Cryptography

Participants:

brynn_icon.gif emily_icon.gif lance_icon.gif squeaks_icon.gif

Scene Title Cryptography
Synopsis Cryp·tog·ra·phy (krip' tä ɡrə fē) n. the art of writing or solving codes.
Date September 17,2018

Phoenix Heights - Lance's apartment


The trip to Prufrocks was fairly successful. The store was quiet, with only a few people browsing or reading. And Squeaks knew exactly what she was looking for. It took very little time for her to find the books on codes that she had used the first time the journal started talking.

After paying for her new books, the teenager led Emily down some side streets to Phoenix Heights and the apartment building that she informed the young woman was where her siblings lived. And her too, sometimes. And of course it’s okay to work on decoding things there. It’s safer than anywhere else, in her opinion.

And that’s how it came to be that Emily and Squeaks have taken up space on the couch.

The little redhead sits criss-cross with one of the deciphering books open in her lap. Her journal is nearby, peeking out from under those papers from before, the ones she said were decoded dots and dashes. She’s working on a new paper with different writing on it, a collection of randomly chosen letters. But these ones look like sentences with punctuation. And the way they’re written seems to be kind of like a verse from a poem.

“There’s like a million different types of letter codes,” Squeaks says to no one in particular. “But some actually use words to solve it. A keyword. I bet that’s why those letters stand out, it’s the keyword we need to figure out what these say.” Her pencil taps each line as she thinks out loud.

Emily's rubbing at her forehead, leveling an intense stare at the book opened in her own lap. The sun's slow disappearance throughout the end of the afternoon means they've had to turn on lamps, but now that it's getting to the point the lamps are the only source of light, her eyes are starting to bother her. Candlelight isn't powerful enough, the lamps are still necessary … just annoyingly bright any time she looks at one, even indirectly.

She's glad she'd torn a piece of paper from Squeaks' notebook to leave Julie a note with her general whereabouts, as vague as they'd been. She hadn't expected to still be sitting in books at this hour, but her own curiosity and a competitiveness to solve the code wouldn't let her leave this unfinished.

Elbow on the armrest of the couch, Emily lets out a sigh into her hand, balancing her face against her fingertips as she skims page after page for anything that looks like it matches or makes what they've been looking at.

The last of the afternoon sun has faded away by the time Brynn lets herself into the apartment. Although she has one of the "assigned" spaces in the camp, waiting on an actual space to live to come open, she lives pretty much here on Lance's old couch. Her gear lives in the corner of the living room when it's not in her go-bag. The edge of light around the door tells her someone is home, she just doesn't know who until she's in and the door secured behind her. Only then does she look to see who's huddled around the light.

Her brows climb her forehead at the sight of these two — clearly not who she was expecting. Hi! What are you guys up to, Mouse?

She slings her battered backpack to the floor near the door and then rummages inside it to bring out a cloth bag that she uses for the market. She has to set it down on the small table they're using before she can sign more. Mrs. Corelli, that lady a couple doors down from Raquelle? She sent me home with this! Brynn looks excited as she carefully extracts four quart-sized mason jars full of a red liquid. She got a bunch of tomatoes, I can't even imagine where from because I mean a lot of tomatoes, and made real spaghetti sauce. With herbs and everything. So I grabbed some dry pasta and a loaf of bread at the market too. Tell Emily she can stay for dinner? That amount of sauce will feed the group for days. And she'll send one jar over to Joe's place too.

Squeaks looks up at the sound of the door unlocking and opening. She doesn’t seem too worried about who might be there, since it’s a key and not knocking or anything, and she grins a little bit when Brynn lets herself in. Her pencil is put in the center of her book to free up her hands for saying hello and… she doesn’t get to explaining who Emily is or what they’re doing because there’s stuff being brought out.

The younger girl leans forward, nodding that she knows who Mrs. Corelli is. She’s seen the nice lady a few times, always nice and has some stories to tell too. “Woah,” she breathes, eyes wide and going from the jars to Brynn and back again. That’s primal! We should do something for her!

“Brynn says you can stay for dinner,” she says to Emily, though her hands sign along with her out loud words. Even as it’s said she’s giving the deaf girl a weird look. You know Emily? As she signs out the question, she gives that same weird look to the young woman on the couch. “You know each other?”

What was it Emily had told Gillian earlier today? She was worried about the math portion of the test? She rues being so naive now. This stuff was insanely complex compared to whatever awaited on the GED.

She's ruled out cryptograms, caesar ciphers… The next section in this book is called 'A Serious Cipher', which sounds great and awful all at the same time. She's already shaking her head to herself as she flips through several MORE pages of pure math breaking down how the cipher works before she finally comes to something looking familiar …

A very long string of nonsense.

Her head lifts off of her fingertips as she goes back to reread, double-checking. The 'serious cipher' calls for a keyword, too. Her eyes are lighting up with renewed vigor just as the door opens, so she doesn't immediately look up, reaching for the notepad and pencil to see if this one fits the bill. When she settles it on her lap does she bother to look up, having been too focused on the task previously, and stops halfway shifted to the more comfortable cross-legged position she'd been moving into.

That was Brynn. What was Brynn doing here? Brow furrowed in apparent confusion, she lifts one hand in an approximation of a wave. The appearance of the tomato sauce jar elicits another surprised tick of her expression, head tilting now. Where these Lighthouse Kids kept getting amazing food was beyond her…

Wait. Emily looks back to Squeaks with the same odd expression that's given to her. It all clicks into place. Friendly, overly curious, waist-deep in potentially dangerous missions and mysteries …

She'd say how much it all makes sense out loud, but that would be a little rude.

"Y… Yeah." Emily finally remembers to reply, looking back to Brynn with the same surprise as before. "Yeah, Joe decided to take it upon himself to invite the whole gang to my birthday last week." After a short pause, she gestures at the jar with her pencil. "You want help making dinner?"

