Ritual Chamber
This hemispheric room is somewhere within Witches' Rock, since the walls are of raw stone. The air is thick with incense smoke, which doesn't seem to have a means of escape. Even the light from the innumerable candles is somewhat muddy as a result, but still manages to illuminate the various and colorful symbols painted on the floors and walls. A small cauldron rests in the center of the chamber, kept hot by a clay pot full of glowing coals beneath it. There is also something not quite right about the acoustics.

The waiting is the worst part. Whenever you really need something, time seems to slow down. It's nature's way of telling you just how much it hates you … or something. Hours seem to pass like days … and the Olivia gets the word to come to the Gnarly Tree for an 'examination'. When she arrives, she's promptly met by Isolde, who wastes no time in escorting her through a maze of passages and down into the special ritual room that they only use for the most important of occasions. (And the occasional tea party when Morgan is feeling particularly gloomy). Inside is Natasha; except she's not dressed as gypsy Natasha, but in full mage regalia (even if it's a bit dated by, oh, twenty years).

Isolde has made Olivia exchange all of her bright clothes for a simple white shift that goes from neck to ankles, and gives the Skeek a fragrant candle to hold in her hands. "Breath in the smoke," the witch says. "It is helpful for calming your mind and letting us poke at your spirit a bit."

Olivia tugs at the collar of the shift, trying to loosen it a little, since it seems rather tight as compared to the collars on her usual clothes. She quickly stops this, however, when the candle is handed to her. "All right," she says, trying to take in the details of the room and breathe deeply at the same time, as further distractions to her nervousness.

The witch goes to the edge of the room, and starts mixing some powders and liquids in small bowls, muttering under her breath the whole time.

"Ah, good, you made it," Natasha says and tries to offer Olivia a reassuring smile. "Dame Isolde and I have worked out what should answer your questions about whether or not you are a troll," she adds and then nods towards the Kadie witch. "So, please, have a seat near the cauldron in the middle. We need to prepare a few things."

Olivia nods and tries to smile in return, but it comes out rather weakly. Then she steps to the center of the room and sits cross-legged to one side of the heated cauldron. For the moment, her eyes follow Isolde, again seeking a distraction.

Isolde brings one of the bowls over, and pours its contents into the cauldron. Setting the bowl aside, she draws a very sharp and wicked-looking obsidian dagger from her robe, and tells Olivia, "Set down your candle and bow your head forward."

Natasha draws out a pouch of colored chalk sticks. Her claw tips tap lightly on each as she looks critically at the structure and shape of the room. Deciding something, she draws out a pale blue chalk, then carefully goes about drawing a circle around Olivia, the cauldron, and Isolde. "I am just working a containment circle to make sure that no matter what happens everyone is safe," she explains. Once the outer circle is drawn … the careful scribing of runes all along its perimeter begins.

"We don't want you escaping if you are a changeling, after all," Isolde whispers to Olivia, holding the knife ready.

With a shaking hand, the Skeek sets her candle to one side and does what Isolde asks without a word. You should have expected something like this, you know, a cold little voice says inside her head.

There's a brief tug at the back of Olivia's neck, and a schnickt sound as the knife slices through hair. "Stand up now," Isolde instructs, as she tosses the hank of hair into the cauldron.

Olivia gets to her feet, still silent, but she eyes the cauldron with interest. That's odd, I didn't know people could be controlled by their hair!

Natasha continues her slow work around the circle. Behind her, what was once a simple line is now an intricate pattern; the runes flowing and twisting in an unbroken sweep. What they mean, or even what language it may be … is unknown to the Skeek.

Moving to the opposite side of the cauldron, Isolde holds her hand over it and says, "Now, hold out your left thumb over the water."

Olivia does this too, looking up at the witch for any further instructions.

The ritual knife is replaced in Isolde's hand with… a manicuring stone. The witch uses this to scrape a bit of powder from the claw of Olivia's thumb, which dutifully falls into the cauldron.

Olivia watches all of this with slightly raised eyebrows, wondering what other part of herself Isolde will want to add to the pot next… or perhaps she's better off not knowing that… !

