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Owner	Pose
Marigold	Lycia, March of Laus, near the River Tuscana      The Town of Brioude      This is the first proper Lycian town you've seen. "It's usually much nicer," Hector had said- and it is. The warpgate on the hilltop outskirts even has a dirt path.      The sun shines brightly down on pale-masonry buildings infiltrated with vines and mosses, sometimes two or three stories tall as they crowd the cobbled streets. The cheery-bright sun shines through cool clear air, kissing skin with warmth and warbling off hand-blown glass windows. It's small enough to have just one distinct square, centered on a fountain and ringed around with stores and stalls. Winding strees slope down a hillside from there to the fishing-piers on the river.      The mind knows it's been a week's journey here. To the heart, though, it feels obscene that you can't still smell Araphen's ash. How can the people here mill so casually? How can they wear bright colors? Shouldn't they be scared? Don't they realize the world's been turned upside-down?      The members of Roy's army feel the same way. It's communicated in their glances to each other, then barely submerged as they go about their shopping.      Lucius sits out on an apothecary's front step with his children, wearing formal priestly garb with a staff across his lap. A handful of ill townsfolk crowd around, and he counsels them one-by-one. Roy and the archer, Wolt are window-shopping outside a cobbler's store, with the former looking uncomfortable; Marcus and a bandaged Dieck can be glimpsed through the window of a smithy buying weapons; Shanna and Dieck's two axe-toting toughs loiter outside, swapping stories.      Just across the way, Lance and Alen the red-green junior knights rest on the fountain's lip, still recuperating from minor wounds. Guinivere and Hector chat with grave expressions next to a food stall while Merlinus resposibly does the actual provisioning; the Princess is clad in plainer, less gilded red robes to draw less attention, and has left her gold circlet behind.      She's the first one to wave the group of Elites over, inviting whoever has a head for whatever-nobles-talk-about to join her. But she won't need everyone. You're free to see whoever's company invites you most, or run your own errands.      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6F8jy1pXBnk
Angela	Tennant hasn't actually returned to L Corp since the last visit, having been stationed 'longterm' with Roy's army in case any surprises hit them while the bulk of the Elites were gone. Hokma reasoned that it would be better to at least have one Agent lurking around and with Ceri having just checked into the medical facility Lilian asked her to--it would be a bad look if she wasn't even there a week before she went on another mission. As this one seems to not really be a mission at all--it's just Tennant today with Hokma or Angela overseeing periodically--though in this exact moment, it's just Tennant. They sit near Guinivere and Hector and say, "Sir Hector, can I show you something? Curious about your thoughts as an Outsider." They tap at their video pad before showing Hector what's on the screen, pointing towards someone in particular there. "This guy. He's basically a living god pretending to be younger than he is. Actually he pretends to not even be a God in the first place because he's not just a god but a ''trickster'' god--others I've asked about this tend to agree on that point aside from some clearly not arguing in good faith--" Tennant explains to Hector. "And his friends--they never catch him. Or rather, they know they aren't supposed to catch him--even though he's the one behind all their misery, even though he is clearly utterly selfish and cruel--and the worst part is...you can't deny his methods don't work out for him even with the occassional setback--but he went from someone nobody really cared about to a superstar within this little playground of his. His silver tongue--they even know he's silver tongued--eventually gets him everything he could possibly want." Tennant tries to shove his video pad into Hector's face (less literally than metaphorically) and plays a few seconds of video. "There, you see? You see it? It's not just a narrative device, he actually used his power to freeze time to escape that punch--one in a way that's bound to get his so-called ''friend'' in trouble. No normal teen has that kind of power, he could no doubt do tremendous good--but he only uses the power to avoid consequences when his mischief risks to come back home to him. Not always--but often. The tale is called 'Saved By The Bell' but he is the only one who is saved. All those around him pay the price... And you might think--should they not realize that something is the matter? Of course they do, but they know his power. They play the role of his marionettes so the god in their midst does not get angry. And lest you think the cruel deity known as ''Zack'' has no control of his power, here's a video of him unfreezing just the boy named Screech as part of one of his schemes..." Tennant takes a breath. "Anyway, I'm asking about this because...as an Outsider, I want to know... just from what you've seen if it's pretty damn obvious that he is more than human because xXScreechlord16 says I'm overthinking it and saying it's just a dumb high school comedy but I think it has serious things to say about being in the hands of a power far beyond your ken." Yuri arrives with the other elites, sees Tennant pestering Hector, and rolls her eyes with a sigh. "Looks pretty nice to me." She says. "But I'm just filling in for today--Tennant, stop annoying Hector--" "I'm not annoying him! I am discussing classical media litereature!" Tennant protests.
Flamel Parsons	Guinivere obviously gets Flamel's attention. She is, after all, the regional power designated for support during the regime change enacted by the vague yet ominous organization that Flamel Parsons serves, a fact he is all-too-ready to declare without hesitation or consideration of who might be present and listening, whenever he visits this world. Like today! "Lady Guinivere!" He calls out, as he gets into town. "Always good to see you again! Hope things are going well now that you've got Hector in your corner, despite, you know, the curses!" He beams happily as he says that. "I've got business though! I need to work on expanding the power base for the regime change ordered by my vague yet ominous masters. Where's those children..."     He's getting to Lucius now too. "Hey there! I wanted to give a proper briefing on the work I've got laid out for the kids, to get that motivation put to good use. If you've got a minute, I can get you up to speed on what we're dealing with when it comes to the *psychic* front of Bern's war -- and you can get me up to speed on what you know about it too!"     He's got something slung over his shoulder that looks like a mobile projection kit. Something you'd use to show movies at a summer camp. Unless he's stopped or directed to another area, he's already setting it up on the shadowy side of the apothecary building. Or, if he's pushed to do it more privately, he might find some vertical rocky face down near the river, or a private room in a restaurant in town. "It should help answer a lot of questions! I know a lot of people are probably going to be feeling... confused, in a way, about how people are still managing to live their lives." He gestures all around. "Like this, I mean, while the war's on. I know Araphen's probably hanging over everyone's head, so it's pretty essential to understand the psychic front too."
Ru Li Cheng	The taste of the dead has followed Ru Li everywhere he's gone in this last week. He's tried a lot of food to get rid of it, of that acrid bloody tang, of the smell of burned flesh and seared stone. He's tried rice, fish, vegetables, fruits, sweets, even some red meat - even *raw* meat, freshly-hunted by his own hand - and nothing had worked. It lingered unpleasantly like a dream that simply refused to pass with the rising of the sun and the waking world.      He's doing his best to put on a smile, though. It's an old rule of Yinghua that a god should set an example for mortals - and the example he should be setting is one of confidence and determination, as befits someone who wants so badly to be called a hero. It's not confidence he feels, and his determination is wavering in the face of his own weakness, but it's the image that's important.      He stands out in the town - from his foreign features to his traditional Yinghuan attire with its gearwork patterns stitched in silver to the low and quiet ticking that accompanies him wherever he goes. He's an alien in an alien world, and it feels awful, too, because the words of Bai Li Ahan are still ringing in his ears along with the taste of flesh and the smell of ash. This is what you playing hero does. It just wastes everyone's time.      So he dithers for a moment before he walks over to Roy and the archer. Roy is the one in charge. Roy is the one with the determination to save the world - Roy, and the Princess. But he'd draw Attention to the Princess with his foreign ways, while he'd simply look like another mercenary with Roy, so it's to Roy he goes.      "Are you looking to replace your boots?" Ru Li asks helpfully. "I, ah, I understand that marching can wear them down quite badly."
Trudy Grimm	The last time anyone had seen Trudy in Lycia it was at Castle Araphen, overseeing the animated dead guardsmen of the castle and some of her own minions in the digging of individual graves for each of the fallen while Grimnir the Sage attended to funerary rites. First were those who were too destroyed to be raised, then those who had fought, and lastly the Bernish soldiers who had fallen in the ambush. Each hole marked with a stone chosen by one of the souls now put to rest.     --     Today in Brioude, the witch is only accompanied by the old man himself. There's no sign of her usual retinue of living-impaired 'Cute Friends'. She notes familiar faces as she passes them, exchanging a pleasantry here or there with Roy and Shanna and Lucius without stopping for more than that.     It's Guinivere that draws her attention-- but it's Hector that Trudy comes to a stop beside Beside her, Grimnir sweeps a bow while supported with his staff, "My lady Guinivere. Ever a pleasure."     The witch meanwhile lifts a hand to her chin, peering thoughtfully up at Hector's face with a discerning look. Seeking the telltale threads of woven curses as she had alluded to before, perhaps.     "I heard you had something you wanted to talk about?" Well, at least she isn't *just* staring at him.
Odette Raskins	Despite everything that's happened in Araphen, Odette can still feel her heart growing lighter at the sight of Brioude peeking over the hill. It's not just from knowing that the dangers of war are far behind her (for now), but also from smelling so many fresh and unfamiliar things along the way towards the little town. It's time for a much needed rest, time to get something tasty to eat, and maybe even time to pick up some new clothes to fit in better. More importantly, it's time to get to know the members of traveling army! With the power of indecisiveness on her side, Odette's path takes her to the fountain rather than any of the stores she'd want to visit first, and she spots the pair of junior knights right over that-a-way. She hesitates briefly before approaching Lance and Alen, raising a hand lightly to wave meekly at them. "H.. Hi there! Um. Are you two holding up okay? A-any wounds that need fresh bandages, or meds to take the edge off?" Adjusting her hold on her bag, the EMT gestures at the inside like she's got the right supplies for just that. "It looks like we'll be on the road for a while longer, so... Um. G-gotta make sure you're all holding up okay, you know? Have you both been training long with..." A pause, and then she raises an eyebrow curiously at the two. "How did you two get into all this, anyway? Is it a family thing, or...?"
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	It's been a week. For Shinmyoumaru too, though she hasn't remained with the group the entire time; there are always places to go, things to do, and it's not like she can't get around. She flies, after all. (Or the bowl does, anyway; Shinmyoumaru *can* float without it if she's used the Mallet, but she always feels a little silly doing it.) Shinmyoumaru also has a long memory. While it often expresses itself in her tendency to hold grudges, it also means that she's still working over last week in her head. Still, this place is different - *feels* different - enough that she seems her usual upbeat self, and even if she's still carrying some thoughts of her own around, they don't really show. Today, though, she looks a little different, because she's not riding her bowl. Somewhere along the line, Shinmyoumaru got it into her head that they should probably try to blend in better at Brioude. She's treating it the same way as when she sneaks into the Human Village: look like an ordinary person and don't do anything weird. Admittedly, she's still a four foot tall woman (or girl, really) who's armed, with a scabbard made of bamboo with a sword 'grip' that looks like the eye of a needle, and she's wearing a kimono, which is also not common here. Her lid-like hat has been replaced with one of straw in almost the same shape. But she's trying, dammit. She'd waved excitedly to Lucius and, critically, his kids; she fully intends to meet back up with Lugh and Chad very soon, and almost just walked over, but she wanted to see the town first and they looked busy busy. Which is why she has instead been walking around, poking her head in random shops, though she hasn't yet bought anything. "Really?" she asks Ru Li, looking down at her bare feet, now road-dusty. "I guess that's why I don't do it." Then she considers his outfit with a slight frown, followed by Roy and Wolt's. She frowns again.
Dysnomia	Feeling out of place, Dysnomia navigated through the town to a tailor and negotiated with the bug-eyed storeowner with what appeared to be a lump of unrefined gold. She walked out with a cloak--assuredly much less than that hunk of rock was worth--and joined the others, having made a concession to avoid standing out.     "Life goes on." She said evenly, approaching Guinivere, respondikng to the clash of moods in the air. "Even if they world ends, they need to go to work to eat. They need to live to work. Home to live in. Clothes to wear."     "The world behind the lines doesn't change, until it's forced to. Until their lives can't hold together anymore." The look she gives Hector is brief and cold, before turning her gaze back toward the princess. "I guess it's a good sign that people can keep on living their lives. For now."