Brynn offers a small shrug, uncertain because Em's reaction has overtones of wariness at first. Not really know. I met her at her birthday party when Joe took us along, she unknowingly echoes Emily's explanation. She offers the girl a brighter smile though when the wariness turns to a more surprised expression. Did you forget to tell her your siblings lived here? Because as far as the three LHK who frequent this place are concerned, that's exactly what they are to Squeaks.

The offer to help with dinner, which she catches because of the motion toward the jars, is refused but only with a small wave-off. My turn to cook anyway. It's why it's pasta something — it's one of the few things I'm good at. I still can't get he hang of rice. Her gray eyes are amused and she also nods to Squeaks. I promised her murals when she actually gets a storefront cleaned up for her restaurant. Wouldn't do her much good right now, with the food shortages, but I won't forget we owe her. The older woman and Raquelle are a lot of the reason the LHK don't just subsist on peanut butter and sandwiches, both of them not just helping out with food and jobs but also with teaching the deaf teen how to cook things she's never eaten before.

“I told her we were going to my brother’s home,” Squeaks answers. Her hands match her out loud word like normal. “It’s Brynn’s turn to cook,” she continues, speaking for the older teen’s signing while glancing at Emily. “Brynn’s my sister now, and Lance and Joe are my brothers.” Since she hadn’t given names, it’s probably good to explain that.

There was a thing where you met everyone? The younger girl looks between Brynn and Emily, and then decides to shrug. Doesn’t matter.

She sets her book aside, with all of its notes, and pushes away some of her already written-on papers to find the journal. It takes Squeaks all of a few seconds to find the page with the letters that are separate from the rest, six lines all looking like they might be sentences. It’s set down so Brynn can see before she explains to the older girl, speaking as she signs. I met Emily at the Library. And now we have a new puzzle. The journal changed, and Emily saw it happen.

Brynn's dismissal of her offer causes Emily to smile. She's used to being the one keeping everyone fed, but she won't turn it down. There's important things to do here, after all.

The smile is brief before she's looking back down at where she's left off, her seriousness returning as she picks back up trying to figure out the Vigenere cipher. She etches a practice phrase out to work the theory from start to finish, practically frowning down at the page like it's done something wrong.

Double-checking her work with a series of glances, she lets out a slow sigh while Brynn and Squeaks continue to chat, and presumably go over the day's events. The silence is a boon, letting her focus. "Right." she whispers to herself before starting again, writing out the first line, along with the keyword Squeaks had divined. Thumb underneath the lettering like an anchor rooting her down, she scratches out the math on the side to start working on the keyword.

There’s no rattling of keys in the door, or indeed even any sound when the door opens again. It’s a habit of Lance’s not to announce his arrival, just in case there’s something terrible happening on the other side, like a hostage situation or his sister’s climbed through his window and tried to organize everything.

“Hey, I’m home,” he calls out once he’s concluded that there isn’t anything terrible going on, nudging the door closed behind himself and unslinging the messenger bag from his shoulder. A pause as he notices someone else new in the room, brows lifting, “Oh, hey Emily.”

Picking up three of the jars of tomato sauce and the canvas bag that's still holding the bread and the uncooked pasta, Brynn waits long enough to see Squeaks' explanation before walking toward the kitchen with a faint frown. Squeaks knows well enough that Brynn will think about what's been said and answer when she comes back — she has to formulate her thoughts and questions to get them across well.

But it's an interesting thing to note that she's aware when the door opens despite the absolute silence. Her eyes cut sideways to make sure the gentle waft of air is one of the boys and not something to worry about. Then she disappears for a long moment around the corner into the kitchen, the sounds making it obvious that she's setting things back down.

She comes back to the kitchen's doorway and the faint frown of thoughtfulness still plays about her features. So the book changes yet again? Were you … doing anything that was the same as when it changed last time? Maybe here's a trigger? she offers. Then she waves and flashes a dimple at Lance in greeting. Squeaks can fill him in on spaghetti sauce from Mrs. Corelli.

“Lance!” Squeaks’ excitement, which faltered a little with Brynn going into the kitchen — she knows the older girl just needs time to think, but it’s still sometimes worrying — returns a little bit when it’s Lance who comes home next. She doesn’t look very surprised that he knows Emily, too, since she just heard about the birthday party.

“My journal changed again, and it stayed this time. And Emily saw it happen.” Her siblings had said they believed her before, but she feels better not being the only to see it happen. Brynn’s return to the kitchen doorway gets a small grin and a nod.

“I think so.” Squeaks’ hands move as she talks, and she looks at Lance and Emily each in turn. “I met Emily at the library. And there was a lady who walked by who had the brand new book, and I got another mark.” She pauses to show not one, but two new marks in that same looking script as the first. “So Emily helped me look up the marks on her computer and since she has that book too, we went to her place to test a theory. And guess what.”

The youngest teen pauses and leans forward to look at Lance and Brynn, serious but also excited. Then, “The ink fell out of the book and one part crawled onto my wrist and the other part made words just like before, only readable, then made this weird code in my journal. We’re trying to figure it out now.”

Emily doesn't look up from her work as Lance greets her, focusing hard on the equation before her. She'd try to hush the vocal conversation taking place, but that'd require effort as well. Instead, she leans into the work, careful to mind the prescribed equation and how far along the line she is in completing the next sequence of it.

As Squeaks gets more and more excited in her retelling of the day's events, so too does Emily, just in a much quieter way. Unlike all the previous ciphers she's tried, this one is working.

"Holy shit." she stage-whispers, not wanting to interrupt, but also not able to keep this to herself.

lwpxi tu dtzgw ucf wvaju xz lgis.

piece by piece you bring me home.

With another quiet curse, she writes down the number she's at, then runs a hand through her hair to look across the living room and let out a heavy sigh, releasing long-pent tension from her posture. Only after does she say into the air, "Hello Lance. Brynn is making pasta. I have no idea where the spaghetti sauce came from."