Releasing the Skeek's hand and pocketing the stone, Isolde says, "Now that wasn't so bad, was it? Take off the shift now." The witch then goes back to her bowls, and picks up a new one.

Circle completed, Natasha quietly puts her chalks away. She then kneels down and folds her hands into her lap. The mist and smoke that floats in the room seems to draw up and curl around her legs with serpentine undulations. Her hands then roll and push outward … and the mist and smoke curl away from her. It flows across the floor, almost like a liquid … and then settles along the circle, tracing out each rune and line. The oddity doesn't stop there as against all laws of nature … the smoke retains the pattern of the circle as it rises. It stops about seven feet up, then halts; creating a mirrored image of the binding circle above Olivia.

Olivia winces at this last request… then remembers all of the examinations she had from the witches during her various childhood illnesses and brushes her embarrassment aside. She pulls the shift over her head and off, folding it neatly and laying it away from the lighted candle.

Isolde carries the bowl over, and steps behind Olivia. Something wet, tingly and cold is then applied to the Skeek's spine, running all the way from her neck down to the root of her tail.

Olivia yeeks! softly and tries not to wriggle away from the Kadie woman. "Um, what is that?" she asks, shivering.

"Magic goo," the witch says, coming around to Olivia's front. "It must be used to mark off all of the places where you differ from a troll." The goo is applied by one of the Kadie's fingers to all sorts of uncomfortable places. It circles Olivia's eyes, the inside of her ears, her lips and around her fingers. Since trolls are sexless, it also means the cold tingles are felt in places Olivia never expected to feel cold tingles. To make things worse, the fumes from the stuff are making her eyes water.

Olivia tries to hold still during this process but finds it increasingly hard to do with each passing moment. Since she's afraid to wipe her eyes and disturb the goo, she simply closes them and hopes that will help against the fumes! It's like being attacked by a dozen onions! she thinks.

Isolde wipes the stuff off of her finger after the application, and hmmms at Olivia for a moment. "Well, you haven't burst into flame. That's usually a good sign. Now, into the pot with you!"

Well now, this is an unexpected development… Afraid to talk in case the goo runs into her mouth, Olivia cracks her eyelids open just a bit so she can see where she's going. Then she walks over to the cauldron and puts one tentative hand into it, just to see how hot this impromptu 'bath' is going to be!

It's warm, except where the goo-rings around her fingers touch it. That makes the stuff feel even colder.

"Great, I couldn't have either one temperature or the other, could I?" the Skeek mutters to herself. "I'm going to be warm and cold!" Nonetheless, she climbs fully into the cauldron and looks at Isolde. Taking a chance, she asks quickly, "Should I sit down?"

For her part, Natasha seems oblivious to Olivia's painted up body or her getting into the 'stew' pot. Her hands continue to gracefully trace and curl in the air before her. The circle surrounding Olivia and Isolde (both above and below) snakes with arcs of light and energy.

The witch nods, adding, "And dunk your head once as well." She then goes to get her third bowl of stuff.

Olivia presses her lips firmly together once more, then nods and sits in the cauldron, not knowing whether to shiver or relax. Then she takes a breath and holds it so she can submerge her head under the water for a few seconds.

Ouch… the marks really burn cold now, and the temptation to just rub them off is probably great. And just as Olivia's heads pops up again, Isolde is pouring some sort of blue liquid into the cauldron now, causing it to bubble ominously.

Olivia lets her body shiver violently now, just to take her mind off how much the stuff burns. She leans her back against one side of the pot and flattens her hands against the bottom of it, trying to keep them from edging towards the goo and rubbing it off.

"Is she ready?" Natasha asks quietly and gets to her feet. "I am ready to begin the second part… "

Isolde nods to Natasha, saying, "She is prepared. If the reversion indicates a troll origin, she should revert to her true form."

Olivia has a brief image in her mind's eye of her skin loosening and clumps of her fur dropping into the cauldron, but she shakes that vision off with another shiver.

