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Marigold	The aftermath of Mount Eburacum takes days to settle. Echidna, Elffin the mysterious harpist, and Geese the gallant ex-pirate get their tearful reunion with Larum the spy; Fir has her blubbery meeting with her burly father; and then, more importantly, Echidna, Roy, and Merlinus the seneschal-logistician have to put their heads together on the practicalities of getting all the formerly enslaved prisoners back to their homes.      "The ones who still have homes, anyway," Echidna had said so casually, making Roy wince.      A surprising number of the inmates wanted to stay and help Echidna's revolution. After dismissing the starved and incompetent, she's left with about thirty volunteers, dispatching them under Geese- "--and we'll regroup in Jutes." "Juteaux?" "Shut it." "Haha, yes'm."      Over the following few days, Roy's army follows the western coast south, passing by two fishing villages. Both are effusively welcoming, insisting on sharing fresh seafood and local tchotchkes; news that the infamous Mine of Death was liberated spreads fast.      - - - - -
Marigold	Fibernia, the Western Isles      A week's march from the capital Jutes.      This is one of those pleasant non-urgent calls, with the camp conveniently right next to a natural warpgate. The canvas tents of Roy's army are pitched on rock-cleared earth in a craggy mossy forest permeated by mist, but the smell of the ocean is in the air, and not just from the fresh fish Merlinus is roasting over the maybe-too-big central campfire. Only a few hundred feet away, cliffs drop off into the choppy Western ocean.      If there's anything out there, past even the Isles themselves, it's not on any map you've seen. This is the edge of the world.      Chad, Lugh, Lilina, and Roy are all playing a game among the trees on the camp's outskirts, some mixture of tag with hide-and-go-seek. Chad's easily the most athletic of them, with Lugh and Roy about tied for least, and Lilina somewhere in the middle. Wolt, the archer-bodyguard, is fruitlessly trying to spoil it and drag Roy back into meetings.      Rutger looks... well, frankly, they look like they ought to be buying new clothes about now. The hoodie-like tabard becomes a little bit more of a joke every time you see them. They sit on the less-inhabited side of the fire, sharpening their newest sword (brighter-gleaming than steel) absentmindedly. But 'less inhabited' doesn't mean uninhabited.      Fortuitously, you arrive just as a minor catastrophe's unfolding. "Hey," says Fir, who's just managed to squirm away from 173, her dad), gone out to get more firewood. "Why did you pretend to be a man, anyway?" ". . . !" "Swordswomen aren't that uncommon. Especially if you're tall. And you can take care of yourself, right?" "I wondered too," says Sue, leaning over from the horse-caring to form Sacaen Girls' Night. Rutger leans back with eyes wide, heart obviously pounding a mile a minute. "I mean, if you'd rather not talk about it, that's fine!" "I..."      Lucius, sitting off to the side, looks like he might be about to say something, but he can't quite gather up the momentum to. If things get any worse he might have to step in himself. As-is, his hand clutches anxiously at the edge of his stole.      Larum, Elffin, and Echidna are sitting on the more populated side, blissfully oblivious to that mess. Echidna's the first one to rise and boisterously wave you over; Larum waves with both hands, overjoyed to see her saviors again, but soon settles back into her narrative.
Marigold	"... So the capital is lightly-guarded," says the brightly-dressed spy to Merlinus and Marcus in Roy's stead. "We wouldn't have been able to take it before, but I think now we can overrun the garrison and just march right up to Lord Arcard's manor! I mean, that's what his ex-servants tell me. We'll have to outrun the news of Eburacum or he'll tighten his guard, I bet."      "Mmm. But Klein's still unaccounted-for?" "Yeah. The 'provisional archer-general'. I hear he's been on the move, but it's not like he's pursuing us..." "If we're lucky, he's come around to our side," says Merlinus with no real hope. "Name a time we've been lucky?" "Well, this fish has been wonderful. That's one." "Haha..." "Right. There's that, and the 'un-man' that's been hanging around..."      Everyone else in Roy's army is accounted-for here too, if less prominent, should you want to seek them out. Most are tending the horses, or resting in their tents, or helping with the night's fish and chowder and assorted packing and unpacking. The mood is crisp-and-brightly-relaxed despite the long march.
