chains that are fastened to the dark-haired man that's with her for this trek across desolation. She hates that he looks so much like the love of her life, that he took him from her, she wants to kill him, but it's not enough, it's not vengeance enough, it's too quick, this death Bryan Thorne deserves. She wants him to suffer like she's made to suffer now.

"Walk faster."

Where was he?

How long have they been walking for?

It felt like forever in this vast dessert. The heat was bearing down on them and his mouth and throat felt uncomfortably dry. The man in the ragged suit stumbles briefly, feeling the hard tug at his wrists, causing his shackled feet to ankles its walking rhythm, no matter how much he's dragging his feet along. He tries to not to make it obvious, but he casts a look around them, seeking out an opportunity for escape. He could try to overpower her, somehow. Lilith. But then where would he run to? And with his legs loosely bound, he wouldn't get far fast.

Then, his eyes turn to the woman, observing her from his 'leashed' position behind her. He knew that she killed his brother and that planned to do worse to him now. The man always had a plan, right? Right? That was Byron. He always tried to stay ahead of the game, whatever the game might be. But he, his brother's doppleganger, wasn't the sort to lay down and die either. He was a trapped animal now, waiting for his moment to turn on his captor.

The woman knows there's nowhere to hide, nowhere to go but forward. They've no doubt been spotted, the wide heat and desolation of the salt pan offers little in the way of obstructions to view. For a moment, the brunette stops to squint at the figures in the distance, as if trying to gauge how far they are and how long she has to plan for what to do about this. She will see this done... for Byron. She will have revenge... on Bryan.

In fact, she's furious that these riders are now in their way, but she contains herself, she plans while forging on at a pace that's a little slower, but every now and again, she cuts her eyes to the dark haired man she's tugging along, gauging, keeping careful distance, she knew Byron so through and through, he'd fight tooth and nail to have his freedom, this brother of his is no doubt the same or wilier in a different way with the terrible crime he's pulled off with deceit.

The woman (not Lilith, surely) steals another glance at her captive with consideration. She hates looking at him, he looks just like him (stop looking at him, you'll want to make him real). She contemplates letting him out of his bindings just for a moment, simply because there's nowhere to run and hide and she may not know who exactly these tribes are or what they're prone or capable of, but she knows they won't be any kinder to him, they're both invading their land, captor, captive, doesn't matter, does it?

Maybe she can haggle or parlay, but they have an advantage with that if they get close, seeing just one woman and a man in shackles, they don't have to do anything they don't want to do if they don't feel threatened at all. Therefore, in the end, she goes somewhere inbetween ambush and parlay, hopefully proving she can be a problem for them.

Quietly, she pulls out her crossbow from sling on her back and sidesteps a few paces away from the shackled man to start taking aim, "Hold still or I'll bolt your head and offer you as meat to roast."

And though her words are quiet, there's so much venom in them, so much hatred. He stole her everything.

Trying to line up shot with stillness, she tries to ping the ground right around their approach with a series of shots to try and make them think twice about getting too close. Granted, she might hit one and they won't be warning shots anymore, they'll be an attack, but... it might go that way anyway. Options are limited and appearing STRONG when she's essentially alone is important to her for whatever comes next.

The riders in the distance catch the man's attention immediately. Perhaps, he expected an encounter such as this. Maybe seeing their presence now helps him to figure out just where the hell they were out in these salt pans. He watches from his distance, not saying a word for a moment, merely waiting to see if his captor had taken notice of the approaching as well. She has. Looking between the trio and the woman who he knows as Lilith, he waits to see what the woman does.

"I wouldn't try to cause an incident here if I were you." He finally says, alas, too late when she rather recklessly, in his eyes, fires off that warning shot. Typical. She was always hot-headed and fiery, which is probably why she murdered Byron... right? Looking across the distance at the riders, he can't help but turn to glance over his shoulder to see just where he (or they) could go if the other group decides to take offense.

Something troubles him, but he's not sure what is bothering him now. Besides the fact that he's still a prisoner here. There's a crease at his brow as he tries to get himself reoriented back so that he can focus on this very situation.

Squinting at the slowed riders that look to be approaching with a willingness to parlay, the brunette woman (Lilith?) is still wary, as she should be. But she won't push her luck, either, they have responded to her warning and see that she's nothing to shirk, they needed to know that, it affects decision making processes. She wishes Byron were here so badly right now, they always worked as a team, they planned together, they called shots and took aim and worked tag-for-tag in the face of danger to defend themselves. She's not quite sure what the scarring means. She'd kill for his opinion right now, they worked best when they bounced ideas back and forth to either shoot down, approve, or draw compromise on somewhere in the middle.

She's not alone, but she feels so alone. And this man, this Bryan that took her Byron, he... he has his eyes.

The woman shouldn't have looked at the dark haired man so long. They look too similar, did he really kill his brother, did-- is this-- wait. Wait. Look at him again. She does, right at the man's eyes and she looks extremely conflicted and confused for a moment, going even more rigid with tension that already rides her shoulders and stance. They can't have the same eyes and those are Byron's eyes, the intensity, the...

