Monday, February 7

your sanity and wits they will all vanish, I promise

A Mythos manifestation in Cape Wrath, of all places. The Avarian power gauntlets I carried with me were useless; the abomination's stain on reality was too thick in the air of the now-ravaged mansion. I had to resolve this the old-fashioned way, with an invocation of Nodens and a scalpel across the writhing tentacled visage of a pulsating painting too steeped in madness to describe.

The tenant sat there blubbering about family curses and the damage to her articulated limb. I just wanted to get the hell out. I nearly sprained my ankle tripping over the remains of a smashed cupboard merrily spilling oolong into the already septic carpet.

"I'm getting too old for this..."

Back at the Consulate, Wren greeted me with a smile on her face, carrying the bottle of absinthe and a shotglass on a silver plate, along with her report card. She's got a strong grasp of the Sciences, that Wren.

"Ah, not yet my dear. Let's check on our guests first, shall we?"

Wren pulled the latch, and I slid back the cover of the stasis chamber. Not one patient, but two. Precious little things, already sprouting tufts of red hair on their heads. I had scratched out the names DARIEN and MARCUS on the decanters and added OUNA and POPPY on the following lines, just in case anyone jumped to conclusions.

Nutrient levels were constant. Heat levels constant also. Circulation steady. Growth acceleration could begin in a matter of days.

The figures twitched in their glass tubes, and a nearby ticker-tape began to click madly and spill paper onto the floor. Wren pinched the end of the ribbon and passed it to me. I slid it through my fingers and looked back to them.

"You're welcome."

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