Dysnomia	At some point after getting pinned through with an arrow by Clarine's big brother, Dysnomia must have gone somewhere to get her Ostian clothes mended. The boots, simple leggings, cloak, skirt and tunic in reds and violets wouldn't have made her seem out of place among the Lycians...If it weren't for those haunting, pupilless eyes and long white hair, pulled into a ponytail, that almost seemed to glow. And the collar around her neck, with an emblem of nine circles sharing an orbit around a larger tenth. Having missed the altercation at the Mine of Death, Dysnomia walks from the warpgate with her hood pulled up, wordlessly watching the kids play in the trees.     She doesn't quite smile.     It's probably not a surprise that Dysnomia finds herself drawn to the intelligence meeting with Marcus. "Good intel." She grunted, almost reluctantly. "Our goal, then, is to outrun HIS intelligence network."     "If he doesn't have any of his flyers scouting for news, we might have the advantage. He doesn't have the people of the isles in his good graces, so news may be slow to trickle to him."     "If we're lucky, he's come around to our side,"     Dysnomia made a soft growl, grabbing at her chest a moment. "We'd best prepare for the possibility that he won't. Sister of his or not. You saw what he did to all of us." The fact that he then ordered a retreat doesn't occur to her.     "Right. There's that, and the 'un-man' that's been hanging around..."     "'Un-man?'" Dysnomia's eyes snapped to Larum. "Clarify."
Khosa	Khosa, of course, made her way here as soon as she was invited. It's a lot more interesting than what she had been doing (paperwork, which she still does not like no matter how much she realizes it is important to have done). It helps that it's a relatively short trip. She would have been significantly less eager if it had involved hard riding. She still would've come, of course, but she might not have been jumping at it. Khosa dodges the tag game coming in because she doesn't want to get dragged into it, but she also doesn't help Wolt spoil it, and she's grinning by the time she passes the fire. It might be a minor catastrophe, but Khosa - who knows Rutger not well at all - doesn't recognize it as one at first, which absolutely does not stop her from throwing in her two cents: "Ah, leave 'em alone," she says as she passes. "I can think of a few reasons why and none of them are my business. Probably not yours, either." (Yes, she is trying to bail Rutger out. But she's also trying to not look like she's doing so.) She keeps moving toward the more populated side of the fire, holding back just for a moment to not interrupt until a good moment. One comes along pretty quickly. "What about the fish?" she asks, taking the last couple steps and crouching down near the sitters. "I'm still not used to them." "As for the capital, that's great news, right? If it's true. Obviously you want some kind of confirmation, but it's what you were hoping for, missing general or not." She pauses a moment. "Un-man? What, you guys have eunuchs here too?" Almost gravely, Khosa adds: "Oh, and I want to say something to you before it gets too late to," she says to Echidna and Larum, and waits for permission to continue on the topic before she does.
Alucard	Alucard arrives. He doesn't look too out of place except for his eyes and the hint of fangs when he speaks. Even so, he manages to slip through the camp like a phantom, weaving through people like smoke, evading the youthful games, and staying as far away as he can from Rutger's business. He has enough problems. He ends up near the little strategy meeting, silent and still as a stone as he listens. He reflexively rests his hand on his sword hilt, almost a comforting gesture. "We must be prepared. If we have been ... played, and this intelligence is flawed, we must prepare to be ambushed with overwhelming force."