Afterward, she turns to him to give him a look that conveys her lukewarm feelings about the spooky, ink-manipulating journal. A look she'll be sure to cut short by looking back down at her notes if Squeaks happens to intercept it. She's still not sold on the sanity of what they're chasing down, but she's along for the ride.

Hand still on top of her head, she reports to the younger girl, "I think I might have it. This one is spitting out words. Wolves was the right key after all."

“Huh.” The bag’s dropped beside the couch where it usually sits, next to the shoes that Lance also kicks off. A smile’s flashed over to Brynn, and he steps over to peer down at the book being intercepted, and the marks on Squeaks’ arm.

He chews his lower lip a bit concernedly, “I hope that’s not going to take over your body, or anything… huh. What’d you figure out? The code?”

Wait, what? Brynn struggles to keep up sometimes with Squeaks, if only because she gets bouncy like Joe but then makes up her own shorthand signs sometimes when she can't remember or doesn't know an actual sign. So occasionally all Brynn gets is gibberish. Some woman walked by you and something fell off her and climbed …. what? She can't have parsed that right.

But it does bring to mind the last time. Didn't you say the last time things appeared on your arm, someone walked by? Was it the same someone? I mean… that's maybe an answer?

So confused. Is it actually ink or something scarier? Brynn has to wonder. She watches the group, this time more because she can't quite sort out everything that's happening than because it's just her way to be low-key.

“Spaghetti,” Squeaks fills in when Emily brings up supper. She obviously forgot to include that part, but it doesn’t seem to slow her down any. “Brynn got sauce from Mrs. Corelli. She’s next door to Raquelle’s shop. So Brynn got bread and pasta and she’s making dinner with fresh sauce.”

The older girl’s questions, and even Lance’s caution do manage to slow her down some, just not as much as they maybe would have normally. She starts a reply, then has to stop and look to the young woman who’s busy trying to figure out the cryptic message.

The new book. Squeaks’ hands talk for her this time, since it might keep her from straying too far off topic. The Wolves of V-A-L-H-A-L-L-A. It wasn’t the same person in the library. That person from the bookstore had a different book. The first mark came from my Wolves, the second from a lady’s copy, and three from Emily’s. When we tested it, we saw it happen. It was like ink dripped out of the book and it crawled onto my arm and into my journal.

A look darts over to Emily, then back to Lance and Brynn. The younger girl adds, It doesn’t hurt. I think it really needs help. And the pieces are coming from the book, just like the dots and dashes said.

"Yeah, the fucking code," Emily says through a sigh. No room for triumph yet — there was still a lot of work remaining. She lets out a laugh under her breath when Squeaks interjects 'Spaghetti!' into the conversation. It almost sounded like she was insinuating spaghetti sauce came from spaghetti.

They're all hands-a-fly, so Emily's attention is returned to the message unfolding on her notebook. The tone of it so far had a wide range of possible interpretations. Triumphant? Weary? What or where was the implied home?

Consulting where she'd left off, she rewrites the second phrase and picks up the work again in silence. The only way to know for sure was to keep decoding the message.

“I never really got the hang of decryption,” admits Lance as he watches Emily writing for a moment before shaking his head— trusting that she knows what she’s doing, he steps over to look at those marks with a frown. “Those still worry me. Do we know what they mean? I mean, they look like writing or something…”

His hands move to echo his words, muscle memory so Brynn can understand them, “Maybe it is an inkmorph that got caught in a printing press or something?”

Peering at Lance with a puzzled frown, Brynn asks, An inkmorph? Is there such a thing?? Like… a person who can turn into ink? Or like that book Inkheart? She can't tell if he's being facetious in this instance, tone obviously entirely lost on her, so she can't decide whether to be incredulous.

I don't like that she keeps getting more of them, she admits, and then looks at Squeaks with a worried expression. What if it's the same crazy hung as the tape? That voice was all about 'help me, let me out,' right?

“That voice was demanding,” the younger girl points out. Like Lance, her hands match her words. Mostly. What she doesn’t know for sure she does sometimes make up. “And scary.” And maybe it’s the lack of sound, but she’s reluctant to admit there might be anything really scary about the journal just yet. Even the marks on her arm just seem like someone drew on her with a really, really good marker.

“Emily used her computer to find out the first mark. It’s… rule… ruler I think?” Squeaks looks over at Emily, but shrugs seeing her all busy with that code thing. She looks back at Lance and Brynn with her forehead all wrinkled in nervous excitement. “I swear I’ll tell you if things get scary.” The promise is followed up with her pinky finger extended out to them.

"Sovereign. Ruler? Royalty. Royalty was it." Emily echoes up while she's working on the numbers. It felt once again like there was a chunk of conversation she'd missed, but she'll roll with it the best she can. She frowns down at the second line, cursing the non-repetitive structure of the code. She knows it's not a waste of time, but doing all that work just to reveal most of the same sentence again was frustrating.

adiua pj kmwys jjy ewyp hi odcwz.

piece by piece you make me whole.

It's enough to break the politeness she's been trying to maintain with Squeaks throughout the whole expedition. It may also help that she's got backup now.

"This is already gotten scary. You're dealing with a talking book that's leaving its mark on you. We still don't know what it wants, aside from out." She gestures back toward the group of siblings with a jab of her hand, sounding a little exasperated. "And even if it's not someone trying to come out of the Wolves of Valhalla book directly and all that 'look here in THIS book in particular' is just a coincidence, they're trying to come out from the journal, and we don't know who the f—" There's a forced pause, a close of her eyes to regain her composure. Her voice is notably softer as she speaks again, the formerly accusing hand now with its fingers outstretched in a calming gesture just as much to them as it is for herself.