Natasha dips her head. She steps forward and lifts her arms. As with earlier, her hands dance and float through the air as she traces invisible patterns before her … only this time she also chants in an unknown language. As power seems to build in the air … the hair on the back of everyone's neck starts to stand on end. Not only that, but the invisible tracing … isn't so invisible now. With each sweep of her hands, her fingers leave a lingering trail of blue in their wake.

The Skeek watches Natasha work now, awed as usual. She's seen performances somewhat like this before, having known Natasha a while, but it still captures her attention.

As if moved by a spectral wind, Natasha's robes start to billow out and flap. The really strange part about the flapping, though, is that there isn't any sound to it. As the melodic chanting continues from the Khatta … the air a few feet in front of the cauldron ripples and distorts; almost like how the appearance of the world swims over a hot fire.

Olivia can't help but lean forward a bit, toward the distortion, examining it and wondering what it's there for.

Isolde moves around behind Olivia, so she can watch the distortion as well.

Natasha's form ripples and distorts now … or at least it seems that way from where Olivia sits … as if she's seeing the woman through a pool of water. And then that's when it happens … the distortion in front of Olivia seems to split apart and a spectral hand reaches through – a scaled hand. Then another. They strain at the 'edges' of reality, as if trying to widen the tear. And widen it does … enough for a serpentine looking lizard-ghost to step through. Olivia recognizes this creature … it's Natasha's familiar; something she once explained to the Skeek as being in the form of a creature called a Jadaian dragon. Only this time … it's larger than she's ever seen and walking towards Olivia.

Either to be reassuring or to make sure Olivia doesn't squirm, Isolde lays her hands on the Skeek's shoulders.

Olivia gasps and fights against a sliver of fear, as the Jadaian dragon appears so much bigger than ever before. She suddenly feels smaller than she really is… and rather like a dragon snack. Is it going to swallow me? she wonders, shrinking back now, against Isolde's hands.

The 'ghost' stops within a foot of the cauldron and extends its taloned hand to Olivia. Its lips do not move … but somehow Olivia hears it speak. Do not be afraid. Please, give me your hand," it asks. Its voice is whispery and somehow manages to echo. Slitted eyes blink as it waits patiently for the Skeek's answer to its request.

Olivia's fingers tense and relax against the bottom of the cauldron for a few moments, but at last she nods and raises one hand from the water. She puts it slowly into the dragon's taloned one.

The feel of the dragon's hand is … strange; like trying to hold pudding in your fingers. Its head bows slightly to Olivia, then it pull its hand back. The sensation that Olivia feels next … it's as if she was swimming in a pool of warm oil and it all started to flow away from her; like a gentle tug that seems to encompass her entire body. And while Olivia certainly doesn't seem to move from the Cauldron … something does pull away with the dragon from Olivia's arm; another spectral being … all that can be seen so far is just its hand – a lady Skeek's hand. "Do not be afraid. Do not resist," comes the dragon's voice again.

Olivia just stares at the strange sight, eyes wide and unblinking. For some odd reason, she thinks, I shouldn't look away, not even for a second… I've got to remember this, what a piece of art this is going to make… She does not, however, resist the dragon's pull, lost in the thought of memorizing what might happen next.

If it wasn't strange enough to Olivia yet … her vision starts to swim and then split. In one moment she's seeing all this from her place in the cauldron … then in the next moment she's finding herself standing outside the cauldron and holding the claw of the dragon. Only … here her body is a shimmering and translucent blue that seems to ripple and flow like water. "This will not do," the dragon says (all the while without actually moving its lips) and its brow ridge furrows briefly. There's a strange tingle that ripples through ghost-Olivia's form and she finds herself dressed in a fine zolken gown. "Dance with me?" the dragon asks.

Isolde arches an eyebrow towards Natasha at the dragon's request.

If Natasha notices Isolde's eyebrow, she makes no notice of it. The Khatta is lost in maintaining whatever ritual she's begun.

