“Wear them as I do,” you said, repeating the motion. “I need to pick up a few things but I’ll be right back. Stay. Here. Alright?”

Unblinking, her one eye held your gaze. She bundled the pile of clothes onto her rubber chest.

You sighed but showed no interest in what would happen to Mary’s clothes. It was her idea to have Cass get dressed anyway.

Your instinct-voice lost your trust long ago, you became deaf to its ideas, as drunk it became as you were. This time, your instinct cup deep: don’t leave your revolver at home, it screamed into your ear, you are going to need it. You would had preferred to leave the gun: you only had one, and you needed it here. It wasn’t even yours. If you had any alcohol in you you could silence the crooner, but that damn cryptid just wouldn’t let you! The only other choice was to take the gun, with the risk of losing it, having it stolen, or worse.

You freed your wardrobe of clothes: a fedora, trenchcoat, trousers, and boots—all in brown. You did not bother with a tie. You walked to a poster of an automobile advert in fancy-pants blueprint-style on the wall of your waiting room, not far from the entrance. Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost. This was the only way your sister could “own” it. You unclipped the sides of it and pulled out the fake wood piece to find, as you hid it, a revolver and twelve bullets for it. You shoved them in the back pocket of your jacket with an unnerved sigh; the voice of instinct shut up. You secured the poster to how it was.

You came back to check on Cass only to hear Mary’s shouting. Cass was undressed, wrestling with Mary for clothes.

“Elm’, you hick, you gave her my favourite dress!”

“It’s not your favourite, Mary,” you said, “I have never seen you wear it.”

“And why do you think that is? Because I keep it for an occasion!”

You had assumed Cass had no grip, but her bending fingers held into the fabric regardless.

“Just give it something of yours,” Mary yelled, holding onto her side of the dress. A loud long shred silenced her.

Mary let go of the piece, the end getting tossed at Cass. Happier than your sister, Cass pulled the dress, continuing to put the thin and loose gown on herself. Her glob body reformed and shrunk with each of her attempts.

“Elmer,” your sister whispered after a damning silence. “I am reconsidering. Let’s rather deliver its dead body .”

> Lead Cass to your wardrobe to try and interest her in your clothes. If not ...
> Approach Cass and try and take the dress out of her hands. (How?)
> Apologize to Mary and ask her to get Cass to have it and the other pieces of clothes you gave her. Be an adult here, Mary.
> Tell Mary that you’ll pay for the dress and other things given, even though they cost an arm and a leg.
> Tell Mary it was her idea, so you gave Cass a dress as she told you to. It'll be far more suspicious to have her dressed as a man.
> [Write In]

___________________________
> UPDATES?
Once a day if I can.
> PREVIOUS THREADS?
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Drunkard%20And%20The%20Alien%20Quest
> OTHER QUESTS?
https://pastebin.com/raw/7uyemPdY

>>5348056
> Tell Mary it was her idea, so you gave Cass a dress as she told you to. It'll be far more suspicious to have her dressed as a man.
Look at those gelatinous alien milkers. She fills out the dress better than Mary anyhow!

>>5348056
> Apologize to Mary and ask her to get Cass to have it and the other pieces of clothes you gave her. Be an adult here, Mary.
We can repair and clean a dress later.

>>5348056
>> Apologize to Mary and ask her to get Cass to have it and the other pieces of clothes you gave her. Be an adult here, Mary.

>>5348056
>Apologize to Mary and ask her to get Cass to have it and the other pieces of clothes you gave her. Be an adult here, Mary.
Certainly no harm will come to the dress during our venture.

File: Cass Dress 4.jpg (70 KB, 744x1235)

70 KB JPG

>>5348190
>>5348805
>>5348813
>>5348829

You moved in between the two to shade Cass from your sister.

“Forgive her, Mary. Let her have one of your dresses and the rest of the things. Let’s be mature about it.”

“No way!” Mary pushed you aside. She stomped with a wobble to Cass to pick the black hat, and the rest of the clothes Cass sported no interest in, off the ground. “I’m not giving it anything, especially not my favourite Cloche, or my favourite scarf, nor my finest gloves!” The hand she pushed Cass with bounced back; Cass twirled her attention from the mirrors to the dress. “And how do you know that thing is not centuries old? It might had been living in the bogs before Compostela had even been built!”

Perhaps, but unlikely. You took Mary by her shoulder, turning her around.

“Just for one day, Mary. I’ll make sure she won’t damage the dress further."

Mary hit off your hand. She harrumphed, looking at the dress as if to remember the way it was, and every wrinkle that there’ll be, as well as Cass, to spot her head in a gathering of thousands, to find and poison her with lead.

Mary pushed her hat and then walked out, to a mirror not fashioned and occupied by an alien slime.

“You should put your ‘arm’ through here.”

Your fingers jiggled once you touched and held onto Cass. She paused; her attention, and her alien eyes, turned to you. It was not like you knew how to put on a dress, but you assumed you knew what one should look like in one. Thrusting into the fabric, Cass wore the dress in a non-straight non-curveless way it was worn by other gals. You preferred it in that way, you confessed.

*** *** ***

Mary’s taxicab shuddered on the unpaved dirt roads of Compostela’s outskirts, the so-called Corndump. It had stopped raining by the time you left your house and Mary started the engine. The pouring rain did not leave without blood trails, reminders of its visit: sunken marshes and yawning peat hollows laid everywhere. To question to ask was not if one of the wheels would sag into the swamp, but how soon and for how long?

Mary hiccuped, clutching the steering wheel with such force it was as if she was trying to rip it off. The automobile, moving like a heavy clockwork turtle, trudged through and pass the hills and trees concealed by the nightly dark. At first, the engine revved with life, and minutes after, choked and died from too much of it. Mary pushed the pedal as if she was trying to hammer a nail with her boot. Like after a turn of the windup key, the automobile moved on for a brief second. You did not ask Mary if this was the safest way to do it.

You looked at Cass. She sat with you on the back seats, in a dress concealing a third of her body, only the orange of her hands and legs visible as you had no gloves to share and she refused to wear the field boots. Of course, the biggest say-so was her gooey head and bubbling hair, which you covered with a straw boater hat. Even you knew how mismatched the two were. Cass jolted her head at the engine’s every roar and wobbled her body at every unsavoury turn of the wheels and seats' jumpiness. Cass was compliant to follow you out of the house and into the car, although—for a minute—she stopped outside to peer at the overclouded sky above the cottage.

The wind outside cried like a dying infant, with only the growl of the engine to momentarily silence it. Mary paused and turned her head. “There’s a car following us,” she said, going through the same motions. You looked behind the glass: you could see or hear nothing of sorts. Maybe it was the remaining alcohol whispering in her ear?

> Ask Mary if she is willing to drive faster.
> Ask Mary to continue moving at the same speed.
> Ask Mary to stop, and then wait in watch.
> Ask Mary to honk the car horn to the unknown automobile, to make it aware and spook it away.
> Open and look out of the window to see if you can spot any car Mary is speaking of.
> [Write In]

> Write in
Do four right turns and see if they're still with you.

>>5350209
> Ask Mary to continue moving at the same speed.
>Do four right turns and see if they're still with you.

>>5350461
>>5350486

You driving through a dark pocosin right after heavy rain on a barely visible dirt road. I'm not sure this manevour is possible.

>>5350554
In that case...
> Ask Mary if she is willing to drive faster.
then, if speeds up:
>Pull over and turn the car off quickly, and see if it drives on by.

>>5350560

Yeah, let's see if we can kill our lights and slip off the road to lose them.

>>5350209
>>5350560

This!

>>5350560
+1

>>5350461
>>5350486
>>5350560
>>5350589
>>5351251
>>5351378

You grabbed the empty headrest with your hand to find some stability. “Out here, in the middle of the night?”

Mary switched the gear with a gasping grind. “Yes, that’s weird, but I can hear expensive buckets from a mile away, Elm’.”

It was an expensive car, too? You slipped your hand into your jacket’s inner pocket, grasping and ungrasping the revolver. “There is no way it is not following us, Mary,” you said, glancing at Cass. The alien was attempting to find comfort in her new glad rags, which looked to be her first and only. She, unlike Eve, didn’t do it out of shame. “Brother’s request: can you speed up a bit to lose him?

Just as asked, the reins Mary was holding into with such zeal were unclenched, and the cab’s engine, with the power of twenty stampeding horses, charged forwards. The sudden pull sent you into Cass’s rubber arms, briefly—you bounced off her into the door.

Mary cursed out loud, either at you or at the situation. Racing like an escaped beast, the cab dipped below the marshy hill and then leapt off it. After two seconds in mid-air, the car fell back onto the wet meadows below with a booming slam. Mary grasped the wheel and you clung to the headrest; Cass flung off her seat and bounced off the roof, and like a basketball, smashed into you.

“Control your damn thing! I still need this car when I’ll get my license back, unbroken,” Mary said, rubbing her now bruised head.

“I hope that lost him,” you shared Mary’s literal pain, damn it hurt, “but just to be sure, let’s pull over to see if it’ll drive past us.”

Mary sighed, circling the stick and then, with a much softer speed, driving into a collection of bushes and trees. She turned off the engine and the headlights, the cab turning into part of the swamp’s scenery like a chameleon. Cass slid off the ground and back into her seat, you could see her lips move, asking you the way she did. You put a finger to her lips to feel the texture of wet wax as she continued to mumble without words. You pulled it away, waving your whole hand to gesture for her to stay still.

You heard the tremble of the trees above you and their sudden loud shattering—as if they were burning from within—under the wind’s unforgiving force … only it. Mary heard more, hushing you to be quiet. You looked through the window to where the road was. Eventually, you saw a silhouette of a black car and the almost silent working of its heart. The headlands were turned off, It moved with patience and grace. Here, in the soiled wetlands, it had no difficulties rolling over the nasty turf and its metal body did not jerk or tremor. The car came to a soft stop, and the door clicked and opened. From the dark, a person appeared as if he was always standing there.

“Did I say expensive?” Mary whispered, “That’s Fort Model A, with a deluxe coupe. It’s new, darn new … this very year new, Elm’!”

Without a flick of a lighter or a match, the end of the man’s cigarette lit up. The bright burn exposed his familiar pale features: One Two. He took a deep inhale and released an almost burial smoke, obstructing his face in the cloud of white.

“Elmer Briant, how unexpected of you to leave so soon, in such a rush.” One Two had not moved his head. He spoke without raising his voice—way quiet. “You know I am here, and I know you are here as well, so let us not waste time. I won’t take very long.”

You reached for the flash in your hat: it was well-hid and filled with whiskey. You stopped, biting your lip. You needed a drink!

> Take a drink before doing anything else, even if Cass will try and sober you.
> Do your best not to drink right now, and not have Cass complicate the situation.
> [Write In]

> He is bluffing. Stay completely silent and wait for One Two to leave.
> Damn, he knows you are here. Walk out of the car and ask Mary to come along.
> Damn, he knows you are here. Walk out of the car and ask Mary to stay inside.
> Damn, he knows you are here. Shot one of the wheels, and then ask Mary to speed ahead.
> Ask Mary to push the pedal and drive at full speed. His car might be faster and more stable, but for Mary, this is home terrain.
> [Write In]

>>5351467
>Do your best not to drink right now, and not have Cass complicate the situation.
He is bluffing. Stay completely silent and wait for One Two to leave.

>>5351467
>Do your best not to drink right now, and not have Cass complicate the situation.
> He is bluffing. Stay completely silent and wait for One Two to leave.

>>5351467
> Do your best not to drink right now, and not have Cass complicate the situation.
> He is bluffing. Stay completely silent and wait for One Two to leave.

>>5351810
>>5351876

Your fingers lovingly skimmed inside your fedora’s covert pocket. Cass stared at you, her bulging eyes wide and curious. Would she have attempted to clear your mind again, you wondered. That would not only waste the real McCoy, but likely had caused a commotion. You gripped into your hat and tightly shut your eyes; you imagined the sweet alcohol caressing your lips and, as if a flirting lover, biting your stomach. Imagination is what you decided to settle with. You let go of your hat and returned your eyes to the read glass window of the cab. Not a single word.