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan takes his time. Moving slowly. The Gale Empire, especially Spire City, is too much of a metropolis. Awe inspiring, but not what Aidan desires. He closes his eyes as he enters the outer limits of the town, listening to the chatter of folks. Laughs of children. Adults discussing their daily routines. Arguments over the price of a speciality tool. He turns his head to see a bundle of herbs haggled over. Another admiring wares. He casts his eyes over people hanging out of windows to speak to others, an eager speech of everyone that knows someone else. The shouts of personal grudges that hardly go above trivial. Your chicken is in my planter. It's a rhythm. A calming steady noise that rises and falls, from laughs to shouts, down to a few whispered notes, then up to a glorious laughing high. The other elites being here helps him sink in. For just a minute, he can imagine he had gone to a nearby big city to get herbs from the farmer's market. Or go with sisters Chia and Strawberry to get fabric and spend a little extra money. To wander around the city with childhood friends. Quicknest was alive and whole, and someone would wave and say 'do you need bayleaf today, Aidan?' Even if there is a strong growing flame of conviction in his heart, the true understanding that he'll never have this again, this one true home again, clamps a vice around his chest. The squirrel is dressed up in his normal clothing, today. A dark turquoise tunic and breeches. He's not trying to impress anyone today, though they are at least very well cared for. Among his arms behind his head anime wandering, he finds the target of his meandering. Father Lucius. He sits down at first, just watching him work. It's a clear case of hero worship. "Hello, Father Lucius." He smiles, "You never stop doing your good work."
Desire Stars	"It's so pretty," Neon says, in awe of the town--and just a bit quietly heartbroken. *It could all be gone, as quickly as Araphen...* She finds herself looking through the same window as Roy and Wolt, cradling her elbow with one hand while the other strokes her chin thoughtfully. At first, she's thinking about what looks good--but her brown eyes sweep rightward, then left.      Neon nods, when Ru Li thinks to ask out loud. "You look kinda like a fish out of water. Do you need help picking something out?" she asks, pausing then to think on it a moment.      "Or... is it something else?"      Ace, meanwhile, has taken up Guinivere's invitation directly. Like Neon, he's wearing DGP-branded activewear, navy-and-black with a high-collared windbreaker.      "Yeah. It's a far cry from Araphen and Laphet, isn't it?" asks Ace of Dysnomia. Both hands in the pockets of his pants, he gives Guinivere a little upnod.      "What's on your mind?"
Blemishine	Hector /did/ say that... and seeing Brioude now, a certain knight can understand why. When their first entrance into this world was in a war-torn village, straight to a tense 'negotiation', and then onto the mess that was Castle Araphen, there hasn't been any real chance to think about... well, ordinary life in Elibe. One might imagine they'd never really have a good opportunity to see it, at least this soon.     But they are! And on the assumption that there won't be another terrible surprise tragedy so soon after their camping trip gone wrong, she's not necessarily here today as Blemishine, Rhodes Island operator and Paladins agent - nope, just as Maria Nearl, very normal girl you can find anywhere. It's a little funny that casualwear makes her actually seem more out of place than her white armor and cape; a turtleneck sweater and jeans gives off a much different impression from when she's combat-ready. Even though her sword is still strapped to her side, just in case.     There's no undertones behind any of her chipperness either; it's all a hundred percent genuine, as evidenced by when she steps into the door of the smithy with an unfettered smile on her face. "Sir Marcus! Mister Dieck! I thought I saw you two in here~." She was going to join in with Hector and Guinivere, but knowing she can get away with seeing the sights a bit, she gave a hello to Shanna and the axe boys before stepping on in to do the same with these two.     "What all are you two picking up in here?" Weapons, obviously, but it's clear the question has more layers than that - Maria's eyes are scanning over not just what they're procuring, but everything put up on display here. Is that a twinkle in her eye? Nope, multiple twinkles in her eye. Under her breath, but not nearly quiet enough to go unheard, "This'll be the first time I've gotten to see Elibian ironwork up close...!"     When it's not trying to kill her, that is.
Kayoko Kirenai	<J-IC-Scene> Kayoko Kirenai clicks on, a little more subdued, "Provisioning? Should we bring... anything?" <J-IC-Scene> (NPC) Father Lucius says warmly, "Maybe a bit of pocket change if you'd like a souvenir- oh, but you wouldn't have the denominations. I could give you some coin, then."     Lucius always grated on Kayoko's nerves whenever they talked. Kayoko asks about *practical* needs, if there's anything she can do to properly help the war effort, so she isn't just being some useless dead weight layabout when there's real, serious stuff happening, and he treats her just like a kid. There's a *war* going on. She doesn't need pocket change to go buy some trinkets, or whatever.     Kayoko is here for *serious*. And that's why, with this being a low-key, noncombat mission, she still needs some way to demonstrate how very seriously invested she is in performing her duties for the army even *without* Chevalier Cobalt's armor. She'll talk about strategy, and... supply lines, and whatever else needs to be talked about, and for that, she needs to look the part.     Kayoko steps through the warpgate wearing an outfit carefully tailored to suit the aesthetics of the world-- to anyone capable of seeing through her illusions, she's wearing a sort of ratty long sleeve tee and sweatpants. Kayoko's lens on the aesthetics of a 'European medieval fantasy' world is centered squarely on a perspective limited to fan art of gacha games she isn't allowed to play, and old manga and TV; with a healthy dose of Catholic restraint filtered in.     A green and gold dress, properly down to her ankles, where leather boots replace sneakers with crushed heels from not being untied before being slipped on, is, in any practical terms for someone who would have to make such a dress themselves, more economically ostentatious than Guinivere's clothes despite Kayoko's attempts to downplay it. A dark blue shawl blunts the impact a bit, but she's still a little glittery, and along with her stark white hair and color-matched blue eyes, does little to dispel the presence of Character Design in her demeanor. White, puffed sleeves emerge from the shoulders of the dress to be cinched with ribbons at her wrists, where her brown leather gloves (the one part of her outfit that's real-- Meika knows she begged to buy them some years ago as step one to a devious plan of inventing plausible justifications for assembling cosplay piecemeal; the plan never got to step two) are pulled over her hands.     Unfortunately-- or, rather, inevitably, because she's here as a *Paladin*, and not to buy souvenirs-- Kayoko veers towards Guinivere to talk about whatever nobles talk about, rather than joining Lucius, Chad, and Lugh. She keeps an eye on them anyways, without turning or giving any indication that she is.     "Hi, Lady Guinivere. Ah, I'm not transformed today, so it might be hard to recognize me, but this is still Chevalier Cobalt." It's really not hard to recognize her. There's not much earnestness in her tone when suggesting it might be, either. "Is there some work we need to discuss today? Planning our next steps?"
Meika Kirenai	Like stepping into a painting. Warm sunlight, chill breeze, the rustle of gusts on foliage and the soundless crunch of dust and dirt beneath trudging footsteps. Pausing to take in the scenery, every slow exhale comes pained. It doesn't matter if she really is or not, the idyll feeling painted and perfect makes her feel she's sticking out like a sore thumb. Even in her Sunday best.     Uncharacteristicly, and uncomfortably, Meika is, for once, wearing a dress. Grey-plaid, down past her knees, and worn over a long-sleeved undershirt. No jacket. No messenger bag. Still clunky biking boots. If her hair wasn't so unearthly white, her eyes so garrishly red, and her expression just as skittish as usual, she'd look like another person.     That's the condition for coming today, though. It's not an emergency. Nobody needs her here. So if she's to bother, there's no excuse to levy as to why she should get away with clashing with Kayoko's efforts here, how she'll actually be trying. That feeling of empty uselessness is part of why she's even here, though, heavy on her mind and louder the closer she gets to the apothecary.     Footsteps, already silent, stop dead on town-square cobblestones, ignorant of the tiny mosses sprouting beneath their cracks. Lucius, Lugh, and Chad have an overhearing ear on them even before the weight of Meika's gaze bores into the trio, the expression on her face blank and sour enough as she stills to almost feel robotic.      Standing amongst the townfolk clustering around the priest feels achingly lonely, and she burns empty moments eavesdropping on whatever comments he tosses their ways, barely processing words at all. Everything she has to say, feels wrong to interrupt for. '-to get that motivation put to good use.'     "Didn't those two help at the castle? Wasn't that good use-" Apparently Flamel's comments are slightly easier to pipe up into- defensive of the other two kids, in what amounts to a spilled-out thought she's not sure she intended to put sound into. Realizing she did anyways, makes her flinch.     "Are they- are you two okay..?" Turning to the two kids, she finally adresses any of them, instead of standing by like a stray animal. Lucius still only gets nervous glances, filled through with guilt. Why are all of them together? I can't tell the kids I won't be- "You all had to travel a long while, or... Yeah."
Lilian Rook	For the first time in her life, Lilian arrives somewhere and is overwhelmed with the number of people she wants to spend time with in different places.     She wants to talk to Guinivere, of course, having started all this by throwing in with her. And she wants to talk to Hector with her, after seeing him saved from something he perhaps shouldn't have been. But she wants to run off and talk to Roy, too, after finding out that he is somehow only seventeen yet more mature than almost every Elite in the sector. And she wants to go off and marvel at Dieck and talk shop about big swords. And she wants to simply bask in Lucius' radiant glow if at all possible, after saving him in particular. For once, it's not a matter of time, but wishing she could be everywhere at once.     To experience People. To be in their presence, share time with them, know more about them. Human beings. The thought is dizzying. Even if it is only just insufficient to overwhelm her effusive joy at walking the streets of this idyllic little historical town, straight out of a picture book she remembers from when she was six. It's precisely because she can't forget Araphen that she needs to indulge in this; or so she reasons, and is close to right.     Given the bright day and the temperate weather, Lilian has to forgo her cool cloak. She goes around town in a corseted dress with open lace sleeves, cinched waist and wrists with brooch and silver belt, over just enough of a sleeveless chemise to dare a little collar and back window, all lightly gilded green and earth and black over white, patterned with spiral knots and floral vines for trim. The boots she wears are little different from the trail, only slimmer and less robust, with more laces, about the one thing properly matching the sword openly sheathed on her back.     Worn lower to the hips rather than right over the shoulder, it's inconvenient to draw but easily held close. Putting on a necklace to replace her usual chain and match her hairpin, even in a fantasy town, Lilian looks like she downdressed from 'regal' to 'overdressed', and yet she practically skips from place to place with deep-abiding appreciation for the air.     She has to show up in a window reflection before Dieck, shake her head, point to a different part of the smithy, flash a thumbs up, and vanish before he turns around. Lucius is busy with sick townsfolk, but deserves a bubbly wave and a gesture to talk later, without armour being involved. Roy . . . well, she has to have a serious discussion with him later, so she lets him rest a while with a simpler matter.     For now, she waves to catch Merlinus' attention, unpacks a palm-sized cloth roll of silver, asks him for his opinion on its relative worth to the local coinage, offers to trade him some of it for whatever equivalent denomination he can spare, throws twenty percent on top for his help, then quickly buys something to eat on her way to see Guinivere and Hector.     "My my, Princess. I can see you've done your best not to attract too many eyes, but I think at this point we'd have to pull a bag over your head if we're to avoid people finding you suspiciously beautiful." Lilian says nonchalantly upon arrival. You'd be sure there'd be some sort of sizzlingly shakespearean accent if she were speaking English. "Tennant, please give Lord Hector a moment to breathe." comes later, gentle hand on their shoulder and stall treats in the other. "I'll get you all something nice if you behave."
Lilian Rook	"Well, provisioning is fine while there's a dozen and some with us, but you're going to need much more than that, even in the short term; are you thinking something like that?" Lilian asks. "While I have complete confidence in my ability to handle a 'dragon' or five, Zephiel, unfortunately, isn't a stupid man. Narcian and forty men-- admittedly green ones-- were something he thought appropriate to send after a princess. If this little band accomplishes much more than we have already, he'll be certain to concentrate his forces." Lilian shrugs. "It's what he's done so far, hasn't he? Overwhelming strikes by dense concentrations of his strongest talent."
Dark Horses	Michinaga furrows his brows as he stares at Dieck and Marcus through the shop window. He's not upset about what they're doing or anything, and more so just thinking. The man seems like one of the most grounded people here, based on who he's interacted with. Easy enough to understand and direct enough about what he wants. He honestly feels that he can relax around him just a bit.      It's honestly somewhat refreshing to come across a guy who knows he wants money that also doesn't make his skin crawl. Still, it'd be nice to get to know the guy a bit more before he jumps to conculusions, and while he had initially planned to simply ask Dieck himself, He feels as if it'd be better to ask someone who just knows him instead. A second opinion, if one will.      "Hey, got a minute?"      Michinaga, having noticed Shanna and the two mercs, waits for a break in their conversation before butting in, making his way over so that he doesn't have to constantly raise his voice from across the street.      "What's your boss like, and..." he realizes it's probably a bit too direct and weird to just ask about one guy, so he tries to think about something else he'd want to know, letting out an annoyed sigh as he mentally scraps several nothing questions.      "Forget it, that's the only thing I want to know."      He can't actually think of anything, but rather than bullshit something, he just goes with his original plan instead.
