======Ignaz====== =====Memorial===== Hurrying through the streets of the Floating Market, Ignaz clutches a satchel to their side. A gentle breeze follows as they duck down alleyways, slip between vendors bartering with their customers, and disappear down pathways invisible to all except those most familiar with their surroundings. The movement is natural, familiar. He dips and weaves through the crowds, finding their way through small gaps. It is easier, since she left the Palace. It is easier, since he was changed irreversibly. The flickering never left, a constant reminder of what could have been, of what so nearly came to pass. It is not what it was. It is no longer the cause of sleepless nights, of countless hours spent wondering if they will make it to the morning. It is part of them now. It is his to control now. It belongs to her. Their ears flicker out of existence as Ignaz slips through a particularly tight gap, rumbling a purr of satisfaction. The shop vendor doesn’t blink, continuing to barter with their patron. Ignaz continues on unnoticed. He stops, his journey complete. The crowds swell, drawn in by the bustle of the casino before them. Ignaz does not follow, does not continue the dance she has mastered. She slips inside a stall outside, the cloth draped from every corner barely shifting, it’s vigil undisturbed. The noise of the crowds dies away. Ignaz kneels, softly, reverently, dipping their head. She stays here for a while, reciting prayers in their head, murmuring them under his breath. Prayers from home, from the land where they grew up, from the land to which they will never return. A moment of silence after the prayer finishes, the world outside seeming to still. Ignaz reaches into their bag, laying out the items within. At the centre of the stall is a wooden tower made of multiple levels. Each level is dedicated to a different collection, each collection unique. As unique as the people commemorated here. “Agnes. Simeon.” A pair of raven feathers. Found together, kept together, never separated. Bound in life and bound in death. “I remember. I am sorry.” He places the feathers onto one of the shelves. Lights a candle, two wicks connected into a single wax. Utters a ritual incantation, committing their memories to the candles. “Sir Pompilius Albite.” A large piece of granite, embedded with flecks of ruby. A stony exterior. A unique interior. “I remember. I am sorry.” They swallow, Joaquin flashing through her mind. He reaches out, placing the stone between flashes of gemstones. Lights another candle. Utters the same incantation. “Owain.” A pot of ink, half empty. Full of potential, never finished. “I remember.” He places the ink amongst quills and parchment. Lights a candle. Repeats the same phrase. “Galliano.” A small piece of yarn, perfectly tied for a cat to play with. “I remember.” The yarn is placed gently onto the shrine, tangled between a collection of toys. A candle is lit. The incantation repeated. “Duke Edmund.” A ring, befitting a gentleman. Distinguished, tarnished, complicated. “I remember.” The ring fits between other pieces of jewellery, a shelf of riches that will never be claimed. They light a candle. Repeat the phrase again. He takes a moment, looking at the last item. A singular piece of obsidian. Chipped, fractured, discarded. Looking up, their gaze catches on an empty shelf, devoid of objects. Separate from the others. No less important. “Gloria.” Their hand does not waver as he places the obsidian onto the empty shelf, lighting the candle that accompanies it. “I remember.” A new incantation. One of finality, of loss and sorrow, of memory. A spell to remember, a pledge to never forget. Words to sew together the fragments of broken promises and shattered futures. The candles continue to burn. Light flickers across the shrine, memories dancing in the shadows. They burn long after Ignaz has left, holding those that are lost within their flames, guiding them on their journeys. Warmth to bring them home, to remind them that they are not forgotten, even now they are no longer here. A vow to never let them disappear. //Written by Caroline K.// =====The Cheshire Cat===== “The Cheshire Cat? Oh, please. It’s just a Vyrhene folktale.” “No, I swear I saw her! He’s in the Floating Market, I know it.” The kid snorts, looking at his companion with an unimpressed expression. They’re huddled in an alley behind the //Fate’s End//, and he looks back down to the apple he’s skinning. “So how exactly do you know he’s here?” The girl huffs to herself. “I saw her, stealing some rings. And Maddi saw them kicking people out of the casino, and Jonas saw-” “Jonas says anything to you because you’re so gullible. I bet he doesn’t even know what the Cheshire Cat is.” She stomps her foot, glaring. “No! I’m not gullible! She even introduced herself to me! His name is Ignaz.” “I thought the Cheshire Cat was invisible. And anyway, they can’t introduce themselves to you if they’re made up.” He grins, even as she continues protesting. And he raises the apple to his mouth to take a bite. But the apple is plucked out of his hands. He blinks at it, floating in midair, and they stare in stunned silence for a few seconds. And then they both shout, the girl in jubilation, the boy chasing after his apple as it bobs tantalisingly away and away like it’s being carried by an invisible wind. They chase it through the winding paths of the Market, past stalls carrying Itascrian papers and Egyorszagi gadgets, under the tables of Vyrhene scryers offering their readings, dashing through a maze of Cordellian rugs strung up between the walls of the wonky buildings. Until eventually it disappears around the corner. The girl whoops, and the boy looks around in despair. Ignaz grins where they are sat high up on the roof of a building. Dante takes the apple they offer eagerly, whistling his approval as they watch the bustle of the Floating Market below them. The Cheshire Cat isn’t disappearing any time soon. That, he can be sure of.