World Tree MUSH

Ivalice.

The land of a forgotten age. Of magic, and of wonder.

Where logic is an enemy and truth is a menace.

In Gariland, the magickal city, tonight--one of the large manor homes of a respected elderly noble sits quiet. Everything is as it seems, however. Upon approaching, one would find the front door locked tight, but the side porch door (brass with glass windows to allow the light in) swinging open. By the wind?

Lights gutter inside the mansion, with no one seemingly around... at least on the outside.

 Not /every/ night for Claudia starts intending some form of skullduggery against a local noble. Many of them do, but she is still a respectable Temple Knight. She has to keep up appearances. And so the intention of her visit to the old noble's home is decidedly less murderous than is her preference. 

 The two soldiers she has with her are dressed in Church livery, green robes and bronze colored armor to denote their lower rank. Her own reds and golds show off her knighthood prominently. Threats and power are the work of the night rather than fists. And so she takes the subtle way in, at that side door to avoid a fuss. 

 Only to find it open. No need to pound on the door. A frown creases Claudia's face, and she nods to her compatriots. "Guard the doors, you lot. Time to see why our highborne friend is leavin' the breeze to chill his bones." 

 Then the Templar proudly steps within, already starting to glow about the fists and feet. 

 Time to investigate. She stalks forward like a hunting animal into the house, eyes sharp and ready for trouble.

Inside the study, the elderly man of the house sits at his writing desk, pen dipped in ink and signing their name on some kind of recepit or invoice when they suddenly stop.

There is... an entity inside the room with them. A shimmer in the candlelight, what looks like the transparent silhouette of a hand and arm passes over the lightsource of the candelabra nearby.

Almost instantly the man looks as if he is experiencing an intense headache, frowning and eyes rolling ever so gently back in his head, hand rising to brace against the far long ago receded white brushy hairline of his bald pate.

Outside the study, for Claudia, the hallway would begin to seem to... elongate, growing longer and longer. Like she is entering the corridor of someplace she's been before... someplace she's been before in her mind.

"Aww... that's no good, lets see a nice... big... smile," a small pink tongue flicks over large buck teeth, the invisible man at first caressing the man's cheek and jawline, finger extended to help push the corners of the man's mouth up and back, exposing teeth.

Outside the door, at the very end of the corridor, a girl sits huddled down, crying.

It is Claudia, age 10. The girl suddenly stops crying and looks up, just as Claudia grows near enough to see--and sees herself.

Then the door to the study opens. It is dark.

 The hallway stretches, and Claudia pauses. She goes for the cross at her neck reflexively. This is no Time Mage's trick. How everything seems to stretch and twist...how it seems so familiar. Despite herself, she swallows. She elbows herself hard. 

 "Don't act like a lass in your swaddlin' clothes, Claudia. You a mouse or a Templar?" She mutters to herself before stalking forward once more. Her hands are clenched a little harder. 

 All until she comes face to face with herself. Eyes go wide, and she sucks in a breath. She scowls. It's herself. It brings an old, deeply unpleasant memory back flooding in like it was yesterday. 

 "Alright, I've had enough of your tricks you Lucavi-loving jester! Get out here you git!" Comes the knightess, voice raising with insult and injury in equal measure. And just a little bit of a tremble from an old wound ripped wide open. 

 Her face is flushed as she steps into the study. Her eyes, just misted enough to show that the trick has effected the stalwart Templar.

<What... if you /are/ a mouse?>

A voice booms inside Claudia's head, from somewhere in the darkness. A candle alights on the desk's candelabra, the fire creating itself out of nowhere and illuminating the old man's grinning face in a strange glowing ember light. The chair he is in is pushed back, head leaned back, staring up at nothing.

When Claudia looks back to the vision of herself near the doorway, it is no longer there.

The transparent silhouette appears again, this time between Claudia and the desk. Not standing /on/ the desk, as her eyes and mind first parse it as, but suspended in midair.