Echolalia	Echolalia HAS been informed that Dysnomia is in this sector after all. She was also told to jerk off but she wasn't told Dysnomia didn't want to see her so she's still looking! She hasn't jerked off but should she have? At first she was like 'NO WAY' but then he said it was for her own good and admitted he couldn't make her--maybe she should ask Dysnomia, gosh she's so smart-- 'For the love of Ran do not ask the war criminal about jerking off.' Echolalia can communicate telepathically over vast distances which means, sometimes, that others can communicate back to her. Other etherwyrms immediately start offering their own advice. 'NO YOU CANNOT JERK OFF, DO NOT SHOW WEAKNESS, DO NOT LET THE GAMER WIN.' 'You probably should've. Or you know, found someone else.' 'Staaaaahp,' Echolalia begs. 'Don't worry I would never let a gamer win but trust me she's so cool actually.' Though honestly she does want to talk to Phreak again sometime, totally unrelated to Dysnomia, because he seemed pretty reasonable all told. A trio of 'ughs' answer her but that does keep them quiet long enough for her to reach out with her mind and-- Ah! 'Found ya!!' Echolalia steps ''out'' of a tree near Dysnomia, taking the form of a woman in her twenties, with light green skin and glowing green eyes. Her hair is a vibrant mess of sparky colors popping and bursting around her head like fireworks detonating against the sky. A leafy vest takes form around her upper body along with a pair of leathery ethereal green wings snapping behind her. Her lower body appears with a pair of yoga pants already adorned with a pair of wooden sandals on her feet. A light blue satchel with a gator emblem and the word 'Florida' on it is over her shoulder. "Dysnomia! Sweet Potato! Rad Banana! Most Dazzling Dragon! PLEASE DON'T RUN please don't run! I mean ok saying PLEASE DON'T RUN is super sketchy but I really really mean it I don't mean any harm I just want to talk and I'm not stalking you okay I promise they said I was being a stalker but I'm totally not a stalker I'm trying to look out for you as a friend and if you really wanted to there's no way I'd be able to find you anyway since you'd totally foresee that with your future vision, so you must want to talk which makes me not a creep!" She glances around, as if noticing the army for the first time having been completely focused on Mia--though her gaze settles on Khosa first. "Oh hey Khosa. What's going on? Is this one of those ren faires I've read about?"
Desire Stars	Why did you pretend to be a man, anyway?     Fir finds Ace's hand clapped on her shoulder. The Star of the Star of the Stars wears a wine-red worsted wool suit jacket with a slate satin vest over a grey/white paisley button-up, paired with black slacks and matching dress shoes. He smiles at her, then at Sue. "You two remind me of the scholar who went in search of enlightenment," he says.     "You've taken tea with the master," Ace opines, nodding towards Rutger. "But they can't pour you any--your cups are already full. Come back to them with empty cups."     He pats Fir on the shoulder affirmingly, his initial-engraved gold-onyx cufflinks glimmering in the firelight as he then shoots Rutger a little smile. With his observation shared, he takes a seat on Echidna's side. Name a time we've been lucky?     "I can think of three in recent memory," Ace says. "But we're not *only* lucky. There are talented, diligent, patient people in this outfit, and from the Otherworld. Like yours truly," he says, with his distinctively smug smile.     Neon, meanwhile, is here in a dappled pattern, sunflower-yellow sundress with short, flared sleeves, matched with simple brown leather pumps. She warms her hands on the less populated side, deep in thought about the events at the mountain camp.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons is immediately focused on this. A more familiar process: Intel briefings! "Lightly-guarded is my favorite! But we need to make sure we're out ahead of the big risks. If we were dealing with Bernish forces, I'd need some heavy anti-air to cut off messengers. But for this place, we mostly need to handle meaningful signal-fires and things like that. Think there's anything like that we need to take care of?" He's already got a psychic overhead projector going on, scribbling something on one of the camp tables and projecting his perception of it out as a big screen. A working map of the capital, which he helpfully labeled "JUTE[...]".     "We've built up way more espionage capacity than we'd need to get some sabotage done ahead in the capital itself, especially my style. I'd *love* to sneak in ahead and psychically seed some turncoats in place to make sure that all we have to deal with is the local regulars." He rambles, looking for good spots on the map to focus that kind of effort. "Hey, Lilian, you know, everyone loves your perfectly-calculated ultraviolence but nobody gives you the credit you're owed for your fine-tuned obedience-demanding psychohazard! *And* you know how to fly under the radar. What would you say to spending a while on sneaking into town and softening the locals up with a little psychic pressure? Could be a great way to get to know the place, too!" His beaming smile and cheerful tone makes it sound like he's suggesting a vacation.     "'Un-man'...? I was told you weren't supposed to call her that? Wait, sorry--" He pulls something glowing out of his brain for a moment -- a small exaggerated caricature of Rutger -- and then pulls a chunk off it, blows on its contacts like a cartrige, and plugs it back in, before depositing the psychic figure back into his brain. "I thought you weren't supposed to call them that?"     He looks blankly confused for a moment, before realizing: "Oh, wait, you mean *someone at the capital*! Well, new dossier time, then! Any data I can have?" He's pulling out a proper paper dossier to fill out. He's got some *startlingly* good rapid-cartooning skills to use in place of a photo of this mysterious individual. "If they're a person-of-interest around here, chances are we'd better worry about them, or at least some contingent of combatants, given how everyone's traveling with a lot of military power these days."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine's still got her nerves up from the battle at the mine, but the surrounds are helping. For a while she ponders the western horizon from the cliffs as the wind tosses her hair. She pulls a folded note from her bag - dangerous though it may be to pull out a letter from the King of Bern so near to the camp of his staunchest opponents, she can't help but recall some of the King's words. I do not damn humanity for sullying nature. I damn humanity for failing to rise above it. Is she now part of Elibe's cycle of cruelty begetting cruelty? The spilled blood of a dozen, two dozen sleeping men would attest to that, no matter their crimes. She folds the letter back into a pocket, trying and failing to take her mind off the matter.     Returning to the camp, she spots Neon on its periphery and crouches next to her, taking up a stick to idly stir the fire. "That was your first hostage situation too, huh? I'm a little glad I wasn't the only one, even if I shouldn't be. I'm... not used to defending anything smaller than myself."
Odette Raskins	Although it's unlikely anyone would have expected anything else by then, Odette had been working hard providing medical care immediately following the events at the Mine of Death. Less visible than that would have been the shifts at her station that kept her far, far away from anything resembling natural air and real grass with a non-artificial sun. That's why, when she gets the invitation to join the army in Elibe for something that isn't another battle or bloody operation, she's quick to jump on the opportunity. She still comes in during something confusing, though, as her gaze goes from Fir to Rutger to Sue, then to Dynsomia and Echolalia as yet more confusing sounds come from them. The concern is pretty apparent on the EMT's face, and she shuffles over to Lucius as the most easily reached sense of stability in the camp at the moment. She's still dressed in her usual uniform for recognizability, of course, but she's also added a short white cape to her wardrobe to try and blend in a little more with the locals. "F... Father Lucius? Are they all going to be okay?" She asks with notable uncertainty, squinting a bit at Rutger and letting out a surprised little noise as she spots some notable differences since the last visit. "Oh, wow... Their hair looks so much better now. Maybe it's the water here?" Odette tries to uncurl a little clump of hair to no avail, instead just tugging a knot out with a slight wince before suddenly turning to Lucius with an excited glint in her eyes. "O-oh! Um. Father! It finally happened! I got the...!" She rummages around in her bag hastily, pulling out a vial and popping the cork off. There's just a drop of something flammable-smelling in there, and she holds her hand underneath it. Nothing happens, but she's concentrating super hard. "Hold on, it's... I-I got it before..."
Dysnomia	"If we were dealing with Bernish forces, I'd need some heavy anti-air to cut off messengers."     "Reanalyze your data, agent." Dysnomia crossed her arms, looking severely across the fire at Flamel. "Arcard has Illian mercenaries in his employ. We can't discount the possibility of pegasi messangers." She leaned back...     'Found ya!!'     The first thing that passed across her face was confusion. A flicker of something almost relief--then?--panic. She speaks with a deadpan, half-comprehending dread. "Oh stars no."     Echolalia emerges from the side of the tree behind Dysnomia, and Mia spins around to face her--nearly stepping backward into the fire. "How are you--why are you--" She sputtered, at last managing to latch onto something in that torrent of words. "Ren Fair?! Stars, Echo! How did you even find me without doing THAT MUCH research?! What do you think you're even DOING in the multiverse? Do you have ANY IDEA where you are!?!"