Marigold	Hector strokes his beard, by now evidently quite used to having screens shoved in his face. "Tennant, my b-- er, gi-- my young friend. The, uh, technique of an actor stepping aside from the action to talk to the audience, or make a little flourish, is well-known. You can't go reading meaning into every little trick. Sometimes it's just a, a *vehicle*, for the story's point."      Guinivere leans around him, pursing her lips in high-minded thought. "Now, Lord Hector, I find myself less certain. Even if it is unintended, may the playwright not be expressing their attitudes on abuse of power without recognition? Many critiques have been written on such a basis." "Pfah! I don't believe it."      The cool, shaded alleyway next to the apothecary's is a good spot for Flamel. Here moss softens the stone and a little pool of rainwater collects. "Confused," Lucius echoes back, while sending Chad into the apothecary's to buy a remedy for his current patient. He manages a sweetly angelic smile. "So I am. The Saint's teachings say not to fear unpleasant feelings, nor to dwell in them, but to allow them to teach their lesson and then pass through. But when I've seen such horrors, and then-" with a nod around him at the town- "am placed in such light, I feel unmoored. It's difficult to know where the medium between dwelling and avoiding is."      He gestures to a nice spot for Flamel's projector to go, and gives it half his attention. Lugh follows along behind Flamel, fidgeting with the corner of his capelet. "And then you'll be able to train me, right, Mr. Parsons?" he says, with nervous hope. The magic tome under his arm has still gone unused.      "Not as much as you did," Lugh says to Meika, bittersweetly admiring. "Your magic is way cooler than mine." Chad, emerging from the store and handing off a root to Lucius, spots what Meika isn't saying instantly. "Father. I'm going to go for a bit." "Oh! Stay safe, Chad." Then he slides up next to Meika, arches an eyebrow slightly, and tilts his head in the direction of a closed-up shop's recessed doorway. That'll do for seclusion. "What's up?"      In the meantime, Lucius gives his prescription to his patient, who thanks him and ambles off. While examining the next one's injury, the priest looks down at Aidan and beams in that angelic way of his. "Proudpick, wasn't it? Kindness is easy, as long as it remains a habit." The silence that follows is a tacit invitation for Aidan to spill his beans.
Marigold	Lucius waves warmly to Shinmyoumaru, and so does Lugh, obviously delighted to see his friend again (though it'd be hard to coax him away from Flamel). She arrives at the cobblers' in time to see Roy startling at Ru Li's question and turning around. "Oh! ... Yes. Yes, I was." "Lord Roy? Who's that?" his companion asks. Roy flinches slightly, for some reason. "Ru Li Cheng, if I remember right. You were resting in your tent when he first came by. And that's... Shinmyoumaru, isn't it? This is Wolt, my--" "His retainer!"      Roy's smile is meager, tiredly polite. He sits on the shop's windowsill to take weight off his battered shoes, and nods to Neon. "It's nothing," he says, which is never true. "I'd just like something more durable and comfortable for marching in the long run. But I'm not sure how to choose good ones. Maybe Merlinus could..." "Lord Roy! You know this wouldn't be a problem if you'd ride in the wagon or take a horse." "... And you know why I can't do that, Wolt." "O- of course! Not that it's my place."      The two knights sitting by the fountain both brighten when Odette approaches, and both gesture for her to sit next to them, then elbow each other. "It's nothing; see to him first" and "I wouldn't want to be a burden. Give it to Alen" escape their lips almost simultaneously. They look about equally banged-up, with shallow cuts to the arms and maybe one or two to the face.      Finally, they break their tie when 'Alen' clears his throat first, awkwardly. "Y-yeah. My family's always served Pherae as knights. My mother was too sickly to be one, but... she wanted me to bring the tradition back. I owe it to Marcus putting in a good word for me. And Lance is--" "I'm from Etruria, actually. Like Dieck. It's a long story, but I'm grateful that House Pherae took me in. And how did you become a healer?"      Inside the smithy, Dieck leans on the counter and butters up the blacksmith with small talk while Marcus eyes the wares with a critical eye. He's just testing the balance of a javelin when Blemishine comes in. "Oh! The young lady knight," he says with clear warmth. "They don't have silver here, but steel will do. It's mostly lances and spears we're in need of. Javelins already don't last long, and Shanna keeps halfway shattering hers." "Hey, don't blame her. That's just how pegasus riding is." Marcus just smiles. "Your weapons already seem exemplary, Lady Maria; I'm sure this doesn't interest you."      Trudy's peering discovers that Hector's curse is bone-deep, to the point that it might be more properly called 'a destiny'. It may as well be preordained by the gods, and might actually literally be. The exact nature of the curse is that he will be slain in battle the next time he takes up arms; that circumstances will eventually contrive to place him in such a battle rather than allowing a natural death; that in the process the side to which he owes allegiance will suffer a crushing defeat; and that this will happen over and over again until his permanent demise. It cannot be averted by any means she knows, but this suggests that he could only safely fight in a battle where his allegiances were genuinely split.      Merlinus, after a moment's surprise and then warm thanks, gives Lilian a little coinpurse. The coins are of various denominations, but the biggest ones bear an image of a broad downward-pointing sword wreathed with stylized ribbon-like flames. It might be an icon of Lycia.
Marigold	Shanna beams far too adorably for a mercenary (she's even put a little wildflower in her hair) and taps the toes of her shoes together in delight at being asked. "Sure! Hey, what'd you say your name was?" she says, and then barely waits for an answer. "He's amazing, actually! He's like a big brother to me! He's always looking out for us, even though he pretends like it's just business. He'll say things like 'oh, always be suspicious your employer's gonna get you killed', but that's just being protective! Dieck would never abandon us like that. Hey, did you know he used to be a gladiator too?"      The two axemen just let her ramble, sipping their beer and chewing on cheese-and-bread. They know what their place in the dynamic is.      "'Suspiciously beautiful'?" Guinivere says to Lilian, blinking innocently and then pulling back to cover her mouth with a slight blush. "Oh, my. Then I can only hope your radiance will obscure my own, Dame Commander, as the sun does the moon." Oh no. This is the shamelessness of a woman who has never faced social consequence.      As Elites gather around, Hector clears his throat, leans back on a stall, and then straightens up with a jolt when it creaks under his enormous frame. "Ah! Well. That's very astute, Dame Commander. Unfortunately... now that he's crushed Araphen, I think Zephiel means to deny us the comfort of a concentrated battle. He didn't try to hold it, which means he's not planning to use the main pass at all. If I were him, I'd be oozing troops through the narrower passes all across the border, and flying wyvern riders over to wherever resistance crops up. We just don't have the men anymore to defend everywhere at once."      He tilts his head to Guinivere, who unfurls a little map over a box of apples for him, and then he thunks his big finger over a couple spots in Lycia. "Ostia's the beating heart of Lycia- and I'm not just sayin' that because I run it! Its roads carry supplies everywhere else. We'll have to count on most of the marches to stand for themselves, I'm afraid- if they do hold, decapitating Ostia's the very next thing he'll do. From there, we can ask Etruria for aid too. I know they won't like Bern expanding its influence."      Guinivere nods gravely. "I admit I'm not fond of it, but our little band can't do much else. With Zephiel diffusing his troops, that's where we'll do the most good. We can pass through the two marches that didn't lose their rulers at Araphen: Laus, which declined the meeting due to internal affairs; and Thria, whose marquess had fallen ill. Hopefully they can bolster our ranks, too." "That, and the Ilian mercenaries I hired in Ostia. Too late to come to Araphen with me, but maybe that's a blessing. Ha."
Ru Li Cheng	Ru Li looks at Roy for a long moment. His lips purse as the sound of clockwork ticking gets a bit louder. Then, he says, "Yes. I have seen enough requests from the Ninth Imperial Army to know that good boots are worth far more than the budget allotted to them, no matter how generous it is."      He shifts, slightly. "I...suppose, if I can do nothing else, I can ascertain quality compared to price. It is some very small usefulness, and no trouble at all." Ru Li pauses, thoughtfully, as he lets himself actually pay attention to the world - to the smell of the various boots in the shop, to the size of them, to the size of Roy's foot, to the taste of the leather and the stitchings, to the feel of the cushioning. He looks at price tags and contemplates.      It takes him a few moments of standing outside the shop to say, "The backmost rack has a pair that, while not custom-made for you, will be price-appropriate and last you for a good decade even with heavy use. The leather is well-soaked and well-tanned, the boots are well-oiled and well-stitched, the cushioning is soft and pleasant without being too much, and the shape of it should be comfortable to your feet. It is slightly larger so as not to pinch, and can be adjusted easily with the straps."      "...this much, I suppose, I can do easily."
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan watches Flamel Parsons for a moment. His words on 'breakdowns' have made Aidan consider, but, he isn't psychic, right? He can't do anything about it. Then a look over at Meika. A stone wall to Aidan. Or maybe... a construction that is clearly broken in some way, but Aidan is terrified to help out, fear of making it worse. A general resentment from one side, and a passiveness from the other. The weight of compassion doesn't outweigh the fear of rejection of said compassion. A passive pointless compassion. Aidan just at least smiles at her, and gives her a cheerful nod. "They did great at the castle, I heard," he agrees with her. But he doesn't press any more than that. "Kindness is easy, as long as it remains a habit." A smile on his face. Here, all his misdeeds, his cowardice, his childishness are wiped clean. It's obvious that Aidan has hundreds of questions. Hundreds of lessons he knows he needs to learn. He fidgets, his tail twitching aimlessly for a full three seconds as he tries to sort his mind. The smile slowly fades as he watches the other Elites move from place to place around him, Lilian without a care in the world, Ru Li so worried and nervous, Flamel Parsons so easily knowing what to do, "Were you always kind, Father? Were you always giving? How do you..." he is clearly trying to find the best way to say this, but struggling with a way that doesn't sound stupid, "Get people to accept your kindness?" he finishes lamely.
Angela	Tennant looks into Hector's eyes hopefully, hope--that is soon dashed!!--by Hector speaking on well known techniques used by actors and actresses across the multiverse! They frown thoughtfully and seem like they're trying to formulate a counterargument, starting with a, "Well that's true, but..." Guinivere steps in and they brighten immediately. "You understand...!" They say, completely ignoring Yuri's attempts to corral them (Tennant technically outranks her) and they nod furiously, now completely loyal to Gunivere now and forever. "That's right, they call it 'death of the author' and--" ''Tennant, please give Lord Hector a moment to breathe.'' Tennant is a bit lanky and they sheepishly look over to the Dame Commander. "M...ma'am...!" They fumble into a salute. "Yes ma'am, I will give the good man some space." They nod to Hector and adds, "But perhaps we could discuss later Disney's Fillmore approach to copaganda, perhaps at a time in peace..." They turn back to Lilian and clears their throat. "I haven't seen any suspicious activity as of yet, Dame Commander, but I've been keeping my eyes out." They look to Guinivere, then back to Lilian, then back to Guinivere, then back to Lilian. "She's really nice, ma'am and I think she rather fancies you." They murmur quietly in the tone of a gossipy aide de camp. Yuri approaches the group and gives a nod to Hector and Guinivere before looking to Lilian, "Seems like we're just here to relax before everything gets too real but I'm covering for Ceri until she's back."
Desire Stars	I'd just like something more durable and comfortable for marching in the long run. But I'm not sure how to choose good ones. Lord Roy! You know this wouldn't be a problem if you'd ride in the wagon or take a horse.     "Oh?" Neon smiles slightly at Roy. "I think I understand. A wagon, or a horse, that'd send the wrong message, wouldn't it? You don't want to be... 'apart' from the people you're leading." She nods. ...this much, I suppose, I can do easily.     Neon's eyes go wide. "You can tell all of that just from standing over here?! Wow, that's amazing!" After a pause, she gently nudges Roy in the direction of the shop, giving him an encouraging look. We can pass through the two marches that didn't lose their rulers at Araphen: Laus, which declined the meeting due to internal affairs; and Thria, whose marquess had fallen ill. Hopefully they can bolster our ranks, too.     "'Internal affairs' doesn't fill me with confidence about your chances with Laus," Ace opines. "But I understand you're not in a position to be choosy right now. How much do you know about the situation there--or, at least, how much, before Bern's expansion?"
Trudy Grimm	Trudy regards Hector as he speaks, keeping that finger on her lips. Her expression shifts to one that's more 'lost in thought' than anything, the occasional nods giving at least the idea that she's hearing out his ideas regarding Bern's movements and the value of Ostia.     "Allies in times of crisis are of supreme value," It's Grimnir who speaks rather than the witch, "These lords of yours certainly had good fortune hidden in their ill fortunes. For that, I think we can all be thankful." A glimmer of amusement twinkles in his one good eye, "Anything we should know about these feifdoms, then? Laus and Thria, and the roads between them towards Ostia and Etruria?"     It's several moments later that Trudy pipes up, though her attention is solely on Hector himself, "My, my, you really have found yourself quite a curse, haven't you?" At last her hand lowers, resting on the spine of the bound Grimoire, "I suppose that's the power of a legendary artifact. If it were easy to solve it could hardly be so 'legendary'. Oh, but who would forge a weapon with such a curse as this?"     "It's small comfort that your wisdom doesn't count, yes? A warrior's sharpest sword is his mind, I like to think."