He had to be bluffing. One Two did not move. For a few minutes, the cigarette in his mouth burned out inch by inch until the crimson ashes vanished. His face was veiled again. You winced at the way he moved, or did not, as if you kept your eyes closed for him to switch the places he stood at; you did not. He was a tarnished movie reel missing parts of it, amended to skip over from one scene to the next, with nothing between those frames.

“Elmer Briant, this cat and mouse game is unnecessary and unhelpful for us both. Show yourself, and after we talk you can continue on your merry way.”

You did not open the door, you did not walk out, and you did not speak out. You stayed silent, waiting for the man to leave.

He smoked two more cigarettes and after ten minutes of waiting, with his head turned unmoving in your direction, he left. After tiring and unnerving you, he vanished from his spot and the car—as silent as if One Two himself was making the rumbling noise —departed from the scene of your hiding. You and Mary waited five minutes more in funeral silence until you sighed with relief.

“Is that the guy you told me about?” Mary asked, rocking her foot over the pedal. She turned her head back to the front windscreen and drummed her fingers on the walnut wheel. “Only a lunatic would drive a car fresh off the assembly line to our swamps.”

“He’s a G-man. He lingered for far too long for someone who was bluffing,” you said, “As if he was certain we did not move past.”

“You know,” Mary talked, her eyes reflecting off the rearview mirror to spot Cass, “you could just give it to him, could you not?"

Cass found balance and a comfortable spot. Her hands were on top of her knees, semi-melting into them. No, no you could not.

“It’s too late now, or maybe it was from the start. Who knows what they’ll do to me and you knowing that we came in contact with it, or are just aware of its existence. No, Mary, let’s go with Plan A and ride to your homegirl. Just, if you hear him, pull over again.”

The engine started with a growl. The cab jolted forward but, with the exact force, rolled back. The wheels wept. With another try, the engine fell into a coma. Mary smacked her knee and left stumbled out of the car. She smacked the glass, calling you out as well. Through the dark, in the shadow of bushes and trees, you knelt to find the wheels half buried in the soaked mud. Mary smacked her palm across her face and groaned out loud. Mary spat out without realizing that her palm was still covering her face. She waved it around, cursing Jesus.

> Ask Mary to turn the car and continue pulling forward; you will try and rock it out from behind.
> It's unlikely Mary has a shovel. Kneel and begin digging each of the damn wheels.
> Call Cass out of the car, and wave for her to describe the situation if she can offer some help.
> Call Cass out of the car. Describe the situation and then give her some alcohol to have her form a bubble to "speak" her ideas out.
> Call Cass out of the car. Ask to stay behind the car, inches away. Tell Mary to have the car reverse at her.
> [Write In]

>>5352631
> Ask Mary to turn the car and continue pulling forward; you will try and rock it out from behind.
> Call Cass out of the car, and wave for her to describe the situation if she can offer some help.
Can't hurt to ask Cass for help first, then get down to the hard work of getting the car moving.

>>5352631
> Call Cass out of the car. Describe the situation and then give her some alcohol to have her form a bubble to "speak" her ideas out.

>>5352631
>You're in a forest, and there's just been a storm. Gather some large branches and jam them under the wheel.
Time-honoured method of getting vehicles unstuck. I think 4chan ate my last post, so this may appear twice.

>>5352631
> Ask Mary to turn the car and continue pulling forward; you will try and rock it out from behind.
> Call Cass out of the car, and wave for her to describe the situation if she can offer some help.

File: [Picture 3].png (39 KB, 584x606)

39 KB PNG

>>5352637
>>5352664
>>5352678
>>5352703

You asked Mary to revive the engine and to continue tugging forward. Once the wheels spun, casting scraps of mud and grass in all the wrong directions, you pushed your weight onto the trunk and walked in place to keep your boots from sinking deeper. The tires clawed at the ungraspable soil, hurdling upward thanks to your push. The mustiness of the cab’s exhaust mired you and soon burned your nostrils with the smell of rot. You pushed the cab and rolled it in place; after several attempts, you let go and stepped back away from the cab before it crushed you.

Mary stepped out of the car and, after fidgeting with her dress, curtsied to look over the sunken wheels.

You opened the door near which Cass sat in a manner a gentleman should. With a twist of her head, the cryptid returned to eyeballing. Her puckered lips flapped as if she never stopped. She was quite the tittle-tattler; perhaps it was a good thing you could not understand a thing she said. You motioned your head outside the cab and then offered the alien your hand. She slithered across the leather seat to reach you. She sprang up, her buoyant head bouncing off the roof to let her feel fair pain. Her semi-human feet hit the trim and she plunged towards you.

Once fallen into your arms, Casspushed you down into the spindly shrubbery. Twice now you got balled up by her paranormal weight as if it was ethereal to the senses. Her weight was there, it was crushing you down, and yet to you, she felt as light as a child. The dress she wore proofed you from the gluey texture of her shape.

Almost. Her gelatinous face rubbed yours and so left trails of odourless secretion. You winced as her lips, gooey and cold, touched below your eye. All you could see was empty and white. Symbols resembling burnt-out images formed out of sweltering bubbles inside a familiar dream: a spinning mess after a night of drinking.

“At least the dress is clean,” Mary said sighing as you come to your senses.

You climbed out of the bushes once Cass shape-shifted her form and found her balance. One of the two good jackets you had was covered with green grime, shelled with thorns and bemired with swamp water; the same could be said of your pants. Perhaps there would be soap on sale somewhere today, you hoped.

You rubbed your cheek to barter Cass’s saliva for dirt. “I don’t know what you were trying to say,” you told Cass. Her eight-ball eyes jumped to follow to where your hands were as if she knew you wouldn’t. You motioned your hand to the wheels of the car, and then towards the road. You repeated the motion for Cass.

Cass stumbled to one of the rear wheels as Mary watched her with open arms. Mary’s teeth were juddering. Cass’s legs bubbled and soon melted from their feminine form to a thick orange mass. The edges of the dress dragged along the grass. She lowered her hands into the mud and they reformed into crooked and long roots and slithered beneath the wheels. Your sister rushed to Cass’s side. She grabbed and pulled the sleeves to the elbow of Cass’s body and then, rushing just the same, she pulled the dress higher.

“I am going to look for some branches in case whatever she is trying to do will not work,” you said to the two women. Neither gave you a response.

You raised your head: two trees towered exactly above your cab but there were no branches anywhere close to you. You did not want to risk it and walk too far in case One Two emerged from the shadows but … it was not like you had a choice. You searched.

> Deliberate on what the image in your mind which Cass’s “kiss” manifested meant. [What?]

> Take your time searching for the branches, the bigger the better. Let Cass and Mary spend some time together.
> Do the searching in a rush. Pick the first medium-sized branches you can find and return to the car as quickly as you can.
> Check the place where One Two’s car was standing at.
> [Write In]

>Deliberate on what the image in your mind which Cass’s “kiss” manifested meant. [What?]

Kind of feels like a map doesn't it? Little dot in the center for us, lots of dots around for the trees, big thing behind us might be a home marker? Cass's bubble language is pretty tough to figure though. I have to wonder if we really plied her with booze if she'd get more fidelity there.

>>5354538
> Deliberate on what the image in your mind which Cass’s “kiss” manifested meant. [What?]
It looks like she was trying to talk about the storm? The big thing at the top is a cloud, the black and white dot is probably her falling from the sky and I'm guessing the thing at the bottom is our home.

> Take your time searching for the branches, the bigger the better. Let Cass and Mary spend some time together.

>>5354538
>Deliberate on what the image in your mind which Cass’s “kiss” manifested meant. [What?]
>>5355091 makes a lot of sense.

> Do the searching in a rush. Pick the first medium-sized branches you can find and return to the car as quickly as you can.

>>5354538
>>Deliberate on what the image in your mind which Cass’s “kiss” manifested meant. [What?]

>>5355091
Is she complaining about the weather and wanting to go back home?

Looks sort of like a stomach in a house... probably reading too much into this

>>5355313
I meant the storm mentioned in the first thread. When he questioned us One Two said that our neighbors told him about strange lights in the sky and "raindrops" the size of cars or something like that.

>>5355313
The stomach bit I think is just a product of the art style.

>>5355328
I think you're right about the storm, though. I think she's depicting her arrival, or crash landing. Just not sure why, right now...

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Silly players, there's a second choice there!

>>5355091
> Take your time searching for the branches, the bigger the better. Let Cass and Mary spend some time together.

>>5355203
> Do the searching in a rush. Pick the first medium-sized branches you can find and return to the car as quickly as you can.

>>5354620
>>5355091
>>5355203
>>5355207
>>5355313
>>5355328
>>5355344

You stumbled upon the fallen branches yards away from Mary's car. They were big but not big enough. You would had to carry many to get the taxicab unstuck. You pushed the sprawling twigs onto the main branches to break some and blunt others. You paused. Would it have been better to search for a bigger piece? At least one should have been near.

You tossed your glance to the swallowing darkness on each side. You saw one of the few lucent things: the trees reflecting on the drenched cotton clouds concealing the sky and the moon enshrouded near almost by it. How hard it must had been to drive?

You rubbed your forehead to revive Cass’ brief mirage. Was it a map? You have seen the maps Mary kept and used and, were you to drop an ashtray on one, they would had looked similar. The orange skirt formed symbols in her bubbles, but she also frothed the darn things in your mind. Communicating with her wouldn’t get any easier, you felt.

Was that large blob meant to represent a storm? Made sense. The thing in the bottom looked like a house; a house drawn in mud by a four-year-old. Cass had eyes, but how good they could see? Was she complaining about the weather? Multiple clusters of dots, and one unlike the other: was it supposed to be Cass, plummeting from the sky? The neighbours told One Two of strangeness which fit the vision given to you by the alien gal. But you had no idea what she was asking or implying or telling you to do.

You kept on looking as you dwelt on your thoughts; it also let Cass and Mary spend some time on their own. If only for the next hours you hoped that Mary would ease up. You found branches bigger, without the sharp twigs and splinters to accidentally puncture the wheels. They were two and you had to spread your arms and break your back to carry them back. You did, but you left the other branches there.

Cass’s arms were split into curved limbs and ringed around the entire left rear wheel with knots and bows. She had changed her lower body to cradle the wheel, making her resemble a rooted tree stump. Her black eyes were moved to have them look fish-like. Unlike the slime properties of her body, the dress was helpless, and became ragged and torn according to the earthly laws of physics. The long dress, in defiance of all the tears and holes, hung onto Cass to cover her glossy nudity. It was no rubber.

Mary cried without tears. She hit her fists against Cass's back but they bounced at her with the same force.

“What happened?”

Mary smacked the car’s rooftop. “-It- first tried to drain the swamp water, I think, and once that did not work it twisted” —Mary put her elbows against each other and arched her forearms— “it did -this-, whatever it is trying to do. Look what it did to my favourite dress!” She glared away from Cass and hurried to the driver’s seat. “Make sure it doesn’t do anything else, I’m going to press down the pedal.”

> Tap Cass’s shoulder and ask her to step aside. Put the branches underneath the wheels and try and rescue the car that way.
> Ask Mary to wait and see if Mary will be able to free the car from the mud on her own. If not, push the car from the front at her.
> Don’t stop Mary and watch if spinning the wheel Cass is holding is going to help, or if it’ll rip the alien slime to shreds …
> [Write In]

> Point to the sky, point to Cass and ask her if you understood what she was trying to tell her correctly.
> Ask Cass to “kiss” you again to show you another inner vision.
> [Write In]

>Do you mind the slang of the 1920s used in this Quest?
>I am not American, so if there is anything that is factually incorrect I'll be more than happy to be corrected.

>>5355658
> Don’t stop Mary and watch if spinning the wheel Cass is holding is going to help, or if it’ll rip the alien slime to shreds
Cass is pretty durable. We can use the sticks if this fails, and we can talk about the vision after.

>>5355660
I think the slang adds character!

>>5355711
>>5355658

Support.

> Point to the sky, point to Cass and ask her if you understood what she was trying to tell her correctly.

Looking back at the other visions I'm getting the impression that her vessel broke and she fell to earth.