Olivia's eyes sweep over her new, shimmering blue form and the fine gown she wears, not knowing whether to gasp again or laugh in delight. She does smile at the Jadaian dragon, though, albeit shyly. "Um, if you like," she says softly. "Although I've never danced with anyone like you before. I hope you know how to lead!"

The 'reptile' draws Olivia in close, slipping its right arm around her lower back. "I can lead, but only you can show us the path," the dragon says cryptically. "We are going to dance through the moments of your life. From this moment, back to when it began. All are the sum of your experiences and only by tracing them can the truth of who anyone is be answered." And thus, the dance begins; a serpentine and graceful waltz in the circle of spirit.

Olivia puts her other hand on the dragon's shoulder and allows herself to be pulled close, then moves into the dance just as the other creature does. "All right, but prepare yourself for some, ah, strange moments. Not to mention some sad ones, I suppose. Although I guess that depends on how far back we're going?"

"To where it began," the dragon says simply and the dance begins. To the observers, a shimmering curtain connects the upper and lower circles and on them … reflect major events in Olivia's life. It's like watching a disjoint dream that's running in reverse. In one moment, Olivia can be seen sitting with Djivan and joking about something ridiculous … then in the next she can be seen shivering in front of Valicross out in the forest with Gunther laying prone in the dirt nearby.

Too many emotions are running through the Skeek's mind for her to pay attention to any single one of them, so she just concentrates on twirling through the dance. Focus on the movement, not the scenes… after all, this is a show you've seen before…

And backwards it continues. Major moments of her life flash and turn around her. Soon she's seeing the moment when she was sent to the Weavers guild. Her father is hugging her goodbye … and her mother, is, well … not there. "You have never felt that you belonged," the dragon observes quietly as the pair dances. "No home to welcome you."

Something in Olivia's chest feels colder than the mixture Isolde smeared all over her body just a little while before. "That's true," she whispers, looking away from that moment of her life and into the dragon's slit-pupiled eyes. "Never since I was old enough to understand why my mother always screamed at me."

The dragon leans its head in and uses its snout to nudge the Skeek. "That is not your fault," it tells her, "You could not control the winds of fate. Do not continue to carry its weight. the loss of your sister was not something you caused." The images warp and shift around the Skeek once again. She sees her world as it was when she was maybe thee years old. She now remembers this … she ran into the woods near her home because her mother had been screaming at her. The young Olivia is curled up near a fallen stump and crying. And then the familiar prickle of the hairs on her neck begins again; the child can feel itself being watched.

Olivia sighs and smiles wanly up at her dance partner. "I know you are only trying to help, but… that is very easy to say. Much harder to do." She seems about to speak again when the new scene distracts her. "My goodness, this was so long ago… I barely remember it. What-?"

"As are all things in life. But ultimately the choice is yours on what weights you bear," her dance partner tells her as it pulls her closer, almost protectively close. The images around them ripple again and the young Olivia looks up. Peering out at her with white eyes is a baby troll. It pushes aside the brush and waddles towards the little girl.

Olivia enjoys the gentle nearness of the mage's familiar for a few precious moments before looking back into her own memory. "By the gods," she breathes, incredulous. "I've seen trolls before! All this time and I never even thought on it again… I didn't even recognize it as a troll when I saw one that night with Djivan!"

"Would you have known what it was at such a young age?" the dragon asks Olivia as it continues to hold her close. The troll in the images is now inches from the small Skeek. It reaches out with its clawed hand … and then very gently wipes the tears off Olivia's cheeks. It then actually chitters at her, then tugs at her hands.

Olivia leans against the dragon's chest now, her head on its free shoulder, but her eyes are fixed on what is happening before her. "No, I suppose not," she replies, smiling slightly. "Since my mother talked little to me, I didn't even hear those tales of trolls coming to take bad children away and replace them with their own."

The images around them seem to ripple and shift. It's as if several days pass. Each day, the young Olivia goes out and meets the tiny troll. They never actually talk … but somehow the small Skeek and the creature from the underground … have become friends. To the point that one time … the little troll actually leads Olivia somewhere deep in the woods … into a dark cave. There it raps its claws on the wall and looks at it expectantly.