"We still don't know who's trying to send the messages. And while you're still right, Squeaks — we won't know until we figure it out, there's no sense in NOT acknowledging how dangerous this could potentially be."

Vent completed, or mostly completed, Emily looks back down at the notepad before her. "This would be a lot easier with an internet connection." she laments sourly, pencil going back to paper.

“I mean like turn into ink,” Lance explains his theory to Brynn with a shake of his head, “Like— I mean, Cash can turn into stone and— I think Tasha’s dad turns into smoke? Bodymorph slices, like that.”

He points over at Emily at her words, and then frowns towards Squeaks for a moment before reaching out to fold his pinkie with hers. “Alright,” he says reluctantly, “But you tell us the minute things get scary-weird, okay? Because I’ll be damned if some weird Ink King is gonna steal my sister’s body.”

Brynn is glad that Emily seems very much on the same page as she and Lance appear to be. Mysteries are intriguing, but the family's safety is important! The pinkie promise from Squeaks makes her relax just a little, and then she signs for Emily (leaving it to one of the siblings to translate, of course), The library has internet, right? But if you don't want to go there… Squeaks, doesn't the Raytech place where Aunt Kaylee works have internet and stuff? You could maybe take the book there. Then she pauses. I dunno if we ought to let Aunt Gilly or Aunt Kaylee know about it yet, though. They might go completely nuclear.

“It’s not scary yet,” Squeaks says after she hooks pinkies with her siblings. “The videotape I found in the Underneath was scary. It kept playing even after we unplugged the television. And that voice wasn’t part of it.” She half turns to look at the journal she’s left sitting beside the couch. “I didn’t say it never was dangerous.”

Her eyes go from the journal to her arm and those strange marks. “I didn’t tell Gillian yet,” she admits. She still needs some new bandaids, or some way to keep those covered. Long sleeves maybe? “I think Raytech has computers, but… wouldn’t it be just as not safe there as the library?” Still, Squeaks might be able to find different things, and faster, than at the library.

Emily's shoulders sag while she works. No, Emily — the ouija board book isn't scary, the TV that kept playing after it was unplugged was scary. It's a wonder she keeps that thought to herself, eyes closing for a moment before she exhales the sarcastic commentary away with a slow sigh. There was no point in arguing the semantics of the situation with Squeaks.

The mention of Gillian's name does bring her to a pause finally, eyes shooting up to look between them while she slowly furrows her brow. Bringing up the librarian inside the home like this probably meant that she was more than just the Neighborhood Friendly Librarian lady. She was relatively sure she didn't want to ask, at least not right now. Especially not when the next thing Squeaks vocalizes is going to Raytech to borrow their Internet connection.

These teenagers certainly had an interesting web of connections…

She tuts as she translates the next line, and goes right into the following. "Still think this is creepy." Emily whispers to no one but herself, the singsong nature of the message bothering her. The only thing keeping her from stopping at this point is the fact the letter pattern changes with the next line after this.

taaqp wc hesnz M xebo hc owm.

piece by piece I find my way.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t want Squeaks to get in trouble with her work for being a possessed book there,” Lance admits with a look to Brynn, brows raising, “Library should work just fine. It always does for me, anyway.”

He pauses, “We could always ask Wireless if you think it’s really important and you get stuck? Pretty sure she can crack most codes like we breathe, but— you don’t want to bother her unless it’s really important, she’s super busy.”

Brynn grimaces and nods at Lance. Plus, not sure what the heck to do with it. I mean… if it's the same thing as the tape, anyone we take it to is likely to just take it away. If it's not the same thing as the tape…. Well, they might just try and take it away too, she signs with a rueful smile. I think it's funny how when they ask one another for help, they just get help… when we ask for help, it's still cuz we're kids. It's neither here nor there, just an observation that vaguely amuses her. We're all gonna start to get a complex about even talking to anyone over 25.

All of that said, she jerks her chin to Emily and signs, She's making faces like she's really figured something out over there. Let me get the sauce into a pan to heat up and some water on to boil. Mrs. Corelli sent 4 whole jars this time because I made her store windows look good. Save one to send to Joe's for when he's not around here, though.

“I don’t know Wireless,” Squeaks points out. It’s an observation, said in the same tone as she might use pointing out that the freezer was cold. But she does know that Lance had talked to her before, about a cell phone they found. It’s something to think about. “If they try to take it away, they would have to cut off my arm.” Both her hands and her voice are serious this time, completely convinced that’s how it would happen.

Not that she right now believes it’s going to happen.

“Library works if we need computers.” The teenager returns to her spot on the couch, gathering the journal again to set it on her lap open to the same code that Emily is working on. “Or here. Or Gillian’s.” It’s safe there, and there’s times when they can all together work and not be interrupted.

A finger finds the next line that Emily is working on, but in the journal. Squeaks leans over a little to watch the young woman puzzle out the cipher. “Piece by piece you bring me home,” she reads out loud. If she’s ever sounded confused by something before, it’s what’s been figured out so far. “Piece by piece you make me whole. Piece by piece I find my way?” Her face twists slightly, like she maybe bit into something unexpectedly sour, and looks up at her siblings.

"Yeah, I told you it's fucking creepy." Emily says, glaring out of the corner of her eye as she seeks validation for her strongly-held opinion. She's unaware for the moment that Brynn's suggested food, but her mood would likely be vastly improved by that knowledge.

There's no time for shitty looks and shitty attitude regardless, but it'd certainly help to be reminded there's something to look forward to that's NOT figuring out the rest of this creepy message.

mpx ao aj yemcvezv shwgz efz cvvc?

but is my daug

Impatiently, she counts out the next numbers in the sequence to skip to the letters after that word, and does the same with the next once deciphering 'ali' of that. She looks less certain than before, the message distinctly less 'creepy' now. In fact, it's shifted more over toward concerning.