>>5355658
> Tap Cass’s shoulder and ask her to step aside. Put the branches underneath the wheels and try and rescue the car that way.

> Point to the sky, point to Cass and ask her if you understood what she was trying to tell her correctly.

I won't be able to update today as I don't have access to my PC. I hope we can get a tiebreaker for tomorrow. Thank you all for playing so far.

>>5355711
>>5355738
>>5356096

You nodded although she did not witness it. Mary slammed the door shut and ignited the car, letting the loud rumble remind you of her cab’s importance. Cass’s form braved what would be a warning to any human. The engine drowned the brief grind of your sister’s gear but itself became the silenced victim of the sound of the spinning wheel. The one Cass left alone spun around like a whirligig in abandoned fare, sinking deeper into the ground with corroding grind. The wheel in Cass’s hold squealed once and then fell into her lap upon the resistance of her rubber skin. From where the tire pushed deep a mix of grey and black smoke rolled under and hoisted. You raised your crossed arms preparing to shout for Mary.

Cass glowed like a flashing yellow traffic light. The automobile shook as Cass pulled the wheel and then curled her octopus-shaped body further. Amorphous limbs snapped off the tire and freed the struggling wheel. Bending to one side, the car leapt from the sunken ground and landed askew. Mary cried out—the car's offside front the one ploughing the ground. The cab rolled for ten yards and then fell back on four wheels. Silence followed the death of the motor, but to cease your worries concerning her health, Mary pushed open the door and misstepped out.

Cass reformed herself by first fusing all the root-like appendages into legs and then melting together the tentacle outgrowths into arms. There was no more glow and the cloudy colour of her ooze was that of an apricot jam, with all the pieces finely pureed. While from distance she was unscratched, a bit closer a part of her stomach and chest lacked the seamless elastic membrane; instead, putty-like flesh clung unsteady to the undamaged girths and jiggled in the open. Cass turned to you wearing only a hat.

Mary picked pieces of the dress she shred. She let out a squishing sound and hid—what you imagined to be sour—tears from you. You let your eyes roll. You looked at the car and then at Cass, and raised a thumb. Cass blinked. You glanced at Mary and then at the dress, and wobbled your arm. Cass blinked again. Could she understand a single gesture? Would you need to teach her? How would you even start?

“Thanks for your help. Is that you bleeding or what?” You touched the exposed ooze, and right away regretted it. You felt glued to her form. You first raised your hand and then tried pulling away your arm but her intimate flesh was stronger than any glue. You nodded to your hand and looked into her eyes. “Can you sneeze my hand off?” Her eyes turned and sunk to find your concern. She skidded her palm between the slime and your skin and tugged away your hand with a weak pop. You rubbed the invisible muck against the side of your pains. Her petite lips twitched during the rescue.

“I’m not sure I want you to do that to me again,” you said. You paused, then pointed at Cass, and then at the clouds above. “Let’s beat our gums. Not in that way ... The thing you showed me, are you trying to tell me you feel from above?” You gestured your flat hand down as if it was a falling plane.

Cass's unblinking eyes leered at your gestures; at least she was curious. She blabbered and mumbled.

You brushed your hairy neck. You sighed. “Did your spaceship fall?”

She did not reply.

“You follow? Even a commie would have understood me by now. You really are an alien then?”

Cass raised her flimsy arm and wobbled her outstretched fingers at the veiled sky. You shook your head and pointed at the car. "First, the car."

*** *** ***

The number of cars you met once you left Corndump and entered the city Compostela proper—although still in the outer avenue of Ashtray—jumped from one to a few dozen. Perhaps not even One Two risked riding his car of Ashtray's downtown, as he was nowhere to be met or seen. Here lived the cheap lot, the forgotten lot, and the criminal lot; a lot like you. The police that came here did it for the thrill, never because of duty. On the other side of town, the relentless and ghoulish smoke of the factories crashed and mixed into the, somehow, milkier thunderclouds above. The night’s moisture-laden air condensed like mites on everything, even the windscreen. Climbing fat apartments shadowed the concrete boulevard but none dared to scrape the sky. Beneath almost each isolated pin oak tree—leaves shriveled and rotten-brown—there was a garbage can. The two found solace in the way they were neglected as if stranded on their tiny island. Some had it missing. Above, like an intruding flashlight of a detective, sparkled the electricity running through the power lines, to then dim and vanish as if shot.

The cab entered a lampless dead end with a loose metal spearheaded fence to mark it so. Mary turned off the headlamps and looked at you straight.

“It should be here,” she nudged her head to read the sign: ‘78 Redwalk Dr.' “Probably. Should I call her here?”

> Ask Mary to go to her acquaintance alone and let her come to the car and see Cass for herself.
> Leave Cass in the car on her own—tell her to stay down—and accompany Mary to her friend.
> Make sure there is no one around you and then take Cass out of the taxicab and follow Mary.
> [Write In]

>>5358127
> Ask Mary to go to her acquaintance alone and let her come to the car and see Cass for herself.
I've just realised that we haven't actually tried communicating with her through images. How's our boy at drawing?

>>5358127
> Ask Mary to go to her acquaintance alone and let her come to the car and see Cass for herself.

>>5358127
> Ask Mary to go to her acquaintance alone and let her come to the car and see Cass for herself.

>>5358261
>>5358450
>>5358455

“Do that; Mary. Without the dress” —you saw as she cracked her knuckles and grimaced— “she’ll be too easy to notice and get us in trouble.”

“Yeah-yeah,” your sister said chewing her lip. She stepped out of the cab and banged the door behind her. She picked up a few pebbles, rolled them in her hand and then rose her eyes. She flung the stones into the brick stone gallery of dimmed sashed windows—into one in particular. A hand slid up the lower sash and a colourless head stuck out of the opening. Mary waved the figure greeting and then placed a hand to her lips to shout.

The figure, her so-called friend, stepped away from the opened window. An angelic glaze shimmered through the sandwich of glass as she turned on the light, illuminating the room as if it was the beacon’s leading light. Mary climbed the wrought zigzagging staircase—was it a fire escape or not?—and waited a few minutes at the bleached door before she was let inside.

The dashboard clock showed 04:42. It took Mary an hour and a few to drive here, or about two and a half hours from the minute you left the house. You turned to your left, to Cass. The rubbery rends across her stomach were chafed and fresh; her exposed flesh jiggled as she slid across the seat to stare at the city. Her palms and face stretched across the glass as she budged on it. Could she not heal herself?

You waited, shifting your glance from the door and back to Cass. You sighed. In a few long and tiresome minutes, Cass were going to be off your hands—

A loud crash! The front screen cracked into a web of hundred pieces before another smack broke and shattered the glass. Again! Shards glazed the empty driver seat, the mobster's silhoute dancing in each one. Another strike of the baseball bat followed at Cass’s side. She jumped back as the falling glass bounced off her body. You peered to your right, the side yet untouched and standing closest to the stairs.

> Shout to warn the attacker(s) that you are in the car, and you have a revolver. Try and spook them.
> Open the door and jump out. Point the gun at the person attacking the car and ask him some questions.
> Take Cass and jump out of the door. Climb the steps to the door Mary entered and knock on it.
> Wait until the mobster approaches to hit the door you sit behind. Open the door to hit the mobster with it, and then jump to grapple and punch.
> Tell Cass to lay low and do the same. Wait if all they want is to break a few windows, or if they plan to do further damages to Mary’s taxicab.
> [Write In]

>>5358261
>I've just realised that we haven't actually tried communicating with her through images. How's our boy at drawing?
Not very good. Average. Better than Cass.

>>5359163
> Open the door and jump out. Point the gun at the person attacking the car and ask him some questions
Eho the hell is he? What does he want? Can he kindly fuck off?

>>5359163
> Open the door and jump out. Point the gun at the person attacking the car and ask him some questions

Mary is not having a good night. First the dress, now her cab.

>>5359163
> Tell Cass to lay low and do the same. Wait if all they want is to break a few windows, or if they plan to do further damages to Mary’s taxicab.
>>5359196
>>5359217
That's a good way to get shot

>>5360026
Bashing up our sister's car is a good way to get shot, too.

>>5360183
>>5360026
>>5359217
>>5359196

Leaning down below the seat and onto the door, you pulled out and shook the revolver to swing out the empty cylinder. You pointed your hand downward for Cass to see and heed. Your eyes burned at the faint Compostela lights; by then, after dealing with Cass in the utter darkness of your house, your eyes were accustomed to the umbrage in the same way a homeless adapted to the pitiless streets. You loaded the six shots and corked the hammer. You grasped and raised it to your chest. You never killed a man, and never shot to injure. The D’Addario goons gave you it, supposing that you would.

The mobster bashed the rear window from the right side of it, sundering a cancerous crack from the strained corner. God damn it! You pulled the doorknob and kicked the left door wide open. Without wasting a second, you leapt out of the car and revealed yourself.

You pointed the loaded revolver at the man inches away. You spooked the man. The mobster wore a black cabby’s uniform with a plain green tie, jade suit buttons and a peaked cap with an acid green leather band above the black stiff brim. By the right side of the car, wearing the same clothes, meddled another goon near the headlamps. He held a bat as well.

You moved the muzzle between them." What the fuck are you doing?” you yelled.

The man closest raised his hands.“Damn, a passenger? I thought it would be empty … Fella, wait, don’t burn your powder. We mean no harm.”

The other man cracked his neck. His shoulders widened as he gripped and squeezed the baseball bat.

You looked at the plummeting shards. “No harm? Look what you did to the car!”

“Yes, we did that,” he said. He dangled the hand holding the bat. “Only the ‘Green Line’ cabs are allowed in this city, and that’s not one of ours.”

You looked sideways to the door and then the window above. The man took a step forward.

“I tell you what, friend: lower the heater and leave this rusty bucket to us. I’ll give you a nice discount, and drive you to where you need to be. Fast.”

> “Get lost, and did not say I did not warn you.”
> “If you don’t leave this very second there’ll be two corpses for the coppers to find tomorrow.”
> “I’ll fill you both with lead unless you pass the cabbage. $100 will do, that should be enough to cover the repairs.”
> Scream on top of your lungs for Mary, and let her come down and deal with them.
> Scream on top of your lungs for Mary to call the cops; hopefully, her friend’s place has a telephone.
> [Write In]

>>5360296
>Write-in
"We weren't here picking up fares, you maroons! This is my sister's ride, and her goddam livelihood! Now pay for this shit! Hundred dollars, now!"

>>5360624
+1

>>5360624
This

>>5360624
>>5360863
>>5360984

“Don’t call me a friend, I’m not,” you said. Your sweating palm tightened your hold as you waved the gun. “I’m not a passenger, and we weren’t here to pick up fares, you” —with fright you lowered the nuzzle when the mobster’s head appeared in its sight— “maroons. This here is my sister’s ride, and it's her goddamn livelihood!” You spit out. “Now pay up for this shit. Fifty, no, hundred bucks; I’ll know if you take out anything but your wallet!”

The man knit his brows. He lowered both his hands and tucked one into his jacket. “So, not a passenger? Then you’re a part of the problem, fella.” He glanced at his friend, a man ten inches taller than him and you with a large nose and a cracked mouth. “It is not a first time our guys see your sister’s car, and this ain’t the first warning, not even the tenth. Break the rules, get the ticket. She’s not allowed to work here, remind her.”

“I’ll tell her you lot had lost it, but I don’t see a tin on you. Hang out the green.”

The man saw trembling hands. “A century? Sounds like a lot for a little renovation,” he said. Smiling, he withdrew a leather notecase and waved it at you. “You seem a tad on the edge, don’t hold your heather so tight, alright? Here, come and take out what bill you need yourself.”

> Command for the man to place the wallet on the ground, then for the two to drop their bats and step away from the car. Take the money and then tell them to leave.
> Approach the man and grab the wallet. Take out a hundred if it’s there and toss the wallet back at him and tell them to leave.
> Command for the man to take out the bill on his own, place it on the wipers and then get lost.
> [Write In]

>>5360624
Elmer is not confrontational and is not really a mobster so I had to re-adjust the Write In, a note.