"Hmm," is Isolde's only comment on the depicted encounter.

Olivia shakes her head against the dragon's shoulder, but does not lift it. "I still can't believe I haven't remembered any of this before now," she says, her voice filled with wonder. "I played with a troll. I was actually friends with one. Of course, my parents never found out because my father was always too busy and my mother didn't care. Of course… "

"Time erases much, Olivia," the dragon rumbles. In the vision, the wall rumbles and slides back … and from it stems … a monster: hulking and covered with loose skin, and with metallic spines jut from its body. Its spade-clawed hands sweep down and pick up the baby troll before it turns its glowing red eyes on the tiny Olivia. Its lips pull back and it hisses. Shrinking back, Olivia then turns and runs in horror from the cave. Behind her the little troll is chattering and wailing as it reaches after the retreating Skeek. On and on Olivia runs … until the little girl falls and hits her head hard on some stones that line the river. This part Olivia remembers, there was a time she was hurt pretty badly as a small child and had to be cared for by the witches for a week.

"It's just like Gunther told me," Olivia whispers to her dance partner. "When I walked in my sleep, he said that I went right to the place the little troll had shown me and knocked where it had knocked then. Now it makes sense."

The images shift again and time goes back even farther. Olivia can see her father, only younger. He's cradling a newborn small child in his arms … Olivia. As for her mother … she's sitting and staring out the window. Her eyes are locked on a small funeral pyre that is smoldering in their yard. Her face is streaked with tears.

At last, Olivia turns her head away from the images playing out in front of her and cries silent tears of her own. "I wish she hadn't died," she says, her tone flat and expressionless. "I would have liked to have a sister. Maybe my mother would have been happy then. Maybe things would have been better for all of us." Then, much more softly, she adds, "I still don't understand why I'm here and she's not. Or why one of us survived at all."

"Do not look for reasons, Olivia," Isolde replies. "Simple answers are only for children, not adults."

Olivia sighs and looks wistful. "Then I guess I'm not completely grown yet. I'm still looking for those simple answers. I wonder when I'm finally going to stop?"

"A lot of those who die deserve life. Many who live do not. Remember the lesson of Valicross. Life is not always fair and it is not within our power to always understand it. It is not simple. All we can do is live and make the best of what we are given," the dragon says as it pulls back a bit from Olivia and continues speaking without actually moving its lips. "I do not live either; I am a reflection of my creator and just a guide. I merely show you what you already knew inside. Perhaps part of you wished to be a troll because a small one was once your friend when you barely had a family … but such is not as it is now. Look around you. You have friends who have risked much for you. The town witch cares greatly for you, and you have friends like that Gunther, who tries to look out for you. You have a family if you only open your eyes enough to see it. You are no troll, just lonely."

This seems to take Olivia completely aback, as if she had never imagined that anyone could care so much about her. She also doesn't seem to know what to say… until she finally nods and forces out, "Yes. Thank you." Then she takes her hand off the dragon's shoulder and wipes quickly at her eyes. After another short silence, she manages to say, "So, um, what happens now?"

"Well, we don't have to shave you at least," Isolde comments, and hands the physical Olivia a washrag to rub off the menthol with.

"That … is for you to decide. I have shown you the past. Only you can decide your future," the dragon says. When his hands leave hers, she feels herself tugged back to the cauldron and the strange, split view of the world snaps back to only one. "Good journeys to to you," the dragon utters as it's final words. Its body then disperses into a shower of sparkling lights that fall to the floor and flash, then fade away like melted snow. Outside the circle, Natasha is standing with her eyes closed, Her right hand is extended out with her palm upward, and fingers curled into a fist.

It takes the Skeek a little time to get her bearings again, but when she does, she takes the rag from Isolde and begins scrubbing her face with it first. When all of the goop is gone from that part of her body, she tells the witch, "Thank you." From her tone, however, it is obvious that she is thanking her for more than just the rag. As she works on her hands next, she calls to Natasha, "Are you all right?"

