There are few things Lachesis Calyptra despises as much as unwanted visitors.

It is very rare that she gets them to begin with, of course; the Black Bog is a seldom-visited location, what with its murky waters and heavy mists, ancient bones reaching up from beneath the waters, skeletons of temples and buildings from a time long-gone serving as the backdrop to an already eerie place. Her own home– a hollowed out set of ruins she’s claimed as the meeting grounds for the Circle of the Moth– is even less commonly stumbled upon, save for those who know her name and where to find her, seeking either a boon from the Maiden of the Mothlight or perhaps deigning to join her circle; either of which, of course, is perfectly acceptable. Lachesis will never turn her back on a sister who desires a purpose, or someone who wishes for her aid– so long as they are capable of paying for it.

What is not perfectly acceptable, of course, is strangers stumbling onto her sacred ground by “complete accident", claiming to be searching for a decent campground, and having to be given directions elsewhere so they aren’t ruthlessly devoured by whatever monsters they stumble upon in the night, or so they don’t wind up horribly lost to the point of no return. It is unspeakably irritating.

She’s a witch, not a gods-damned map.

It had started to happen enough times that she was halfway to considering butchering the next hapless adventurer who stepped foot into the area, but that was when a little birdie happened to mention just why there were so many people scattered around the Marsh Flats lately; apparently, some pesky little researcher was sending people out on missions for him, interested in studying various creatures, and one that piqued his interest this time was something called a Bogaboo– an amalgamation of the swamp’s nature and the bones cast to the water– and her little birdie had been asked to go search for one, too.

Lachesis couldn’t deny that she’d been… interested. Very interested.

So perhaps she’d offered to help her little birdie with his research.

The only issue is finding him.

They’d arranged to meet by a familiar landmark by noon, but the sun’s long-since crept past its place in the sky and Everett has yet to show up at the lichen-stained pillar, and Lachesis can’t help the… concern(?) shooting up her spine. Where in Charon could he be? She’s been waiting for some time, and he’s still not here– heavens know what manner of trouble he’s gotten into by this point. She hopes he’s not getting his face devoured by a Vorrapede or anything. That would be troublesome.

Only a few more minutes slip by before she finally gets fed up and starts off into the Bog to search for him, slipping through the familiar waters, the lines of trees and ruins until it all becomes impossibly samey, her focus on her surroundings falling into the background as she searches for any traces of that silly, foolish–

Ah.

“...Evvy, sweetheart, honey, doll,” Lachesis sighs, already lifting two fingers up to massage her temple, eager to rid her face of any stress before it can start taking root there. “We cannot keep doing this. Why are you laying down in the mud again?”

---

Bringing:

- Bella (Dancing Chain)

- Donna (Dancing Chain)

Why are you laying down in the mud again?

Good question. He has no idea.

Hearing a familiar voice snaps him out of a moment of absolute blankness and brings him back into the real world. He glances over at the woman standing amongst the moss-laden trees of the Black Bog. To those who do not know her, they may think her a ghost, or perhaps a siren luring unsuspecting victims into the depths of the swamp. Some may even go so far as to call her a witch. Though none of these are things he thinks of the hauntingly striking woman.

He only knows her as Lady Lachesis Calyptra. 

And she's the reason he's made his way here in the first place. Well, the second reason at least. 

"Oh, Lady Calyptra, uh...I don't know." He sits up in the mud and shakes some of it from his hand. "It's been happening a lot lately."

He looks up at her and smiles before noticing the light in the sky. "Ah, I'm late aren't I? Sorry for keeping you waiting."

Sliding one foot under him, he pushes up onto his feet. He's covered in mud and looks like an absolute mess compared to the otherworldly beauty that is Lachesis Calyptra. Not oblivious to that fact and just how ridiculous this may look, despite there being no one around to see them, he's still embarrassed with a rosy flush to his face and the tips of his ears. He rubs the back of his neck. 

"Well, maybe a fresh coating of mud is just what we need in order to..." he pauses.

Wait, what were they doing again?

No, no, he remembers. There was a man. An odd little fellow with goofy glasses and an even goofier mustache who was recruiting folks to look into some spooky creatures in the Marsh Flats. Right, and he accepted the job because he is deadass broke. He'd told Lachesis about the job...right? Yeah, he did, and then she arranged for them to work together much to his surprise. He hasn't known Lachesis to be interested in such menial tasks, she always seemed to have more important things to attend to. 

It's odd...out of everything, what he knows about her is more clear in his mind than anything else. 

Huh. 

He looks down at her and offers another awkward smile. "Maybe the mud will help hide my scent from the spooks?" 

Chances were his joke wouldn't go over well with the woman, so he clears his throat and looks around the swamp. A low rolling mist was starting to creep out between the trees and obscuring the surface of the open water. 

"I guess we should get looking before it gets dark. We're looking for a...uh...buggyboo?"