>>5361019
> Command for the man to take out the bill on his own, place it on the wipers and then get lost.

>>5361023
Makes seense. Poor Elm's in over his head tonight.

>>5361019
> Command for the man to take out the bill on his own, place it on the wipers and then get lost.

>>5361082
>>5361497

“Do it yourself, ‘fella’.” You declined your head to the shattered windowpane. “Take out the bill on the wipers and get lost.”
With a short step, the man approached the car; he leaned so close the bumper grazed against his uniform. He put the bat on the hood of it and then began flipping through the notes inside of his wallet. His eyes moved from it to the nuzzle of your gun. He hummed. “I don’t have a century or even a half.” He laughed as if through a drain, “You are making me do mathematics. Let’s see, I should have a twenty, and enough tenners too. Give me a second here.”

You waited as he bothered the leather. Not a second, or a few, but a creeping minute. You watched him like a hawk for each of his notes.

“You are taking your ti—”

The man furthest chucked his bat at you; unlike the inexperienced batters, he knew what he was doing. You ducked as the behemoth of a bat smashed the corner of the roof and flew above your head. Before you reacted, the other closer man charged. He grabbed the hand you held the gun with and pointed it down. With a grin and pristine smile, he raised the bat preparing to strike. “Don't worry, the Green Line is easy on the killing.”

> Even though the revolver is pointed down, shoot still, you might hit his foot/leg or, at least, scare the mobster away with the sound of a shot.
> Kick the man in the nuts with your knee, he is in a good position for it. If that works, smack him clean in the jaw.
> Spit in the man’s face. If that works, dodge away and wrestle him down to the ground.
> [Write In]

>>5361933
>Shout for Cass to help you
We tried solving this with our You, now let's try solving this with our AndYourWiafu!

> Even though the revolver is pointed down, shoot still, you might hit his foot/leg or, at least, scare the mobster away with the sound of a shot.

The sound will alert Mary and her hopefully armed friend.

>>5361941
>>5361944

How honest the mobster was you weren’t going to wait to find out. You pulled the trigger, firing a bullet inches away from his oxfords boot—the sound of the shot exploding like a landmine. He did not stop the swing, the smooth wooden barrel of the bat thwacking you against your head and then sending you lunging at the ground like a rubber ball. Blood misted the air and painted the bat. The images and sounds echoed, they forced inside each other like an abusive kiss. You placed one of your hands to cover the biting wound and then wobbled the revolver at the unfocused man. He struck your hand, the bone-wracking impact forcing you to let go of the revolver, hurling it away from your reach, and throwing your arm like it was a dead man’s.

You let out a yell. You fell on the wet ground, far less comfortable and colder than your yearly baths or even a lukewarm shower. The same way a person who had his glasses stolen had them returned cracked and smudged, your vision returned partially. The window no longer was alone in its lit attendance, the others above and opposite of it glowing like fiery-white eyes of stalking beasts. The sound of broken glass wasn’t out of ordinary, but the gunshot flirted with their curiosity. Mobster put the bat over his shoulder and looked down as if considering if he should hit you a few times more.

Pushing away the windscreen’s remaining shards of glass oozed a flaming red bulging mass as wide as the window itself. Floating up, like sprouts, emerged shoulders, a neck and a head of Cass, as well as outspread arms and outstretched palms. If you could keep five inches between each of your fingers, your hands would had looked the same. Your assaulter could not see her, but the man behind him did.

“What the he— August!”

The man looked behind. If he had tried fleeing right away, he might had escaped, but you could not blame August for losing his marbles. Cass bellied out of the car and then leapt and pounced on top of him, her imperceivable weight dropping the man to the ground and smashing his head. He yelled. He trashed around with his eyes wide and then hollow. His cheeks turned blue as he began gasping for help, but when he looked, his pal’s shape was as small as an ant and then vanishing behind one of the Ashtray’s corners. Cass moved her long doughy arm over the man’s side, his shoulder, to his neck and then to his face like a creeping hundred-legged centipede. He cried. He wept for mercy. Cass stroked his temple—as if electrocuted, the man lost his breath and went out.

“What is going on down there?” somebody yelled from the windows.

The metal stairs clattered as a blurry but familiar face of your sister rushed to you and the past.

“Oh my fucking God, what happened to my cab?!”

In the opened door from which Mary left, there stood a figure smoking from a cigarette holder. Cass's dark eyes looked at you and then followed Mary.

*** *** ***

It was an alcoholic mess even though you were as dry as bark and sober as an infant. You felt from and back into consciousness as they carried you from the alley and into the flat, as your sister was forced to do a few times in your life. You woke up proper, your head crying as if it had lips inverted to face your brain. You scratched the padded cloth your head had been bandaged with; your face was absent of dried bloodstains, washed by another. The room was dark, absent of electric light but glossed by the wave of its sister room. You pushed the blanket off and put your bootless feet on the warm carpeted floor.

“Is anyone here?” you asked. You searched your pockets and then around the room for the revolver; it wasn’t there. Had you lost it?

A shadow brisked from the hallway and then a woman walked inside. She wore a flaming red dress that embellished her features; on her hands, she had rosy silk elbow-length gloves with puffed bouquet cuffs. The skin of her exposed shoulders and face was pale as if washed to be so. It was wrinkled; you assumed at first she was your age, but now that you had noticed, it didn’t seem to be the case. She had voluminous poodle hair in silver-white bloom with waved bobs.

“I am here, darling,” she said. She sat near you and let out a longing hum. “Only me.”

She might had been old, but she was fine, even attractive. You slid to the left edge of the bed away from her. “What about my sister?”

“Dear Mary ran away as she does, as she does, darling. She had to before the law enforcement arrived. My neighbours don’t want to have this place become even worse so calling the police is the least they can do, the least they can do, darling. She told me she’ll return once she gets her automobile fixed up.”

“Thanks for mending my wound,” you said. Wait. “What about Cass?"

The woman shook her head. “What Mary called ‘it’ is here, in the next room. You don’t have to worry. Cass, hm?”

“Yes, I named her after Cassiopeia, the cocktail.”

She stiffened her teeth, but a soft laugh slipped through. “Darling, the cocktail is named that after something, after something, as well.”

“I figured as much, but I can’t say what.”

“ … Vain and arrogant queen Cassiopeia who was placed in the sky as a punishment for boasting that she and her daughter Andromeda were more beautiful than the sea nymphs of Poseidon.” She moved closer. She looked into your eyes with her dancing grey irises. “Daughter was rescued, but her mother is still bound and punished. If we can trust the Greeks, trust the Greeks, then Cassiopeia is still there chained in the stars.”
“Great history lesson, sister. It seems like you know a lot?”

“That’s why dear Mary brought you here, I must assume, for my knowledge. You can say I have just the right hobby, darling.”

“You seem undisturbed by the fact that Cass is a … well, what she is, a malformed shape of alien slime and rubber skin, and other.”

She wet her lips and then turned to touch the bruise beneath the bandage; she made you yelp. “Darling, I had enough time to acclimatize while you were asleep. I was very surprised, I still am, you can believe me, you can believe me, but it-she does not look to be a monstrous creature.”

“No, I don’t think she is here to cause harm,” you said. You did not like being touched, but you let her.

“While we are on topic of exotic names, my name is Cleopatra. You can shorten it, and I won’t discipline you for it, won’t punish you for it, but I dislike it,” she said. Cleopatra rubbed and then clutched your chin. “Dear Mary did not say—what do you want me to do with your Cass?"

> You want Cleopatra to take Cass off your hands. You don’t care what happens to her after.
> You want Cleopatra to help you understand Cass better, and the other way around.
> Cass fell from the sky, of that you are near-certain. Ask Cleo if she heard about the anomalies and if so, what she can tell you about em.
> [Write In]

>>5362940
> Cass fell from the sky, of that you are near-certain. Ask Cleo if she heard about the anomalies and if so, what she can tell you about em.
Let's start with this. I want her off our hands, buuut... Well, she just saved our life.

>>5362940
> Cass fell from the sky, of that you are near-certain. Ask Cleo if she heard about the anomalies and if so, what she can tell you about em.

>>5362940
>> Cass fell from the sky, of that you are near-certain. Ask Cleo if she heard about the anomalies and if so, what she can tell you about em.

>>5362949
>>5362953
>>5363639

Her fingers slipped off your chin as you turned to where Cass supposedly was. Stinging bruise mangled with your thinking. You wished to get rid of Cass, and you came here for that reason. A courier of issues, the slimed thing was a rusted cog in your controlled life. You knew of little problems and those few were dealt with by Mary or by your big-hearted second family. Federal agents which you chanced upon pulled furniture to pieces and beat people up not unlike any mobster, and whatever agency One Two was part of seemed as shady. If he knew you knew he’d make sure you and Mary were croaked.

“Darling?”

You were to regret it. “I had a visit from a fed’, but not one of the prohis. Some kind of G-man, asking me if I have seen anything strange or suspicious. He asked me about anomalies, two in particular: flashing lights in the rainstorm clouds, more impressive than lightning I assume, and raindrops as big as a cab. I have this feeling they have something to do with Cass. Does any of this sound similar to you?"

She walked away from the bed and picked a small pack from the top shelf. She slipped out a cigarette from the golden foil encrusting the inside of the pack. The brand was unfamiliar. She slipped an unlit cigarette inside a holder with a silver ring and then put the mouthpiece between her lips.
She walked out of the room shaking her hips with every step. “Come with me, darling.”

You followed Cleopatra into a midsized room with parched wallpaper and a wooden floor tiled like a mosaic riddle. In the centre of the room hung a titanic chandelier with a speckled glass fringe as long as a flapper’s cocktail dress. The huge sunbathing light found resistance to illuminating the space. Cabinets, drawers, chests and boxes of mix-matched styles, materials, and age obstructed the room like flowering weeds. Cleopatra pushed past the encumbrance as if it wasn’t she who set them like this, but she who found herself working around them. The dust layered the top of every cabinet and between each of the shelves. It hung in the air and shimmered like crystalline snow.

You followed the bewitching crone into a busy but open area of the room; standing between two cabinets, it had its lamp fashioned out of antlers and the skull of some horned beast. Cleopatra switched on the light and basked you and a tower of notebooks in a warmer tint. From above casting shambling shadows hung large frames with photos: blurs of a large humanoid figure walking through empty wood, a misty white man standing on a surface of a lake, a cloudy galleon flying above the carpet of the empty night sky, and other spectacles on film.

She took out a weighty folder and placed it on top of a large table made from white wood like a half-moon with the rest of the circle being glass.

“I can only give you this, only gives you this, darling.” Cleopatra straightened a piece of newspaper with her fingers and then stepped away. She put on a pair of glasses with thick lenses and a gilded frame. You slumped before the page and searched for the article.

“It was released four days ago,” she said as she joined you; her elbow brushed yours. You kept your stare away from her neck and on the inked gazette. It was a paragraph in a gossip column, on par with the rest of them which mentioned strange, and likely dishonest, interviews and letters. But this one sounded familiar. The man called Joseph A wrote of unnatural lights and raindrops that could swallow a man whole like a whale.

“I buy and read as much news as I have time for, darling, and I keep a keen eye, a keen eye, on those types of stories in particular.” Cleopatra positioned her knuckles beneath her chin. “This is the only one, darling. Either it never happened, or Joseph A had been made silent.”

Your bandage moistened from the cold sweat. “Let’s hope it’s the former,” you said. You threw your gaze left and right. “Where’s she?”

Cleopatra took out and waved the holder to the left of you, “Since she came, she has been busy staring at the fishes in my aquarium.” She adjusted the deep neck of her dress and took a step closer. “If you came here for information, darling, this is the only thing I have for you.”

> Ask Cleopatra if she has any way to find out who this Joseph A is. You can’t remember any of your neighbours named Joseph.
> Warn Cleo not to leave Cass with the fishes. Rush to the aquarium before she does something a guest should never do: swallow the fish.
> Ask Cleopatra if she can figure out a way for you to communicate with Cass. Does she maybe have a chalkboard just laying around here?
> Ask Cleopatra what the flashes and the large raindrops can mean for Cass as it seems she is a hobbyist in the strange and unnatural.
> Tell Cleopatra about your dilemma: the fact that Cass is able to drain alcohol out of your body. Ask if there’s a way to block her from doing so.
> [Write In]

>>5364013
> Ask Cleopatra if she can figure out a way for you to communicate with Cass. Does she maybe have a chalkboard just laying around here?