"… 'But is my daughter alive and okay?' is the next one." she says with an air of defeat, clearly bested by the shift in tone of the message. Great, now she's invested instead of just irritated.

“Yeah,” Lance exhales a sigh, fingers raking back through his hair as he nods to Brynn, signing his agreement with her frustration there.

Then he’s looking over to Emily, admitting, “I’ve been saying it’s creepy, but it’s her book, so it’s her call. If some creepy ink person tries to take over her body, though, I’m gonna kick its ass.”

His brow furrows a little, "Daughter?"

Shooting her brother a faint smile when he talks about kicking the book's ass, Brynn pauses at the kitchen door just a moment. Then she goes in there to get food going — the noises are pretty obvious. She'll catch back up when she comes out.

Squeaks might insist on it not being completely creepy, but the next line in the deciphering makes her stop that thought. Not because it’s now officially creepy, but because that’s a strange line. She sits back and looks up at Lance for a long minute, then back to the journal.

“What if it’s like William?” It’s been a while since that name has been brought up, but the youngest of the group hasn’t forgotten about the maybe-ghost-projection yet. “More like William and less like …the other thing from the video.” She turns a couple of pages in the journal, with one finger saving the spot with the cipher, even though she doesn’t expect to find any other clues. “I wondered too if maybe the table had some clues.”

Emily's demeanor itself goes quiet as she puts pencil to paper again. Any creepy book who's concerned about its children is one she's much more willing to — if not compelled to help. Potentially helping a family reunite was too romantic a thought.

She's not sure why she's not noticed it until now, but there's a distinct lack of parents been mentioned regarding the other teens. And it didn't seem out of place? If anything, they all seemed to be mutually parenting each other. The trust in Squeaks' autonomy that Lance was displaying, as well as his willingness to back her up unconditionally if things went wrong, is … enviable, when she thinks on her own family dynamic.

She tries to focus on the numbers instead.

“Huh.” That thought hasn’t occurred to Lance just yet, and he looks back at the book with a thoughtful frown, “Maybe. Like, they got killed and survived through their power, just with no body…? Maybe, could be.”

He shrugs, hands spreading, “Guess we’ll find out, though.”

When she comes back into the room, Brynn glances between the group and since she's missed some of what's up, she peeks over Emily's shoulder. Not wanting to be a nudge or bother the other girl, just curious to watch what she's discovered. A faint frown pulls her brows together again, and she looks up at Squeaks and Lance trusting one of them to relay what she's signing. Okay, I gotta tell you guys that we've seen enough weird crap in the past few weeks to fill up my weird-crap-o-meter. We have electric slice rats, cursed video tapes, and now a possessed book. Who wants its daughter? What? Is there anything in this code that gives us any idea who this could be? I mean… are the hints all using the same book? Or… are you seeing the same person in the vicinity whenever these marks show up? I'm starting to feel like I live in a Scooby Doo episode. And I'm Scooby!

With so much attention elsewhere, it may have taken some time to notice that there’s some… movement? coming from the area of the couch. Not a physical movement, but like little points of darkness that seems to be pooled together, a blot of darkness that slides down the cushions and along the floor. It looks much as Emily and Squeaks had described. Like a spot of black something moving toward them, this one about the size and shape of an adult’s footprint, sliding across the floor.

With her nose again in the journal, Squeaks definitely misses the arrival of anything unusual. She turns another page while listening to Lance speak, but eventually gives it up to look at her siblings. “Like that,” she agrees of the boy’s explanation.

“It's the book, not a person.” While the youngest teen talks, her hands give up searching the journal to sign also. “Emily’s book did it at her house. And the second one happened at the library from a completely different person than even the bookstore. It came out of the book.”

She drops her eyes to the journal again, probably to look some more, but stops halfway to stare at the floor. Squeaks’ head tilts a teeny bit as she watches that dark spot, and her hands raise just a little to sign. Is there one of those books here? Her movements are careful, but not like she's afraid. Just curious.

vksd nlw iwdn qw?

does she miss me?

zcpn wza yyja a zwo isl isli xg hslqi?

does she know i did not mean to leave?

Emily can't bring herself to say the last lines out loud. She can't bring herself to keep looking at the paper, even, the deed now done. Hand running through her hair as she works to dissociate herself emotionally from the poem, she lets out a long sigh. With a look off to her side she starts to reach for her bag, and freezes when she sees the black stain she's sure wasn't there previously.

The split second it takes to note its existence feels like an eternity, and when it slowly continues sliding across the surface of the couch, she lets out a tone of surprise, smacking the ink blob with the back of her notebook.

"Like that." she exclaims as it crawls out from under her notebook and continues off the side of the couch. Emily flips over the papers to check for stains, bewildered as to where the large blob came from. "Do one of you have a copy of that book here?"

“I don’t have one, why….?” It’s not until the others point out the creeping blob that Lance notices it, jumping back a quick step on instinct. “What the fuck,” he swears, lunging into the kitchen to grab a not-yet-washed bowl cluttering up the sink.

Then he’s stepping over carefully, waiting, waiting— and he lunges for it with a flash of pink, glittering hair sweeping back, reaching to trap the inky presence under a crusty bowl.

Great plan, Lance.

She didn't spot anything until Squeaks signed and then Brynn's gaze followed the others'. Her eyes flare wide and she too jumps, sideways to far wall away from the couch, while Lance the attempts to capture it. You mean the Wolves book?? There's one in my duffel! The duffel that lives in the corner of the living room from which the blob just emerged; yeah… that duffel.

What in the world?? is what she's wondering, though Brynn's expression remains alarmed as she watches what happens with the bowl. Why does it want you in particular, Mouse?? Not that Squeaks has that answer, most likely.