Desire Stars	That was your first hostage situation too, huh?     Neon looks up from the hole she'd been staring into the ground and fixes Madeleine with a sad smile. "It wasn't," she says. It makes some kind of sense to her, even if it probably doesn't--what would the heiress of a corporate conglomerate be doing breaking up hostage situations? The realization strikes her a moment later.     "I didn't think I'd ever see another," she muses. "After all, how often can something like that really happen?" She reaches for an errant twig and traces aimless circles into the dirt with it. "Those soldiers--they were so quick to do it. It all happened so fast; as soon as one of them got the idea, it spread like a fire. So when it happened, I just... froze up."
Petra Soroka	Petra is somewhat distracted by her phone while she hops out of the warpgate, frustratedly tapping on the screen to refresh her messages after turning it on 'warpgate mode'. She's so absorbed in it, in fact, that she barely even bothered to get dressed up for the vibes of Elibe. She still did, of course, but in a sense comparable to throwing on a period-appropriate jeans and t-shirt-- a simple white shirt, laced up underneath a brown cloak with the hood down, just enough to be tolerably renaissance faire-y. "Why did you pretend to be a man, anyway?"     Petra looks up from her phone just for this, having wandered up to the group without noticing. "Huh? That's just a thing. Lots of women do that to get in the military or something, I've read tons of stories about that."     "I mean, everyone here is sweet, but armies are kind of notoriously bad for women. It's not like Rutger would've known that when she joined up." Petra doesn't actually know the story of how Rutger linked up with the army, but that doesn't matter to her. It's strategy time! "'Un-man'...? I was told you weren't supposed to call her that? Wait, sorry--"     No, hold on, it's time for this.     "What the fuck, Flamel? You can't just say shit like that." Petra is more aghast by Flamel saying it than she seems personally stricken by the phrase like some others. "And what the fuck was with that, thing, you pulled out of your head? Rutger wasn't ever a man just because she was pretending to be one. Jesus. I know your brain was made in the fucking sixties but you really should get some program installed in your head to be less awful about women."     Now it's time for strategy! "Dysnomia! Sweet Potato! Rad Banana! Most Dazzling Dragon! PLEASE DON'T RUN please don't run!"     No, it's time for this. Petra doesn't actually care too much about getting involved in strategy talk, which is why she's taking any opportunity not to.     "Huh? Who the fuck is this? Who is she--?" Petra finally slips her phone away into her pocket, only to be completely lost on who Echolalia is despite having talked with her in the radio. More damningly, it's only upon tracing Echolalia's movement trajectory that she notices that Dysnomia is here. "Ren Fair?! Stars, Echo! How did you even find me without doing THAT MUCH research?!"     "Oh--! The stalker! I know you from the radio!" Petra leaps at this chance to have the center of her attention be something fun, so she immediately starts brainstorming reasons why the two of them know each other. "Are you from wherever the fuck Dysnomia's from? Are you two exes? What's up with that."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"After all, how often can something like that really happen?"     "It only gets more common as you go up the tree, so to speak. The stronger someone is, the more likely their weak point will be someone else. We relied on that all the time when I was in the- the villainy business, I guess. 'Remember that the things you love are not immortal'. Just about anybody's gonna have more things and people to care about than they'll be able to protect." A pause. "Of course, I say just about anybody but I'm kinda new to... caring, in general. I guess it had to happen eventually, in this line of work. I'm glad we had Khosa and the rest to back us up."