>>5364013
>> Ask Cleopatra if she can figure out a way for you to communicate with Cass. Does she maybe have a chalkboard just laying around here?

We're too dumb to tell Cass to form some sort of structure that mimics vocal cords, aren't we? I feel like that would be stretching the bounds of plausibility at least for Elmer.

>>5364013
> Warn Cleo not to leave Cass with the fishes. Rush to the aquarium before she does something a guest should never do: swallow the fish
THEN
> Ask Cleopatra if she can figure out a way for you to communicate with Cass. Does she maybe have a chalkboard just laying around here?
> Ask Cleopatra what the flashes and the large raindrops can mean for Cass as it seems she is a hobbyist in the strange and unnatural.

No update today.

“Fishes? You can’t leave her with your fish! She’ll— there’s no time, take me to her.”

Cleopatra hummed. She sauntered past you and around the corridors formed by the archaic furniture. Her deep scarlet dress remained unblemished as she snaked past the unswept shelves to the other side of the room. You followed with less finesse, hand prints of smudge clinging on your jacket as if death grips of a man you killed. You slapped your sides, turning this evidence into one you’d tried to hide.

Cass’s form bloomed beneath the electric light— it took you until now to see her alien enticement and presence, no longer malnourished by the lacking light. Her stretched-out skin was glossy and translucent, with only reddish dust of crushed stone flowing like blood underneath the layers of jelly. Even then, she had turned away from you to the aquarium which was four three times the size of your fish bowl.

Was this the home Larry asked for? It had a rectangular shape and had a sand floor with a jungle of bluish aquatic plants, seaweeds and moss. There was a naked mermaid too.

The tank’s owner slithered up from the seabed and zigzagged past the several bubble pillars before nudging the glass. A large black eel with shining jewellery skin gawked at Cass, snapped close its toothed mouth and then swam away to repeat the routine. Cleopatra withdrew the holder from her lips between her fingers and lowered it down. She watched from a distance as Cass opened and closed her mouth.

“Darling, you had me worried for a second,” she said, showing no such emotions. She picked a box of matches from a table near and placed it in your hands. “Nothing bad happened, you see?” She put the holder back to her lips and tilted her neck to leave you just enough space. You stroke a match and light the cigarette, rubbing the end to kill the short-lived flame. She looked into your eyes and inhaled. She let out the woody cigarette smoke to whirl around you. “Ah,” she whispered, “That is so much better, darling. I have such trouble sleeping without it. Eight hours with no smoke? Torture, darling.” You licked your lips. You knew what she meant and you couldn’t wait a minute longer to have a proper drink.

“So, darling, is she trying to speak to my Gem?” She turned to Cass.

“In a way,” you said. You offered Cleopatra back her matches but she waved her hand; a gift. “She can form some kind of symbol-filled bubbles. Those symbols are cryptic. She once flashed similar symbols in my mind, but that was very uncomfortable. I'd rather avoid it.”

“Your Cass has its attention, but it won’t answer her, won’t answer her, the way you do, darling.”

“I talk to her, and I use hand signs; I don’t know if she understands any of it. As for between the fish and her, I have no idea.” You turned to Cass, “If we give her something to drink, she’ll make a few of her bubbles. Maybe you can help me out and figure out a way to communicate with her?”

“Of course, I can bring a glass of water, and ponder on a way for her to make her thoughts clearer, darling, but,” she said, “what will I get from it?”

With the smoke scraping your face, you coughed. “What do you want?”

She laughed, bowing her holder to spread the ashes, “Dear Mary has been hiding quite the ladies’ man, darling, but you alone won’t be enough.”

“I know I said that we came here to get rid of her.”

“If that is what you would leave me with, darling, I would even be in your favour.” She fluttered her eyelashes and let out a moan. “I am -obsessed- with those things, -obsessed- with those things, darling. And this is the first time in sixty-three years of my life that I meet it so in fact. Can you leave your Cass with me?”

You bit your lip. “I want to speak with her first, and I want to know what you want to do with her.”

Cleopatra looked down at your chest, “Are you worried for her safety, darling? You shouldn’t be.”

“No.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem. I won’t dissect her,” she said. “I am not letting go of her so easily. So, darling, what do you want me to bring?”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to hold a pen or a brush. Something bigger and easier to draw on—”

Cleopatra turned around, inspecting and looking over her room. “I’ll have just the thing, darling, a chalkboard from a school’s classroom. Come.”

> [What are you going to draw for Cass?]
> [Write In]

>>5366265
> [What are you going to draw for Cass?]
Start with something easy: ourselves, our house, our sister, our fish. Attempt to communicate the relationships between those things, and audible words.

Then, maybe point at ourself, then at our house. "I and from THERE. YOU are from...?"

Cleopatra seems pretty trustworthy and sexy. Maybe we CAN leave Cass here?

>>5366283
+1

All we really know about her is that she's an acquaintance of Mary's and that she's interested in spooky shit and aliens.

>>5366823
We also know she is fairly kind, and a smokeshow. And she's a fellow fish-appreciator! Good enough for me.

>>5366283
>>5366823
>>5367118

You waited to make sure Cass didn’t do anything more than flap her rubbery lips at the eel. Trailing behind Cleopatra you kept Cass in sight until another edifice of boxes and crates hide her from view. Would there be anything for Cleo’s eel to be unsatisfied about? You hoped not. Cleopatra pulled out a stool from beneath a desk cluttered with journals, books and newspapers, and stepped on it. The unpadded stool wobbled. She knelt, pushing the ends of her dress down.

Cleopatra stepped off and placed her heeled boots on the floor. She snickered. “Darling, you are such a strong man. It is up there, can you grab it for yourself?”

Cleopatra’s pale cheeks were rosied as she stepped back. She pointed the cigarette’s end at the top of a human-height cupboard overlooking the desk. You nodded and climbed on the wooden desktop making sure to avoid leaving boot prints on Cleo's papery supplies. You dragged out a chalkboard twice the spread of your hands; it was as old-fashioned to you and demeaning of you now as it was to your younger self.

“There is something of yours here,” you said. The slate was covered in symbols not unlike Cass’s, as nonsensical but a bit more of this world. Numbers, drawings and arrows drawn in chalk covered the board. A graph of dollar amount with each crossed over line fewer in share, from several thousand to only a few hundred; a telephone number; a detailed floor plan of a large building; another graph of nicknames with only one crossed out.

“It is nothing important, darling,” Cleopatra interrupted your staring. She curtsied before the chalkboard, licked her finger, and then offed her name.

You did not ask. You returned to the aquarium to put the chalkboard against one of the walls. You whistled for Cass’ attention. The alien turned away from the aquarium walls and to you. In her female form, she staggered at you. She came to a stop with her eyes unblinking.

You pointed and lead her to the chalkboard. Cleopatra returned with large chunks of chalk and a wet rag to clean what she called unimportant information. Cass fondled the smooth rocky texture of the dark slate with her fingers. Her attention returned once you drew a straight line. You drew a figure of a man and then pointed the chalk at yourself. “This is me.” You did the same with a figure of an alien woman; you drew the humanoid slime the best you could. “This is you.” You pointed at Cass, back at the figure, and back at her. Cass reached for the figure of herself to rub it. You winced, now she was a smudge.

“Yes, you.” You sighed and drew a house and a car. “This is my house,” you said, pointing to yourself and the figure of your cottage. “You broke into my house, I am not actually sure how.” You did the same with the car. “And then Mary, my sister, drove us here.” Cass paused and then looked down at her stomach and chest, to where her skin had been damaged. You beamed. “That’s right, the car’s wheel did that to you. It was stuck and you helped to get it out. You understand?”

Cass turned her head from the board and back to you. She met Cleopatra’s gaze. Cleopatra let out another cigarette haze, sat on the edge of another table, and crossed her knees. With a twinkle in her eyes, she evaluated your performance as a teacher.

You drew Cleo’s representation: a lady in a dress with wavy her. You pointed from the drawing to the real thing and bad. “This is Cleopatra, she is Mary’s friend. Are you following so far?”

“Is that all you are going to tell her about me, tell her about me, darling?”

Cass passed her gaze the way you did. Again, you pointed at the house. “-I- am from there. Where do -you- come from?”

You extended the chalk piece to her. Cass grasped at it, but the chalk rolled out of her fingers and fell on the floor, breaking into four pieces.

“Your grip is horrendous!" You picked the chalk off the floor. Standing up, you noticed that Cass has reached for your head with her hands.

> Do not fight back and allow Cass to touch you and unpleasantly mirage a vision in your mind.
> Dodge out of the way and angrily shake your head. You need to teach Cass to stop doing whatever she wishes. Break the chalk and cover Cass’s hand in the dust so she’ll be able to pain if she has the talent, that way.
> Dodge out of the way and angrily shake your head. You need to teach Cass to stop doing whatever she wishes. Ask Cleopatra to bring a glass of water to see if Cass will be able to form a bubble with a recognizable symbol.
> [Write In]

>>5367400
> Do not fight back and allow Cass to touch you and unpleasantly mirage a vision in your mind.

>>5367400
>> Do not fight back and allow Cass to touch you and unpleasantly mirage a vision in your mind.

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>>5367404
>>5367619

You flinched. You raised your hands, pausing when they reached your shoulders height. Her hands began to melt, forming an incomplete sludge bubble around your head, with a larger opening between you and her. She brought her lips down to your forehead to place a kiss. An achromatic fire burned through Cass, the chalkboard, and the entire room into empty ash. From the white noise, like the ghost ship in one of Cleopatra’s photos, appeared a dancing mirage of grey-shaded runes. It hovered like smoke in your mind before you came to your senses with a head-breaking ache.

Cass’s finger-cage reformed into hands. She looked at you as if expecting you to understand. It was almost the same fucking thing she showed you before. You snapped away and turned to the board, recreating the image. You waved and knocked the chalk on every side.

“Is this it? What is it supposed to be?” you said. Cass dragged her palm against your drawing, smudging the chalk as if her little change made it clearer! Oh, thank you!

Cleopatra paused for smoke and release. “It looks like a raining cloud."

Cass spoke her silent piece. She pushed her hand above her chest and then pointed it back.

“You -came- from the cloud?”

She pressed her hand in the centre of the chalked cloud and pushed it down to the bottom of the board leaving a line-like mark.

You stared at the chalk, shaking your head after; at least, she was this intelligent. “What do you want? I can’t toss you up the fucking cloud.”

“That’s supposed to be rain I assume, darling?”

You looked at what you drew—dots, lines and zigzags taking most of the board. “ … Yes.”

“I am not saying it is the answer, it is the answer, darling, but maybe she’s waiting for it to rain?” She climbed off the desk and, swaying her hips and taking out the holder between her fingers, advanced to Cass. Cleopatra circled the cigarette’s smoke at Cass and then moved closer to her face.

“Are you not going to give me a kiss, dear?” Cleopatra puckered her lips as Cass did nothing but look past her at you.

You rubbed your forehead. “Bird, I am not drawing it badly on purpose. That’s the best I could with what she showed me, it’s all gibberish. You should be happy she’s not touching you, it’s worse than a hangover or flu when she does. It feels like brain surgery, but no one knocked me out first. Trust me please.”

“I do, but there is no remedy for curiosity, no remedy for curiosity, darling.”

You pointed at the problem causer. “So what, you need some showers? It was raining like hell for the last week. How likely it’ll rain today?”

“Very likely, darling, you know Compostela, we might as well be in England. However, you might have to wait until evening or even night, even night, darling.”

You scoffed and looked at Cass, “Yes, it’s wet the entire day but at least it doesn’t rain. That should be a good thing, but apparently, it ain’t for you.”