<You are what you do, Kinslayer>

The voice booms again and out of the silhouette appears the form of Mirage Mouse, her arms spread at her sides as she stands with both boots flat against space, as if she was standing on imaginary ground. The red visor around her face reflects the candlelight, while the dark undersuit worn over her body swathes her in black. The long athletic flat-soled boots dully seem to glow as the light polymer and synthetic materials reflect the light. Her rodent features are obvious, oblique, large conical ears, buck teeth, white fur and a very long tail extends behind her, swaying lightly.

<Why are you here?> comes the voice again, the figures lips never moving.

 Claudia's head instantly pounds as the voice booms, nearly driving her to her knees. She grabs the frame of the door to the study, glaring about. Her own shadow is gone, but this voice invading her mind is the far more pressing concern. 

 It isn't long before she shows herself, and with one hand on her pounding head, the other glows white as she takes in the Mirage Mouse's appearance. 

 "That's Dame Claudia Kinborrow to you! Done many things, lass, but never laid a hand on my own kin. ...You some sort of witch?" This is no Ivalician, the tail and ears make it too obvious. Her gaze switches from old man, back to to the MOuse in her presence. 

 "Well, no matter. You see, I have business with that old man you're using as your little plaything. Not that I mind. He deserves it, let's put it that way. In fact, you might have made my job a bit easier." 

 This is...one of the odder encounter she's had, but opportunity lurks. 

 "He /is/ still alive? What did you do to 'im? Sorcery?" Reeeach. She's poking his forehead.

The voice in Claudia's head does not seek to cause pain, necessarily, though being unused to that form of communication could be disorienting. Unlike verbal and auditory speech, the voice seemed to come from everywhere. No precise location could be sensed for it. It just was.

<Why do you hate? do you love?> the voice beckoned answers, the hovering mouse psionic canted their head to the side, as if questioningly. She hovers back and out of the way as the woman inspects the old man. Compared to Claudia, Mouse is... tiny. She's 5'0", five-foot nothing. Claudia is basically a giantess. Amazon.

<I sent him where he wanted to go, he's alive,> the Mouse's voice replies, her head tilting back.

<You're a very strange creature> the voice says again, the mouse lady's tail whipping.

 "...How long have you spent in Ivalice, my sorcerous lass? Take a walk down to the Dorter slums. You'll understand quick like why I hate. As for love? Well, I don't just go spilling my heart out to strangers. Particularly ones that use their magic to dig into their skull. Ain't very polite, now is it?" There's an edge to the monk's voice. Still, what sort of Templar wouldn't dig into the oddity she sees before her? 

 Her gaze doesn't leave Mirage, sizing the mousette up. She briefly gives the old man a light crack on the shoulder to try to wake him up. Hmm. 

 "What's your aim in all this, lass? Do you enjoy goin' around and messing with people's heads? Skills like that could make you quite a bit of gil if you have the right connections in Ivalice." A raised brow. The gold on her armor shines.

A glance is cast back at Claudia, the mouse woman sighing and nodding her head.

"I see," spoke aloud, finally using her actual voice. She had already seen the little girl when she dug into Claudia's mind as she approached, she likely already has an idea why Claudia is the way she is. Of course, the nagging, almost OCD-style compulsion to try to 'fix' her also rears it's head inside her.

Mirage stands in the air, looking down at Claudia staring at her.

"You could be anything, you know--it's not too late," Mirage Mouse's eyes glow a faint reddish color and she nods down at Claudia--who, if she looks down, will realize her Knight's Templar armor, robes and vestments have been replaced with... Long silken, pink and red frilly dress, velvet arm-encasing gloves, as well as a pair of kitten-heeled pumps. The statuesque tall Amazon likely looking quite... out of place in that fancy finery. How did someone even find heels big enough for her around here?? Thanks to Mirage's powers, it has apparently been accomplished.

"You could have a family, and no one would have to die," Mirage Mouse intones dispassionately, almost clinically.

<I am psionic, I can speak to the mind and show them things... and move things with it,> the mouse speaks telepathically again, various items like books, statuettes and cups now floating around the room-orbiting about Claudia as if she were the center of the universe. A book flaps open and the pages flutter, showing her moving images of things that had not been there before, hovering close enough for her to see.

<Your war is unselfish, so it is noble--but your mission will have no end, corpses will pave the path you walk upon,> drawn, sketchy moving images of Claudia cutting down countless of faceless soldiers, the image warping like it was very messy animation done in sketches, showing her standing triumphantly atop a mountain of dead bodies, raising her sword into the air.