Maybe she should unshackle him just in case. They'd be two. She wouldn't feel alone in this moment. She almost does, it's irrational, but instead she looks away sharply, back to gauge how far out the riders are. Then finally, she lowers her crossbow. It's not put away quite yet, but it hangs at her side and will be once they're close enough for it to be less advantageous as a weapon.

She can't stand it. She does what she would do if Bryan were Byron in this moment.

"... what is on their hand?"

Her voice is almost soft when she wonders, oddly absent of the venom now.

What are they planning on doi-- The man needn't finish his thought once he sees the tribesmen raise their left hands in the air, taking notice of the oval shaped scars carved into their palms. Was this a ruse? What does he remember of these people? Were they the honorable sort? Were they known for their violence? However the longer he tries to parse that information, the more that the reality of their situation slowly begins to work its way into his mind.

It's at this moment that Lilith takes notice of him, catching his intense gaze as his mind digs deep to learn what more he knows of these people, as well as what steps he should take next. Her question also briefly pulls him out of his mind trying to warn him that this whole thing was the ruse. There was no desert? They weren't really here.

He's in the present now, however, even if there's this nagging through in the back of his mind.

"The marking is identify themselves as a specific group. Tribe. By showing you their marking, it indicates that they want to talk." How does he even know this?

Briar Rose

The Brother

The brunette woman keeps a straight and even face despite the wrench in her gut. She stands as tall as her slight frame can muster, changes the tension to ready rigidity in stance, just in case, then stows her crossbow completely when the woman starts to talk. The addresses to her give her pause, she doesn't answer right away. Again, she looks aside at... Bryan? No Byron. No, Bryan. No... they danced, didn't they? Her eyes threaten to fill with tears because she sees him broken too, next to the happy and it's not... it's like looking at two mirror images, it's confusing and painful what plays out.

What if they have to move? What if they have to fight? What if they have to run? Byron was hers... but Bryan is too, he's hers to deliver, she's owed this. Mine. Mine. Mine.

The sunshine is as bright as the diamond she thinks she feels the absence of for a flash of moment. Then with all the focus and will she can muster, with a completely straight and even face, she fans her powers out gradually, cracking the chain between the man's shackles on his feet.

"You speak as if you know us."

She can't bring herself to confirm those words, so she prods instead.

The man in the tattered suit is trying to remember how he knows so much about these people and this world as he watches their approach on foxback. As he's the prisoner here, he says nothing when they are addressed, but it does seem like this woman knows exactly who they are. He stands there stony faced when accusations are made, well, when they are brought up. Things that have been said or believed for whatever reasons that is unclear.

Though does he see a murderer when he looks on Lilith? He has mixed emotions there. He remembered her to be his brother's fiancee who killed him out of... why would she do that though? The more that he stared at his brother's murderer, the more that he knows that she didn't kill Byron. But how does he know this? How does he know anything?

It takes a moment for him to realize that his shackles were now broken and while at that very second, he may have been confused, he sees Lilith's light radiate warmly around her. Just like Lilith, he makes no acknowledgement of this change.

For a while, Lilith(?) stares at the mysterious woman while she speaks from atop the mount. It sounds foreign to her, all of that, yet so familiar at the same time, how can she possibly remember things two ways? It's a constant teeter totter of emotions within the woman, uncertainty tempering the venom and rage she felt. In a way, it's like its own poison, that discrepancy that starts to hit her while the woman talks more and more. Gradually, she starts to shake her head, one hand lifting to press against the side of it-- it's a bit as if she's having trouble containing or struggling with what's being said to her.

Then she knows. She knows there is no Bryan, is there? She looks at the EYES of the fox mounts and that's the last thing she needs to fully believe that this is Byron, yes BYRON right next to her, she was never alone at all. Impulsively, the woman's hand shoots out before she can even look at him, grabbing for his hand in a shackled wrist, he needs to know it's her, she needs him to know she knows, she needs...

Choking on a sudden sob, Lilith realizes there's nothing to grab for next to her anymore. She's alone.

Regaining some sense of composure and refusing to cry despite her sudden panic, she yells, "What did you do with him! BRING HIM BACK! He is MINE!"

... Byron might confuse that sudden demand of the woman in Lilith's confusion. He was her prisoner, she would think he was HERS, wouldn't she?

When the strange woman speaks, the dark-haired man remembers seeing his brother's body one last time- he was found a week, was it, after his death? Torn to shreds after Lilith just dumped his corpse in the bin. In the bloody bin of all places, adding further disrespect to the man who loved her more than anything.

She did it. She killed Byron. Now she wants to kill me too.

She let him free though? But why? Because she thought that he would help her against THEM. The people of that tribe whose lands she is now trespassing on. For his own self-preservation, whatever the trio plan to do with this trespasser or even worse, what Lilith plans to do to him once she's set on her way, Bryan wasn't going to wait around for that to happen.

Blending into sandy landscape that covers the entirety of this place, it's easy for him to go undetected, everything looked the same. The light of that overbearing sun also helps play a part and for now Thorne remains hidden. Who knows where he had run off to or how far that he gets. Or if he even left at all.