A muted knocking turned audible when you and Cleopatra had a brief moment of silence. Cleopatra paused and then waved her empty hand, “Don’t worry, darling, it must be the newsie. That’s good, we might as well check the weather forecast for tonight, for tonight, darling. You never know. Stay here for a minute, I’ll be quick.” The knocking continued with a hard and long tempo until Cleopatra left the room. It took her at least a minute to finally reach the door.

You left Cass alone with the chalkboard; perhaps, maybe, she would draw something more telling. You walked through the room looking at the collection of bizarre, from skulls of animals to jars of dirt, old paintings of the Garden of Eden, wax statuettes of strange animals, and everything in between. Behind seven large tomes, all but one missing a hardcover was a candlestick phone with a dial—connected and working. You looked at it.

> How long did it take to pick up a newspaper?

> Contact a speakeasy under D’Addario and ask for their help.
> Contact a preacher and used-to-be-friend-who-you-did-not-speak-for-five-years-now.
> Contact the strange number Cleopatra has on her chalkboard.
> Find a space to hide Cass and yourself just in case—there are a lot of places here.
> Hide Cass in one of the many crates or cupboards and then sneak to check on Cleo.
> [Write In]

>>5368515
> Hide Cass in one of the many crates or cupboards and then sneak to check on Cleo.
No point bringing anyone else into this if all we have to do is wait for rain. Let's just lay low!

>>5368515
> Find a space to hide Cass and yourself just in case—there are a lot of places here.
If someone comes in it's probably best they don't see us either. Plus I don't trust Cass to stay still and hide.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5368627
> Hide Cass in one of the many crates or cupboards and then sneak to check on Cleo.

>>5369438
> Find a space to hide Cass and yourself just in case—there are a lot of places here.

Sorry, no update tonight.

>>5368627
>>5369438

There was no point of making a call and making the problem bigger than it was. All you had to do was wait for it to rain, for the evening-night at most.

Just to be safe, you searched the room for a place to hide: big enough not only for Cass but for you as well. An unkept wardrobe with a single door carpentered out of rich caramel wood caught your attention. You opened the door by its brass handle with an absent squeak of its hinges. Inside, stuffed to the brim, hung dresses, suits and also underwear; unlike the ancient cabinet, they looked as if used only a few times at most. Would Cleopatra forgive you for hiding in here if your doubts were wrong? You had no time to scale moral with sane.

Moving your hand at snail’s speed, you touched Cass’s back with the strength of one. Your push for her to follow was more like a caress. Not unused to being asked to hide inside wardrobes, Cass stumbled onward, disappearing in the red-silverine vestiary like it was a jungle. You stepped inside and locked the door. Soft silk and knitted cotton, swaying down like drapery, skimmed your face; it all smelled of perfume and rich tobacco. Cass had malformed to fit inside the narrow space, but that only helped a bit. She pressed her waxen rubbery body against you, and so did you against the orange peel that was her skin. Her empty eyes gazed at you.

“I don’t want to be in this situation either,” you said. Your hand slipped on her stomach and glued onto her exposed ooze-flesh. Just great.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink, a drink, darling?”

“I don’t drink on the job." A figure appeared inside the room as if from the lingering dust. From the cabinet’s threadlike gap you saw a familiar face. Smoke trailed behind him like a prison chain as he stepped past you and to the desk. “Early retirement, you said?”

“Yes, dear Roddy, so if you want my help, want my help, you wouldn’t be so rude to invite yourself into my abode.”

The man pulled out a notebook and a pencil. With his knuckles, he raised-adjusted his fedora. “This is a police emergency, so bear with it. And call me One Two, as you always used to.”

“You shouldn’t be hiding that pleasing face of yours, One Two,” Cleopatra whistled out cigarette smoke, “Are you sure you want to leave your rich bucket just like that, darling?”

“Why?” One Two said drumming the pocketbook’s edge. “Has something happened minutes ago that should make me worry about its safety?”

“I wouldn’t know, darling, but you should be well aware, well aware, of Ashtray’s reputation.”

One Two meandered past the cabinetries, tables and a large sculpture of a seal with a man’s head and shoulders. “Do not speak ill of its reputation, Cleo Davidson. The police are trying their best with Compostela. I came here as soon as the call was made to use, you see? A broken car, a shot, a fight, a strange … “ He turned to the chalkboard and approached it. “Very curious. Very. I did not know you were an artist, Cleo Davidson.”

Cleo put away the empty holder and waved her hand at the last smoke. She cleared her throat. “It was worth a try, darling. You become creative at my age.”

“I can’t understand what you were trying to depict here. Can I get a hint?”

She harrumphed. “That’s rude even for you, Roddy” —he stared at the wardrobe you were in and looked away— “One Two. It’s … unfinished.”

> Wait and watch One Two’s and Cleopatra’s discussion.
> Slowly and silently walk out of the wardrobe while One Two is busy. Pick something heavy and try and smack him unconscious.
> Motion for Cass to prepare and attack One Two. Make a sound and, hopefully, if he approaches and opens the wardrobe, jump at him.
> [Write In]

>>5370507
> Wait and watch One Two’s and Cleopatra’s discussion.
We're not so good in a fight, we probably still have a concussion, and ALSO, do we want to deal woth consequences of attack and/or killing a federali?

> Wait and watch One Two’s and Cleopatra’s discussion.

One Two is clearly not normal, I'm pretty sure he could take us, even in an ambush.

>>5370507
>> Wait and watch One Two’s and Cleopatra’s discussion.

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>>5370556
>>5370579
>>5370662

The man clung to you like a maggot; he followed your every step like a psychotic ex-wife. You curled your fingers into a fist, watching as the man bowed before the board. No, One Two was clearly not normal. You had one chance before your ambush would no longer be one, and then, you felt, he would have the upper hand. Even if you did manage to knock him out—to kill him—the consequences would be incomparable to illegal brewing.

“Unfinished, but I can make out the gist and the rudiments. Tell me if I’m wrong, Cleo Davidson. Here is a cloud, a rather large one, and here is a rainstorm: it is taking about 80% of the whole board. Interesting, a landscape art?” He turned a page of his book and sketched from the chalkboard what you did from your memory. “ … and here is a line, like a falling star, but straight down. Have you been drawing from imagination, or from what you witnessed?” He tapped the chalk drawing with the end of his pencil and after he was done with his tracing, he raised his eyes to her.

The woman rubbed and then drummed the table’s edge with her fingertips. “From memory, darling. Why, is it anything important?”

One Two bent the pencil between the fingers of his right hand; it did not break. “You should be well aware of how significant this can be, Cleo Davidson. This is the reason you drew it, is not?” He returned the pocketbook beneath his suit. He looked around the room, her journals, her books and her photos in particular. “You can be of great use to CRA as before. Let’s discuss this over a drink—I hope it is all according to the law?”

“If you would be so kind, dear One Two, you can tutor me on all the new, all the new, amendments laws and regulations.” She chuckled.

“If it is homemade, I will look the other way." He straightened his back and then looked vacantly at you, concealed by the wardrobe’s door.

“What’s wrong, darling? You are showing a lot of interest in what’s inside there.” Cleopatra whispered, “It’s lingerie, darling. If you are -that- curious, you can stay for the night, stay for the night, and I’ll show you it close, personal, and in all the details you’ll ask of me. Sounds copacetic?”

One Two took out a half-finished cigarette and walked out of the room without a word or Cleopatra’s guidance; she hurried to follow the G-man.

You moved your gaze away from the gap. Ignoring how tight it was, Cass leaned closer and placed her gooey lips on your cheek. Brrrrr!

You returned to consciousness from your second-long epilepsy. Again.

“What the hell does that suppose to mean?” you asked the alien blob. She was unspoken.

> Continue to stay in the wardrobe and trust Cleopatra to get rid of One Two eventually. Half an hour? A few hours?
> Walk out of the wardrobe quietly but leave Cass inside, for now. What to do next?
> Walk out of the wardrobe quietly and motion for Cass to follow you. What to do next?
> [Write In]

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Sorry for no update yesterday, dear players, I am turning thirty today and I have been celebrating the ocassion yesterday. Thank you for playing, and look forward to many more updates, quests and waifus in the future!

>>5372573
>CRA
Awww shit, he works for the Canada Revue Agency, boys! Your taxes all squared up? Did we register Cassie as a dependent?

Anyway, I vote to
> Continue to stay in the wardrobe and trust Cleopatra to get rid of One Two eventually. Half an hour? A few hours?

>>5372573
> Continue to stay in the wardrobe and trust Cleopatra to get rid of One Two eventually. Half an hour? A few hours?
>>5372579
Happy birthday! Here's to more

>>5372579
Oh, yeah, happy B-day, Yayw!

Hey all, I would like to apologize there won't be an update today and tomorrow as I'll be busy with a flight. If there are some questions regarding the quest please free to ask. Thank you for birthday congratulations.

>>5373730
>have a birthday
>next day, have to flee the country
Hell of a party, QM!

>>5372573
> Continue to stay in the wardrobe and trust Cleopatra to get rid of One Two eventually. Half an hour? A few hours?

>>5372579
Zum Geburtstag, OP!

>>5374207
>>5373730

Based way to end a birthday, if I daresay.

>>5372666
>>5372771
>>5372772
>>5374207
>>5374215

*** *** ***

You kept hiding, trusting Cleopatra to get rid of One Two eventually. Minutes turned into a dozen. Crammed into the wardrobe like a prison cell, the hanging outfits between you and Cass resembled iron bars. You covered your head to save it from an or two of Cass’s to afflict you with another vision. With your back forced against rigid wood, you catnapped until a hushed closing of the door, like a bucket of cold water, freshened your senses.

You first looked at Cass—the alien had been fondling Cleopatra’s precious clothes as you napped. You peeked through the hole with your hand falling into the empty revolver-less pocket. Fuck! You bit your lip, the one who closed the door and was then approaching the wardrobe was Cleopatra; on her own. The third of her head was hidden by a black elastic headband with a frisky bundle of fluffy red peacock feathers tucked to flap on the left side. She looked behind her shoulder and then opened the door, the features of her face neither raising nor pulling.

“Dear, we are in a hot mess, a hot mess, darling,” she said, her lips as dark and her breath as fragrant as the wine she, and you were jealous, drank.

“That was him,” you said. You waited. Once Cleopatra gave a nod, you climbed out of the concealment of the wardrobe. “The agent."

Cleopatra tapped her lips. She curved past the wardrobe and stopped an arm’s reach of the chalkboard. “He left, but his boiler is still here, darling. I assume the drawing on the board was hinky for him, and the house will be ranked. Even if you wait until it starts raining, starts raining, here, darling, he might be too. Dear Mary is going to come back here, come back here, after she’s finished, too. Dear Mary did not tell me the place she went to, but I’ll call the one she frequently visits."

Cass, either unknowing or uncaring, continued clothes rummaging despite the presence of their owner. You sighed. “So what do we do now?”

“While he is still here, you can go through another exit or the window, darling. He won’t be on your tail, on your tail, if he’ll think you are hiding.”

> There is no time to waste. Thank Cleopatra and rush to the window she’ll point you towards.
> There is no time to waste. While One Two is still in his car, rush to the other exit to leave with Cass.
> [Write In]

> Ask Cleopatra if she’ll allow Cass to borrow a dress of hers.
> Ask Cleopatra what is her history with One Two, and who is he.
> Ask Cleopatra if there’s anyone, or anyplace, nearby you can go to hide and wait for the rain.
> Ask Cleopatra if you can make a call to either the D’Addario speakeasy or your preacher-friend.
> Ask Cleopatra to give a message to Mary if she’ll be in the place the woman will call to.
> [Write In]

Sorry for the delay!

>>5374207
>>5374215
Let's not talk about it further he-he.

>>5372573
>TFW Cass's vision was ignored. Poor alien girl.

>>5376015
> There is no time to waste. Thank Cleopatra and rush to the window she’ll point you towards.
> Ask Cleopatra if there’s anyone, or anyplace, nearby you can go to hide and wait for the rain

>>5376015
> Ask Cleopatra if she’ll allow Cass to borrow a dress of hers.
Not right for a dame, even a freaky alien goo-girl dame, to run around buck naked.