<Do you want to destroy so many to accomplish your goal?>

 Would someone so amazonian and tall be able to let out a voice that's basically 'surprised twelve year old'? Why, yes. Yes they could. Because Claudia does just that as her clothes are psionic'd into a frilly dress and heels! She very nearly topples over. She's never worn something like this in her life, and looks down on them with the kind of disgust reserved for a hated enemy. 

 It's noble finery, and she /HATES/ nobles! 

 "OI! Get me out of these! I look like some snot-nosed highborne tot! This is disrespect to the Templariate, fix this before I shove you into the coldest cell in Mullonde!" Threatens the Templar, face blushing to her neck. 

 Arms cross, and she scowls. One cup gets battered away distastefully. 

 "Any goal worth doin' takes sacrifices, lass. I'm a soldier and knight, destroying is what I do. But I know the path to seeing Ivalice made right, and I don't really care what I have to do in order to play my part in it's enactment." 

 Then, she laughs bitterly. "Do you really think the common person can be saved any other way? I'd love to hear some alternatives."

"You are an equal opportunity destroyer, at that, Kinslayer," Mirage Mouse has an expression of amusement, now--realizing Claudia's reaction and the high pitched impotent whine she emits.

"Something tells me you don't have very much experience walking in those, Miss Claudia," Mirage's voice is more purring now, playful--her floating form darting back as /something/ tightens like a noose around Claudia's ribcage and waist, beneath her fancy dress.

"Ah ah ahh--careful there, it seems you never learned to move well in the rest of that, either," the pressure against Claudia's body might dissuade her from trying to approach Mirage, the mouse woman hovering there still, boots flat against the thin air as she looked down at the woman.

"I suppose burning down the entire government and restructuring it would be one way... but who would replace them? More of the same? Someone even worse? Wholesale murder is one way to fix it... but is there another way?" the pressure on Claudia would lessen, allowing her to breath easily once again, Mouse shaking her hed.

The book nearby her flaps it's pages again, showing Claudia standing amidst not a mountain of corpses, but instead a gathering of children, standing around her smiling admist a sea of sunflowers. It's all illustrated in that sketchy, jumpy animation from before.

"Maybe the answer is to protect, rather than destroy?"

 Stumble stumble! Yup, Claudia is basically tumbling towards Mirage here. Who knew the best way to incapacitate a monk was to use fancy dresses and heels!? 

 Luckily the psionicist's horrible silky entrapment loosens up and she can breathe again. "Swear to the Saint, these nobles must have rot for brians, shoving their lasses into this kind of torture!" Poor, poor mangy dog. 

 She tries to take up a dignified pose. The dress /really/ robs her of that. She can't even intimidate like this, she just looks mildly annoyed. 

 "Here's the thing, little mouse. Protection preserves what's already here. It doesn't change anything. You protect when you have something fair in place. Right now? The whole of Ivalice is rotten. Doesn't matter which Lion wins. Just going to be different heels on the back of our necks. Whole lot of good folk are gonna keep on starving and dieing while the nobles play their games. Your protection is sweet and all." 

 A shrug. "When you have a rotten limb, you cut it off. You don't try to treat it, else it just makes the rest worse."

"I think you're just not used to it," Mirage teases, before relenting. Finally, the psionic floats to the floor, her boots touching down against it lightly, the psionic giving herself a featherlight fall.

"The choice is ultimately up to you, of course, so why did you come here--? You just wanted to murder this one? No money or fun in that, is there?" Mirage Mouse shrugs, using her TK to push the still grinning man's chair across the study floor, pressing it against the wall. Now that Mirage has 'landed' she is indeed quite short-looking, at least compared to Claudia, especially with the latter in those kitten-heels.

"My protection? I only work unless I get paid, unless I take a personal interest in something," Mirage shrugs, briefly leaning against the man's desk as she reaches over and plucks out a long rolled old-fashioned cigarette from a holder on his desk, lighting it with a wisp of flame that appears on the tip of her nailed index finger. She takes a few puffs off it, closing her eyes as she inhales. Foreign cigarette, definitely--but the simple construction and preparation made it free of many of the adulterants and chemicals found in modern cigarettes. Of course, Mirage had never been a smoker, originally--god knows who she picked this habit up from, either.