Close. Not quite.

It’s been happening a lot lately.

Hm. Lachesis isn’t quite sure how to feel about that response.

It’s difficult to describe the expression that settles on her face as she watches Everett sit up, mud still clinging to the strands of his hair, to the slope of his nose, to his eyelashes, even– mercifully, the shift in gravity means some of it slips away, returning to its place on the ground, but he’s still a mess in a way that would require thorough cleaning and a round of laundry. Perhaps two, considering the white undershirt, if the thing isn’t stained beyond repair; it very well may be. The elements are hardly so forgiving of light fabrics, after all, and that alone is why she’ll never undersell the merits of magic-imbued textiles–

…one thing at a time. One thing at a time.

“...There’s no need to be sorry,” Lachesis murmurs, trying to train her expression into something a little less exasperated, smoothing out the pinch between her brows, the tension building at the corners of her lips. “It’s quite alright– we’re hardly on too much of a time limit, hm? Best to take it one step at a time.”

She watches as he gets to his feet, serenely smiling all the while, even as all the tells of embarrassment strike him– a flush to his ears, to his cheeks, a little strain in his grin, hand at the back of his neck. It’s hard to tell if he’s more sheepish over being late or over the condition he’s in; but it isn’t as though he can change the former, and since there is a notable lack of bath oils and quality products around to handle the latter, a little bit of magic and makeshift work will have to do. Lachesis quickly fishes a handkerchief from one of her pockets, pressing it into Everett’s hands with no expectation that he will return it.

“There– at least clean off your face with that,” she says, taking a moment to glance around while she leaves him to it. “I don’t think these creatures have a particularly keen sense of smell to begin with; I doubt the mud will do you much good, Evvy.”

And truly, it won’t– more than anything, it will probably just slow him down, and that just won’t do. This needs to be as clean and pristine of an operation as possible, with their investigation keen and the information they recover accurate–

…getting the creature’s name right would be an awfully good start.

“...Very close, doll,” she says, voice strained. “It’s a bogaboo– that’s what they’re called. Bogaboo. And… we should worry about finding one after we find our way back to the main path. Does that sound good?”

"Oh, thank you." His face reddens even more out of embarrassment as Lachesis shoves the handkerchief in his muddy hands. He feels pretty ashamed of his current condition while standing in her presence. The witch has always been so kind to him despite him being a wreck. He doesn't want to be a nuisance to her, especially after all she's done for him. 

After all she's done for him...

What has she-?

In the blink of an eye, the thought flits away as quickly as it came, and he proceeds to wipe the mud off his face the best he can.

"Ah...well you are the Marsh Flats expert, so I'll take your word for it."

He knew very little about these creatures they were going to be looking into. The whole situation with this Lloyd fellow was a bit strange to him, but he supposes that the man's reputation must be fairly good if other adventurers are willing to assist in his research. Though he does recall that the proprietor of the inn in Lilicors bemoaning some incidents from the previous year involving errant slimes. 

Lachesis is quick to point out that he has gotten even the bare minimum information wrong. Boy, he certainly wasn't inspiring any confidence was he. The wave of shame returns, but more about his incompetence than his appearance this time. 

"Right, my mistake."

They were off to a great start.

When Lachesis suggests their next course of action, he nods and replies with a curt, "Yes." He'd rather avoid further embarrassing himself in front of the witch, so he does not mention that everything Lachesis says sounds good to him.

Her voice is like a siren's song, a silky almost otherworldly melody even when she's correcting him or being to the point. She could insult him right to his face and he wouldn't take any offense. He's not entirely sure why that is. He does respect Lachesis greatly, but he's far from smitten with her. It's just something about her voice that always sounds pleasing and agreeable. 

He looks around the foggy marshlands. Visibility was getting increasingly worse the longer they lingered in the area. A chill runs up his spine at the though of getting hopelessly lost in the fog. Then he looks back at Lachesis and all those worries vanish in an instant. 

She's such a striking figure amongst the dark greens and browns of the marsh. Like a lily, or an orchid, beautiful and serene while surrounded by the gloom and mire. It's all too easy to become transfixed by her, and he has to snap himself out of before she notices his eyes lingering on her for too long. His eyes flit down to the soft ground and he sees where they have left footprints that slowly fill with water. 

"I think we can retrace our steps fairly easily to get back to the path." He gestures at the footprints. Turns out the mud is actually good for something after all. 

It’s quite plain to see from the redness spreading across Everett’s face that the poor dear is somehow even more embarrassed– truly so, this time. There’s a little furrow in his brow, a pinch in his lips, his gaze flitting down to the earth beneath their feet as he wipes away the remnants of mud on his face as well as he can with nothing more than the handkerchief she had offered him. It’s quite easy to imagine what’s got him so flustered, too: it could be the misstep in speech, the forgetfulness, the uncertainty of his place in what they’re talking about, or, most likely, the state of himself. Which is hardly unfixable, as much as Lachesis questions why he was lying in the mud, or why this has apparently become a frequent problem–

But she digresses.

