Like the others, Lilac has been blessed with a little free time, affording her an opportunity to scratch the itch at the back of her mind… amidst all the talk of secret societies, far flung locations, and strange artifacts, the nature of her 'condition' continues to nag at her. Hearing of Sylvania again seems to serve as a bitter reminder of her curse, but Jervis the Curator kindly offered to do what research he could, as Sylvania was something of a specialty of his.

Enough time has passed for Mr. Tinsnip to regain access to his office in the historical banquet hall. Though the place is still something of a mess, order slowly returns to it, and most things are at least right-side up and organized, if not exactly fixed. The afternoon finds Lilac sharing tea with the Rath'ani in his office as he goes over some of his findings.

Lilac has managed to scrounge up a second-hand (the merchant claimed it was "lovingly used" by a "nice old human woman") hooded cloak with a purple flower pattern, along with some uncharacteristically baggy clothing. The clothing, she explained, was to keep her costs down whenever she inevitably transforms and rips her clothing to shreds. This outfit, she recently acquired, might at least survive. She sits across from the Rath'ani now, hands and tail in her lap. She fiddles with the tip of her tail, smiling and trying to think positive.

"Thank you for having me, Mr. Tinsnip. I know many wouldn't want to, well, keep company with someone in my condition," Lilac tells the man.

The raccoon waves a paw nonchalantly, his other occupied with a book he holds by the spine. "Oh, not at all. You'll forgive me if I say this, but I find it quite fascinating, really. I know it must be no fun for you, but Sylvania never fails to keep amazing me. Much of what I know is ancient history, family lines and so forth, so to see things associated with relatively recent events is interesting to me." He opens his book, and begins thumbing through the pages at an unhurried pace, more like he was browsing than looking for something specific. "I say 'recent', but of course, this is something more removed by a generation or two. It has to do with the Necromancer Wars."

"It does?" Lilac says, blinking. Her head tilts and she twists her lips, nodding. "I suppose a lot does, come to think of it. Ummm," she gestures at herself, especially at her ears and tail, "I'm glad this is interesting for you, anyway. I, well, I suppose it is interesting for me – I mean, didn't I want danger and mystery? – but, it's rather frightening, too. Plus, I keep forgetting I have these … appendages. I get my wings caught in doorways, and I sat on my tail more times than I can count. Plus, I can't … " She suddenly blushes, then shakes her head. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I'm a bit nervous – I've never really talked about this to anyone."

"Understandable, dear girl," says Jervis. He sympathetically adds a lump of sugar to Lilac's teacup with a small pair of tongs, his other hand never once leaving the book. He seems to arrive at the page he was looking for, and his eyes flick back and forth over the text. "Ah, yes, here we go. Now, you're familiar with the Ravenness, correct?"

"Yes, she was a noteworthy noble and she figures in to a lot of tragic songs," Lilac replies. She reaches over and picks up her cup, giving the man a smile for the sugar lump, then takes a sip before adding, "A Korv woman, larger than most. A very sad story, but Sylvania has a lot of sad stories." She settles her cup on her lap, half encircled by her tail.

The scholar nods. "Yes, exactly. Well, just as the common folk suffered, many noble families were devastated during the Necromancer Wars. Magic doesn't make class distinctions, you see, and few people are prepared to deal with it. Most people studied in this bit of history know that the Ravenness managed to effectively defend her keep while her husband went forth to do battle."

"Despite our history, mages and their ilk aren't all that common to our lands. I think the Collegia finds my homeland to be too poor to really consider, and there's a certain reputation, but … " Lilac laughs softly, shaking her head. "BUT, you know all this, don't you? I'm sorry, I can't open my mouth without telling a story. Please continue."

Tinsnip shares the laugh, shaking his head. He takes up his own teacup for a sip, still holding his book with the other paw. "No no, this is open discourse, Miss Lilac. Feel perfectly free to comment or ask questions. Now then, as I'm sure you're aware, the House Pieksveldt eventually fell, not due to attrition from the war, but because news of Raven Magsbed Pieksveldt, the Lord Rook, reached home. He had disappeared, along with his retinue, and it was presumed he was slain. Though the family kept it a private affair, it is said that the Raveness' spirit was broken, and she passed away soon after, ironically not long before the war finally ended."

Lilac nods, then nods again. "Yes, it's her tragic love lost that's the core to most songs, stories, and legends about her. Some say her broken heart somehow ended the war, that she haunted the combatants and berated them for what they took from her. Others say she died so that her spirit might walk with his, through the swamps of all eternity. The Lament of the Raven is a song about her tragic waiting, tying in to an overall theme of lost loved ones. I guess you could say she became a symbol of loss, during a time of many losses," Lilac relates. "Or, that's what I believe, anyway. But, does this have anything to do with me? I do like the story, but, well, … " she shrugs a little, " … some stories are more important than others?"