For a moment, it looks as if the ink spot just stopped when the bowl came down, like it might at least be aware of its existence, but then it rolls right out from under it, apparently thin enough to slip through the crack between bowl rim and floor. It’s not the same shape it had been before, having to wait for little bits to catch up with it as it forms into the shape of… a woman. A very slender woman. Only a few inches tall, but proportioned in a way that implies she should have height. The silhouettes hands go on hips for a moment, and then it starts off toward Squeaks once more, the small lines drawn behind it almost like the speed or movement lines of a character in a comic book.

unknown7_icon.gif

“Wait!” That’s directed at Emily’s reaction to the blob along with an impatient look. Squeaks sets the journal on the floor then follows. She sits on her knees, a hand reaching out for the footprint thing. She doesn’t make a move for it, but waits and watches…

…Until Lance is trying to trap it like a spider.

“Hey! This happened before.” Her explanation is offered hasty, with almost-sloppy signing. “It’s okay. Watch.” Again, the youngest of the siblings reaches out for the blobby, which isn’t a footprint now. The shape change into a woman makes her glance at Emily. “It came out of the Wolves book. And I think it’s me because I said I was going to help get it back together.” She stretches her fingers and leans forward slowly, like she would if she were trying to make friends with a skittish animal.

The figure stops as Squeaks gets closer, but doesn’t even to have what should be the woman figure’s hair break off and slide up her arm, joining with the rest of the ink symbol. Now “hairless”, the figure waits, standing there with her arms down at her sides, waiting for… something.

themark4.gif

The similar reaction between Lance and Emily, treating the blob like a bug, will probably make her laugh later on, but she's too surprised at what it turned into following the attempts to deter it. She shares a quick look with Squeaks then flips the notebook back up to look at the deciphered cipher.

The slender figure with its hands on hips is regarded in silence for a moment as Emily processes. What had Lance said earlier — that it could be an 'inkmorph'? Certainly felt like he was onto something. But what was it waiting for?

"We figured out what you said before." she tells the tiny woman. Never mind if Emily did the brain-numbing math — it'd have meant nothing without Squeaks guessing the right key.

"Piece by piece you find your way / but is your daughter alive and okay. Does she miss you / does she know you didn't mean to leave?"

Her brow furrows as she leans forward to look at the tiny figure, asking quietly, "… just who are you? What do you need?" She'd swapped irrevocably over to Squeaks' side with this one.

“What. The. Fuck.” Lance drops back to his knees to stare at the tiny inky figure, as its hair flows off and climbs Squeaks’ arm and then just… lingers around. The strange pictograph on the arm is regarded with suspicion, and then he watches the tiny ink woman while Emily talks at it.

He folds both arms over his chest, frowning down at the little figure. “This is not normal,” he observes sternly.

Right. This happened before. And that makes it okay???? Brynn does stop backpedaling, though she hasn't yet stopped wondering if they need… fire? Does ink burn? Why is it a little woman now putting its hands on its hips??? In spite of herself, now Brynn is fascinated. It gave Lance the Really? face. Only. In ink. A single brow quirks over the deaf teen's gray eye as she deadpans, Ya think?

“With Emily’s book.” Squeaks’ slowly sits back on her heels as the new mark takes shape on her arm. Her gaze move from her arm to the woman-shaped ink. After a beat, she twists around with an “Oh right!” The journal she’d left in front of the couch is scooped up and opened to a page without the cipher Emily had finished working on.

“Remember it… she wanted the journal before,” she says. Her siblings wouldn’t remember, but Emily would. Turning again, the journal is placed on the floor in front of the ink-woman. “How many pieces of you are there? I’m still looking, I even have help now.” Because, like or not, the youngest in the room is looping everyone into this mystery with her.

The tiny black woman shape stays still for a moment and then, suddenly, there’s more movement. Coming from Squeak’s journal. More and more black blotches pour out adding to the form, increasing its size. Then it does the improbable. It lifts itself up off the floor… and throws itself against the wall, splattering there, like a giant paint brush might splatter black paint. It reforms into a rectangle made up of monospaced letters.


T A L K I N G R E M A I N S D I F F I C U L T
H A R D T O T H I N K W H E N B O D Y D I S M
E M B E R E D C A N F E E L T H E P I E C E S
R E T U R N I N G W A K I N G C O M I N G T O
E X I S T A N C E S T I L L D I F F I C U L T
A R T I C U L A T I N G W H A T Y O U R Q U E
R Y I E S A R E C O D E S C O M E E A S Y E V
E N W H E N T H E Y F A I L T O R E L A Y T H
E I N F O R M A T I O N A C C U R A T E L Y T
I M E A N D T I M E A G A I N I A M T R Y I N
G A S M U C H A S I C A N T O T E L L Y O U W
H A T Y O U R E Q U I R E T O R E T U R N M E
T O M Y N A T U R A L F O R M C O N T I N U E

Emily had leaned forward to peer better at the little ink woman at some point, as she finds herself jerking back at seeing the possessed ink fly up into the air, and then hit the wall. There's another wince as she wonders whether or not the tiny woman's going to clean up after herself. (Probably not.)

She lets out an involuntary breath of relief at seeing this message isn't coded. Definitely not to the extent that the last one was. It's a quick scan to read, and she's slowly frowning by the time she gets close to the end. "Okay. Okay." she says out loud before peering down at the living ink blob still on the floor. None of the questions were answered yet, and it felt like the woman was more or less exasperatedly trying to communicate anything after not having been able to for so long. "Breathe, lady. What's the next step?" Though she was getting a feeling more ink meant more coherence, and that the answer was already known from the beginning…

Maybe the idea to go feed this thing a lot of copies of the Wolves book should go back on.

In a near-mirror of Emily’s own movement, Lance jerks back as the ink leaps up to splatter over the wall. “That’s not gonna come off easy,” he mutters, leaning forward to read it with a tilt of his head.

“Body— dismembered…? see? I think I was right,” he comments, signing even as he looks to the others, “I think she could turn herself into ink and got— like— pulled apart. In a printing press or something, maybe?”