It is… not necessarily Lachesis’s business as to what Everett gets up to in his personal time, or how often he chooses to languish in the dirt, as questionable as she finds it. She’s certainly no advocate for such things– goddess above, maybe she should consider setting him up with some decent skin-care materials. Perhaps someone scammed him, told him mud was rejuvenating, somehow. She doesn’t mind a little bit of course correction there.

…but she digresses. There are far more significant things to worry about right now– namely, just how to find their way back to the main path so they can properly commence their hunt.

“Yes, indeed,” she agrees, brow furrowing just slightly so as Everett gestures to their footprints etched into the dirt and mud, studying just how far back they go. It is… surprisingly difficult, really– there’s a rather thick fog that had already been gathering earlier that has only intensified with time, clustering around the branches and bases of the trees, painting over everything in a veil of distortion. “...we should probably move quickly, doll. The mists are unforgiving out here, and we’d hate to delay.”

With that, she curls two fingers to beckon him to follow before starting to trace the path of footsteps that should hopefully mark their way back to their previously arranged meeting point. She walks moderately slowly, with a healthy degree of caution, but hardly sluggishly– merely at a speed that makes it easy for Everett to follow, that makes it easy to keep an eye on their surroundings, that makes it easy to focus on where the footsteps lead.

…Until they very abruptly stop, that is.

“...well, isn’t this lovely,” she murmurs under her breath, trying to… restrain any inclinations toward anger in Everett’s presence. “...Evvy, doll, we may need to consider… seeking out a nice, safe little place to… camp out a while, don’t you agree?”

“Of course,” he complies easily and follows Lachesis without any fuss.

Trudging through the swamp isn’t easy and he does his best not to make a stupid amount of noise as the mud sucks at his boots with every step. The thick fog that surrounds them makes it easy for the mind to play tricks on them as well, with every gnarled root or broken branch looking like an arm reaching out to drag them into the murky depths.

Still, Lady Calyptra is vigilant and knows these lands well, so Everett puts his full trust in her. Why wouldn’t he? He eagerly follows her like a lost puppy she just picked up out of a puddle on the side of the road.

After a little ways, Lachesis’ comes to a stop just ahead of him. He looks around alertly. Things are fairly still as far as he can tell, but the woman wouldn’t stop for no good reason. It’s not until he looks down that he realizes that she stopped because their path back has gone missing.

His brow furrows. It doesn’t look like any other creatures has moved through the area and messed up their trail, and the skies are relatively dry so there hasn’t been any rain to fill in the holes. They’re also far enough inland to not have to worry about the tides close to the edges of the region. So what exactly is going on?

Lady Calyptra seems more annoyed with this predicament than concerned, so he stops fretting about it. He nods along, quick to agree to whatever she thinks is the best course of action.

“Perhaps we can find some higher ground, or at least a solid tree to climb out of the mud into?”

They’re not the greatest suggestions, but getting back to any form of civilization at this rate isn’t going to go well.

Getting lost in the Marsh Flats isn’t really the end of the world.

Not for someone like Lachesis, at least; she’s called these murky lands home ever since she emerged from the shadows as the thing she is today, and she’s more than accustomed to the… quirks of the ruins, the bogs, the old and haggard woods. Sure, this might mark some trouble for a less-traveled soul, but this is… hardly a disaster for her or Everett.

It isn’t as though she doesn’t want to be… cautious, though, all things considered; however well she knows the Flats, it doesn’t change the fact that they’re in pursuit of a creature as wretched and troublesome as a Bogaboo, and so danger is surely lurking somewhere out here in the dark of the bog– a danger they’re both going to have to remain conscious of crossing paths with, even if it’s unlikely they’ll run into it quite this early. Either way, she doesn’t foresee too much trouble– nothing more troublesome than the process of setting up a camp.

Given, camping is not… Lachesis’s favorite thing in the world, but she had been expecting this in the end, so she’ll bite her tongue.

“...Both are excellent suggestions,” she says, giving Everett a short nod and a small, approving smile. “High ground never hurts out here– it spares you the trouble of dealing with the waters. We’ve a better chance of finding it here than in the Hauntwood, at least– no time to waste, though. Come along.”