"Ah, here's where I think you may be most interested," says Tinsnip, licking his fingertip and flipping a few more pages. He searches for a bit, then says, "Most people focus on how the ordeal ended, and the tragic story of lost love and a family in decline. Few go into detail about the effectiveness and tenacity of the Ravenness' defense, beyond noting how driven she was to keep the castle safe for Magsbed's return. Many assumed conventional, if ferocious, means. Indeed, she did employ crafty tactics around the swamp, use of her servants and small personal army, the advantages of flight, and so forth. However, some accounts speculate she may have used more desperate means. It's been noted that the viciousness of Margaret's defense kept everyone away, regardless of side. Rumors of a curse surrounding House Pieksveldt's land flew for a while. Whether it was the rumor or an actual curse that kept people at bay, it's not well understood, but few ventured there and returned, before and after the Raveness' death, even after the Gallis occupation." With a snap, the Rath'ani closes his book. "There are two things about this that concern you."

Lilac sits up a bit as the Rath'ani goes on, almost tipping her cup over in her lap. She scrambles to catch it, deciding to hold it in her hand rather than let it lay where it was, least she spill it to a later revelation. "Dark means? Do you mean … necromancy? Or … Sorcery?" Her head tilts the other way, and her ears splay. "It's sad to say that our country – and it IS a country! – is hardly devoid of necromancers and sorcerers. And, curses, which I think may be where I fit in?"

"That is indeed where you fit in," the Rath'ani says, setting the book aside. "What I learned comes from the Museum's network of scholars, a bit of correspondence sent back and forth by rapid means. As you know, we find, research, and keep safe items of the weird ways. One such item I've learned of is a tapestry that was supposedly made to commemorate the Raveness' life and tenacity at the beginning of the war, and was to be finished once they had triumphed over adversity. It was finished, but had to depict her decline and death. We think it also depicted how the Raveness kept her keep, including the nature of her more unconventional measures. It is said to describe many black shapes, not all Korv."

Lilac's eyes widen. "Many black shapes? You mean, like me?" Her ears shoot up, and she lifts a hand to forestall the man. "I mean, the other me, not me me. I don't want to give the impression I'm, well … "She gives a sigh and lets her hand fall. "Well, I don't know, really. Um, anyway … " she taps her cup with a nail a moment, frowning as she looks down in concentration, then she suddenly looks up. "I think I see a pattern, Mr. Tinsnip. Please continue?"

The scholar shrugs, looking a bit apologetic. "I wish I could be more specific, but the tapestry is described to us indirectly. Dark figures, Korv and… other. We may never know, because if it still exists, it would be within Castle Pieksveldt, and it isn't safe to approach. But at least this alludes to something that could be related to your condition." He leans forward, tapping his index finger on his desk. "The other thing of note is that there is someone in Rephidim who supposedly tried to approach the Raveness' keep. I wouldn't have guessed, it was a matter of coincidence that I heard of him."

"Really?" Lilac leans forward as well, ears perking again. "He isn't crazy, is he? Because that sounds downright crazy."

Jervis looks a little taken aback. "Well, he… erm… " He threads his fingers together on his desk, and sighs. "Yes. Yes, he's crazy. Rather disheveled fellow. He ranges between harmless and disreputable, just another or society's overlooked, or so we thought. He's known in the seedier places as the Whippit, but the Temple guard I was speaking to revealed to me he's a Gallisian by the name of Renee DuBlanc. He had some means when he came here, but drank them away and deteriorated rapidly."

"I was afraid of that," Lilac says, leaning back. "So, you said he got near the castle, did he? Is he … cursed, like I am? Or, wait-" the woman blinks, tilting her head. "What WOULD a cursed Gallisian LOOK like? I mean, I already vaguely resemble a Jupani, and the canines tend to look similar, so … I mean … I'm babbling again." She smiles a little, giving another shrug.

The raccoon shakes his head, settling back into his chair and having another sip of tea. "Oh, no. His curse is madness, drunkenness, or both."

Lilac nods slowly. "Well, that's a relief." A pause, and her ears wilt. When did 'madness and drunkenness' become a relief in my life, anyway? She shakes her head, and smiles again. "In a way, I was almost hoping to meet someone … um, like myself. Then again, maybe I wouldn't, not if he … changed. So, can I meet with this man?"

Jervis sets his jaw a little. "That'd be up to you," he says reluctantly. "I wouldn't really advise it… he's generally seen in the nastier places of town, Darkside occasionally. It's no place for a flower like you."