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Fortunately, Shinmyoumaru doesn't need to coax Lugh away from Lucian - she just needs to bother him when he looks less busy. Surely he can't stay occupied *all* day. There's a lot of Elites incoming. Shinmyoumaru keeps an eye out to see who shows up, some of which she knows better than others. She clearly admires Kayoko's dress, being unable to see the truth through the illusion, though she's not quite sure how some of it works (not due to failure in illusion, just Shinmyoumaru's relative lack of experience with medieval European-style dresses, especially not ones made overfancy by lack of fance restraint). She waves as Lilian arrives too (though without interrupting her), almost bouncing on her feet to get up higher to do it, and though she's less exuberant with other people she's pleased to see people she knows are fighting here, even if she or they are just passing by. People like Odette, Aidan, even Trudy. "That's right!" Shinmyoumaru is pleased that Roy remembered her by name, since while he's spoken to her once or twice they're not exactly close yet. She looks up at Wolt, remembering his face too - she doesn't think she knows him yet. "Retainer, hmm?" It sounded to her like Roy was going to say something else before he got preempted. Neon is familiar, too, but Shinmyoumaru doesn't immediately place *where* she's met her. She must have, though. Her brows furrow as she thinks about it. She's going to feel real dumb if she's actually been introduced and she asks for it again - "Wait, how did you see it from here?" Shinmyoumaru knows Ru Li can see things from a long way away, because he's said it, but there's things between here and there and she isn't quite aware of *how* his senses work. "Are you *sure*?" Shinmyoumaru is not a shoes expert, as when she wears them she tends to stick to geta or zori and not these lace-up sorts; the whole cobbler situation is interesting and unknown to her. Roy says he can't ride the wagon or a horse. It makes sense to Shinmyoumaru that he might not want to hide away in a wagon, but a horse? "Did you not learn how?" she asks, curiously. "I mean, I can't ride a horse either, but a lot of people around here seem to do it. I kind of wish I could." She should probably stick to ponies.
Odette Raskins	That brief show of camaraderie between the red and green knights is all it takes to get Odette to start giggling lightly, and she doesn't need to be told twice to take a load off... By placing her bag down first. "Burden, shmurden. Even a little cut can get infected if it's not treated right, and then it can lead to all sorts of gross growths or sepsis or amputations if you're not careful." She scolds the two, holding a serious look on her face for a moment before cracking a grin again and taking out a small spray bottle and some pre-packed bandages. "A spritz and some coverage should clear them right up." After insisting on getting the pair patched up, Odette swaps places with her bag and completes the red-blue-green set with Alen and Lance. "I kinda get it... I-I mean, my parents were never doctors or anything like that, because gas miners can't really... You know. Afford to learn all that? B-but my great grandma was way back, and the stories they told me about her were real cool, so I wanted to do that, too." She explains with wistful sigh and nod at Alen. It takes a moment before Odette sits up a bit with a hasty addition. "O-oh! Um. I'm not actually a /doctor/ doctor yet, though. We scraped together enough credits to get me into an on-site EMT training program, then I can become a paramedic in another fffive years? A-and then it'll take another five to ten of working after that to get into the Company's med school program, then..." She pauses, then inhales sharply like she's just realized she's been going on too long or something. "Ah! S-sorry. Um. Anyway. Er. Yeah, some... Stuff happened, and now I'm here!" Odette 'summarizes' with an awkward chuckle, clearing her throat a moment later. "Er... Long story, yeah. You know how it is." She concludes with a light nod towards Lance, then furrows her brow as she looks back and forth between him and Alen closely. "... Say. Um. If being knights is a tradition for Mister Alen, and House Pherae's taking people in to be knights, too, then is all this-" Odette gestures around them vaguely at first, pauses, then purses her lips lightly in thought instead of trying to gesture at anything senselessly. "I mean... Is fighting really common around here? I-in wars and all that? I can't imagine a place as nice as this being this... Well. Nice if fighting's going on all the time."
Ru Li Cheng	"I *am* a god," Ru Li says, awkwardly, "If I could not even do this much..."      "Well, then I would be a *very* poor god, would I not?" Ru Li laughs and scratches the back of his head.      "Oh, erm. All the gods of Yinghua are like this. Our senses are extended very, very far. I can taste the bread in the oven in the back of the bakery on the other side of town. I can see it brown inside the stone, too, and smell the warmth, and hear the crackling of the fire. I can feel the fire, too, and the ashes of the charcoal used before and to be used later. And on the opposite side of town I can feel the smoothness of the sword in the hand of the guard, ready to cut, but held somewhat warily and with an inexperienced handle. A man who has not yet fought before but has heard rumors that fighting may break out. The taste of the metal is sharp and oily - he has been polishing it extensively with some nervous energy. The scabbard overruns with it. His boots are too tight for him, and I think they may not belong to him. He may be filling in for someone else. Or perhaps his boots are simply too tight."
Dysnomia	"I admit I'm not fond of it, but our little band can't do much else. With Zephiel diffusing his troops, that's where we'll do the most good. We can pass through the two marches that didn't lose their rulers at Araphen."     "Are they loyal?" Dysnomia asked, critically, answering to the princess, as if Hector hadn't spoken. "What are the chances that they might seek amnesty with Bern instead, after what happened at castle Araphen? Or that Bern might approach them?" She nodded to Ace, crossing her arms. "The Lycian League is limping and wounded; they might be assessing their chance to break away. Zephiel strikes me as someone who wouldn't be afraid to exploit traitors."     She leaned over the map herself, considering. "We can't afford to be picky, but we should know what we're up against. If there's a chance we might not be welcomed there, we should know about it." It was difficult to read expression in her pupilless eyes. "And how we can convince them to make the right choice."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel snaps his fingers and points at Meika. "You're right! They've been helpful. The point is making sure they get plenty of experience without getting plenty of wounds -- and also making sure they get to do what they came here for!" Flamel says, as he finally puts the projector fully on its legs. "Alright. Quick introduction to how I operate, and how you'll be working." It starts up, projecting an image of... the brain. In detail, lobes labeled and colored. "I'll borrow some of the words for how it was told to me. Here's what we have to work with."     He gets Lugh, Chad, and Lucius settled in to watch, as well as anyone else along for this ride.     "The human mind."     "Six hundred miles of synaptic fiber. Five and a half ounces of cranial fluid. Fifteen hundred grams of complex neural matter." Flamel steps up to the projection, gesturing eagerly. "A three pound pile of dreams. But some people see it as the ultimate battleground, and the ultimate weapon. They're right about a few things. It's at stake, and it's a lot. The age our multiverse is in -- the Psychic Age, of applied ontology and neuro-mahouologics -- is an age where every piece of this is at stake." He gestures dramatically over the surface of the brain in the projection.     "If you're willing to open this war with Bern up on two fronts... Then today, you're psychic soldiers. Cerebral cavalry, here to ride your way into the deepest and most important front we can find." His face is beaming, bright and wide, grinning eagerly, as he recites an iconic phrasing: "This is our beachhead!" He claps one palm against the projection. "And THIS!" He plants a finger on his temple. "Is your *landing craft!*"     "Fight well, fight hard, and you'll take Bern on in a front they thought was defenseless." He clicks something in his hand, changing slides. Now, it's a brain affected by the extracted memories and experiences he gathered, plus the data pulled from the dragon-corpse. "Zephiel's anti-psychic measures are *unbeatable* for me, but I think that's only if I'm alone. He and his unknown backers are deploying violence, *fear*, and *mysterious mind-rending forces*. Our only option is to take the fight to the minds of friend and foe alike, learn the true nature of Zephiel's dark magic, keep our allies safe, and stop him on that front as much as the physical."     "I'll be deputizing you as non-mentalist psycadets." His grin widens in a quick, eager burst as he brings up the next slide, visually describing the Astral Projection phenomenon, showing how it involves entering brains and doing heated combat with the mental construct of Bern's forces therein. He recites a well-loved phrasing: "You will engage the enemy in his own mentality. You shall chase his dreams, you shall fight his demons! You shall *live his nightmares*." He turns back, gesturing to Lugh, Chad, and, in a way, even Lucius and... Meika? He didn't address her, not directly, but a few glances were meaningful, a subtle invitation for her to be involved in this, with her own powerful psychic abilities. "Fight well, and you'll be the heroes who didn't just resist Bern martially, but *mentally* too."     "In other words... Psychonauts!"
Lilian Rook	'Then I can only hope your radiance will obscure my own, Dame Commander, as the sun does the moon.'     "Well that wouldn't do." says Lilian. "After all, the moon's role is to reflect the sun's--" In the midst of turning back from Hector to look at her, Lilian catches Guinivere's blush and pauses mid-gesticulation. Her mouth hangs slightly open. "It'd feel inappropriate. I mean. Attempting to upstage a . . . As if I even could, right?" She glances away to Tennant for help.     'She's really nice, ma'am and I think she rather fancies you.'     "Wha-- You cheeky little--!! Is Angela teaching you this kind of thing?!" Lilian grumpygasps at Tennant. "I'm not--! It isn't anything like--! I didn't ask!" she huffs, lethally underspecific, only just barely dropping her volume below the urge to yell. "We're discussing something serious! You know we can't have some random John or Jane gossiping about seeing royalty!"     'Ah! Well. That's very astute, Dame Commander. Unfortunately... now that he's crushed Araphen, I think Zephiel means to deny us the comfort of a concentrated battle. He didn't try to hold it, which means he's not planning to use the main pass at all.'     "That's . . . interesting." Lilian says, both glad for the distraction and genuinely invested in the subject. The good humour (and blush) leaves her face, but she holds her attention on Hector without a hint of cloudy distraction, crossing an arm under her elbow and cradling her cheek in her fingertips. "I suppose after that decapitating strike, he has no need to focus anywhere in particular within the nation. If our procession specifically stands out, he might be tempted to strike a second head from the serpent, but he was quite adamant in both word and mien that this was already a settled matter."     'Ostia's the beating heart of Lycia- and I'm not just sayin' that because I run it! Its roads carry supplies everywhere else. We'll have to count on most of the marches to stand for themselves, I'm afraid- if they do hold, decapitating Ostia's the very next thing he'll do.'     Lilian twists the corner of her lip, tense with thought. "So he has an obvious tactical objective anyways. I don't see that as something we can leave for the time being. We'll have to beat him there. And then somehow defend it." she says, gears already turning. "Picking off the troops we can while they're still scattered would be an ideal way to hamstring the offensive, but we can't get there any later than the bulk of them do. The wyvern riders would of course be priority targets, and easily lured. If your mercenaries are Ilian, than having air superiority at Ostia would be an enormous benefit."     Letting her finger drift to the map, she taps a marking near Hector, finger comically outsized. "Thria seems like the obvious choice to pass through. 'Internal affairs' sounds awfully similar to discontent with the crown. If we pass through Laos, it should be to unite them against a common enemy. Whichever we go for, I'd like to head a quick mission to the other; to establish contact and make preparations to gather their forces as well."
Lilian Rook	Seeing that it is owned an explanation, and giving only a vague one, Lilian says "I'll be able to travel much more swiftly with just one or two companions than this entire band can on foot, and the earlier we deliver a message, the better."     "Etruria will have to be our 'win condition' then. Repelling the first strike on Ostia should give even Zephiel considerable pause; this sort of rolling high-speed offensive isn't built to sustain repeated waves against a stubborn point; it lives and dies on momentum."     Glancing to Guinivere reluctantly, Lilian says "Frankly, depending on the extent of Bern's current military power, this may turn into an asymmetrical warfare situation. Targeting their military leaders, powerful mages, war-supporting nobility, any notable heroes they have. Destroying their means of production won't be enough, if they've occupied other territories already, but stockpiles of food and ammunition . . ."     Lilian shakes her head. "We'll get to that if it happens. Ostia's defense will be too late to lend to that sort of thinking, and we needn't descend to it straight away. Our true concern should be Zephiel, and whoever is creating his 'dragons'. Without those, this war will look very different."