Lilith has never seen Byron do what he just did to blend into the environs and become essentially invisible to her eyes with the background and surroundings as an illusory veil. She has no clue he can do that at all, she just thought he could project them in ways others could see. She's extremely confused, and it happens right alongside all the other emotional confusions, which certainly isn't helping her wit the possibilities of what he... could actually do. Spinning in place to look around, she stops yelling, at least, when crossbows are touched and breathes in a huge pull of air, not seeing any sign of... BYRON.

She knows, she still knows it's him, even though her mind threatens to wander away into other memories, other beliefs before snapping back to the solid belief and KNOWING she had before. But she can't find him. As the woman asks a question, Lilith's mouth starts to open for answer, then stops, wary. Her eyes are wild with more and more misunderstanding while they speak, and as a futile argument, she says, "I have a name, I know who I am, I am..." She goes chin up regal there for a moment, so sure, so convinced no one FORGETS who they are, but she has to stop. Her mind feels funny, her guts flutter with that weird sensation you get with inexplicable deja vu.

She can't say who she is. It infuriates her. But now that she thinks she's alone, that they've been tricking her the whole time, she starts a slow stalking walk like a predator on the salt flat while speaking. She looks at the mounts closely, she looks at the 'people' closely, and though she's keeping herself almost gracefully in check, there is passion and threat all through her.

"This is a trick. You took what was dear inside me with that crow and now you use it against me. There is no brother. I am alone. He is not here, there is no one to ask. You offer me aid because you think I am desperate enough to take it without him. But I've fought through terrible things alone and I will do it again." Then she draws up short of where they're mounted to stare, "Not once, not once have I ever not had to fight my way out of a Dream. Your offer is too good to be true and there's nowhere to run, as you're so keen to remind. So..."

Lilith (Briar Rose?) wonders then, "If this aid is real, what is the payment in return?"

Pol was right. Where could he could? The world as vast, but could he really flee and leave these salt flats? Or was this place endless because it wasn't real? He really did want to run. He, himself, had no idea that he could do this, but when one's life was on the line, desperation will force you try anything and everything to survive.

Something else was coming over him, the longer he lingered, the more he remembered. He knows that he's not Bryan. The man did not exist. But who was he? Why couldn't he remember? His mind goes into near panic when he realizes that he can't think of a name at all. It was maddening because he /must/ have a name. Listening to the woman's own confusion and defiance when told the same as what he's feeling now, he knows that she didn't kill his Byron Thorne, a man who was no longer his brother. Yet, neither was it his identity. There's a sense or short-lived relief that washes him. Lilith wasn't the killer. There was no killer. He knew her name right??

Without her even coaxing him out into the open, the man lets his illusion fade, moving to stand in front of Lilith as being the barrier between her and the strangers. One of his hands reaches back to make sure that she remains behind him, "She has a name." He knows that much. "Her name is Lilith. Lilith Winslow. She didn't kill Bryan Thorne because Bryan doesn't even exist." He felt frustrated, yet when he addresses the group, he sticks to a firm tone rather than an entirely flustered one. "Do you know what our names are? Is that what you can do? Help us find our names?"

If Lilith was confused before, she's entirely confused now as Byron shows up behind her with drop of illusory cover and then steps right in front of her to keep her from doing something stupid. To be fair, the Veil and Dreams have fucked her sideways and back, so she clearly has trust issues. Once he's in front of her with his hand back, she takes a moment to look at his hand, as if assuring herself it's... real? He wasn't gone? He's the right man, not a construct? Slowly, she slips her hand into his and sidesteps a little to look at the riding party with a new light of consideration in her eyes as sheer relief washes over her. She WAS NOT alone. But wait. What did he just say her name was?

"... Did you just call me Lizette? I'm not a French baguette..."

It just pops out of Lilith with confusion at Byron's back, apparently she still has the wits to be offended by froofy French addresses. She thinks for a moment he might be giving them a fake name on purpose, but he's not... doing it for himself, so why... no name, no name, no name. Maybe her name is Lizette. She certainly hopes not, though. After a couple of blinks, she takes to listening, really listening now that she's touching what is Byron. And if it isn't Byron...

He's killed her before in a Dream. If she had to die, she wants it to be him that does it, that final act of intimacy in death. It's fucked up, but it is what it is.

The offer of canteen almost makes her recoil, like she's being handed a snake when it happens, jolting her out of consideration. But she is bone dry, she's felt that way for... she can't remember. After staring for a moment, she reaches out for it and doesn't waste a moment in drinking, despite her innate wariness. The body's needs and urges can drive a person to different desperations, she reminds herself she knows better than this, but she doesn't care.

Catching her hand over her mouth and almost choking with greedy pulls for water (she hopes), it wipes afterwards and she hands it toward Byron, "... thank you. I think. Is it far?"

"Those fucking crows." Byron remembers them now. In fact, he's had several encounters of the crow kind. There's a clear sense of agitation that can be physically seen in his stance and posture, the way that his shoulders tense. And the way in which he tries to keep Lilith safely behind him despite these beings not being their foes. If they can be believed. Dark eyes flicker from face to face as each of the three speak. There's a look of impatience in his features as they each add a little tidbit about where they must go and, vaguely, what they must do once there. He takes in every name with that same look of displeasure, but when they talk about The Eye, his own eyes narrow.

