The disconnect had happened shortly after they got themselves back together. They became unable to see her and instead became gripped with where they ended up. Raven can see her, and was swept to move along by the group. They made it to a location that wasn't as safe as it used to be, but they are out of the instant death danger. The ender frowns unhappy of not having her exchange or her aid to repair the soul it spoke of. The last linger of staring at her, and then focus on survival.
"You stayed." A creature voiced.
"I am giving my current body, this meat vessel up. Let them leave unharmed." She speaks to the thing. It purred and had even respected this. She was more then enough payment. It gave her a quick death. She felt no pain. It took as needed, buries the left overs and her soul was cleanly able to move along.
Her soul drifted back to an old known place. Eyeing up a canopy bed, the silk sheets. Clay made body. Once her soul took over the occupation of this undertaker body properly; she was plenty use to the process of making her soul into 'threads' to puppet this vessel. She was able to adapt her natural ways into the hollow spaces this form gave. No ring. No vows. No ties.
The room is exactly as she lays it out in her status. Being a monarch without lands or people. Each shelving was a 'department' and kits. She looked out to exit... a three frames and a natural small gap that opens to another's land. She chooses to make her new outfit. She gave up her goth bride style. It wasn't practical. It didn't fit her now.
She makes her own stretch base fabric, combat ready. Starting with no flare of style. Just modern seams with zips. And with all the modern comforts. Pockets, especially full of shrinkable tools. There hard plates on the sensitive areas of where joints can be exposed, this is smart armor for clay undertaker body. She finished to slide the sewing machine to the corner. Wraps into the comfortable tactical combat gear smoothly. She steps around to a mirror. And froze at the carnival mask hung on string at the side. She looked at the face paint pallet laying open. The cup of water. She smirks amused. She looks at the adapted measures of her natural body, faceless. Some traits have become permanent features. She picked up the carnival mask and tied it on, and really since she has the paint. She patterns a few status marks along arms and legs. She was low at the floor seeing a lost fabric peice. A cloth that would have hid her human face back then, a strip of the death gods uniforms. She tied it to her neck like a scarf. Flaring some unique tells. She noticed that there is a crystal fragments that are for her eyes, like eye contact lenses in a small ring box. She added it to her left eye. Got the signal to fix with the local network.
She softly steps right up to the exit, a gap that barely squeezes. A look back of her space, her items and the few things she has managed to keep or return back to her. A look back at the mirror. A little fluff of her hair being pulled neater into a ponytail. She slips herself through the gap. Stepping into another crowns kingdom, this one is so active that they have a very busy neutral space; a sort of airport or train station terminals. Desks and bag checks. Crystal pillars acting like shopping store signal detection. She took long enough to been spotted.
They are quick too, sending a communication onto the network of abnormal undertaker. She seen the alert she caused, postures her amusement of it. She exaggerated her reactions and fully puts into a body languages needed. Things done naturally like a human but is a skill as an undertaker. She wafted and adjusted the display ID settings and this calms the alert down significantly. Its moving foot traffic like always.
"Passing through?" She studies the pairs approaching her, the one spoke and the other hand gestures hunter oath rank markers. She returned the sign language needed and postures in a soft whatever the universe asks of her. They looked blank, bodies are refined and those uniforms are clean. These are newly made bodies and it term of technique of joints - outdated in her view. But these are reliable undertaker bodies and the threading of the souls shows they are veteran. So elites or newly upper noble rankers. She does some soft merchant things, and poses that if they had any scraps for trade. They dont bother her as a merchant.
She soon then gestures of court ranker and this made them tilt considered hiring. They clearly are debating it, and then... they slide a pane of data across to her. She studies the information given, does background darknet checks and then she seen the interesting connections it pings. She takes the pane into physical paper, they stare bewildered of such trick. She made a posture of contemplating and soon getting it. Tucking the information through her torso. They backed off a step. She poses open hands and a soft bow of leave.
She stares to the vast open desks and paper pushers. She softly corrected her posture and in smooth gliding steps. She marches into the thickness of crowds. Sweeping faces, uniforms and rankings. She soon perched herself to a shadow hand pretending to work the entry. She slides and took up the log they been filling, does long enough scan of missing nicknames. She slide the book back, pats their shoulder and moved. She watched the hidden ones, the fate creatures and luck eaters. She came around to a spot they gathering thick in. Lowering herself to them, she seated among them and listened to the chatter. With enough gossip taken, she stood up.