"Cut it off, grow or build a new one," Mirage answers, peering back at Claudia. "Their system is corrupt and self-serving, but it has little to do with me, unless you wanted my help...?"

 Claudia merely rolls her eyes. "I'm not some bloodthirsty monster." 

 "Simply here to correct a few...misunderstandings that he's laboring under. Thinks he's above the law, and all that. The Holy Church is nice and understanding you see, know when to give a gentle guiding hand when the good Saint asks us of it!" 

 Grin. She looks like she wants to break the man's arms. 

 Claudia lets the mouse light up her cancer stick, instead reaching into a pocket. She finds her hip flask after a minute, downing a good third of it. Seems she has some time to kill now. 

 "Make sure you wake up the old todder after you're gone." 

 Seems she doesn't really care too much /why/ Mirage is messing with the old man. "Now you're staring to speak my language. Could use an outsider like you to help smooth things along. And don't you worry, I pay well to the pious souls who see holy work for what it is!" She tries to slip an arm around the short mouse. This might be super awkward given she can't move for heck in these things. 

 "So why don't we do dinner, eh? I already have a few ideas that you might be able to help with. Drinks on me!"

"Exquisite," Mirage answers in a deep, heavy voice--as if she sounds pleased, or relieved, but her tone does not match her words, at all. It was like saying 'lovely' to a 17 car pileup on the freeway.

"Of course, you do realize there are other ways to... have one's way," she points to the man--who suddenly stands up, eyes now open as he begins to move--jilted and stiffly. "I can control the minds of others, given time and incentive--perhaps this might be beneficial to you... and lucrative for me," she snaps her fingers and the man falls back into the chair, like a ragdoll, or a puppet that's had it's strings cut.

"What do you say? You look absolutely /gorgeous/ in that dress, by the way," Mirage grins at her. As Claudia might have been distracted, watching the man fall, Mirage Mouse now turns to face the zealout wearing what looks like a black and charcoal gray pinstriped suit, complete with fedora, leather shoes, spats--even a blood red cravat or necktie peeking out over the front. When Claudia attemps to put an arm around her, Mouse pre-emptively puts her arm around Claudia's, pulling her closer, like she's Mouse's date.

"Shall we go?" she offers with a ivory buck toothed grin, the two look like they're late for a dinner party somewhere.

 "Well you're just a regular daughter-of-a-Lucavi aren't you? Poor wretch, like a puppet bein' danced around. I won't deny that sort of thing's useful enough." More than useful. So much easier than having to convince people of being right! 

 "Just don't try anything funny on me." A glare, and then she's smiling like they're best friends. 

 Blink! She looks at her mousey companion, pauses, and then blushes just a little bit. She's seen clothing like this from other worlds. Takes a moment to admire, and finally lets out an honest little laugh. "Well look at that. Seems you clean up pretty nice! Alright, my intriguing little puppeteer. That one can wait a night. if I have no /choice/ but to wear things like this..." 

 Looking /way/ too happy with the night's outcome, she follows along with Mirage, strong arm in her's. She looks like a girl excited for prom, she does!

"I'm a mutant," Mirage Mouse replies to the talk of Lucavi--she could peer into Claudia's head just enough to ascertain what the word meant--demon? Evil spirit? Similar to the Eastern concept of oni? Something like that, apparently. She wasn't quite sure what she meant.

"Why would I? If I couldn't be trusted at all, how would I get paid? Unlike these nobles I work for a living," Mirage shakes her head, keeping her cigarette in her free hand, having her arm entwined around Claudia's.

Of course, Mirage doesn't tell Claudia that the illusion of herself in the dress is only for her and Mouse--her two templarate accomplices would see nothing amiss--neither would they of the second figure with her--what they would perceive to be a human in squire-garb in a page-boy haircut. She is quite short and has oddly large ears, however, to their eyes.

"We shall talk, once we get clear of here--and see if we can discuss some business, Ser Kinbarrow," Mouse grins, once again the large ivory buck teeth flash.