The Eye felt like a universal symbol for something. He's encountered many an eye before as well. That was a symbol for the Illuminati right? Or was that the Freemasons?

"Tainted?" He would ask more, but Lilith utters something completely ridiculous to Byron. What was she talking about? A French baguette. "...What?" He'd say more, but he longingly watches as Lilith drinks from the flask given her. It /hurt/ to talk. He's grateful when she passes it to him rather than draining it completely and he's quick to take a good few swallows, feeling the refreshing relief as the liquid soothed his coarse throat. For now, he'll let the Three answer Lilith's question, he had a parched throat to drown.

Lilith isn't like Byron. Her powers are very outward and she has no real sense of someone's emotions or intentions, what's truth or lie. She just kind of expects the worst out of most people because of her life. When you accept that most people are awful or stupid, it bothers you a little less at some point. But this is different. Something in her wants to believe just because of the damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don't nature of it, because things like that make sense to her. What doesn't make sense to her is why these people or whatever they are... are here and would help or care.

She did just drink the water, though, she couldn't quite help her impulses in that regard and it's sating in a way that immediately starts to invigorate her some. She starts to feel less like a construct with emotions and more like a person. But she still can't remember her name. Byron supposedly doesn't have a name either, but she knows it... so she tests it when it's time to decide whether or not to mount up that fox.

"Byron..."

Lilith runs out of words after that single address, but she looks up and at his eyes when he's done drinking after looking at the saddle and mount. She's uncertain and she trusts him, whatever he chooses, not any of this, particularly. It's all she has that's solid.

It's amazing how this water is actually quenching his thirst, so he no longer has to feel dehydrated anymore. Then again, this could all be a ploy, part of their trap, but while that sort of thing would normally concern Byron, he's just glad to not have a desert for a throat anymore. The canteen /is/ dry by the time he's done with it. If he feels ashamed by that, he doesn't apologize for it, simply handing it back.

"Your hyrex?" By the way the fox creature is reacting, he'll assume that that's a hyrex. When Chal starts to explain, once more about their names and their memories, if Byron was wary about that before, he's even more disturbed. "What would be changed or altered now that the crows stole our names?" Someone had told him that the crows did that before. He's slowly remembering it all.

When it looks as if the group want to spirit them away to find their names, for whatever reason, he gestures for Lilith to take a seat first in the case that she needs help up. However, when she utters his name, all that he can hear is her referring to him as Bryan Thorne. "I'm not Bryan. I know that much. Apparently, we're without names now and I don't much like that fact."

Lilith seems to be about to correct Byron automatically, but Zel's on top of it and spares her the argument or effort... or the confusion of hearing himself as other names from her lips while looking at him just so. She looks at the surroundings carefully as they ride, though, as if it has something to offer her, but seeing the oasis move out of sight in a different direction seems to give her a little relief. The woman is done with things that seem too good to be true where danger is concerned, she's already drinking from the cup of the Other Side, so to speak. Usually she wouldn't dare consume anything, she can tell parts of her resolve are weak even with the relative reassurance that Byron is Byron even if he doesn't realize he's Byron.

But this, this when they cross another mirage, this creepshow here with the trees and the crow and the orange ground feels so wrong it's right, somehow. It fits what she expects and that grounds her some, despite the dread and continued uncertainty and... fear. Lilith doesn't often feel too much fear while in a strange and dangerous situation, it usually comes before in moments of foreboding or anxious worry, or in the aftermath. What if this is the thing that really steals her happiness after...

It hasn't been long enough, it isn't enough, she just learned how to BE happy in a way that resonates to the bones these past few months, despite EVERYTHING else.

Swallowing thickly, she sits a moment and stares at the tree and the crows and remembers the horror of having her own eye plucked out. Is that when it happened? It really doesn't matter. This is the path now, she doesn't see much way about another that doesn't end in more uncertainty and violence. After closing her eyes, she dismounts, then steels herself again when the canteen is offered anew. Once more, she's wary, she can't help that any more than she can really help reaching for it. She's not dead yet after the first drink, that's... good enough for now. She's so tired of being thirsty. It feels like slowly dying and turning into dust.

Again, she passes it to Byron once she's had a long, solid drink, this time pacing herself. She seems prepared to go when Byron is, or as prepared as she's ever going to be, but she has a nagging confusion and question to pose, and this time, it's less accusing and more... genuine. Everything is tit for tat, isn't it?

"Why are you helping us?"

So their own names were being warped within their minds. This makes Byron want to get this entire thing over and done with just so he can have his name back. There's little reassurance made by the others in regards to any changes that may occur due to their names being stolen, but it's not anything he brings up since he last inquired. While his eyes might skim the odd and shifting landscape around them, his mind is working to remember everything that he believes he should know. What he should remember. In the case that those memories are fleeting now due to his lack of memory. I mean, he did believe himself to be Byron's British twin brother for a time.