Lilac suddenly laughs, jostling her cup. "Oh, you ARE a charmer, Mr. Tinsnip!" She chuckles a bit more, shaking her head and even wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry," she breathes, "that's both the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long while, and, yet, it's really rather amusing, considering some of the taverns I've played in." She smiles, then reaches over and pats the man's hand. "Is it really that bad? I've played for sailors, mercenaries in Jadai, slavers from Abu Dhabi … I know, I know, I bill myself as a flower, but flowers grow a lot of places."

The middle-edged Rath'ani swivels his ears. "Ah, forgive me. I didn't mean to imply you are helpless. Rather, Darkside isn't just some rough place for sailors. It's truly wretched, a place for the deviant and desperate, for predators of the worst kind. There is no honest trade in Darkside, miss. Not even the fires years ago could burn away the ne'er-do-wells that infests the place. It's full of thieves, murderers, and worse."

"I guess it's worse than I thought, but still: how will I know what he knows, if I don't go to him? To be honest, I don't even know how to use a sword. I usually just, well, avoid attention. I've had a lot of practice, what with waking up nake- er … Being an adventuresome bard." Like stares intently in to her tea cup. "Or, could we bring him to us?"

Tinsnip rubs the back of his neck. "I don't see how we would get him here. I don't mean to sound callous, but I don't really want to risk Curators there. I'm sorry, you should probably just forget I mentioned the Whippet."

"Oh. Of course." Not likely. "Well, since that's a miss, should I relate my ideas on this whole mess? Or, at least how the Raveness and myself may figure in to the plans of the secret society. Um, the other secret society."

A hand gestures with a half-emptied cup of tea. "To the Cinders? By all means, Miss Lilac," says Jervis.

Lilac nods, then puts her cup aside as she stands up. All this sitting, lately, has made her antsy. Her tail flicks as she begins to pace, gesturing as she makes her points. "Well, we know the Society of Cinders attempt to gain some sort of power that turned people in to animals, but failed. We know they had animal people. We also know they're not interested in two areas near locations that involve animal-like people. Now," she pauses dramatically, "aren't the Guardians, or their … minions, black? And, didn't the Raveness employ dark figures? The song hinted, and other material suggested, that she had 'become emptiness.' Soooo … " another dramatic pause, "I think the Raveness found it, or part of it. I think she somehow found what it is the Society of Cinders wants in Sylvania, something that maybe curses people, something, maybe, even tied to the Guardians and their mysterious artifacts."

"Hm!" The Rath'ani steeples his fingers thoughtfully. "It's true that the documents procured mentioned the area, and the legends… " He brings his fingers up to a point, twiddling them together. "Miss Lilac, I think you may be on to something."

"Oh! So you don't think it's a overly dramatic patchwork quilt of coincidences?" Lilac pauses, looking back. "I thought it might be, but then, I also think it could be true. Fantastic, but true! Of course, we have entered the realm of the truly dramatic, as it is." She walks back and picks up her cup, needing a sip after her long explanation.

Jervis rests his chin on his knuckles. "Well, I think some of the speculation may be a bit premature. But the idea that the legends, rumors of this curse, and what the Cinders are after are related don't seem so far fetched, now that you mention it. I suppose I'm rather glad you came to me with your plight, it's given us a new perspective on this business."

"I'm glad my curse can help someone, if I'm to have it." Lilac smiles a little, tilting her head in that oddly canine way she does. "I … Well, I suppose it's not that bad. It did save La … Kinny, didn't it? And Gibson too … Maybe, even me. I mean, I wish I didn't end up who-knows-where, and I'm not sure I haven't done something horrible – I'm not sure I WANT to know if I have! But, I guess … Glass half full?" She smiles a little more. "I just, I wish I could remember, from here on out. I wish I could control it, even if I'm afraid of being conscious when it happens."

The Rath'ani touches his arches fingers to his lips thoughtfully. "I see. Well, if these are truly one and the same, then obviously the Raveness found value in the curse, however bitter it may have been. I'd say your path, at least directionally, seems clear."

"Back to Sylvania, then," Lilac says with a soft sight. "I had been hoping to avoid returning, but it's where I need to go, now. I don't need to stay long, I suppose, and I won't meet anyone I know in occupied Sylvania, right?" She then wags her tail a little, to show she's okay.

Jervis takes another sip of tea. "Certainly not near Castle Pieksveldt, I shouldn't think."

"So, it'll be perfectly fine," Lilac says in a tone suggesting she's trying to convince herself it will be fine. "Just fine. No one I know needs to know what happened to me." With a nod, she slumps back in her chair and takes a sip. "Mr. Tinsnip, you've studied the old legends, do you have any idea why I change? Or, if it can be controlled at all? I don't need to tell you that waking up in an alley with mystery blood in your mouth is not the most uplifting thing."