She turns once again, already furrowing her brow in contemplation as she makes her way through the bog, tongue sliding back and forth across the ridges of her teeth– there are plenty of old ruins out here, and while a good handful of them are positively drowning beneath the waters, there’s plenty more that are doing just fine, sitting pretty and dry over the surface, if only they can actually manage to find them–

Gods dAMN IT–

Lachesis barely manages to bite back a very unflattering noise as her foot catches against the base of an old, withered pillar just barely peeking out above the water, the sound quiet and mangled in her throat; she inhales sharply, lets it hold, waits for the initial sting to pass, before finally breathing out and reopening her eyes. She looks down, staring at the pillar like it’s a particularly loathesome maggot for a long moment before glancing around the rest of the area– it too is populated with similar fragments of a time long gone, old mosses and vines clinging to chipped and weathered stone, but mercifully, amidst it all, there sits a few old, worn down, elevated foundations of what might have once been temples.

“...Well, aren’t we lucky,” she manages, voice not at all strained, because Lachesis Calyptra has nothing to let her voice get strained over. “We’ve found some lovely high ground. Isn’t that nice?”

Everett obediently follows at Lachesis' heels like a loyal dog at her beck and call. His trust in her judgement unwavering as she leads him through the muddy swamp. He's on high alert as they travel, vigilantly watching Lachesis' back the entire time. If anything were to leap out at Lachesis, he'd jump to her defense in an instant even to his own detriment.

Even something as harmless as a dragonfly has no place in Lady Calyptra's presence. Spotting one of the buzzing insects daring to cross the witch's path, Everett flicks his wrist, casting a small burst of air that redirects the insect away from Lachesis so she doesn't have to bother with something so beneath her.^[1]

His hand shoots to the hilt of his sword when Lachesis suddenly stops and tenses. He looks around quickly for whatever it is that has caused the reaction from the witch, but everything is still around them and only the sound of buzzing insects and frogs suggests any life nearby. 

Not immediately seeing any threats, Everett's gaze follows the downward tilt of Lachesis' face to the mud at her feet. He can just make out the corner of a stone and he quickly realizes what had happened. He relaxes and drops his hand from his sword. 

Lachesis may be an expert at hiding her emotions, but that doesn't stop Everett from worrying about her well-being. He owes her everything and if there's anything he can do to help her, he wants to do it. 

"Lady Calyptra, are you alright? Would you prefer if I led the way?"

He'd trip over hundreds of stones without complaint if she asked him to. She could ask anything of him and he would eagerly comply, no hesitation or second thoughts. He trusts her fully after all.

---

[1] Gust Thrust

Oh, well that’s wonderful, and not at all embarrassing.

Lachesis bites her tongue at Everett’s question, trying to iron out her frayed nerves into something… calmer, more presentable; she takes a deep breath, trying not to hiss the air out from between her teeth, and straightens her spine, chin up, shoulders settled comfortably, posture as relaxed as she can get it. The very last person she wants to seem anything less than perfect around is Everett.

“...Ah, that’s… that’s very sweet of you, Evvy,” she coos, careful to keep her voice from cracking. “I’m quite alright, really– perhaps I picked the wrong sort of shoes for traversing this part of the Flats. If you would like to lead, it’s… up to you. Don’t fret too much on my behalf, of course.”

She steps off to the side– away from that wretched, worn down, deservedly-rotting pillar–, careful to mind where her feet fall; the last thing she wants is to crush more parts of her body against the skeletons of civilizations long-gone. She can tolerate the pain for as long as it lasts, seeing as it’s… fairly mild, but the embarrassment is another story entirely; recovery from wounds can be so simple, but humiliation can chase you for the rest of your days.

“Well, Evvy, what do you think we’ll need for our little campsite?” she asks, moving to– excruciatingly carefully– step onto one of the elevated platforms peeking out over the water, humming in approval at how dry it is. “I don’t expect we’ll be out on this excursion for too long, but a good little resting place never hurts. Something to last a few days, maybe.”

"Of course." Everett quickly takes the lead and is extra diligent in checking every step through the mud for more offending pieces of rock and ruin. 

They move through the muddy terrain slowly, but surely. Whenever a large root protrudes through the swamp sludge, Everett is quick to offer his hand to Lachesis and help boost her over it using a bit of wind magic to help make it easier. They finally manage to find part of a ruin that at one point was probably a foundation, or a roof. Either way it is somewhat flat and dry compared to the rest of the area, though that hasn't stopped a thick covering of thread moss from covering the stones. 

"I think we will need to find a big enough space that is elevated in case the water level changes, having some overhead cover would be good as well in case it rains." Everett looks around the area, contemplating their options. The tangled growth of bald cypress trees dripping with old man's beard doesn't lend to many suitable options. "It'll be hard to find something that is flat and other than the little wind magic I have I don't have a great answer to the insects." 

He looks back at her. "A few days...it will be difficult to camp out here without a clean fresh water source or food for that long. It would be better if this creature showed up sooner rather than later." 

Maybe he should be careful what he wishes for, especially considering he's not even sure what a bog-a-boo is or what it can do. 

"Otherwise, I think we should head back towards the Flood Road. We're more likely to find a suitable camp area on a more well-traversed pathway." 

Less likely to find elusive wildlife, however.