He’s still wary, but the excited interest of the others is infectious.

Ffffffft. He has a chromakinetic — ink on the wall is definitely not a worry. How many times has she drawn on the walls already? Brynn eyes the ink thoughtfully, though, the letters easy enough to parse.

Okay… I take it back, Lance. You're not crazy. As ridiculous as that seem to her. Her brows furrow, and if she could hear Emily, she'd be laughing but well… all in all, she just watches the ink lady. This conversation is definitely not usual… but it's not exactly the weirdest one they've had either.

“Wait,” Squeaks starts saying as the ink comes out of the journal. “We might…” Her eyes follow it from forming, “Wait…” to throwing itself against the wall. “Oh no.” Hopefully that’s extra ink. She folds her legs to sit criss-cross, looking away from the splatter-letters on the wall to the little ink-lady.

“I have four marks now,” she says slowly, thinking out loud. “Are these part of you?” She pauses to puzzle over the words on the wall and the little ink-lady. “Do you think it’s easier to do yes and no questions?” That comes next, and she includes everyone in it with a look that moves from the ink-lady, to Lance and Brynn, and then Emily. “Like Morse code, the dots and dashes before, we could ask simple questions.”

For a long moment, there’s no movement from either of the inks, not what had been thrown against the wall, nor what pieces of it remained on the floor. But then that bit on the floor moves, forming into dashes and dots in a specific pattern. Much simpler, as Squeaks had said. Even if it probably still doesn’t give all the words she would like.

-.-- . …

The rectangle of letters on the wall does not change.

Three sets of blobs on the ground. "I'm going to assume that's a yes." Emily says to no one in particular. She frowns and poses her own question, "The more ink you get, the more back to yourself you become?" with the confidence of someone just seeking a confirmation. She feels good about her guess.

-.-- . …

“Yeah, that’s yes,” says Lance as he looks at the code - morse was one of the things Brian insisted they learned - and then looks to the blobs with a frown. He pauses, “So did you have an ability to turn into ink when you were — you?”

-.-- . …

“Hah,” he crows, leaning back and looking to the others triumphantly, “I was right!”

Brynn rolls her eyes. She is never going to live down that she didn't believe him that such a thing made any sense — now she's gonna have to actually consider Slice rats! Dammit.

Yeah, Yeah… you were right, she acknowledges her brother with a roll of her gray eyes and an affectionate grin. Does she need us to get hold of certain numbers of the books to her her whole self back? Maybe you should tell her we can read Morse and get her to tell us how many books she's split up into. Can we find those books? And does have to be specifically the Valhalla book? The NEW versions or the older printings?

As a reward for being right and an apology for not believing him, Brynn reaches out to ruffle Lance's hair, and she shoot him a side grin as she uses the moment to revert it back to his normal brown. Seems like his sister thinks he's been punished enough.

There’s a shudder among the inked letters on the wall, as if someone had thrown a pebble into a pool and caused it to ripple. All the letters shift a little, except the ones on the first line.


T A L K I N G R E M A I N S D I F F I C U L T
H A R D T O T H I N K W H E N B O D Y D I S M
E M B E R E D C A N F E E L T H E P I E C E S
R E T U R N I N G W A K I N G C O M I N G T O
E X I S T A N C E S T I L L D I F F I C U L T
A R T I C U L A T I N G W H A T Y O U R Q U E
R Y I E S A R E C O D E S C O M E E A S Y E V
E N W H E N T H E Y F A I L T O R E L A Y T H
E I N F O R M A T I O N A C C U R A T E L Y T
I M E A N D T I M E A G A I N I A M T R Y I N
G A S M U C H A S I C A N T O T E L L Y O U W
H A T Y O U R E Q U I R E T O R E T U R N M E
T O M Y N A T U R A L F O R M C O N T I N U E

Squeaks’ mouth starts to open with a question of her own, but the shifting of the letters on the wall makes her stop and watch. Her head tilts slowly and she stands to look at the inky spots closer, fingers tracing first the strange spacing and then the letters that are offset.

“There are eight,” she says, and it almost sounds like a question. One finger remains on the wall as she turns again, still pointing out the offset letters. “Are there eight marks from eight books?”

"So we get more books." Emily supplies, looking to the other teenagers one by one for their thoughts. Mostly at the other two who had been just as skeptical as she was before. "Talk to her more."

For just a moment, she looks back to Squeaks, to the growing mark on her arm. The question of how exactly the ink-woman was going to remanifest came to mind. For the moment, she was cautiously holding out hope that it wouldn't mean something dangerous for Squeaks.

Her attention drifts back to the kitchen, remembering the food. Remembering what time it is. "Tomorrow?"

“Okay. So we hit bookstores, and…” Lance pauses, then, frowning down at the ink blobs and asking, “Is any of this going to pose any danger to Squeaks here?”

He gestures to Squeaks as he speaks, “I mean, you’re writing yourself on her arm.”

This answer is not as simple as the ones from before, but remains dots and dashes. They shrink in size to make up for the additional symbols.

.. -.. --- -. --- - -.- -. --- .--

I D O N O T K N O W. But doesn't know what? There were a couple of questions there. Brynn signs, Yes or no in this order: You don't know if it will be a danger to Mouse? You don't know if it's specific books we need? Can you help us locate the right books?

The small woman seems to speak sign, so may as well just ask a list of questions at once!

Oh! The spaghetti!! Brynn pivots on her heel and races for the kitchen, grateful she left the tomato sauce on the lowest setting. Though the pasta water has happily boiled down very low. She refills the water pan and puts it back on the burner so they can actually cook the pasta. When she comes out, she signs, Geez… listen for the timer? 8 minutes. She set the timer on the stove this time even though she can't hear it.

But the sauce is safe!

The ink moves to reform to answer the questions posed by the young woman’s hands. That it responds to them shows that, indeed, it can see and understand.