They then come to a stop and he dismounts the fox creature to get a closer look at the orange sand. The birds, themselves, are noted and he might even glare at one of them, but they are meant to cross this sand now. He returns to Lilith just in time for her to pass the second canteen to him. Unlike the first time, he more warily inspects the offered gift, but who knows what they will encounter in that orange sand. He takes in a more moderate serving this time, having had his fill the last. He does not drain the container when he hands it back.

Lilith is full of questions, perhaps asking the things which Byron should be. But Thorne wants his name back, thus he looks ready to take the trek. Pausing to consider this, he will ask one question, "Did the crone send you?"

The longer the others talk, the more Lilith draws her brows into a frown, and for just a moment, she feels some relative empathy kicking in for these... these... hell, she doesn't know. Lilith can be an absolute hardass when it comes to anyone or anything outside of Byron and she's not even sure these count as 'people' just like any other time. But they seem more... alive somehow? She can't place it. It's like being in a storybook as much as something Other, whatever the origins may be. And she's not completely heartless, in fact, most of the time if she seems that way, it's a defense mechanism, truth be told. And living like this, she needs as many defenses as she can get.

It's not a LONG moment of feeling that, but it does let her see the explanation in a new light, which might matter. She's felt herself lose control, she knows she walks a dangerous line between prowess and just too damn much consuming power. She gets lost in it sometimes during a fight, rides the high and LIKES the blood while it's shed, at least from time to time. That wanes afterwards when she feels like a monster, of course, but... she can see where someone of talent that loses a whole piece so important as the identity that comes by proxy with a simple name would just... become something else, something darker, wilder, and unimaginable to her as she is right now.

The brunette woman makes a noise in her throat finally once she's finished contemplating the answer, and it's subtle acceptance before they prepare to ride off. Stepping forward once, then again toward the crows and the tree she's frowning hard at, she pauses to look at the dark-eyed man next to her, "Kiss me. Just in case. Then I'm ready."

Of course, Byron had more questions, but perhaps now was not the time to ask them. Whatever this Eye was, they were soon going to encounter it and despite the prattle going between the Three, the dark-haired man's mind was working to psyche himself up for what is to come. They mentioned haggle. He keeps that in mind. Every so often, he'll turn back to Lilith to watch her as the trio chat. He knew that she could stand up for herself. She'd her fought her way out of a lot. Maybe he shouldn't worry.

The incoming storm seems to catch all of their attentions, almost as if on cue, you could see it off in the horizon. "Thank you for the water. And the ride." He nods over to one of the fox creatures. "Wish us luck."

Returning to Lilith, he stands there observing the ominous colored sands. He's as ready as he'll ever be. But then Lilith asks for a kiss to help in her preparation. Obviously, this was not a request the man was going to deny, whether he's named Byron or not. Both of his hands reach out to cup at her face, moving in close to hold her in a long, passionate kiss. Who knows what was about to happen and hopefully if things go badly, they'll have this kiss to remember. Breaking off slowly, he stares into her eyes for a long moment before his hands lower, one of them reaching for own. "Let's go."

It'd be so easy, wouldn't it? To pick up what calls to them, to retrieve what's their own. The water moves and Lilith stares at the glimmering stones underneath marked and singing with the ripples on the surface, and it's tempting, so tempting. But the shining stones also remind her of what Byron put on her finger to... she re-grounds. Instead of looking at the stones or Byron, which takes some effort, she focuses on everything she sees and has seen on approach when she had a wider view. Initially, she's tempted to go into the tree and find the sickness, haggle with the crows to make them black and glossy and alive, perhaps, if possible, if only they'll pluck away the stones that are lies to leave them with the truth.

But... the red sand catches her attention after that. She recalls where the others stopped, the veined appearance on the fringes. She looks at the tree's roots. Then she looks back at the water, not the stones, but the water. Water can be life. Water can be death. They drank the water offered. They were seeking water. Water feeds the ground, the roots, the sky even to fill it with rain as it rises. She hears the stones call again. Then she gauges Byron and he knows in the second before she does it, she's about to do something, it's in the set of her jaw after all that restraint and clockwork ticking thought behind her blue gaze.

Fanning her other way of 'seeing' and 'feeling' outward, she tries to determine the composition of the water. Is it life? Or death?

These stones called out for Byron and Lilith to come and claim them because they, the stones, belonged to the pair. Or so they are told. As he makes his approach, Byron's gaze makes a visual sweep of the area, catching sight of various other stones that remain silent, while his can be heard loud and clear. He tries to locate the best spot in which to lean forward and make a grab for his stone without needing to step foot into nor touch the water's surface. In fact, he stands at the edge of the pool, the closest that he can get to his stone, to simply stare down at it. Was there anything ominous about the water? There must be something or else this was no challenge.

Turning to regard Lilith now, he watches her own reaction, wondering if she had found a stone as well. If so, he'd tell her not to reach for it, but by her stance, though most likely it's the look of determination on her face, he knows that she's up to something. As long as she isn't making a grab for the stone just yet, he's somewhat fine with it. But he also worries that there may be some backlash to their using their abilities. These things happen from his experience.