The raccoon finishes draining his tea, and sets the cup down on the service tray. "Why you change would be up to the creator or phenomenon that originated the curse. It's powerful magic, my dear, and so its rarity will tend to mean that each case will be different. That said, there's all kinds of stories about transformative creatures, and we've seen cases of it. If there is a way to make the change, it stands to reason there's a way to control it."

"But, do you know of a way, Mr. Tinsnip?" Lilac asks, ears perking. "Anything? At all?"

Tinsnip shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Lilac, I wouldn't personally know. You would need a mage of considerable ability to truly understand the mechanics of it, and he might need more information than we have."

"I guess I hit the 'jackpot' in magical curses. I'm such an interesting bard, aren't I." Lilac laughs, if somewhat ruefully. "Well, you've helped me a great deal, Mr. Tinsnip. Is there any way I can help you?"

The Rath'ani smiles in a fatherly way, and lifts the teapot to pour himself and his guest another cup each. "You're already helping me… us, really, by helping Gibson and Anisa. I hope that in finding what we seek, you find what you seek."

"To what we seek, then. May we all find it," Lilac toasts, holding her cup out for refilling and leaving it for the man to clink.

Steam wafts up from the now brimming cups, and with a clink of china, the scholar agrees, "May we find what we seek."

"Um, this is going to sound … odd … but, Mr. Tinsnip? Would the Museum, well, I can't be caught like this, so … could you, um … You know." Lilac reaches up, tugs at the neck of her blouse, and points at her collar. "It would be … good? … if, er, people thought I … er … belong to … someone, ah, important." The last few words come out as a mumble, Lilac glancing off and reddening furiously.

The Rath'ani's bushy eyebrows pinch together over his raccoon mask. "Are you saying you wish to be identified as being possessed by someone?"

"Uhh, only as the beast! I mean, if I'm caught, or something, it would be good if someone could help me before I change back in front of everyone. Or, worse, killed!" Lilac stares intently at the wall, too embarrassed to look at the man. "The Museum is influential, isn't it? Many important members? I mean, if I were caught … I can't save myself … Guards don't hold swords for animals … "

Realization dawns on Jervis. "Oh! Oh, well… I see what you mean. Well, the Museum is extensive, but for our own reasons we aren't an officially recognized organization. We have influential members, but we don't exert influence. If you wish, I can see if there's someone of means who'll … erm, have custody placed in their name. I should think you'd prefer it be someone you know, however. Kin or Gibson perhaps. Who do you plan to go to Sylvania with?"

"Perhaps the Snowshoes? But, I don't want to burden them, I mean, they've been nice enough to let me stay even after we all knew about my condition. Maybe Gibson, but, he, um." Lilac suddenly giggles, then shakes her head. "Well. He'd be fine. Kin may be, too, but it would be best if attention weren't brought to her, you know? Kin needs to stay out of the light, if you know what I mean. As for who, we're still deciding."

The raccoon nods, and begins sugaring his new cup of tea. "I can keep my eye out, Miss Lilac, but I think you'd be best served with them. Should something happen, I don't know that any of our people will be in a position to come for you."

Lilac lowers her head and nods slowly. "I, I understand. I thought I'd better … ask, just in case you could. Uncertainty is my lot in life, but," she smiles, "that's what makes it interesting, isn't it?" She sips her tea, then looks up. "I'd best be off, then. There is something I should do, and I need to go clothing shopping again. I don't suppose you know of a cheap tailor that can make curse-resistant clothing?"

Jervis doesn't look unsympathetic, but he just shrugs helplessly. "I wish you the best." He smiles, and adds, "We scholarly sorts tend to like robes… comfortable and simple, no fussy fitting. That's about the extent of my expertise. You might try your luck in the bazaar with sashes and such… the himaarians tend to wear loose clothing that might suit."

"Robes. That's not a half-bad idea. Thank you, Mr. Tinsnip." Lilac stands, placing her cup down before walking over to offer the man her hand. "You've been very good to us, for all the trouble we are. If you ever need my help, just look for me: Lilac, the Flower of Sylvania."

Jervis stands as well to accept the hand and escort Lilac from his office. "I understand you were there on the night those thugs nearly got me, helping Gibson and Kin. I'm only too happy to offer what limited assistance I can. Take care, Miss Lilac."

"I, I was, I was. It's a shame you missed me, you could have gotten to see what I, um, the beast, looked like," Lilac explains. At the door, she gives the man a little wave, smiles, and says, "Be well, Mr. Tinsnip!" before departing, tail wagging all the way.