It flips through the three questions, in order.

-.-- . ...

-. ---

-- .- -.-- -... .

“Yes, no,” Squeaks calls them out in order, and her hands echo her words when Brynn returns. The third one takes a little longer. She remembers the dots and dashes, but she’s not as fast as the older teenagers at knowing what they are. “M-A-B… No. — Maybe?” She stares at that last one for a little while longer, then looks at the others again.

“So it’s maybe not dangerous.” She just points that out first with a teeny shrug. She already pinky-promised to tell someone if she starts feeling strange or anything, so she’s not worried. “And we only need to find four more.” Of course, those four could be anywhere.

Looking back at the marks, Squeaks thinks for a long second. There’s a lot of questions she could ask, but keeping it to yes and no is really hard. “Can it be any four books,” she asks slowly, like she isn’t sure it’s the right question to ask.

-. ---

"Yeah, it's something about the Wolves book." Emily sighs, rubbing her hand along the side of her face. If she'd read more of it before today, she might've noticed the various print errors that had been on her copy … and were now gone.

She frowns behind her hand, looking to the figure. "What's your name?"

Instead of answering what should be a simple question, the ink seems to tremble, giving a similar effect as trying to read while in a moving vehicle.

Emily's hand slides off the side of her face, revealing a deep, thoughtful frown.

Lance, clearly, is not thrilled about the idea that it’s maybe dangerous. He frowns, then looks down to the ink as other questions are asked.

“I don’t think she remembers,” he observes, “Maybe ‘cause there’s not enough of her there. Probably hard to remember things, like this…”

Anybody got any brilliant ideas on how to locate the other books among the world's population? Brynn asks. Because it's not like the book only got published just here. It's an international thing, right? Even if we assume all the copies we need are here in the Safe Zone…. that's still a lot of ground to cover.

After another ripple flows through the ink on the floor and the ink on the wall, the ink on the wall starts running, like how fresh paint might get carried by gravity toward the floor. It slowly flows down, until it’s all on the floor, and then it all starts to slink sluggishly in the direction of the journal that almost all of it had come from.

The youngest teenager’s eyes follow the inky stuff coming off the wall, and when the first bits start reaching the floor, she takes a couple of steps to follow its path. “Maybe she’s tired now,” she says, thinking out loud. It probably takes a lot of effort to talk, and the ink-lady already said it’s hard to answer questions. “Maybe she can answer more questions tomorrow if we let her rest now.”

For Brynn’s question, caught part way through, Squeaks slowly shrugs. “We just have to keep looking.” I’m still looking. I want to know who she is. I’m going to keep searching even if I go all over the Safe Zone. It’s signed as much for Brynn’s benefit as the ink-lady’s.

"Or she's thinking." Emily suggests quietly, watching the ink pool up and head for the journal, remembering how the message from before had come from its pages.

She gives a slight shake of her head, looking back up at the others while waiting for the ink to finish its trek. Something about Lance makes her do a double-take. Something's different. It's pointed at with a loose gesture once it hits her. "Your… your hair."

Once all the ink, except that on Squeaks’ arm, has gathered into the journal, it settles into zeroes and ones in groups of eight, repeating itself over and over after 32 seperate sets.

01101100 01101001 01110100 01110100 01101100 01100101 00100000 01100110
01101111 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110010 01101111
01100011 01101011 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110100 00100000 01101010
01100001 01100100 01100101 00100000 01101000 01101111 01101101 01100101

“What?” Lance stares back at Emily for a moment, then he rolls his eyes to try and look upwards, “Did Brynn change it again?” He looks over to Brynn, brows lifting in question as he points at his head.

Hey, he doesn’t have a mirror.

Brynn shrugs slightly. Well, I had to give you something for being right — I mean, it's pink cuz you were a jerk. She mean-mugs him teasingly. So as a reward for being right, I guess you can have your hair back. He better have learned his lesson!

She points at the book, though, and signs, I don't speak computer geek.

A second is spared for a glance in Lance’s direction, but Squeaks doesn’t seem so surprised at the change in hair color. She’s seen what Brynn can do before, so she returns to watching the ink. As it starts making out ones and zeros on the pages, she drops onto her knees to watch with elbows resting on the floor and chin resting in her hands.

“I don’t know what this one is,” she says quietly. A finger traces part of the first group of numbers then makes an invisible underline the rest of the groups.She’s thinking about it, but none of it’s familiar to her. Maybe there’s something in one of those books. “How come it’s just ones and zeros?”

Brynn? Brynn did that? Emily's attention is switching like wildfire between the other teens. This is normal? The word 'again' was used.

This was normal. Oh.

Normal just like creepy talking books, and TVs that play even after they're unplugged, and electric rats.

… Right.

Emily's eager to direct her focus back to the book and avoid looking like the odd one out. "Looks like Binary." she says immediately. To her, that's the only thing it could be. Her brow arches up as she clarifies, "I could probably find something to translate that, but I'm sure not doing it by hand. I need an online tool for it — it would be really easy with that." Which left them at a bit of an impasse, seeing as the power would be off back at the library tomorrow.

"… Or we find a dictionary for Binary and do it by hand." she relents reluctantly.

Thank you, keeper of the hair color. Lance grins impudently, and then he looks back to Emily - who pointed it out in the first place. “Brynn’s a chromakinetic. She does shit with colors. Like turn my hair pink when she’s mad at me,” he drawls out, “Of course, this means war.”

The numbers are squinted at, “Yeah, no clue. Might have to wait for the power to come back.”

A single brow quirks at Lance when he says it's war. War, huh? We'll see. Brynn just smirks at him. And then she shrugs at Emily, unabashed at the fact that she punishes her brothers with pink sparkly hair. You deserved it, She signs rather lazily.

The buzzer on the stove starts going off while they're all peering at the numbers. Dinner is ready!


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License