Blemishine	"Ehe. Somehow I'm not surprised at all. Her and Dolly must really put any weapon through its paces!" Blemishine cheerily agrees with Dieck, having a rather good mental image of the kind of strain those high-flying dives must be on a lance - and also a good /memory/ of Shanna letting loose at Araphen, when the archers weren't an issue. "A good javelin must be extra important for her, when a rider is trying to minimize weight."     After making sure to include the resident blacksmith in her list of merry waves of greeting, she moves a little too quickly to be only considered 'walking' to do her own close inspection of a lance. Steel specifically, of which she seems to be very appraising the quality of both wood and metal before she registers Marcus' comment and perks up. "Ah? Not interested?"     She glances down at the polearm, and then back up at the wizened knight.     And then breaks out into warm laughter, before shaking her head and sending her mane of golden-blonde hair beating with it. "Ahaha! The opposite, Sir Marcus! I think I could spend all day and night in here and still not be bored by sunup!" A little bit more giggling follows, as she gives what she's holding an experimental heft, testing the balance in the same sort of way Marcus had moments ago. Maybe with a bit more zest in it, though, and she freely talks while doing so.     "I'm actually right at home in the forges back where I'm from, but they're a whole lot different from here. In more ways than one! The weapons, too - so it's only natural I'd want to learn all I can about the differences and similarities between them! Eheh, of course I'm always trying to figure out new ways to make my own equipment better... but between you and me, this is sort of closer to satisfying my own curiosity."     She gives the lance a single spin in her hands close to the end of her explanation, then gives an approving nod. "Mmn! I like this. It's a bit on the heavy side, sure, but I bet Shanna might appreciate how sturdy it is."     And then a look up to Marcus again, still beaming. "Do you need any extra hands getting things together here? I'd love to help!" There is a singular swish of her tail behind her. And just look at those big, sparkly, pleading eyes.
Dark Horses	"Michinaga-"     Michinaga's taken off guard by Shanna's eager response as he's barely able to get his name in, his face contorting in bewilderment. He was hoping the two axemen would be the one's responding, honestly, given that it's a lot easier for him to communicate with people like that than a young teenager. Or at least, if she isn't a teenager, she's pretty naive, which is just as frustrating for him to deal with.      He doesn't really doubt that Dieck is a good guy, but it feels as if she's reading selfless intent from just plain old good advice. Or maybe he's the biased one, seeing what he wants to see? Michinaga gets lost in this thought for just a moment before simply scoffing and moving on. It's not really important. He got the answer he wanted, and his opinion didn't really change that much.      "A gladiator huh? No, I didn't. Is there a reason why he changed jobs? For someone like him, that sounds like an easy way to get paid."      Michinaga's first guess is that, simply, being a merc pays better, but there's another guess he has as well. Even if it's easy pay, he doubts that it's a really fulfilling job for anyone. Inflicting violence to entertain a bunch of strangers who don't even know you probably gets to you eventually, or something like that.
Meika Kirenai	'-Am placed in such light, I feel unmoored.'     "... Maybe you're supposed to feel like that," She mumbles, again, half-uncertain whether she's even talking Lucius's way. It seems familiar, at least. 'Unmoored', floaty, out-of-place and directionless. "Or maybe it's wrong to."     Aidan's glance Meika's way gets noticed, the way her footsteps half-falter, visible even if not audible. It's weird how formless that passive silence makes someone seem. Why are you smiling? Why are you scared? Why now? I know I look like a mess, don't even stare at me- It's hard to tell, as always, what feeling her scowl originates in. "Yeah. They did great. Bet we wouldn't have gotten to the prisoners, without- yeah." 'Your magic is way cooler than mine.'     "Oh. I haven't really seen much of- of yours, I guess. I'm... glad you think it's..." Slightly creased fabric will do to fidget with when objects aren't at hand- Meika's fingers twist up in some of the material of her quite-plain dress, uncomfortable. She avoids returning Lugh's gaze directly. Lying through her teeth, "I'll have to show off more of what I do, sometime."     Obviously, Meika overhears Flamel's spiel about psychonautry, even just skirting the outside of the cluster presented to. Eyes flit about, parsing only parts of what he says, parts of what he shows, and less of what he's meaning. The few times he glances her way, the slight hint that maybe he's tying her into it somehow, draws up a choking sort of guilt in her throat. What help can I even offer? I'm a waste of space who doesn't know it yet.     "Three pounds of dreams is such a sad way to put it," she mutters, her thoughts snagged. That's nothing. She fidgets, hands wringing one another out, and dares pipe up again. "... You're pretty good at making doing that sound really dramatic."     When Chad slips away, there's no words, just a little head-tilt acknowledgement back, a long pause, and a twist on her boot soles to head off. Like a water bottle reaction to changing air pressure, a fragment of tension fades as her back presses up against doorframe masonry. She seems exhausted, no guess whether it's physical of mental- both. Resting against something brings stability, still. Sliding down to sit on the step of it brings more.     "What's up," she parrots. "You're... in this to see it through, right, Chad? However long that takes. That's how wars are, aren't they..?" She's still picking at the fabric of her dress, shifting position to sit more comfortably with it. I look stupid. I should've brought a jacket.     "... Like a real hero, too, right? Or something close. Someone who gets to-" She cuts off, silent, until an angry exhale through her nose, and half a sardonic laugh, tone shifting more sour and more inwards. "Like real heroes."     "... Do you hate liars?"
Marigold	"Ahaha. I'd like to think I always tried to be kind, Aidan. But it is possible to try to be kind, and fail." Then Lucius pauses in bandaging his patient's arm. His smile gives way to thought-pursed lips. He resumes only after a moment.      "What do you mean, 'accept it', Aidan?" he says slowly, gentle smile returning. "People are very good at accepting what they need. There shouldn't be any cajoling necessary. If they're too proud to rely on you, that's one thing- one that tends to be cured by the mellowing of time. Do you think they might suspect your kindness to be ungenuine? Or do you think they might need a different sort of kindness than you're trying to offer?"      Shinmyoumaru prompts and nudges. "Retainer, and... friend," Roy fesses up with an uncomfortable glance at Wolt, who stiffens. "He was the son of my wetnurse, so we were raised together as brothers." "Don't say that. It's not as if any of that matters now, Lord Roy!" Wolt says, with energy and a bit of embarrassment. Roy deflates further.      "Of course I learned to ride. Cecilia's a good enough teacher to make up for me being a bad student. But..." With a nod to Neon, "I'm not a great fighter, like Lord Hector. I'm not especially smart like Lady Guinivere or Merlinus. And I don't have a magnetic personality like they say King Zephiel does. If I want people to respect me, I have to be humble and suffer alongside them. That's all that's left." He smiles and crosses his arms with a little shrug, awkwardly apologetic for putting himself down, but he doesn't take it back.      Ru Li's proclamation makes Roy's eyes widen in shock. "I... see. Then, one moment," he says, heading inside. In his absence, Wolt straightens up and wears his own apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. He's under a lot of stress right now, I think. His new position is... well, you know."      But he comes out rejuvenated, with his old shoes tucked under one arm. "Ru Li, you're amazing. How did you know that?" he says, shortly before Ru Li answers the question anyway. An astonished half-laugh leaves him. "You're very different from the things we call gods here. But that's still some talent. If only we could have you here all the time, we'd never be surprised again."
Marigold	Lance and Alen both scoot aside a little- but not too much- to make comfy room for Odette on the fountain's edge. "Your mercenary company's educating you to be a doctor?" Lance muses while he leans back to let his face get spritzed, puzzled but not doubting. "Fifteen years of service is rough. I'd quit if I were you," Alen adds. "But you're a hard worker, I'll give you that." The former sits elegantly upright; the latter draws up his knee to rest his cheek on it, slumping forward.      "Ah... no. This land really is peaceful, usually. There are incidents sometimes, but the countries' borders have hardly moved in a thousand years," Lance says, fumbling a little to explain the obvious-to-him. "But..." "But this land was won from the dragons in the Scouring. It's a tradition passed down from then! Roland and his soldiers founded Lycia after beating them." "That's so. Humans controlled the west and dragons controlled the east. The further east one goes, the stronger the martial culture."      "Huh? Changed jobs... Oh, right! No, he doesn't talk about it much, but I heard he served a noble family in Etruria for a while! And then because--" "Shanna," one of the guys says gently. She startles. "Oh, uh, right! Well, for some reason, they let him go. And then he became a mercenary. He picked a good time for it, too!" She smiles, just a little embarrassed.      "Why, Michinaga?" the big guy asks. "You're not thinking of signing up with him, are you?"      Marcus leans on the counter with his elbow, and his expression softens as he sizes up Blemishine anew- it had been warm before, but that was in the manner of a mentor, and this is closer to the manner of a peer. "Oh, my. You really are shaping up to be something. I don't need to tell you that most fighters your age are caught up in their own strength. They never give their equipment the weight it deserves-" he smiles mischievously- "until they lose, and then it's the sword's fault."      His big hand claps her shoulder, almost congratulating. "And then, even your shield held up to--"      But then he suddenly remembers something. His eyes flick to look out through the window. Sighing softly, he settles down to business. "... Maria. How much do you know about your ally, Dysnomia? Something bothers me." It's not so serious that he can't work while he talks. He starts picking up spears off their racks after judging their balance and sturdiness, and motions for Blemishine to do the same. "But of course you can help. Mind, pegasus knights want something a little longer- they have to be able to swoop on spearmen without their mounts getting stuck. Dieck's right; you can't go long and light without getting fragile."
Marigold	"Huh? Mostly I just throw fireballs. Nothing like that whispering thing you did!" Lugh says, on the edge of gushing. But he's soon distracted from Meika: he takes in Flamel's presentation with obvious childish awe, getting up on his tiptoes with near-sparkly eyes. Chad is just a little more self-consciously guarded, pulling his oversized cloak's brim up over his mouth so it doesn't betray his expression (thinking it's cool might make him lame). Lucius is shameless about scooting over to get a better view of the projection.      "A-alright! I'm ready for the responsibility!" Lugh says, jazzed up because he earnestly vibrates on the exact frequency of grown-up camp counselors who do Group Activities. "But if even someone like you can't do it... what can I do?"      Chad stares for a moment longer, then turns on his heel and ducks into the secluded doorway with Meika. Lugh looks after him, heartbroken. "Chad...?" "He'll be back," Lucius says gently, and then looks to Flamel. "I've heard of these 'defenses'. Are you certain these creatures are defended at all? If they're anything like what we fought thirty years ago, they might just be 'hollow'."      Chad fits into the doorway's corner like it was made for him, and decompresses with a little sigh too. He nods to Meika, giving her permission to open up. "You're... in this to see it through, right, Chad?" "Yeah." "Like a real hero too, right?" "Like one." "Do you hate liars?" "Fuck 'em."      Then he shifts, suddenly a little uncomfortable. Maybe she's put pieces together for him. "You're scaring me," he says. "You're winding-up like how grown-ups talk when they're gonna say something really bad. Just say it. I know I'm not as cool as you, but I don't need babying."
Marigold	"Fancies her," Guinivere says to Tennant, looking one part embarrassed and three parts amused. "What a courtly way to put it." Her wink that follows could mean any number of things; Lilian's flustering just fills her with a radiantly self-satisfied momentum.      Hector puts a coin on the fruit-seller's stall, picks up an apple, and crunches into it. Trudy almost makes him choke on it. "Hey, you don't have to be telling me what a great big curse it is," he says after the sharp laugh. "It's Armads, the Thunder Axe, weapon of the berserker Durban. The story goes, the axe is so mighty it's got to have the curse to keep you humble. Memento mori and all that. D'you know, I talked to Durban's ghost once? Great big man, almost as strong as me!"      Guinivere looks like she isn't completely sure whether to believe that.      Hector clears his throat. "Anyway. Unfortunately, Dame Commander, we'll have to pass through both. One after the other you see. And while the Marquess of Thria is a good man, Laus is..." He looks to Grimnir, grimacing, and shakes his head. "Well. Marquess Erik's father stabbed us in the back once before, when I was young. I'm hoping he's smarter than his late old man."      Guinivere awkwardly clears her throat a moment later. "'Asymmetrical warfare'. That's what Ilia and Sacae have descended to, as last I know. Such a thing is hard on the people, isn't it? Do you really think...?" "Think what?" Guinivere sighs, and shrinks. "Never mind. I... had a foolish thought. I'm yet unused to war." "Yeah. Hope you stay that way." "I can ill afford to."      She leans over the map while Hector pulls back. "If you could tell Thria to expect our coming-" tap-tap with a short nail- "that would be well. Perhaps Laus shouldn't be given the advance notice."      Hector, meanwhile, slips over to Mia during the lull. He offers her a second, unbitten apple after slipping another coin on the counter. "Hey," he says, with paternally-fretful gentleness in his lowered voice. "Did I hurt you somehow?"