"Mmm?" Natasha inquires as her eyes crack open slowly. "Oh, I am fine. A little tired, perhaps, but nothing a cup of tea would not right. Did you get the answers you sought?"

"At least in this, you have a simple answer, Olivia," Isolde says. "Seeing your childhood playmate again triggered your dream and sleepwalking."

Olivia rinses the last of the stuff from her hands as she considers this. "To my initial questions, yes. And to a few others I had not thought to ask. Looking into my memories and pairing this with what happened to me does bring up a few new ones, however." At Isolde's comment, she looks over at her, surprised. "Do you think that really was the same troll I played with when I was little? It looked like another baby to me and I'm older than that… well, in years, anyway. Of course, I don't know how quickly or slowly trolls age, either."

"They don't age, nor are they born," Isolde says. "They are not living creatures in the sense that you and I are."

"Then I am glad to have been of help," Natasha says with a smile.

The smile Olivia gives the Khatta is bright and full of relief. "I'm glad I have someone like you I can come to for help," she replies. Then she quirks an eyebrow at the witch and asks next, "Then how are they created? And if they come into this world as a babies, does that mean they'll stay as babies forever?"

"Don't thank just me. Isolde helped craft this ritual. It is as much her as I," Natasha notes as she returns to her seat in the corner and settles down.

"Nobody knows how they are created, if indeed they are created," Isolde says, and picks up the shift for Olivia to put on, even though she'll still be wet. "They've just… always been here."

Olivia finishes scrubbing all of the goo from every part of herself (even from the more private parts – thank goodness the water isn't clear anymore!) and stands up in the cauldron, then scrambles out. She takes the shift from Isolde with another smile and pulls it over her head. When she has it on, she says, "You see? I told you I had more questions now. But I'm going to arrange to see Dr. Pike and hopefully take Amy with me. I don't know if talking to her will clear anything else up, but all I can do is try. Although," she continues, and her face becomes serious again, "having such a vivid dream that caused me to sleepwalk so far still has me worried. Maybe I need to ask Gunther to keep an eye on me now? Well, more of an eye on me than usual, I guess!"

After a bit of rest, Natasha gets back to her feet and then uses a cloth to clean up her ritual circle.

"If your fur turns blue tomorrow, come back and I'll give you some special soap," Isolde notes, and frowns slightly at the notion of talking to Dr. Pike. "That madwoman in the castle and her for'n ways shouldn't be trusted, Olivia."

"And yet you trust mine," Natasha points out from where she's wiping up the chalk dust. "Answers may come from the most unusual places."

Olivia very bravely squeezes the witch's hand. "Believe me, I'm not about to build my own spooky castle and hire a creepy assistant anytime soon," she says gently. "As Natasha says, it's only information that I seek from her. And she has been to places and done things that we have no knowledge about. So perhaps she can help."

"You've proven yourself trustworthy, Natasha," Isolde points out. "You aren't holed up in some castle collectin' weird critters and making veggies that fight back."

"That is a point," Natasha has to concede. "Perhaps Dr. Pike would feel more welcome and willing to talk to others about her life if she were invited to dinner here by the town leaders… "

"You're welcome to have her over to the gypsy camp," Isolde offers with a grin. "She'll talk your ear off though, unless Erik is there. They both got that babbling nonsense disease… "

Turning back to Olivia, Isolde says, "And if you do see anything suspicious in that castle o' hers, you tell me, got it?"

Natasha quirks a wry grin. "She considers me uneducated. That much was obvious at the recent events when she would only talk with Zhu Ye," she notes.

"You could always take up gardening," the witch suggests. "She'd talk to ya about that. And you'll probably need to learn it anyway, now that your man has his head on straight again."

Olivia bobs a quick curtsy to Isolde – well, as best she can in the shift she's wearing. "Yes, ma'am," she says cheerily. "If I see anything I think is a threat, I will let you know about it. Otherwise, Dr. Pike has the right to privacy, too. Yes?"

"Hmph," Natasha comments with an amused grin.

"Everyone has that right, Olivia," Isolde agrees, and then lifts a finger, "so long as they don't try to keep secrets from witches!"