> Ask Cleopatra what is her history with One Two, and who is he.
> Ask Cleopatra if there’s anyone, or anyplace, nearby you can go to hide and wait for the rain.

Then...

> There is no time to waste. Thank Cleopatra and rush to the window she’ll point you towards.

>>5376015
>>5376549
Support!

>>5376166
>>5376549
>>5376551

“I’ll trust your judgement,” you said. You pointed with your thumb over your shoulder, “Cass, get out, we have to get moving.”

She stepped outside the wardrobe holding a bunch of either coffee or wine-hued clothes in her weak grip. A few of them fell through her flabby hands on the swept but nonetheless dust-ridden floor. You grimaced. You looked at Cleopatra who, to your great relief, stepped to pick the fallen attire off the ground. Ignoring the ones that fell, Cass pushed the wrinkled clothes against your chest. Her eyes enlarged as she waited.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but could she borrow one of your dresses? It wouldn’t be right for a dame, even a freaky alien goo-girl dame, to run around naked as a jaybird.”

Cleopatra smiled. “Duck soup, darling, if you can afford it.”

You knew how much you had in your wallet, “I have a few dozen dollars. You have anything worth that, Cleopatra?”

She stepped closer. She dragged her nail from your stomach to your chin, “No, that won’t be enough, darling. I guess you will have to pay me, pay me, some other way some other time.” She winked, her long and heavy eyelash closing much like a beartrap.” 'Click-clack' her shoes knocked as she turned to Cass. Cleopatra took and tossed the dresses and garments Cass’s useless arms failed to hold into, instead gifting her the ones dirtied a few moments ago.

If Cass knew the difference, she didn’t make a bubble to show it. She wished to wear a dress, and she was demanding you clothe her. Gowns and cocktail dresses were a thing you knew nothing about.

Cleo came to your help. She pulled two from Cass’s hold and lifted them. “Which one would you like, dear?” she asked the alien woman with a tilt to each of the dresses. Cass reached for the left one. Cleopatra stepped back and shook her head at her. “No-no, dear, it’s alright.” Cass reached again. Cleopatra took another step back. The slime lifeform inferred Cleo’s words on the second try and stopped.

Cleopatra straightened her back and raised-spread both of her arms as if she became a scarecrow. Her eyes vanishing in the gooey flesh and then emerging back, Cass followed the gesture, her lips opening and closing. Am I doing this right, you imagined she asked her. Cleopatra put the rest of the garments on the table and, with a swift hand, began to doll up your source of lacking headache.

A semi-formal black dress—heavy, warm, and riveting to Cass—draped around her alien shoulders and neckline; Cleopatra lifted and tucked the draping higher. The dress reached as low as her ankles and stretched around her chest. She pulled a crimson sash around Cass’s waist and tied it into a complicated stylish bow.

Cass searched for a mirror, but the wardrobe had none. She raised her eyes, each a piece of coal, at you. You raised your thumb, nodded your head, and smiled. At least one gesture you hoped she understood.

“I know that she uses her hands, her hands, so the gloves will be useless. This dress has low sleeves, so be careful with your arms, your arms, dear.”

Cleopatra stretched out for the top of the wardrobe and took out a headband. She placed it on Cass’s head as the other was feeling her new dress, flicking the black veil to cover her face. White pearls, real or not, were stitched to the veil and hanging loose as if about to fall. The headband was covered in milky-white gemstones.

“That should hide your face, dear,” Cleopatra said. Cass did not touch the opaque veil to try and get rid of it. Good.

You swallowed. “How much is that in dough? I don’t think even what you will ask from me will be enough, be it a night or two.”

“I don’t remember saying -one- night, darling,” she chuckled, “try and bring it back scatheless, and what you’ll pay me will be -a lot- less. But, you are right, you and your friend should get moving; you don’t have much time.” Cleopatra reached the table and picked an empty journal. She gave it to you, a pen inside the ring binder. “Dear Elmer, I am going to ask you for one thing. Write down anything you deem worthy, deem worthy, of your Cass. I am going to need the information, as much as you have time to, darling."

“If you decide to publish it, blur my name,” you said, nodding.

Through the maze of Cleopatra’s chamber of curiosities, you passed a hallway, a guest room, and finally a massive kitchen with a gradient granite floor. Cleopatra unlocked a casement window, as large as a door, to open another escape to the streets of Compostela: at first glance, forgotten and dead, but in reality, with rodents and scum and carrion birds hiding in every dead end of it.

You looked outside the window. Moist wind with the smell of wet dog and the violent strength of two-timed wife smacked you in the eye. You leaned back.

“I have a few accomplices,” you said as you turned to Cleo, “but they are quite far away. Is there any fella, or any joint, nearby I can go to hide until the rains pitchforks?”

Cleopatra picked a fresh pack of cigarettes and broke the shiny seal. With no holder, she could only sigh. She took out a card printed in silk on paper with an image of a blue cornflower—it said so on the card—and pushed it halfway inside your trenchcoats’s front pocket. As you leaned on the window’s stool confused, Cleopatra borrowed the journal off your hands.

“There is a place, darling.” She took the pen and, from memory and as if in a rush (and you were) she sketched a quick map. She returned both back to you. “It is empty, the current owner—lucky for her and him—is absent. It’s not far from here, but you’ll have to walk the distance, darling. Find a safe way to get there. She hides her keys in the mailbox.”

You looked over the map and nodded, folding and placing it between the pages of the journal.

“Can I ask you, Cleopatra … What is your history with One Two? Who is he?”

Cleopatra put the packet of cigarettes in the cupboard above. “There is nothing I can tell you, darling. I trust you can keep a secret, keep a secret, but it’s a double one. I can tell you this: I worked with him, I did stuff for him, but I am not part of CRA. I asked him many times what it was supposed to be short for, and every time he lied: a different meaning. Roddy, the bastard. He’s a clandestine egg, darling, and the less beef he has with you—and I or dear Mary has with him—the better. Your Cass is the real deal, a real cryptid-alien, not unlike the other times, and he’s well after her.”

> Climb out of the window first, and then catch Cass.
> Motion for Cass to climb out of the window first, and then jump in her arms.
> Motion for Cass to climb out of the window first, and then jump out yourself.
> [Write In]

> Take the route through the Retiree Park.
> Take the route on the sidewalk of the boulevard.
> Take the route through the narrow streets and urban mazes of the Ashtray.
> [Write In]

>All three routes are more or less the same distance. Alleyways are slightly quicker.

>>5376953
> Motion for Cass to climb out of the window first, and then jump in her arms.
She's bouncy and spongey. Good landing cushion..hopefully she gets the gist of what we want...

> Take the route through the narrow streets and urban mazes of the Ashtray.
Stay out of sight.

>>5376953
> Climb out of the window first, and then catch Cass.

Best to lead by example

> Take the route through the narrow streets and urban mazes of the Ashtray.

>>5376953
> Climb out of the window first, and then catch Cass.
> Take the route through the narrow streets and urban mazes of the Ashtray.
>>5376016
I'm not big brained enough to dissect her images, but I'll give it a shot after reading the other interpretations

>>5376975
>>5377097
>>5377139

You looked at Cass: surrendering her to One Two would had been the easiest and the wisest of decisions; who knows, he could spare you the trouble, and the penance for avoiding him. But he might have had also not, and was the coin toss worth the risk? No, you wanted to wait a few hours, expose Cass to the rain and that was it.

Grabbing both sides of the frame, you placed your boot on top of the window sill and then moved past it. Second floor, but not too high. You jumped onto the solid asphalt with a thud and a deaf echo. You felt pain in your legs, as if the bones, and not you, were dancing shimmy. Maybe it wasn’t how you were supposed to fall and land.

Cass’s shape leaned onto the window and then poured out of it the moment you fell aground. You raised your hands to catch her. Her new dress softened the plummet and prevented the habitual bounce of her rubbery skin. Her cheek rubbed yours, but the veil was as useful. You grabbed her by the shoulders and stood her up. She mumbled: her mouth closing and opening. Damn it, was it a habit of hers or what? Why couldn’t she understand that she did not make a bubble; there were none!

“He’s not just a weirdo,” you said as you looked up the window to face Cleopatra, “he’s clearly not normal. Like, he’s supernatural.”

“I don’t know about that, darling. He’s just a man, an annoying one, but still. Remember darling, write down -any- interesting detail.”

“I will don’t worry. I can’t make promises about my handwriting.”

Cleopatra was not concerned, she closed the window and left you and Cass alone on the empty streets of the rotten apple. You opened the map to follow it; there was a trail through Retiree Park or along the sidewalk of the boulevard, but you decided to stay as much out of sight as you possibly could. That meant going through the Ashtray’s labyrinth: a maze of streets and alleys. Cleopatra didn’t pencil in the details, but all the streets looked the same: deprived of soul and with garbage filling the very few prairies.

Just twenty steps from the sidewalk, the streets looked as if they were gnawed by the malnourished apartments: with potholes deep and shallow and stale puddles—no drainage gifted in the outer ring—hiding the real truth. From where God’s rain parted, shifted cobblestone and cracked asphalt laid exposed: paved once and neglected ever since. For the lamps that the hooligans spared, it was still too early to be lit, but in the one-two windows above there was a life, and there was light; even in the late hours of the night those people were awake. They had their jobs, their responsibilities, but none of them, you doubted, had an alien to hide and rid of.

The soggy air lingered on the ground no higher than your stomach. It passed through the alleys with a sultry smell and misty stickiness onto your clothes, and to your, but not Cass's. You strayed into another street. Two men, each dressed the way customs demanded, were leaning on the grey-white brickstone and were talking to each other.

> Take Cass’s hand and pretend you are a couple—married or not—to pass by the men.
> Those men are the same as you, with a reason to be outside at 5 AM. Continue walking.
> Slowly walk back and see if you can find another alleyway to bypass them.
> [Write In]

>>5377840
> Those men are the same as you, with a reason to be outside at 5 AM. Continue walking.

We all just dealing with our own problems

>>5377840
>> Those men are the same as you, with a reason to be outside at 5 AM. Continue walking.

>>5377840
> Take Cass’s hand and pretend you are a couple—married or not—to pass by the men.
Don't draw attention by acting fishy.

>>5377840
> Take Cass’s hand and pretend you are a couple—married or not—to pass by the men.
Just a man and his well-dressed goo girl acquaintance, nothing suspicious here.

File: Kind Of But Not Completel(...).png (298 KB, 564x708)

298 KB PNG

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5377873
>>5377875

>>5378223
>>5378223

>>5377873
>>5377875
>>5377970
>>5378223

What difference was there between those men and you, who had their own reason to be outside at 5 AM? You continued walking ahead, keeping left of them. Cass followed, the apartments’s deeper shadow concealing the parts of her the dress and veil could not. You tended to your fedora, lighter and missing—you realised—a piece: your flask, the only thing you held hope in refreshing you. You sighed. You did not cross your eyes with the men, deciding to avoid any chance of an encounter. They were boozed but not too quite drunk.

They cut their words, preferring instead to chew and spit. As you passed, you smelt childish sweet vanilla from one of them and a seductive savoury woody smell from another one.

“Sheik and Sheba, walking all alone, and not even lathered,” the second one said. He stood up off the wall. “Ain’t that something. Having a problem finding a joint?”

You stopped in place, your throat turning dry and your saliva evaporating. Cass stood still, her eyes gazing at the starless fog-consumed sky; she had probably seen a lot of stars in her alien life.

> Shake your head and refuse. Say you are going home.
> Ask them to wait, and promise to return once you bring your “girlfriend” home. You could use a drink, and Cass will have a safe place to stay until it starts raining again.
> Ask the man if he can sell you a drink, a bottle or a pint or a cocktail, whatever it is.
> [Write in]

>>5378617
> Ask the man if he can sell you a drink, a bottle or a pint or a cocktail, whatever it is.

Play it off like we're new in the area and can't find the local spots, like we could be a return customer.

... hopefully Cass doesn't end up eating them.