As for Byron, while he's always hesitant to do so in places like this, whether it's the Veil or a Dreamscape, he scans the area for thoughts, emotions. Was there anything here that he could sense aside from Lilith. He's also sweeping out into the distance towards the crows. If they had a mind like actual animals, could he control them? These are all things that he's trying to gauge at the moment.

Tensely, Lilith starts to prowl away from Byron to where her stone is on the opposite side, a siren song calling her to what's hers to take back. She doesn't get very far, abruptly she starts to pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, hands going up into her hair with tugging grip. It's a bit like she's trying to walk off the urge, hard snap turns on her heel, "This is not what it seems. It is... there's blood and sinew in the dirt. That tree is dry bone. The water is... it's not water. It's not poison. It's..." The woman's hands slip from her hair as she speaks to the man nearby with hush and anxious rush on her words, eyeing the crows.

"We were on a salt plain. Salt makes liquids..." Lilith rolls her hand at the wrist while suddenly focusing sharply on Byron, waiting for him to catch on, "It is not saltwater, but it's something that will..." Again she stops and looks at the crows, then back at Byron, not wanting to say too much, who knows what crows know about words. Then again, they just spout asshole shit, soooooo...

Conduct. That's what Lilith is getting out. She's telling Byron this place is both dead and organic, to a degree, at the same time.

"... I think the water is the Eye. I don't know if we need to stare into the Eye of the Abyss to see properly or drink it. But they said it can't be trusted while..."

Fucking crows. Go away. She doubts they can get them into the water to fry them en-masse, but maybe something will short out or they'll spook or...

She draws in a huge breath and puts all the faith in the world in Byron, uncannily leaning the odds in his favor for a light show.

So the birds had thoughts and some sort of brainwave, it's always strange when doing mental scans on Dream creatures. But Byron had a feeling that it would be useless to try and control them to fetch the stones. And then his stone calls out once more. He wanted to be whole. He wanted his god damn name back. Without any knowledge of what they are dealing with, he looks back over his shoulder at the crows and the dead tree. He had some uninformed thoughts, but what Lilith says is both surprising and disturbing.

"The ground that we're standing on is made of muscle or blood?" Whenever he's encountered something similar, there were often ways that you could tell that something or someplace was a living entity. A throbbing pulse or perhaps hearing the sounds of a breath being taken. Something. This just looked like red dirt, but now that she mentioned it. "Does that mean that we can hurt this thing by lashing out at its body in the dirt?" See, this is the sort of hijinx Nameless Maestros do...

"I was about to ask if you had a canteen on your person to try and gather some of the water for testing. Maybe see what happens if you use it water the dried out husk of a tree." The one with the crows. Who knew how anything worked here, but he was willing to try and test everything to figure out what they do and how they work. He then relays his own info, "There's something in the water, but I'm sure you already know that. I can sense it there." But then she tells him that the water is the eye, something which makes him look at it's shimmery surface again. But he gets the meaning of what she wants him to do.

There's a moment of pause when he considers this, his eyes settled in on those crows in the trees. It was something to try, but he's wary that it may stir a whole lot of shit up in the process. Taking in a deep breath, the air shifts around him, turning electric as his hands light up, "Here goes nothing. Be ready just in case." Be ready for what?? And with that, he arcs a surge of electricity towards the pool, not being one hundred percent certain on what the reaction may be.

Grant Turner. He's suave. He's handsome. She thought she liked him once, even. Certainly not love, but they did have some kind of connection where they could talk and really talk, some strange draw, perhaps, neither of them understood before Gray Harbor and Lilith's return. He never knew her real name, he gave her a name because she wouldn't tell him, he called her Deadly Nightshade because of the pain games he used to pay her to play with him. He's also a malignant narcissist that borders on psychopathy, it's a problem that carried and still carries in her life today.

Belladonna

It always made her roll her eyes at him. That's not what happens when she sees him after the blinding cacophony of conductive electric flares and the name caws of the crows as they scatter. She hears the voices from the glimmering stones in the pool. Part of her registers after the flinch that she needs to check on Byron and she does, quick staring gaze with her eyes before they're drawn back to Grant. Then she loses all focus and her expression turns... dreamily bewitched. She steps toward the image of the other man and the pool. One step. Then another. Then another.

She doesn't grab for his hand immediately, something is screaming at her inside to STOP, but slowly, she lifts it and holds with trembling breath while their fingers are shy of meeting. She can't remember her name, is this her name?

If the water was the Eye and if this dirt that they stood on was also 'alive', Byron had a very bad feeling that this jolt of electricity was about to awaken the beast. This is why they needed to be on the ready and react quickly before this thing, this Eye was able to lash out at them. It was the name thief as far as Byron was concerned, but was it the cause of the weirdness going on around town too? Alexander Clayton being a school teacher? Nicole was an actress of some sort? If approached by the denizens of this place, would the trio on the foxes have heard of these stories too?

Byron doesn't have time to think about any of that, however, and once the deed is done he watches the swirling light and then that crackling of energy that lingers beneath the water's surface.

