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In the very center of the Lost Clans reserve is where the Head Priestess Medea can be seen, most often cloistered inside. The fragrant smell of the pyre wafts all around the tent, and to the side, a small Arpakassu pen, with a bunch of the minipets waffling around.

The head priestess waits inside, patiently, most likely in Trance. She will have to be quietly disturbed. The tent canvas closes heavily behind, as if blocking off all other visitors

"All those that seek guidance are welcome here," Medea slowly opened her eyes, still seated half-kneeling. She smiled, nodding to Roch. "And as long as you find me, I will answer. Now child, what troubles you to request my presence?"

She gave Roch a somewhat comforting smile, beckoning him even closer with one hand. "Come, child, there is no need fear your potential allies. I understand your feelings, your need to for revenge, but this is a choice, a path you must make. I can give you what you seek, I can give you power, to strike out at those who have hurt you, your friends, all that you care for, but in return I ask for silence and loyalty. We, the Lost Clans, are more powerful united, together as a single force. You seek revenge, power from me, now, can you prove to me your trust in us?"

She pointed at the altar, the pyre next to her, burning with a brilliant blue flame. "Do you trust me still, if I told you that the only way to gain power, revenge, was to place your hand in those flames as a trial?"

He had wanted to come here right away, but something had held him back, something that felt a lot like fear, the plain old lowercase kind. West didn't like feeling afraid.

The first several hours he had spent alone with his brand he had simply stared at it, as if he half expected it to flare to life and demand he do a jig or sacrifice fifty piggles to a room full of horsemen or something far more sinister. If he hadn't been too paranoid to notice in the first place, West might have given some thought to the fact that the mark felt... "off," for lack of a better term, but the sight of the thing made getting past its usual significance impossible. To be honest, he didn't even know if horseman marks held the same meaning as demonic ones, but he'd had more than enough experience with contracts that hadn't gone the way he had planned to comfortably tolerate this new and blatant reminder of possible servitude.

After that first day, he'd taken to unconsciously scratching the sensitive skin at the inside of his elbow. He hadn't thought it possible to shred flesh so thoroughly with the pathetic stubs of a chronic nail biter, but apparently anything was possible. At least the bandages kept the thing out of sight for now.

West looked up at Medea's tent. He had the feeling someone was in there right now from the way it was all closed up, and he so desperately wanted to be on his best behavior at the moment. No barging. No yelling. He dug his teeth into his lower lip for a second, then turned to Levi.

"Y'ready?"

"Ah, that is quite a story is it not?" Medea dismissed the flames with a wave of her hand, seating herself down politely again, quietly. "Now that we have given you your allies back and the power you wanted, you would rather sit and wait behind the seats, a coward. That too is fine, it is a path of your choice and only yours. Now, consider the mark a reminder of a promise left unfulfilled, when you truly owe us nothing then I will remove your debt to our clans."

She shifted again; just slightly. "This goes for all those who took the promise and betrayed it, you were given an option and are you thus saying you are exempt from your own choices?"

Medea's voice was suddenly clear enough to understand from where they stood, and the demon froze in place as he listened to her speak of betrayal and promises. As Roch brushed past them and left without a backward glance, West hurried into the tent, a rare look of utter panic on his face. It couldn't be true.

His flimsy veneer of calm wavered and cracked.

"No. No no no no no! There wasn't any deal. There was jus' fire. Fire an' a hole. How were we s'posed t'save anyone without walkin' through th'damn fire? That's'not a choice! It's jus'... how t'get where we needed t'go! Y'never said anythin' 'bout a promise. Y'never said this was gonna happen. Y'said..." His face scrunched up for a moment as if he might burst into tears, but instead West ripped at his bandage, scratching at the newly exposed skin until a few of the scabs broke open again. He took a series of hitching breaths, staring straight ahead until he could play at being normal. This was not how he had imagined this would go.

He wanted to ask what it would take, right now, to be rid of it, but he couldn't force himself to form the words for fear of what they might cost him. His gaze flicked in Levi's direction, but he didn't turn to look directly at her. "At least get ridda hers." If it came to it, he would ask for the tatzel. Between the mark and that trance, this pony b***h had hurt them both more than any hunter in the history of ever.

Huh? Roch's discussion with the horsewoman revealed exactly what Levi had considered to be the worst case scenario: Medea wasn't going to remove their marks. As she entered the tent, following after an understandably wrath-feuled demon, the ghoul would find the priestess sitting rather comfortably, unaffected by her previous visitor's words.

Levi's eyes widened in terror at seeing West's reaction. Before she could say anything, he began frantically tearing away at his wrappings and then at himself. With a hiss between gritted teeth, Levi reached out to grab the wrist of the demon so he'd stop, only to gain a glance from West as she did so. This had the instantaneous and miraculous ability to stop Levi in her tracks and revert her expression back to one of neutrality somehow. West was angry enough for the both of them clearly. He really must have been through something else... The tatzel pulled her hand back and watched the horsewoman instead, looking for a change after seeing the boil. Medea remained seated, only a hint of a smile visibly peaking.

At hearing West's offer at her side, Levi's head turned back towards the wrath demon abruptly. WHAT? NO! How could you? You can't! Shush!!! In that moment, it was a mix of anger and fear greater than her bearing a mark on her skin could have mustered. The mere thought of such a deal being made was unacceptable; she'd never allow it. Levi began to think of scenarios. If she had to slice off her tail to set him free...

... the ghoul shivered, unable to continue through the various possibilities here. He didn't mean that. Boil just ain't thinkin' right. That's tha'mark talkin'. Levi placed a fanned out hand behind West's back, all the while looking towards Medea and trying to relax her expression again. It was firm and her nails secured spots on the fabric of his shirt; she was trying to keep him quiet. Obviously Medea was not taking to his brand of reasoning, and the tatzel most certainly wouldn't stand here and hear about how he was willing to sacrifice himself in her place. Hush, West. Jack dangit. They needed to leave. Whatever had been said previously before they got there, it wasn't helping their case. C'mon, West. Let's go. Levi gave the boil a stern glance, pleading that he drop whatever else he had lined up to say in his head to the priestess. They needed to think more on this. Perhaps she'd be more willing if they could approach this from another angle; they just needed to find out how. Levi looked down at West's arm, easing her fingers off his back and placing them on his upper arm and clutching onto him so he'd follow.

Speaking to someone of such great importance was one of the most intimidating things Shine had ever done. She lingered at the entrance to the head priestess's residence, distracting herself with the cute little minipets for far too long as she worked up the confidence to step inside.

The first time she opened her mouth, no sound came out, stifled by fright and uncertainty. Her brows knit together and she wrung her hands, rocking from bare heels to toes to heels before she tried again.

"Excuse me, but, I...um. My friend Aymet knows you, and thought that you could help me. And...and that I could help you." She anxiously picked at a chalky candy on her bracelet, breaking it and sending it falling to the ground beside her. "He's never been wrong, but...is he right?"