Ru Li Cheng	"I have no doubt. Having power thrust upon him, and responsibility, and duty, and difficulty, and bearing it with such dignity at such a young age. Those are the makings of a legendary story for certain. I..." Ru Li hesitates. "...it must be very difficult."      Roy comes back out with the boots. Ru Li's face takes on a light electrum hue at the praise. "Well...as I said, this is simply a trait of the gods of Yinghua. It is nothing special. Some of the war gods can see things from miles away, and the fortune teller gods have..."      Ru Li just cuts himself off and folds his hands into his robe. "...it is no trouble. I am sorry I cannot be here all the time, but I...can stay for a longer period this time, if you like. To make sure you are in no danger of an ambush." He shifts slightly. "...I do not sleep, either. I am sure you would all like to have a full night of resting or two."      "And it is a small contribution that I am actually capable of offering you with the strength I currently have. Though..."      "...I should like to learn to fight better." That's not unseemly, right? A man can't ask for help, but an exchange, a *trade* - skill for skill, time for time. "My own skill is woefully inadequate. I am physically superior to any human but I have almost no practical combat experience, nor training. Anything I do relies entirely on my own power and nothing else - and I do not wish that to be the case any further."      Ru Li bows his head politely. "If you and yours are willing to teach me the basics - magic, combat, anything and everything you can - I am willing to take time away from my other duties and serve as your eyes and ears, and thereby ensure your safety and rest for the rest of your campaign."
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan's smile wanes after Meika scowls back at him. His thoughts don't change. More than anything, he sees it as a problem with himself, not Meika. He helps in what little way he can, hating to sit there and be idle, taking up Father Lucius' valuable time with what is, essentially, his personal failings. Or, perhaps, by the flicking of his tail, the shifting of a foot, Aidan simply can't be idle. Both can be, perhaps, true. He smiles and waves over towards Shinmyoumaru as she passes. Happy to just greet anyone. If they're too proud to rely on you, that's one thing- one that tends to be cured by the mellowing of time. A snort of breath comes out his nose, "That one, definitely." A muttered, "Hearth save me from stupid men." "Do you think they might suspect your kindness to be ungenuine? Or do you think they might need a different sort of kindness than you're trying to offer?" "Both. I think. I've- been self-centered for a long time, so I don't blame people for thinking I'm ungeniune. I don't wanna be that anymore. I want to be someone people will know cares about them, or is willing to care. But I never know what to say or do." He furrows his brow, looking over at Father Lucius more directly again, "You always seem to know the perfect thing to say, the perfect thing to do to make people feel better. How didja learn that?" "You shall *live his nightmares*." One of Aidan's ears swivels backwards towards the little presentation. Lugh's eager excitement. Maybe he doesn't want to learn about breakdowns from Flamel. But a little smile on his face to hear Lugh's bubbling excitement.
Angela	Tennant ... is actually being cheeky. They grin tellingly when Lilian starts protesting. Yuri, of course, punches them in the arm. "Ow...!" Tennant yelps but this doesn't seem to deter them that much. "Alrght, alright, you got me... I confess to being a little bit cheeky. ... But my interest in multiversal media is genuine! Records used to only keep track of ''people'' and ''events'' but there's actually more media than there are universes out there, there has to be. The City is notoriously insular with its media even now that we've been unified for nearly a full year--but how can we, as a company, put forth that we want to expand humanity's horizons when we turn up our noses at external culture." "I mean, maybe, but I don't see what that has to do with teasing the Dame Commander." "Absolutely nothing!" Tennant says proudly. "But that's why I'm so eager to see what other people think of media even when it's outside their immediate frame of reference--" ''What a courtly way to put it.'' Tennant grins more widely. "Eheh...well, I am from a Nest... My family must be worried about me being uh--working for L Corp this long without being able to pay them a visit, but they knew it was gonna be a long time deal after Ben--Hokma asked us for help, haha." Yuri glances to Dysnomia for a long momen as Hector leans in to speak to her. She frowns thoughtfully but doesn't interrupt. "Ah," Tennant says. "Sorry for rambling on Dame Commander, I'm sure you have bigger things to worry about than this! But I'm happy to help and, er, don't tell Lady Angela, please? She can be...rather incisive..."
Desire Stars	I'm not a great fighter, like Lord Hector. I'm not especially smart like Lady Guinivere or Merlinus. And I don't have a magnetic personality like they say King Zephiel does. If I want people to respect me, I have to be humble and suffer alongside them. That's all that's left.     "'All that's left...' That's interesting, that you'd put it that way. You know," she confides, "When I was a kid, my parents wanted me to learn to do all kinds of things. Sometimes, it was even stuff I wanted to do. Piano, dance, horse riding..." She lists each off with a finger, "Anything that'd make me presentable as an heir, as 'suitably cultured,' even if they'd never admit that's what it was about."     "Mostly, it just made me frustrated," she admits. "But it did teach me that 'learning' isn't as hard as we make it out to be. When it came to the stuff I actually wanted to do, I could put my mind to it, and even if I wasn't great at it, I could improve, if I was patient."     "I think... that what we choose to spend time improving on says a lot about us. If you really had the determination, you could learn to fight like Hector, or how to strategize and politic like Guinivere and Merlinus, or even how to draw people in like Zephiel. But instead, what you're focusing on is how to earn the trust of the people that look to you for leadership."     "I don't know who I expected, to be in your position," Neon says, hands clasped behind her back. "I didn't have any idea, when... my employers, sent me here. But for however long Ace, Michinaga and I are here, I'm glad you're among the people we're helping." Marquess Erik's father stabbed us in the back once before, when I was young. I'm hoping he's smarter than his late old man.     Ace frowns, crossing his arms.     "Often times it's not a matter of how smart someone in that position is," he says, "If I were in Lady Guinivere's position, I'd be perfectly happy to treat with someone uncreative and dull, over someone clever and ambitious."
Odette Raskins	Odette certainly isn't going to complain about sitting between Lance and Alen, and she looks comfortable enough. Sure, this might be their first proper conversation, but it's a comfy spot to sit in and safe to boot considering that they're both knights! She might just look a little bashful once she notices that it's not a huge amount of space, but that fades quickly enough as she speaks with them more. "Mercen...? O-oh, no, the Company is... I guess you could call it the biggest kingdom? Empire..." She pauses, then nods lightly at Lance while setting all her stuff back into her bag. It's a mess in there, but in that organized chaos sort of way. "Empire, I guess.. Er. Where I'm from, anyway. I'd get into it faster if I had more money to start right away, but that's the big if." She laughs freely for a moment at Alen's comment, then clears her throat a moment later like she's trying to look a little more proper for the duo. "But since I can't... Um. That's where the hard work comes in! B-besides, I like this job." A beat, and then Odette chuckles again. "I mean, it's gross sometimes, and it's... You see some bad stuff trying to put people back together, you know? And it can be real rough if someone dies right in front of you even if you do everything right." Odette goes quiet for a moment as a distant look crosses her face, and then she snaps right back to reality. "... But it feels good helping people get back home safe after a bad accident or whatever. It's definitely way better than the... Erm. The alternative." Hearing that the borders have been relatively static for so long has Odette's eyes wandering in surprise. "That long? Wow... I mean, people in my-" Wait. Do they know about space? How would she begin to describe anything like that? "Er. Where I'm from have been moving all over since forever. I guess it's different if there's dragons involved, so... Roland and his crew must've been crazy strong to pull that off along with whoever's living out east. And if you're following in their footsteps..." She places a finger on her chin, then peers at Alen and Lance closely a moment later in yet more wide-eyed curiosity. "Is being a... Er. Being knights something you want to do? I mean..." She looks between Alen and Lance, then up at the sky to try and figure out where east even is. "If you weren't indebted to Mister Marcus and your mom, or House Pherae, would you be doing this? Or heading east to learn about that martial stuff, or being personal trainers..."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel focuses on Lucius first. "It's not just the absence of a mind." He explains. "It's the absence of... when you use a book, doesn't it feel different than when you first pick it up?" He gestures to Lucius' battle-object-of-choice, not really recognizing it as a weapon but understanding it as something Lucius uses. "Using a tool means it becomes part of you. Even though the book has no mind, your mind becomes part of it and it becomes part of your mind. What you choose to use becomes who you are. And if I pointed my psychic senses at your book, I'd find something. Sure, I wouldn't find a mind, but I'd find the intentions of an author, and the intentions of a reader, and maybe even more."     He turns to look up at the sky. "I tried pointing my psychic senses at the dragon bodies, and at that woman with Zephiel... Nothing. Like psychically scanning a pile of dirt, or a rock. Worse than nothing, like it actively defied being anything. What they're doing is worse than hollowness. Somehow." He trails off, for a long, long time.     He shakes his head and adjusts his sunglasses. "Anyway. I need more people, with more expertise in this world, and more willingness to go in deep. I'm committed, but there's only so much I can commit. In the end, it's not my country I'm fighting for. So if I'm going to push harder... I need the help of someone who was willing to give everything up." He turns to Lugh, kneeling down to get on his level and firmly gripping his shoulder. "I'll give you an oath. Take all of it that you can. You'll understand your responsibilities. And then we'll start getting to work on the Lycian minds."     "Repeat after me."     "I, Lugh, being of sound and compassionate mind, do swear:"     "That I will support and defend the minds of my loved ones, my community, and any sophonts against all hazards, natural and supernatural."     "That I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of psychonautical intelligence, into which I now enter, with dignity and humility."     "That I will defend the health, freedom, privacy, and safety of all minds with empathy and support, and absolutely withhold judgment or shame."     "That I will not hesitate to offer the vulnerability and trust needed to maintain my health and safety in my duties, and ensure my worthiness of the trust placed in me."     "That, if this cause may risk my body, my mind, or my life, I will face the challenge with courage and dedication."     He pauses. One key adjustment. "So help me, Saint Elimine."     Then the oath's done. He offers a JUNIOR FIELD-DEPUTIZED PSY-CADET badge, if it all got taken. "If you're up for it, I'll be starting on astral projections for the rank-and-file. We need to clean out Bernish psychohazards proactively, and get defenses set up for when we start seeing their atrocities live -- especially if the supernatural side of their war machine starts affecting any minds."
Trudy Grimm	Trudy hums in thought as Hector shares more about the weapon he wields. The one that, at least for now, the hope is he won't have to use for a while yet. As he boasts about his strength and the ghost of Durban, her eyes close and she gestures, "That must have been quite exciting and humbling, to meet such a hero as that." Her eyes drift towards Lilian as she continues, "It's more than a little intimidating to be in the presence of greatness--" The gaze returns to Hector, "--though that simply means that creatures like me have to work hard to remain useful, hmm~?"     Grimnir meanwhile leans over the map, putting his weight more on his walking stick as he does so. His free hand strokes that lush beard, a thoughtful noise escaping him. After a moment, he reaches and taps the map himself over the indicated region of Thria, "As the larger of our contingent moves towards Thria, then..." His finger traces the road, "A small, fast team should advance ahead to assess the route. Determine if it's safe to stop in larger villages or if we should move around while avoiding them."     He leans back, clutching his staff with both while keeping his single eye on the map itself, "Intelligence would be valuable if we are venturing into possibly hostile lands, after all." His gaze lifts towards Lilian, "You said you can move quickly with a small team. Would this interest you? Ah, or perhaps the young lass with the flying horse..." His eye wanders down the street towards the blacksmithy.
Shinmyoumaru Sukuna	Shinmyoumaru is exactly the sort of person to nudge and poke and pry, socially or otherwise, and she beams at the response. "Friends are important," she says. "And that makes you brothers, doesn't it? Menoto ties can be even stronger than bloodline!" Shinmyoumaru's knowledge is... archaic, and Japanese-flavoured - not really a surprise given her origins - but that doesn't make it wrong. Especially the 'archaic' part fits in pretty well around here. Not a great fighter, not a magnetic leader, not the smartest around... "I don't think that's true," Shinmyoumaru says, after a pause. "You..." Her thoughts take a moment to come together. This kind of self-reflection is rare, for her, but it's what she's been dwelling on all week, after she saw the end of Araphen. "You try," she eventually decides. It helps that Neon is, accidentally or not, supporting her point. "And people see you trying, and they want to help you. Look at us! We all came here, too. Because people believe you can do it. Or at least they believe in the same thing you believe, and that you can lead people. I don't know how to lead people even though I'm a noble... A princess, except the kingdom is so small you'd never find it!" In both senses. In her own way, she believes in him, too. 'What weak people are you standing up for?' Lugh asked her, and she'd had people in mind at the time. She still does. But to do that, she needs to be strong, too. She looks at Ru Li. She didn't know he didn't know how to fight. Suddenly a couple things click into place, making immediate sense to her - things she'd heard him say on radio, or other people say about him. "I can help too," she offers. He gets worked, just like any tool... and Shinmyoumaru has Opinions with a capital O about that. Having been unusually perceptive, for her anyway, Shinmyoumaru fusses for a moment with flushed cheeks. She is increasingly realizing she has just embarrassed herself by oversharing in a very teenaged way. As her cheeks reach the apex redness, she then blurts out all at once, "I want to go say hi to Lugh too though before he gets too busy so I hope those boots are really good! Let's talk again sometime!" before turning and darting off. Not quite sprinting, but fast. It's just enough time for Roy and Wolt or Neon or Ru Li to make a response before she's gone. ... A few moments later, Shinmyoumaru reappears over, closer to Lucius, Flamel, and Lugh. She doesn't interrupt until the oath is well and truly done with, one way or the other, but then she calls, "Hey! He~ey!" A beat. "Did you find something you could do, too?"