The voice like a whisper quietly invades his mind. It sounded like his father. Just the sound alone makes the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stand on end, almost as if he can feel his father's hot breath breathing down on him from somewhere behind him. His heart starts to race, his own breathing picks up before he remembers, and only then does he try to mask his own presence by holding in his breath. Any hint of his father's presence always made him feel like the child that was tormented all of those years ago, where to survive you had to hide. He was so tempted to do that right now. Again. To simply disappear and fade away and out of his father's life forever.

If only he had this power before, when he was a child...

Part of Lilith twinges with memory of who she is when she hears the name Grant gave her shortened into 'Bella' because for some reason, that's someone else in her mind now. (Isabella?) The fascimile and touch of hand is warm and electrifying, is that what love is? (No. It's not. But love is...) Part of her blinks from that dreamy gaze to look around when Byron is mentioned, that's love, that's love, that's... gone. He's gone. Lilith feels her heart break a little and chokes a sob, jaw trembling. Her body is reacting with all the things it should react with, save for that hand... it keeps reaching, despite it all.

What does she have left now? He said he'd always save her. Maybe she's not the right woman he loves. She has no name. Maybe he's Bryan afterall. He has no name. They could be anyone, couldn't they? She wants to be someone. The man in front of her seems to know who she is and she's alone. The siren song is strong, so strong.

"... I'm scared. You'll kill me."

But does it stop her from reaching? No.

For those who know Byron Thorne, they may see him as a boy...a man who enjoyed surrounding himself with friends, being acknowledged and praised for his accomplishments. Being noticed. Right now, however, it felt so good to be forgotten and overlooked. If he were invisible as a child, he could more easily escape, run away and never be found. Even now, the threat that is Stephen Thorne was lessening in his mind. Was that trace of something that he could feel, his father searching for him? He had to remain hidden.

With wide-eyes, he stares outward in his fear, but the longer he remains hidden and out of 'sight', the less fearful he becomes. Coming out of this shock, he eyes his surroundings to notice that Lilith was there. Had he forgotten that she was? That was the power which his father held over him. What was she doing? She shouldn't be anywhere near the po--

For now, the elder Thorne's voice was but a distant memory when he realizes what's about to happen. While he may be terrified to show himself and draw the ire of the man once more, Byron launches himself out to try and grab ahold of Lilith , to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her as far back as he can, away from the pool. "Lilith! Don't touch it!"

The water feels so nice, why wouldn't it be her name, why did she ever push Grant Turner away, why does she keep running from him, why does she keep fighting him? The siren song of the Eye and all it's lies is so strong, it's magnetic, altering her perception of the way things ARE, who she is as LILITH. She's a violent mess, she deserves someone like Grant to keep her in check. Love's gone. Love's gone. Love's...

She reaching, she's almost there, she almost gives into the arms around her just because she feels like there's nothing else now, maybe this is her, maybe this is... Belladonna? Is that her name? Is this her life?

No. Her life and her love is snatching her hard and fast by the waist to keep her from fully submerging her hand for that last bit of distance it takes to grab the stone she doesn't know she's reaching for, precisely. As she's tugged away, the arm that isn't in the water flails back with defensive panic and surprise, almost catching Byron right in the face before he mitigates and drags. Abruptly, though, all that wildcat panic of being torn away from what she believes is her life and name... it stops. The woman goes breathless and limp, her fingers have grazed the stone and the memories, the intimate small things, then the biggest thing of all, asking her to be fully his for as long as life gives them.

Turning in the hold some to look at the man with a shellshocked expression, she murmurs, "... you came back."

Then her eyes close fast and tight while she tries to make sense. She's swelled and full with love and relief in a way that's almost woozy feeling. But she knows what's roaring toward them, at least, too.

"... it's coming."

He couldn't let Lilith grab the stone! From what Byron could see, she was under some spell. He could see it in her expression, her motions. He could feel it oozing off of her. That's why he acted quickly, making a grab for her before she could reach for the stone. Breathing heavily as adrenaline coursed through his veins in this panic, the man with the dark eyes loosens his grip once she's safely away, to brush a thumb at her check. "Are you okay?"

"...you came back."

"I wasn't leaving here without you." Their warm reunion is short-lived, however, and he can feel the water trying to pull him down into it, to which he pushes forward, pulling away from its grasp as he tries to force Lilith along with him. A storm was definitely brewing, but... there was something else.

Those stones, they shine more brightly now. It's hard to understand why, but he knows that the one was truly his. But how? Or why?" He looks to Lilith to gauge her reaction of any of this. Does she notice her stone too. He just saved her from touching the stone, how can he trust that it's truly safe to reach for it again. How can he trust that his own mind is no longer under the Eye's influence? He couldn't, no matter how real it all felt.

He needed to shut the Eye's power down, so that it could no longer affect them and only then would they know the truth of those stones. Without the trickery. Because despite believing that he knows the truth, he doesn't trust his own self even now. So with that in mind, he's not sure /how/ he's going to do it, but he reaches out his mental gift in an attempt to silence the Eye, so that they can see everything for what it truly is.

Lilith is still a bit wild-eyed with indecisive, hard-thinking panic that she's controlling by sheer force of will, but it's better than that dreamy-eyed daze she was in before. She's looking around, considering the approaching storm while Byron sees other things, murmuring in a rush about what she feels and what she thinks, tone intensely low and urgent. He had looked hard at the pool like she did and she noticed it from right there in his arms, "Me too. I see and feel it too. But I'm scared. I don't want a name that someone wiped magic on."