She takes herself to a suitable area that would be exchanges services or hiring body work. She sets up a small elbow height table to lean with. She puts a strange marked sign and then stood waiting. Something not undertaker came forwards, talks her ear off about the affairs of the clay things here. It exchange some lost dusted ones belonging to her and she gave it some meats. It was pleased and waddles happy away. She changed the sign and another abnormal came over for the same sort of trade of information and lost items. It left happy too. She doesnt bother putting a new symbolic up, the sign dropped flat invited customers. She makes about seven trades of nonsensical items or lip services.
"I had to come for myself to see the commotion." The crown host of this kingdom, she studies the undertaker with pondering.
"My host is a good man, don't be so judgemental. Nightmare crown." She softens since the crown understood her hesitation. The host hearing his own crown speak at her, stares blankly a moment. But this was shifted to a business first deal.
"As long as you dont mind that I care not for formalities. You are going to find that I act among the shadow hands or often in the darkness of courts. I have no gain or game. I tend to hear the orders of the crowns, but I am not ignoring you." She postures all the necessary things that is met with monarchs. She had then provided a very old carved stone, she openly stamps a wax ribbon and put it onto their left shoulder like a token. The crest is the old alliance of crowns that she knew. No clue if it matters now or not.
This gentleman, made like a clay animated character that been baked solid. Joints are made for set use. Stand and sit. Not exactly smooth walker. His second hand aids him walking, old man movement. This person doesn't perform human mimic things, very flat. In all his body lacks, his voice pitches in a small range which is rare in undertakers. He speaks smoothly and rolls emotions in his words - very powerful for the spirit world. She can understand his power and his energy. His outfit is tailored to this odd body. More like a clay animator puppet. You are dressed into those clothes then you putting them on. Grey clay skin with many centuries of soul bleed through. She sees the pigments of many ways this face was drawn on. Only the eyes are orginal. Like many undertakers, they have no lips and thus they tend to have hidden mouths or false mouths. This king is more like a toy puppet. Yet, his very real, the soul in the threads is very smart. The crown has choosen smart. She can respect this, it makes giving the wax stamp be a right thing to do.
"Wow, I haven't seen that mark in a long time. You still respect those laws?" The crown is a semi visible lizard in her view that lays on the man's head. The reptiles coils in mirror the metal that is the crown, "If that is the case, I and my allies are in respect." The crown itself does a thing to the sigil pane, and she sees the adjustment of mark in her public display. She openly does this back, her right hand taps the air. They had a notification with their crystal devices. The second command is stuck stiff in looking at what this exchange did.
"Ex-empress, you're a bit of a lost myth." The host tones and she performs a snicker, "You are a forgotten era." She play swipes with her left hand.
"Time is broken around this universe. Unstable to outsiders. You internal folks don't get the disconnected." She softly nods at this point and poses some very interesting walkers gestures, she uses body clothus commentary of finding 'broken' time is natural way this universe works. Her left foot is tapping out that it has worthwhile patience to stay here for.
"You will know of me as Trixie. A Trixie Trickster. I am the crown and host of the 'nightmare crown'. I will uphold laws against Clothus. I have connections in many places. I am just another with Darknet access; yet I am sanctioned. You come to me with tome issues or broken souls. I suspect there is ways to use me, but we make open small task hires at a time. I tend to be reborn or thrown back to being alive." She rolls with making sure they know what they hired if the do make merc request of her, "So you can't say I am reliable. Yet when I am given a task, it is automatically been paid and will be completed. There other tasks, those are paid by different method." She softly took a blank business card out. She makes sure they understand she is just showing them how this ritual works.
"I am a guide among the freaks, this is my mark. I dont speak during those tasks." She shows how to draw this broken mask mark. The king takes this with a left hand too, "And there. That was the bare minimum of things I give monarchs." She folds up her arms and she steps back. She watching and waiting. His second hand collected the business card with care. He stares into her.
"You're an abyss monster." He noticed.
"I am a eater of soul languages. Tomes fear me. But I have morals. Not unless your dumb enough give me them freely." She tilts, "Even undertakers have given me energy on word exchanges, although you are a veteran. You have accepted you place as an undertaker. You do not try to preform mimic human things. You strum emotions like an undertaker should." He stares deeply of her.
"I will take that as a compliment." He turned facing a direction, watching the ones returning back.
"Your crest mark." She soft nods and withdrew her portion of the broken tome pages, "Yes, as I suspect. Missing your men. I am also no sure what has happened between the time they left this space and how they came to be in my hands." She claws the names out of the books. She passes over the tome pages willingly, "I do not trade souls. This is in order to protect them, place them where they belong."
