~~Otrera~~
Patrius showed up come dawn, as promised, as did the three men. No bandages on his skin this time, not after Chimera explained it didn't help much. Once Otrera and her companions had taken a whiff of Athena's gift, they set out into the night.
Sneaking around at night was much easier with Athena's special jar of whatever to wash away the curse. She didn't like it, smelling something odorless to free her mind of some sorceress's curse. It was a lot of talk, conjecture, a lot of mysticism and magics and goddesses interfering with the things she understood: swords and flesh. She couldn't sink her weapon into a curse, she couldn't fight off magic with a shield, and she couldn't kill a god or even really defend herself from one.
It took a lot of faith to go with the flow, and trust Darian. Well, she did trust him, loath though she was to admit it. The memories of her battle sisters, her family and friends dying at his sword, it'd all taken on a new context in light of their conversations. Tragedies, and she lamented them all, but the blame she put on Darian started to fade with each passing day. They'd died in battle against a demigod, and there was no shame in that.
And if Ares was the vile and vain creature Chimera painted him as, she couldn't care less about attempting to please his desires anymore.
Gallea was sleeping in their hideaway. It was night, and the satyr was of more used to them in the day. He hadn't found anything out the day before, just that everyone in the city was frightened and refused to say why. If the city had been Amazons, everyone would have resisted the curse, and died in battle. Better that than becoming a sacrifice.
After the four of their group each took a deep breath of the jar, hopefully enough to last the night, they split. Patrius and his friends went toward the city center, and Otrera and Darian followed. Medusa and Chimera left for the city outskirts, where they would lure more manticore to their deaths. It reeked of risk. They didn't know how closely Andromeda followed her pets, how much information the cats could report, or if she even knew any had died. Perhaps the spell worked on its own, while Andromeda's mind was elsewhere? It'd be lucky if it did, and the four could operate without worry of being discovered. Luck didn't seem to be their strong suit.
The old soldier patted Otrera and Darian on the shoulder, nodded to each with a stern eye, and headed out onto the street. His companions weren't so solid, and they shivered and shook as they glanced around in the black, at the two Fate's Children, and then to the back of their savior. They followed him, and Otrera followed them. The four men knew the city, while she and Darian did not.
Relying on strangers. She didn't take well to that. Darian didn't take well to that. But at least Patrius seemed a trustworthy fellow, sort of. A nice man, but a slave to Athena's will. The two didn't necessarily go hand in hand, and every time the man had glanced Medusa's way, Otrera had been ready to cut his head off.
Outside, the cold fog continued to roll over the buildings and streets. The bazaar stalls were abandoned, the roads were quiet, and the sky began to cloud over. Seeing at night in the fog was hard enough, but as gray washed over the moon and starlight, keeping track of anyone or anything grew more difficult. It got to the point she was holding onto the tunic of the man in front of her, and Darian was holding one of the leather straps that dangled from the waist of her armor.
It was a large city, larger than Tiryns. Buildings rose tall, walls of white stone and pillars of marble. The outskirts of the city, the smaller homes, they were built with mudbrick and wood. But as they fell deeper and deeper into the tide of roofs and columns, everything changed into a colossal array of white. Temples with towering columns that held enormous roofs of alabaster, pillars ten feet wide that circled the temples, and opened before stairways as wide as the temples themselves. In Tiryns, there would be at least a few guards patrolling with torches out, and a civilian or two. These streets were as lifeless as the stone that walled them, barring the occasional large feline.
It amazed Otrera that the curse had gone so long without notice from outsiders and traders. But if Andromeda could affect people's minds with the curse, perhaps she could do more? The resistance had mentioned they'd heard her name before, but long ago and only in passing. But they'd heard it in the acropolis, and that meant someone of at least mild importance. Perhaps Andromeda could affect people's memories?
She shivered, and rubbed her arms. A scary thought indeed, but hopefully Athena's protection would extend to such sorcery as well.
Noise. The men ahead ducked into one of the temples, up the stairs and behind the huge pillars. She followed, back aching with the constant crouching, and she relished the moment to get to her knees and relax the muscles as they hid.
Claws scraped against stone, and the quiet growl of feline carnivores rumbled over the intense quiet of the city. This deep into the walls and buildings, the already quiet animal life was silenced, and sound of the prowling cats was obvious. Good for her merry band of resistance fighters, but it also meant any noise they made, the manticore were likely to hear.
Not just cat growls though, but sandals too. She stuck her head out from behind the pillar of the temple, kept her head low to the floor, and peered into the fog. The cats were walking by, and their silhouettes were blurs of limbs and raised scorpion tail. But behind them walked two more things, human shaped, with spears in one hand and a torch in the other.
Light flickered over the columns, and giant shadows merged into the heavy fog. As long as the six of them stayed within the temple and behind its columns, they should be fine. Should. If the cats got curious and sniffed them out, they'd have to get creative, fast.
The cats continued on, but the soldiers with torches came closer. Two of them, clutching spears at the ready, emerged from the fire-lit mist, and came toward the steps of the temple.
Hoplite armor, but colored gold and stained red. As if an army of golden warriors beneath an ocean of blood had risen from its depths. She half expected to see blood stains where their sandals fell. One slow step after another, the two soldiers approached the stairway, and raised their torches. Their faces were hidden black, and their eyes glowed red from the shadow that hid their features. Great, more things with glowing eyes. Where hoplite armor left the arms and legs exposed, the skin could not be seen. A strange obsidian coated their limbs beneath the armor, but also did not. Otrera tried to focus her eyes on where their skin should be, but the odd blackness did not hold her gaze, and try as she might to capture it in her vision, her gaze fell away from it like trying to focus on shades of darkness in an ocean depth.
She dared not swallow, or breathe more than the faintest wisp, and her companions did the same. A single sound meant a battle, and a battle now meant failure if anyone found out.
So she stayed still, quiet as the dead, and body pressed to the column like a second skin. Don't look to Darian, don't look to Patrius. Stay absolutely still, and they'll move on.
Eternity would have taken less time than each breath she took, but as she started to grow lightheaded with her shallow breathing, the two faceless, red-eyed guards nodded to each other, and moved on to follow their manticore escort. Once their torches were just orange blurs against distant fog, she let out a long sigh, and slid over to Darian.