>>5378617
> Ask them to wait, and promise to return once you bring your “girlfriend” home. You could use a drink, and Cass will have a safe place to stay until it starts raining again.
We've got barely any money, and any booze we buy will imemdiately draw Sippy's attention and make her act out.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5378638

>>5378674

File: A Speakeasy Card ....png (607 KB, 920x1162)

607 KB PNG

>>5378638
>>5378674

You turned around. “Can you two wait? She’s” —you nodded at Cass— “is in no condition to go trippin’. I could use a drink.I’ll come back once I bring my girl here home safe. ”

The one chewing the harsher stuff leaned onto you. From the sleeve, he offered you a ticket to drink, a card. Hourglass, it said on it, with an address and a sentence: ‘Snacks as usual.'

The man licked behind his yellowish teeth and spat onto the ground. “We can’t just be standing around here waiting for you, friend. Your girl might want a round with you until she lets you go, you get what I’m saying? Follow what it says on there, and you can tip a few or more at your leisure. The stuff is great there."

You moved the card from his hand and inside your pocket. You nodded at the two men. You nudged Cass to stop her waiting for the rain, it wasn’t going to, and instead to continue walking. The alleys and streets replaced one another like orphans brushed up hours before a future father arrived at the orphanage to have a look; he never picked.

You heard a rattle of rails and low-pitched thudding of rubber on the intersection withheld from you by a row of brickstone abodes. Past those two men, and away from the highway, no other person or bull outside was there to trouble you. Cass oozed past the wrecked staircases and the apartments’ crumbling facade. Even her unearthly interest showed little curiosity at those dumps.

You found the spot on the map shoved between two 12-storey high buildings, a skinny narrow house. It was more than ten feet wide. It clung to the rear wall of one of the houses but had a foot gap from the other. It was made out of brick and was painted white as if yesterday, with no cracks or blemishes. It had three storeys and an attic, with a large window in each. There was a rent-worth sight: the opposite brick wall across the road.

Before the stairs of the oak door arose a wrought iron fence and a gate half your height, with the distance between overgrown with plants with leaf tips greying. The gate had no lock and aside form from the spreading grass was easy to open. You climbed the step to the wall-mounted mailbox, shoving your hand inside for the key. Brushing your hand against the wooden slot, you searched for it for at least a minute. You couldn't find it. There was no mail either.

> Ask Cass to search through the letterbox with her alien gooey hand. Explain that you need the slime properties and not the rubber ones. (How?)
> See if you can break into the house through, say, a broken window. No one is here, said Cleopatra, so it shouldn’t be a problem to stay for a day.
> Search for the key around the entrance. Maybe Cleopatra was wrong and they hid it elsewhere. (Where?)
> [Write In]

>>5380515
> Ask Cass to search through the letterbox with her alien gooey hand. Explain that you need the slime properties and not the rubber ones. (How?)
Pantomime. If that fails... Maybe let her kiss us? The vision-trabsfer could go both ways.

>>5380531
Sounds like a plan to me.

Sorry everyone, no update today. Have a lot less free time now that I started working again!

>>5380531
>>5380601

You waved your hand and Cass approached the mailbox without complaint. She blinked: her eyes vanished in her head’s gloppy flesh and then reemerged. Her hands moulded to the texture of the mailbox as she put them on top and felt it. She turned at you expecting an answer. You shook your head and pointed your thumb down. You nudged against her side to push her away for a moment, swaying your hand above her face and then pushing it into the mailbox. You darted from it back to her and back.

“I need you to do the same with your gooey alien hand, Cass,” you said as you pointed. You stepped back, and then added, “But use that gluey tissue of yours instead of the one you usually have.” There was a part of her that was that flesh—you pointed at the slime cleared of rubbery wax on her stomach area—or where it was before she had the cocktail dress. With dread, you realised that if the inside of the dress was now glued to her body, the idea of returning it safe and sound to Cleopatra was dead at the moment Cass put it on. Hopefully, she’d be able to separate herself from it the way she did with your hand. You nodded at the mailbox.

Cass looked at it, then at your arm, and then at hers. You sighed. Would she be able to see your thoughts the way you did hers if she kissed you again? She always did it out of the blue, without warning, and without giving you a chance to focus on any clear picture in your mind. There was a little guarantee it would work. You would have rather not felt the discomfort.

Cass’s orange tissues bubbled and melted. She thrust her hand inside the slot as if it wasn't hers; if she had bones, they would have all been broken. You watched with a tinge of disgust as Cass malformed the shape of her arm to fit inside the letterbox. You told her to stop, as it looked as if she wasn't going to. She dragged out her arm like she was a fisherman pulling out calamari, with the exact splatter of it being torn out of water.

You inspected her “hand” as she gave it to you. Dust, wood chippings, and a dead fly; but no key.

You let go of her and knocked your knuckles against your temple. Had you made a mistake? You checked the map -again-. No, this -was- the place.

You meet Cass’s gaze, she was blubbering and waving her hands in the air. You gave her a nod. Yes. Fruitless, but good job, you implied.

There was a creak from the other side of the door, and then you saw a shadow darker than the unlit room that sneaked behind the window.

> Cleopatra said the house was vacant …

> Knock on the door and wait outside.
> Climb closer and look inside the house through the window.
> Hide with Cass somewhere nearby, and wait to see if anyone will come out.
> [Write In]

>>5382500
> Hide with Cass somewhere nearby, and wait to see if anyone will come out.

Could be the G-man.

>>5382500
> Hide with Cass somewhere nearby, and wait to see if anyone will come out.

Probably a squatter

>>5382503
>>5383228

For sure, you saw it. You had prohis’ unexpected and uninvited visits plenty—you had the moonshiner’s hunch. A squatter? A G-man? You pulled Cass by the dress’s should-clung sleeve away from the door, past the gate, and to the far side of the block across the street, outside of the humming street light. You nudged Cass away from sight, leaving a narrow corner of the skinny house to your alone.

Ten minutes after, someone pushed the door open. A head stuck out of the narrow opening glancing left and right before a figure threw it wide and tossed a sack half their size onto the bushes. They secured the door and, darting their head the same way they did moments ago, they let the door close with as little noise as they could allow. They rubbed their chin on their shoulder and, pulling a fedora hung to their belt, they put it on. Scratching their forehead with their wrists, the figure slipped the key into the mailbox and climbed the steps down. They picked the back using both of their hands and, stumbling a bit, they threw and hung it over their shoulder.

> Wait until the figure leaves the premise and then take the key and use the house as if nothing happened.
> Decide to trail behind the figure instead.
> Step in front of the figure before they leave and ask them what they think they are doing, and more (What?)
> [Write In]

>>5384044
>Find somewhere else to lay low and wait for rain, as this pace is compromised

> Wait until the figure leaves the premise and then take the key and use the house as if nothing happened.

Probably just assume we're the owners come back early.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5384161
>Find somewhere else to lay low and wait for rain, as this pace is compromised

>>5384234
>Probably just assume we're the owners come back early.

Let's see ...

>>5384161
>>5384234

You watched in silence as the figure hobbled past the gate, turned around the corner and, soon after, faded in the bleached mist. You held for a few minutes more until it was certain he or she wasn’t coming back; a robber would not. Like ghastly giants your shadows threaded across the house’s bloodless bricks, shrivelling and fading beneath your boots as you returned to the closed entrance. You reached for the mailbox’s slit. Cass’s exposed rubbery elbow bounced you away and her dissolving hand forced its way inside.

Cass held her unblinking glare—you looked away in frustration. Damn cat. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Her hand wobbled like dense jelly as it left the mailbox and she waved it towards you; without a drop falling on the ground her melting skin trickled down her arm like syrup. It took you a few yanks to unglue the key, the leftover slime apparent—you could -feel- it—but at the same time incorporeal. You acknowledged Cass’s efforts with a half-nod. You unlocked the door and put the key away into your trouser’s back pocket. You opened the door, and it was not because you were a gentleman, you waved for Cass to enter.

There was no basement leading to an upside-down tower or wizardry at play to make the space larger. It was as tiny from the outside as it was on the inside. It was your first time in a house this tight and narrow. The first floor you passed with Cass was a compact kitchen with a large metal … fridge?! You saw them advertised. It buzzed from inside and a bulky motor on top of it glimmered like a cage overfilled with fireflies. Whoever lived here could afford a refrigerator but not a bigger apartment? “Bizarre,” you mumbled. Would Mary ask you to steal one? She usually wouldn’t risk the trouble, but one cost as much as an automobile. Heavy, if the robber could drag it out they would have had.

The robber left no clues, marks, or signs of their visit, with all the drawers closed and all the things unstolen laying in their original spot. There were places far too barren, but with how strange the house was, you could not say wherever there was something for the robber to steal there or if it were always like that. Cass oozed across the checkered linoleum floor to the fridge. With her slippery grab, she tussled with the stainless steel handle, turning her hands like she was handling a car wheel. You placed your hand on top of hers, meaning her to stop. With little effort, you opened the door to reveal … nothing. No, that was a lie: there was a chilly air but little else.

“Are you happy now?”

Cass pushed her hands inside the fridge to caress the metal trays.

You walked away, leaving Cass to it. Whatever made her happy. Holding by an oak rail with copper legs you climbed the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor, a hall and a room with a large bed lacking rich sheets and blankets you expected to find. Empty wooden cupboards and shelves surrounded and stretched over the bed. Another staircase connected to the last floor and a reddish oaken door. You attempted to open it—no luck, it was locked. You came down and sat on the empty bed.

> Search around the room to see if the key to the door is hidden anywhere obvious.
> Give Cass a glass of water in case she has anything to tell you with a bubble; you’d rather puzzle over a bubble than her touch.
> Look around the kitchen to see if there’s any food you can find … for Cass as well, does she eat anything at all?
> Look around the two rooms to see if you can spot any alcohol hiding place.
> Give Cass a farewell, make sure she knows not to go outside, and then leave to get yourself a drink in the ‘Hourglass’ without Cass’s overseeing.
> [Write In]

>>5384802
> Give Cass a glass of water in case she has anything to tell you with a bubble; you’d rather puzzle over a bubble than her touch.

>>5384840

You wet your parched lips and then swallowed your body’s dew; it did nothing to quench your thirst. A spirituous drink is what you needed, and you knew a place just a shot away. You couldn’t bring Cass with you to the speakeasy, it was out of the question. Regardless of how close her form resembled a woman, no matter in what dress she walked in, she screwed up in acting like a human being, as if intentionally. She was quite insistent too—the only way for you to savour a drink was far away from her.

You left the bed and climbed down the stairs to approach.

“Have you found anything in there?” you asked. You looked inside the devoid fridge. Slowly as to give Cass enough time to withdraw her hands you closed the white door and sealed the draught. “A key, maybe?” You glanced over her hands and then sighed. No, it didn't seem like they bought a refrigerator just to hide a key.

You opened the sink and poured a glass of cold water: first, to drink it yourself, and then for Cass. You offered the lustreless glass to the alien girl, her hazy reflection hovering on the still surface of Compostela’s tap water. She reached for the etched glassware but it looked too expensive to risk breaking or having to look and clean its shards. You cut in front of Cass to hold her from taking the glass into her fickle hands. You raised the ridge to her reddish lips and let the water flow into her mouth and through her throat inside her cellophane sludge-like stomach.

> You left the notebook Cleopatra gave you on the table nearby, it is too big to carry with you constantly, but you could use it to draw something for Cass.

> Do nothing and wait for Cass to bubble her own thoughts.
> Quickly sketch your house and then question why Cass came to your house.
> Quickly sketch down One Two’s figure and ask Cass if she knows anything about the man.
> Quickly sketch down the house you are currently in. Draw Cass inside of the house, and yourself outside. Ask if she understands what you are implying.
> Quickly sketch down a potato, an apple, a cow, and a fish. Ask if anything of it fancies or makes her curious.
> [Write In]

>>5385352
> Quickly sketch your house and then question why Cass came to your house.
> Quickly sketch down One Two’s figure and ask Cass if she knows anything about the man.

>>5385696
+1

>>5385352
> Do nothing and wait for Cass to bubble her own thoughts.

I'm curious

>>5386058
Hi Curious.

I am going to archive this thread shortly and take a day break, hopefully to return on Monday with a new one. I hope you are enjoying the quest so far and thank you all for playing.