He takes the pages with a right hand. The second she let's the pages go, a rift of black opens behind her. Damned of souls from hell, likely those that walk the path of pain, sad souls soon throw the remains of the undertakers across the floor. Teams of folks come to aide the returned damaged ones, whom are still barely alive. The missing on the list have been found and her own gains have been sorted. Few less souls to give homes or return home. The requests he just taken on with the undertakers just now is paid. This kings request also paid.
"Are you just passing through?" The host king asked in repeating, his tone shifting to a more calm strum.
"I own a rift here. I respect your rules." She causally returns back in mirror calm, "I will be here often. Although I have a historic meeting spot here." She tilts to the now sealed way that was once the unicorn creat kingdom. She also twisted to the sealed phoenix feather kingdom. Just about all of the animal crests she knew have vanished. Likely taken by the tome transfers and displacement of souls this universe performs often. How tomes are spat out and started anew away from this place.
"So just another owning a natural rift. You are the smallest kingdom. But there are about 19 others here. Each their own branch of space here. This central part is shared space." The host king rolls explaining and stays leaning at her exchange table with her. She studies this area and with being told this, sees it now. The 19 other creaks that make this cave space. The frames are the gates to the human world, shared by these kingdoms. As it was before, each kingdom has a specialized service and hire each other when those departments need it. She understands plenty. She stacks a small set of coin between them, tracking the value of the conversation. The king smirks that she was smart to know she being given it not for free.
"King Clayton hanging with a another crippled." Circles another monarch and their crown creature. The creature however made on look at her and flees. She suspects this crown had a bad past with her or has something to fear of her about. She did consider that she might have ate it before. The host suddenly crown less paused shock.
"It will have scamped back to safety." She suggested, "You mustn't assume or force things." That king trotting off to fetch his proof of kingdom. The leave of that guy made more came from the wood works. Although not the direct monarchs but the representatives delegates for this informal situation. The partner ring barriers or sectarians. They see the wax stamp and they made sure to update their sigil display. They add that it in thanks for the puppet crests hold of proof.
"It has been a long time." The crown is on sworn hand of the monarch. This is the tome of crowns keeper, a crown of its own. And pleased that she holds old pasts laws it made with her all those lives ago. She nods respectful and that crown returns to tasks.
"So you know our crown is a previous holder of that stamp." The clothing fits a librarian and the ink stain arms tells how hard they work. Nothing else said. These lot are turned to each other in whatever scheme at play. Each gaining something or attempting exchanges. Lacking man power is a theme. They arent able to craft undertaker bodies like they use to. Those artist are gone. And the new age artists are poor workers. The current standard is letting the clay cake in whatever body shapes that work. She listened plenty enough.
"There are those that could be summoned for this sort of work. You just have to learn the cost of summoning such things. Not all prices are items." She turned telling the monarch that she owes, "I am that mark. There are other marks out there. Each their own price and job. I take the tribute of the area you are going to and the one you are leaving, as example of cost." She turned away with looking around checking. And when it was all good.
"There is a creep out there that loves making dolls. How would he love that suddenly his collection becomes moving beings. Although then you are owned by him in a physical body sense. An object he will occasionally admire or pick up to play with." She softly nods wary, "The doll maker is a odd soul. His souls love of dolls is his hearts most important desires. He dislikes his dolls hurting each other physically. Otherwise, I think the doll maker would suit your needs. I do not know his mark. You will have to find it." She takes back her coin stack. She makes a check of the area for if she summoned a creep on accident or anything bad omens. She settles.
"The doll maker." Plenty think it over.
"The marks of summoning things have set rules too. You have the offering prepared before, burn the mark and let the work inside a salt barrier be undisturbed." Another added, "Lit candles of rare materials are used to make them visible or tangible."
"Oh and it would help to give an copy about undertakers to him. He could understand or improve his body craft if he knows limitations." She thrown in quickly, "He wouldnt want to hurt your soul as a result of misunderstanding." They look at her deeply like that was very important to add.
"You dont want to be brought by a drath god to claw a messed up soul out of a accident." One that has some her past known of or read her ID. Could have been the death god material scraf.
"Removing strings out of undertakers isnt easy. Especially when they are to soild." She agreed in her own way.
"Creep fits you. Mock undertaker." Another studies her body, "What made your body?"
"I made it." She shows off, "Likely with past corpses of my previous lifetimes. Or some other grime turth." She stands steady, leaning on her mini table, "made as however my soul needed it to be."
"You arent the doll maker in secret, right?" She cant deny it as this is a customary doubt around creeps. Creeps live on the doubts and fear. Its necessary.