Dysnomia	"Perhaps Laus shouldn't be given the advance notice."     "Was afraid so." Dysnomia grunted. "Even if they haven't been working with Bern up until now, this would be a tempting time to make his move. Especially if he doesn't like the current balance of power." Whether he cared about his own power above all else, loathed the crown and wanted out from under it, or even believed surrender would be less painful for his people...It would be good motive to turncoat from Lycia. Dysnomia drummed her hand on the barrel. "Is there anyone his line of succession who might be more supportive, if he's proven a traitor?"     "Did I hurt you somehow?"     She looked over Hector appraisingly, a little betwixt. Ill-prepared for someone to walk up to her face and ask her what she hated them, better prepared for an arena of passive aggression than a genteel old man genuinely asking what was wrong.     "It's not as though you had much chance to do so." She asked him, in lieu of answering. A race of intelligent beings, driven extinct. And the guilt that had flagged his voice at their mention, the first hint that Mia might have been right. "I've seen little of you, except teetering over death's edge and fumbling with a communicator." It might have sounded something like a 'no.'
Blemishine	They never give their equipment the weight it deserves-" he smiles mischievously- "until they lose, and then it's the sword's fault.     "Oh, you really wouldn't /believe/ how many competition knights back at home get by with subpar gear," Maria begins, practically glowing with Marcus' shift in demeanor. Despite that, she certainly does seem to hold him in some very high mentor-like regard. Before she gets much farther though, his question stops her short.     "Miss Dysnomia...? Well..." Her contemplation on the matter helps keep her fervor for studying otherworldly forgework in close detail in check, although it doesn't diminish how keen her eyes are as she steps over to join the older knight. Her mind drifts back towards the battle at Castle Araphen.     She landed on the ground with a heavy impact, shielding the two warriors with her own body... opened her mouth and let loose a thin stream of arcing plasma...     "We're not close in the Otherworld or anything, to tell you the truth," she says conversationally while trading the steel lance out for a javelin, hefting it to inspect the woodwork. "Anyone can tell she's not exactly human, but... ahaha, neither am I." There's a twitch of her tail, as if for emphasis. "She wasn't lying about being able to handle that injury she took, but I think she was acting a bit /too/ tough, you know? Ah, don't tell her I said that."     The polearm is given a couple twists in her grip, and she murmurs almost idly to herself, "I'm /sure/ you could reinforce it a bit without sacrificing weight... hmm..." Before she gets lost in her thoughts on how to do that though, she glances back to the older man briefly. "...What's been bothering you, Sir Marcus?"
Dark Horses	"Let him go??? Yeah, I guess that makes sense."      It's not hard for Michinaga to figure out why a noble family would want to cut ties with someone like Dieck. A commoner being allowed to mingle with the rich and powerful? Yeah, that'd be a blow to their reputation.      "Anyway, thanks."      Michinaga blows at a strand of hair and breaks eye contact with Shanna, looking off to the side. He's not really sure how to end this conversation specifically, though it seems he's given a bit more time to think about how he's going to disengage as one of the axemen asks him a question.      "If I was joining I would've just asked. I just wanted to know what kinda guy he was, that a problem?"      Michinaga's tone gets slightly defensive in a way a street thug does, though not out of offense, and more so in preemptive retaliation of the follow-up question his answer might result in.
Meika Kirenai	'Huh? Mostly I just throw fireballs.'     "Yeah? Well, I- I can't do anything like that. Hope I- hope I get to see you toss those, sometime..?" It's the second time a stranger's voiced fondness for her whispering trick, and it almost rests less easy on the magical girl. It's creepy. Maybe things are just different here, so you don't get it.     Her arms cross just to fidget with one another, tighter-clung black undershirt sleeves make Meika's build far slighter and more spindly than she looks with the ever-present jacket she should be wearing. Still- in spite of all that discomfort and wrongness, she smiles, watching Lugh so clearly resonate with the words spilling out of Flamel's mouth.     There's a half second, where she almost, almost goes over to try and pat him on the back, for how excited he sounds- and instead, she spins on her heels, to stray further away from the group, and Flamel's presentation. 'Chad...?' 'He'll be back,'     Yeah. Don't think this will go well. 'You're scaring me,'     The expression that crosses Meika's face is the most lively she's had all day- unfortunately, it's also one of grimacing distaste. That's exactly what I'm doing, isn't it? Just like the grown-ups do.     "... Yeah. You're right. That's shitty of me." No direct apology. She sits, silent for a quiet moment. "I'm a liar. You should hate me. I- I don't get 'however long it takes'. Not even if I said I'd help."     Knees together, and arms hugging them, she looks angrier, and tired, more than she looks just withdrawn. The tiny, awful scratching sound of nails across fabric is the only fragment of noise she lets stay in the air. "I'll be here when I can be. Don't worry when- if I stop. That's it."     "Won't really lose much. I can't fight like back in Laphet anymore- so-" She exhales. "That's it. Be shitty not to tell you. Cobalt- ask her, if I'm not- yeah." Her voice catches in her throat. I can't lay this on her. And he said he'd look out for her, even. That's not fair to either of them.     Slowly, she opens up her posture, and starts to stand up. "Guess that makes you cooler than me." Eyes don't fix on him- they fix across the way, towards the street tiles the sun is heating, the buildingside plants moving in the wind. "... I'm sorry I scared you. I- I don't want to be scary. I just- Yeah."     Stepping away, there's a crack- sharp, one of the tiles her boot lands on as she hops a little bit away from the doorway shatters underfoot. A handful around it do, too. It's silent. She doesn't notice.     Hair and fabric both rustle slightly in the wind, unfitting and unnatural for her demeanor. The smile on her face is hollow, forced, pained, and she really wishes it wasn't, but it doesn't feel like a lie to put it on, for how certain she is Chad can tell each of those things. "You're closer to a hero, anyway. If I come back, someday, I- hope you'd tell me all about it."
Lilian Rook	'What a courtly way to put it.'     Lilian pouts with exactly the wordless ease of someone who was surrounded by that phrasing in school. She is stoically resolved not to get involved with any more powerful women unmoored from mortal consequences. She said that the last four times, but she means it this time. For real.     'D'you know, I talked to Durban's ghost once? Great big man, almost as strong as me!'     "I'm happy you got to." says Lilian, very strangely. "They have a way of making it easier to accept things like this." Her hand comes to rest on the hilt of Night Mist near her ribs, letting her fingers trail along the grip by memory more than shape. "I had that good fortune too . . ."     She blinks. "Ah, but I've paid most of my required humility up front. It's not quite so dramatic as a bloody death in battle, so don't mind me."     'Unfortunately, Dame Commander, we'll have to pass through both'     Lilian swears quietly under her breath. She leans in to check the map past Hector's hand, and properly scans for two contiguous territories directly along the way to Ostia. "How terribly convenient. That Laus would be the one in the way of Araphen, too. And right on the river."     'I'm hoping he's smarter than his late old man.'     "If he isn't, then I'll help him learn." says Lilian. "Whether someone cleaves to or away from from their nasty old man comes down to all sorts of reasons, but most importantly how well they were treated."     'That's what Ilia and Sacae have descended to, as last I know. Such a thing is hard on the people, isn't it? Do you really think...?'     "The first and last resort of an already annexed territory, I'm afraid." says Lilian. "Of course it is. Please excuse me. I've speaking out of turn; thinking too far into the future, past too many plans that might very well succeed. It's only that . . ."     'Never mind. I... had a foolish thought. I'm yet unused to war.'     'Yeah. Hope you stay that way.'     'I can ill afford to.'     Lilian takes a deep breath. "I promised Lord Roy to save Lycia. I'm not about to shrink away just because the military collapsed." she says. "Which means I can't afford to take a few strong steps and hope for the best. Planning for every eventuality is part of my process."     'that would be well. Perhaps Laus shouldn't be given the advance notice.'     "My. That might even be a good idea." Lilian says, starting to smile again. Glancing where Grimnir indicates, she says "It may be acceptable to keep an eye on Shanna as well. Local representation, rather than entirely foreign, may help some."     'I've seen little of you, except teetering over death's edge and fumbling with a communicator.'     "Be nice."     'Sorry for rambling on Dame Commander, I'm sure you have bigger things to worry about than this! But I'm happy to help and, er, don't tell Lady Angela, please? She can be...rather incisive...'     "And no promises."
Marigold	Lucius's smile deepens as he sends off the last of his patients (for now). He doesn't get up, but leans back on the steps, luxuriating in a job well done. Aidan's first question seems to amuse him. "How didja learn that?" "By following the teachings of Saint Elimine," he says, "but more to the point, by being twice your age, and making many mistakes."      His eyes trace up to the clouds. A deep, thoughtful breath follows. "Mending your ways is difficult. The Saint would approve. She was an imperfect person until her final hour, you know." A slight pause. "I'll tell you how to earn trust. I do it with my children: pace yourself. They don't need a single grand gesture. They need consistency, and simplicity. Small simple kindnesses, with no strings attached and thought given to their needs, cast the fewest shadows for the wary to jump at."      He turns his head and puts a reassuring push into his smile, then. "Does that sound like something you can do, Aidan?"      Marcus looks surprised- it isn't as though he'd never noticed Blemishine's tail before, but... "You aren't human, eh? I never would've guessed! I thought it was just like how Sacaens have different-shaped teeth, or folks from the Western Isles get taller."      He shakes his head slowly while turning his back to examine some manner of exotic polearm with a crescent-shaped blade just behind the speartip. It seems to charm him. "It might only be my imagination, but that girl seemed tense when we discussed dragons. I suppose it's none of my business. But even if she is... if she's not of this world, it's hardly as though she's guilty of the same crimes."      Marcus finally shoulders the half-dozen polearms he's picked out and thunks them all down on the smithy's counter, sighs in satisfaction, and glances over at Blemishine once more. "Picked out a treat for yourself? If you help me sharpen them, I'll let you look at the antique silver. Ahahaha." Dieck's stayed quiet while browsing inventory for himself, but he seems warmed by proxy, too.      Roy glances between Shinmyoumaru and Neon, looking commiseratingly sympathetic at first, and then straightening up and hoping to mask with dignity and poise the slight tinge of pink crawling across his face. "I... I see," he says, swallows awkwardly, and tries to rebalance himself.      "There are a lot of people whose trust I have to earn. Some of them have already given it to me, before I've deserved it. If I'm getting better at deserving it, by trying..." The idea makes him nervously happy. "I think you already deserve it, Lord Roy," Wolt says gently. "Wolt, can you please not call me that?" "Huh? But everyone else has to." "... Of course."      He breathes out, deflating a little again. "Well. Thank you so much. I feel better. And the boots certainly help."      Dealing with Ru Li is, emotonally, simpler. This smile comes more readily. "Absolutely, Ru Li Cheng. We'd be overjoyed to have you. I'm sure Wolt will love getting a full night's sleep." "H-hey!" "I'm sure Marcus would... no, if you have superhuman strength, Hector might be an even better teacher. Just mind that you can't spar against him. There's no telling if the curse would kill him for it."