Lilith has no idea that Byron might be able to grant that wish in his own way. She doesn't notice that he's even exerted his powers with fury to... to...

The glimmer cancellation feels odd to the brunette woman, she loses her train of thought and starts to look around in the middle of staring at the storm with consideration, "I don't know what to do otherwise, though. I could try to break the tree, but why, I'm not sure. There's... theoretically an 'eye' in the storm too, maybe we just have to... uh. Do you feel that? It feels like..."

She can't talk anymore. The stones have changed and for a moment, she stares with wonder at Byron, "Did you just wipe the magic clean?" Her head turns at the sound of the voice, though, and it sounds like him, it sounds like the right thing to do now, it's now or never. Abruptly, with a look hard at the stones now that her view of them has changed, she sees what she's pretty sure her stone, "Look. Look. Look. I see mine now. Do you see?"

Reaching into Byron's hand, she tries to coax him toward the stones while going for what's hers.

While she does so, she's not afraid anymore for some reason. She just wants to go home. And the very idea of that is warm inside her, all the things that home means.

If this is wrong and the end, if that's where she's going, maybe it's not so bad.

This was an act of desperation on Byron's part. He could sense something in the water, knows that their minds were tricked into believing things and yet, here he was, trying to do what he could to shut that power down. He didn't want to be lied to or tricked. He wanted to see the world the way it truly was without this energy source manipulating things. It was definitely clear to him that this was a monumental task that he was taking on, he could feel the vastness of this pool which he was trying to 'cleanse' in his own way.

Something was happening though. He could feel the change. The figure of the harpy catches his gaze and he watches her with attentive eyes, studying her features, her appearance and trying to piece together whether he'd seen something similar before. Or to try and store it away in his memory banks in the case that he does so in the future. With the furious energy of the storm whipping about, he makes sure that Lilith is safe, especially since he's not certain what the hell was going to happen next. That need to protect her grows even more when the humanoid shape with the glowing head appears before them rather ominously, if you ask him.

However, the trickery was gone and the pool looked like a plain pool full of stones. None were calling to him now. Quickly, he turns to Lilith to see if she'd witnessed the same. If only he noticed that everything has changed, then there was more trickery afoot somewhere, but her reaction to all of this cements the fact that, yes, maybe what he just did worked. "I do." He responds, when she asks if he felt that. That was the confirmation he needed.

Feeling somewhat at peace with everything now, despite the creepy figure with the glowing head hovering there, Byron nods to the next question Lilith asks. "I needed to know that we weren't being tricked again. So I tried to shut down the thing's powers, which felt so similar to mind. Let's hope that we can find those stones again." There were so many!

Feeling the tug at his hand, he moves along with Lilith, allowing his gaze to inspect each and every stone that falls within sight. He remembers what his looked like, right? It tempted him to take it several times already. Half-turning to Lilith when she says that she sees her stone, he can't stop her from taking it, but maybe there's no need. That's when he notices his dark stone, glistening in the pool like stars. "I think I see mine as well." They got this far and he has no idea what they will experience once contact with the stones are made, but for some reason, he's more willing to go through with this now than he ever was . Crouching down at the poolside, he reaches out for his stone.

In the back of Lilith's mind, she remembers the scarred hands while hers are burning and searing with memories, identity, and pain. Is this how it felt when they got their names back? Did they do everything right or everything wrong? The images are initially so real and terrible, she knows they're hers, it's just the way her life is. She hears the snap of Hank's neck when the memory comes with everything else, but then she's drowning, drowning suddenly in the good things as a balm, the right things that make her who she is now.

She can't pull a breath. She can't move. While squatting there at the pond's edge, her eyes keep squeezed tight with her fingers grasping hard on the mottled bloodstone that's hers, it's hers. Don't let go, more more more, I don't want to lose any of it. Her hand is shaking with the clench and all the emotions at once, a couple of tears rolling from where they've squeezed out free between her closed lashes.

The man in the tattered suit has to squint, lifting his free hand up to shield his eyes as he leans forward to pluck the stone from out of the waters. His face stung from the flying debris, but the water felt cool to the touch and there was some comfort (and anxious anticipation) once he feels the smoothness of that dark stone in his palm and against his fingers.

He was Byron Thorne, a troubled, paranoid man with a dark past. Byron Thorne and all of that baggage that came with that name.

Seeing the vision of his father right before his suicide reminds him that he did kill the man. Somehow. Drove him crazy after that last beating. Right? Was this his doing? Byron always remembered it as such. Then there was his mother, more negligent and hateful than overbearing and domineering. The day that Lilith decided to cut him out of her life completely, the pair of them lived this way all throughout high school.

And then she returned. Life had been good to him, especially when outside of Gray Harbor, he used to think. But things only got better on his return. He can feel the heat and burn of the stone against his flesh, yet some of the memories that he's reliving in his mind once more, has him laughing or smiling in a whirlwind of various pieces that make up his life.