She inspecting the area when she sees a queue that needs her attention. One the wavy creatures from a black torn gate is getting her attention. She softly gave the group a nod, took back her lean table and she walks openly following the wave creatures pathing. She changed mask, the carnival one sunk in and replaced with a drama white Greek mask that is broken down the middle. Definitely a stage mask that was thrown away or a part of a monster she encountered.
She steps into the blacken area, she sunk through it like a slipping down a slick slide. She surfed her way to the exit, slide ending at her stood in a central gather spot. The black faded away.
A human world of dusty plains, flat concrete floor with a breeze shuffled her hair. A warehouse remains is clouded blacken by a blazing fire. She stolen goodies inside that. She stands very tall, looking about the sweaty people laying about. She checked each in measuring their meat worth and soul requests. She stops at her husband's scowl.
"Really?" He snapped like her appearing now was top of some cake.
She noticed a stick of a herb at his foot. This was tribute enough for a destination inside this realm. She collected it, put into a pocket of herb bits. She steps around at others. She collected things or a pebble at their feet. She hovered over a corpse of a thing. She debated taking that. She leans and her shadow sinks the corpse to her pocket.
She steps straight and circling them, as if being a sheep dog became her. Without a better word for it, she was herdding them. They followed and fearfully group together like sheep. The weakest walker was often brushed by her left hand as incentive to keep moving. She hunted the things that prey on them. She was very happy doing this task silently. At arriving to a sheltered place, she backed off and sunk into shadows. Her task finished.
"Lady Mythic!" She happened to sunk into a damned hiding spot. A small back alley to thin for humans being used as damned exchange spot. This dead soul rushed up and hired her on the spot. Pleading for a gate to the afterlife. She gave a normal damned gate to the shadow side of sigil, the darknet corridors and where gods cant see souls. Plenty of the damned around here took it. Turning into just souls. Unbound by their unfounded fears. She collected the dust remains. She collected the gold or other valued things they held on.
"Wait, if we are about die." She heard as she exits the empty shadow area. Guns pointed to those that just arrived. Her Raven among and is the one negotiating, "You might want to handle the monster that led us here." Guns trained but eyes look around.
"You should know that I was summoned. Someone burnt my mark and I came." She pushed people out of the way. This act of being able to touch among the living and the sheer fact she is physically there. The guns aim at her, "I am here by contract. It is finished. You have been brought to the nearest trading post that is lawful." She turned and snarls over the guy in charge, "Sheriff, I can only vouch for him. The others are tag alongs." The mock human understanding and is clear.
"Ease folks. Dont piss off the creep. You remember the last guy hung someone bloody in a tree. This freak will leave you soulless." They stand down, "We understand you and the one that has your intent. So the others need to state their purpose."
The group talked of investigation into the warehouse supplies, the attack and fire. The strange thing that got them here. That they intent on healing, eating a meal for coin exchange and going home. Not to out stay a welcome they didnt have.
She notices the church at the edge of this settlement has a natural exit back to the undertakers realm. She shifted to spirit form, mask swapped back to the carnival mask. She hangs around strange not human spots. A reflect there. A roof there. Upside-down from a ceiling in a empty open air market cover. Being a mythic creep that she is. She graffiti her mark around. Posted a flyer on the town board. She spooked random sad people, listens to their woes. She left flowers at every grave. She respect the not so secret that the Sheriff was a donot. As proclaimed folks were getting ready to leave. Raven left fast. He didnt want anything to do with her. She hung back looking at his back, aware this version of him doesnt know enough. Or that he was grown up to not trust supernatural occurrences.
The town improved, his long gone. She uses the natural rift to cross over. She walks into the airport like desk area of the lobby. She follows the rules, doesnt use her statuses to skip it. She had nothing to hide. She walked around back to her little creak in the wall. She looks at the changing trend of uniforms and new clay works. They took her summoning the doll maker seriously. She gave the area a deep check. Nothing. She squeezed back into her current home of existence.
Her place is exactly as she left it. No page touched. She was able to relax off a bit. She undressed, bathed and sunk to bed very swiftly. No hungry. No needs. She doesn't actually need the physical sleep. But her mental place goes to sleep. Her dream side prepares stock to sell. Butcher meat from recent handling. Filled the inventory manifest correctly. She was checking over old stock. She was able to replicate undertaker versions of the human ward candles. Her dream side eased back with looking at items with forgotten pasts attached to them.
A bamboo stick from a sword master im a god realm. A river stone from the heavenly worlds. A small cultivation pot for making pills. A scale carved poker chip from a devils gamblers realm.
She softly pets the spines of tomes that arent active, that dont belong here. Universes that are napping. Missing those homes, lives and being.