Marigold	Chad tries not to let any distinct emotions- worry, anger, sadness, fear- show on his face. But he can't hide the tightness that comes from holding all of them back. His shoe scuffs the doorstep, destroying some moss in a tiny act of world-retribution. "So you're a goner," he says, forcing himself not to look away from Meika's eyes.      "... I can't hate you. 'I'm gonna make it'. 'I'll always be there for you'. Everybody knows..." A little convulsion pushes the air from his lungs. He keeps it from going further than that, and breathes. "... everyone knows those are lies. I probably lied when I said them too. I'm just a dumb kid. Do you think I'm gonna make it?"      "I'm not a hypocrite."      "But I'll look out for her. And I... I..." There was something else he meant to say. It's forgotten now. His face finally cracks. He takes a breath to say something else but it comes out wrong. He's been left before, but Meika isn't the kind of person who he's braced to leave him. Chad reaches out to hug the taller girl, and for just a second before he stills it again, she can feel his chest shaking.      He pulls away sharply after just a second, like he's burned himself, and turns to go. Now he can't meet her eyes. Hoarsely: "Yeah. See you."      Lugh, meanwhile, is blissfully oblivious to the conversation happening twenty feet away around the corner. He puffs up with a near-lethal amount of sincere enthusiasm and puts a hand on his own heart. "Repeat after me! Oh, do I not say that part- um, I, Lugh, being of sound and compassionate mind..." You'd be hard-pressed to find someone saying it with more fire in their eyes. Lucius winces just a little at may risk my body, mind, or life, but he knows he can't object.      "... so help me, Saint Elimine!" Lugh finishes, and looks radiantly proud to be fastening the badge to the neck of his little cape. "Thank you so much, Mr. Parsons! I promise I won't let you down! And... I'll try to bring Chad around on it, too."      "All minds," Father Lucius comments, when he glances over next. He seems to approve. Lugh, though, is too busy getting up on tiptoes to wave to Shinmyoumaru. "Yeah! Look, Maru! He gave me a badge and everything!"      As rough as the axeman and his matching buddy look, they don't give Michinaga the hassling he's bracing for. "Huh. Guess it's not," he grunts, with a warm wariness that slides his mien from 'street tough' towards 'country boy'. "Not like he doesn't have a reputation."      Shanna, meanwhile, seems a little crestfallen. "Awww, you mean you're not joining? Did these two lugs scare you off? They did, didn't they? Wade, c'mon! This is why you've got to stop glaring at people!" "H-hey! It's not my fault! He was never gonna sign up!" "He'd be eating into our pay anyway." "Yeah, but he seems so serious and cool! Don't you wanna hang out with him?" ... They don't answer that.
Marigold	Alen half-laughs and beams. "Yeah. They say Roland was really amazing- and he was about your size! 'The little knight'. Of course, that's just stories. Who knows how much is true?" "There's the bones," Lance says mildly. "Well, the bones-" "And the weapons." "Well I've never seen the weapons."      Odette's question puts both of them to quiet. After a moment of the fountain's babbling: "... I don't know what I'd doing. I like being a knight, the responsibility. Nobody really likes battle-" "Some people do. Don't trust them." "-but I'd feel worse sitting it out. I dunno. Maybe I'd have found something else I love?" "I'd be a painter." "Huh??" "Or maybe I'd teach strategy games to nobles." "Now you're making me feel insecure."      "... What about you? If you didn't have to be a medic to support yourself. What would you rather be? Does a quiet life in the countryside appeal?"
Aidan Proudpick	"but more to the point, by being twice your age, and making many mistakes." The squirrel lets out a silent little 'oh'. "I hadta grow up fast a couple times. " He leans back against the wall as well, then slowly repeats it. He had just been waiting for a big moment. Some place he could pour his heart out all at once. Big and explosive, just like always. Do it in one burst so everyone will like him. He turns back to Lucius, his own smile warming back up. "I think I can do that. Thank you, Father. I think Ru Li would call you a hero. Conviction and inner strength beyond anyone else. Even if it took a lifetime." His smile warms just a bit more. "I hope to be a hero like you some day. And Saint Elimine."
Marigold	"Humbling?" The twinkle in Hector's eye tells Trudy it certainly was, but jovality demands he pretend it wasn't. "Haha. Actually, he was quite impressed with me! Said I was the greatest warrior he'd ever met and he was honored to have me pickin' up his axe." Hector winks. Guinivere smiles patiently behind him, keeping down a laugh.      "A nest," Guinivere marvels softly. "Then, do Otherworlders hatch from eggs, or--" Thankfully Lilian's there to distract her from that scandalizing train of thought.      "Whether someone cleaves to or away from from their nasty old man comes down to all sorts of reasons, but most importantly how well they were treated."      Guinivere looks away and laughs nervously to roll with the punch, covering the lower half of her face with one hand. Ouch.      "The first and last resort..." Recovering somewhat, she lowers her head in respectful acquiescence. "Of course, Dame Commander. I'm afraid I'm a much softer person than yourself or Lord Hector. Whenever I try to think of such things, my heart recoils from it... but I'm glad someone wiser is already considering them for me."      Hector nods sagely while he turns over Grimnir's plan. "It's a sound idea. I'd like us to stop by Castle Laus itself to resupply- if they have stayed loyal, it'd be invaluable. But you're right we shouldn't walk in blindly. Only problem with getting that Shanna girl to scout is, you can see everything from a pegasus, but everything can see you. They'd know we're suspicious of 'em right away."      Mia's reply cracks him up. "Ahaha! No, she's right," he says, almost clapping her on the shoulder and then realizing halfway through the motion that he maybe shouldn't. His hand awkwardly drops. "Haven't made much of an impression. Suppose she just runs cold. Some folks are like that, can't hold it against them too hard."      Hector tosses the apple up in the air in just such a fashion that Mia has to either catch it (and thus accept it) or let it hit the ground, and then saunters back to where he can sit on a barrel.      Guinivere, meanwhile, slips over to take and squeeze Tennant's hands with an earnest look into their eyes. "I'm sorry you haven't been able to visit your family in so long," she says. "We've quite needed your help, but it breaks my heart to think that we've been keeping you from them. My personal coffers are quite low at the moment, but..."      "When this is over, perhaps a tip can convince your employers to give you some time away?" Goodness, she is soft-hearted.
Desire Stars	Well. Thank you so much. I feel better.     "Of course!" Neon's fist punps in the air, and her smile is sunny and sure, despite the shadows that darkened it on her arrival. "We're different, but, I know... a little of what you're feeling, I think. I'm happy I could help even a little." Especially after how she'd left the meeting with Zephiel.     Rocking slightly on her heels, "I'm gonna see what the food is like, here." She excuses herself with a little nod of her head, and takes a leisurely stroll away from the conversation.
Odette Raskins	"My size? R-really? Huh. Then maybe I could-" Odette starts with a giggle, then lets that sentence die in her throat the moment Alen speaks of Roland's nickname. "Th... That's not little at all! I-it's a normal size, just... Smaller next to giants!" She half-whines, half-pleads with a light and indignant huff. "B-besides. If you haven't seen them, maybe... Maybe the weapons were just huge, too." At least Odette settles down soon enough after grasping that much, and she has her own spell of pausing to think when the knights go over their own thoughts on knighthood and their  hypothetical future. "Yeah... I-I get that, Mister Lance. I've seen plenty of fol-/people/ like that. They say they want to fight the good fight when they're really just using it as an excuse to hurt people and feel big. Nothing like the real heroes that step up because they have people to protect, or because they've got a real vision for fixing things..." She pauses, then raises an eyebrow at the pair and giggling again at the difference in Lance and Alen's responses. "Painting and teaching, huh? That's really different from fighting, that's for sure. Heck, maybe you could even get inspired once you see something he comes up with." She suggests to Alen with a light nod, then taps her chin again. "I heard painters could make lots of money a long time ago, so you'd probably be pretty okay if you did that." Odette furrows her brow as she glances around the fountain again, leaning back slowly with her hands on the edge to keep her from tipping over entirely. "They'd have some real interesting customers, too, and their customers made lots working in comp... Uh. Writing and math?" That sounds about right in her head. She's not quite so fast to answer when Lance asks about what she would do, though, humming and staring at the sky for a while longer before leaning forward again. "If I didn't have to worry about money, I'd... Hmm. Maybe I'd still be doing this?" She half-answers, half-asks while still sounding uncertain. "I mean, maybe I wouldn't be in a rush to become a licensed doctor or anything, but I'd still want to do something to keep people alive and healthy, you know? Living in the countryside, though..." Another long pause. "That wouldn't be so bad, either. Just enjoying life at home, chatting with whoever's around, reading and watching TV, mixing stuff in a little lab in the backyard and seeing what happens without worrying about blowing up the station..."  Odette closes her eyes as she speaks, already letting her mind drift a bit with a lazily pleasant chuckle. "I could even wear a cool coat to look professional, too..." And then her eyes open wide as she finally remembers what she was looking for. "Oh! Um. S-say. Did either of you see any places to get clothes around here? I.. Um. Might need a change or three for all the traveling we'll be doing."
Trudy Grimm	> "Humbling? Haha. Actually, he was quite impressed with me!"     "Oh, of that I have no doubt," Trudy's response to the elder knight's jovial attitude on the subject of his predecessor comes out as dry-but-amused, a little grin showing those sharp teeth of hers, "You'll have to tell me about it later. As you may have guessed, I am a woman who has a great interest in the ways of spirits." One eye closes, "We have business for now, after all~."     Grimnir strokes his beard as Hector spells out a weakness in Pegasus scouting, appraising the man's words, "Oh, if such a thing would be suspicious right away, then no need to risk it, yes." His one eye closing, the sage waves that same hand, "Forgive my mistake. I'm not quite accustomed to the particulars of these lands just yet."     Leaning over the map again, he hums, "So the flying rider is a no-go. We'd best assemble your stealthiest scouts then and move them on ahead. People skilled at keeping a low profile. Who know the land, and can tell when something's off when they reach town." His posture shifts, grasping his staff with both hands again, "I'm sure you fine young folks have a few names in mind. Two or three should be plenty."
Blemishine	I thought it was just like how Sacaens have different-shaped teeth, or folks from the Western Isles get taller.     Maria's laugh comes easily, which is awfully unsurprising at this point, while tucking the javelin she was in the midst of inspecting against her side. She seems content with it. "I suppose it still sort of is like that, depending on how you look at it! Most people from where I'm from can be taken for humans at a glance, so maybe there's a common thread? Although some are actually closer to Mister Proudpick..." She seems considerate of the matter, before moving to further her weapon collection.     While she does so, there's a hum at the mention of dragons. "I'm not sure it was your imagination, since I got the same impression. But I think you're right; it'd be a bit silly to blame a dragon from one world for what happened in another one." The knight gives a light sigh. "...But if I was in that position, I feel like I'd have some complicated emotions about it. Not just about others getting the wrong idea, either! It's pretty normal to be interested in 'your kind, but different'."     Says the girl who fawned over a pegasus on sight.     As Marcus places his selection of polearms up, she's not terribly far behind him; a couple choice lances that struck her as being especially well put-together, on top of the aforementioned javelin. At his offer, she practically glows. As much as she can without making actual light, anyway! "Oh--! I'd be more than happy to, Sir Marcus! Eheh, I planned to help out already, but with a promise like that, I'll be twice as motivated!"     A hand comes to pat against her chest a few times, in implicit 'you can count on me!' style. "I'll have you know, I might be a fledgling knight, but craftsmanship is where I really shine~. I'll do everything I can to make sure everyone is only using the best, so that they can be their best!"
Meika Kirenai	Goner. Meika shrugs, with the same tone of a wince. Slowly, after she's up, she takes inspiration from Chad's little destructive act and kicks at a similar brick, hard. Nothing so dramatic as it cracking happens. Her foot just hurts, dull and empty.     It's hard for her to return Chad's gaze, but she doesn't try hard enough to avoid it. "Guess we'll see. Yeah."     "I hope so. I hope you'll make it." Soft, implied in unsaid parallel, 'I don't know if you will'. She kicks it again. It hurts more, and she turns away, not looking at anything in particular, except anywhere else. Inhale, exhale- another stone silently cracks underfoot. "... What's that you're-"     The second Chad wraps her in the hug, Meika goes completely still. Breath held, muscles tense. There's no way Chad wouldn't pick up on the cold shock of fear that posturing stems from. Seconds drag on as she's delayed and delayed in hugging him back at all. By the time her arms are moving, he's already pulling away, sharp-     Don't touch me, I- Did I hurt him-? I didn't mean to- he's scared- does he hate me? It's good he can't meet Meika's eyes- they're locked wide, like a frightened animal, and tearing up enough to be hazed over. Her lips move- a few moments pass before the motion results in sound, slow-processed, still shaky. "I- sorry, I-" An awkward step, silent and off-balance.     "... R-right. See you." It's another little phrase they both know will eventually be a lie.
Dysnomia	"Suppose she just runs cold."     "Suppose I must." Dysnomia's voice was carefully neutral, eyes never leaving his, aloof, her hands folding behind her back. For a moment, she was back on a command bridge. Everything in order. Nothing out of place. Let nothing slip, or they'll use it.     She turns away from him, when she's finally given the excuse to leave--a flicker motion, at the corner of her eyes, and her hand reached out and--     --Grabbed hold of the apple in flight.     Her eyes darted to Hector, to the apple, to Hector. It was the apple she lingered on. With a huff like burning ozone, Dysnomia's arm fell to her side. Stormed away. The apple tight in her girp.