Lilian Rook	Lilian's mood has been significantly dampened since the death camp, which all things said, is actually a pretty good reason to not be feeling great. Being residually affected by listening to the screams of dying slaves for an entire evening is actually a very positive indicator for her overall, but unfortunately, due to certain other recent events, Lilian has decided to interpret this as a sign of weakness symptomatic of a spoiled and overly emotional mind, and internalize that there is something deeply wrong with her for feeling more lastingly shaken than the professional freedom fighters who live here.     As per usual, this shift in mood is functionally imperceptible, because Lilian has retreated to her most average and ordinary level of passive disengagement as a way to handle it; or at least, normally it would be, if this weren't Lycia. In the Lycian League's camp, Lilian hanging around in relatively ordinary clothes, mostly keeping to herself, preoccupied with a book and speaking only in offhanded, politely professional tones, is a little more of an oddity than usual.     'We wouldn't have been able to take it before, but I think now we can overrun the garrison and just march right up to Lord Arcard's manor! I mean, that's what his ex-servants tell me.'     "The help is typically the most trustworthy source you're ever going to find." says Lilian, unbiased, seated only vaguely near the strategy meeting while flipping through a girthy tome of diagrammatic lore. "I'd believe that much, but all the same, I'm cautioning against any thought you have that includes 'just' doing something. I know you're experienced already, but letting your guard down when you've all but won is a mistake that even experienced generals make; and losing nerve in battle once it's essentially no longer possible for your side to lose is a trap that veteran soldiers fall into as well. What do we have to go on if that isn't true? Especially if we find out only after we've already committed to the attack."     'Name a time we've been lucky?'     "The fact that anyone has come over to this group's side in past at all is an unusual degree of luck. Even given how obvious it is to anyone with good instincts that something is wrong all over Elibe."     'You've taken tea with the master'     "Never become a pharmacist." Page flip. Moments later, Lilian gives up the bit, sighs, and closes her tome with her thumb as a bookmark.     'And you can take care of yourself, right?'     'I wondered too'     "Use your brains for one moment before you speak, please. Just because you can take care of yourself doesn't mean you want to have to. Rutger has a strict policy of never drawing her sword unless she means to kill someone; how is she to 'take care of herself' around military men she's meant to be allied with? Especially under that third rate petty nobility and his grimy mercenary fixation."     Lilian pauses, considers whether this has any relevance to a certain topic she has discussed with Xion, Petra, Persephony, Tamamo, and Haru, all at different times, lapses into dread silence, and rests her chin on her laced fingers with a gloomy expression.     'Just about anybody's gonna have more things and people to care about than they'll be able to protect.'     "The average person is both weaker than they believe and unfailingly greedy. In that sense, I suppose there are few exceptions."     'Huh? Who the fuck is this? Who is she--?'     "Shh. Let it happen."
Petra Soroka	"Shh. Let it happen."     Noticing that Lilian is sitting alone, and also being all too willing to accept the weird nonsense reunion of these two alien dragons as a show to watch, Petra nods and ambles over to sit down nearby Lilian. She curls up on the grass, knees tucked loosely up to her chest, quickly slips her phone out of her pocket to check it again before shoving it away, and then cheerily joins the peanut gallery in the local radio.
Marigold	"We'd best prepare for the possibility that he won't."      "That's so. Always prepare for the worst," echoes Marcus, with a big heave of his shoulders. He pats the log next to him for Mia, having gotten comfortably used to her otherworldly presence. "I'm just tired of our preparations coming true," half-jokes Merlinus, nudging Marcus like an old friend. They probably are. "Ahaha..."      "Ah, leave 'em alone,"      Fir crosses her arms a little huffily, knowing Khosa's right but not wanting to abandon her curiosity. "Well... maybe it's not my business, but... I'm just seeing if she wants to say anything!"      Rutger does not want to say anything. They're currently crumbling into dust. Sue pats them on the shoulder in what she mistakenly thinks is a comforting way.      "Come back to them with empty cups."      "Ah. I see," says Sue, who might actually. Fir just seems baffled though. "The master...? Hey! Hey, wait! Why does everybody keep calling her 'they'?!"      With a quiet "Excuse me," Rutger slips away from all that- "Hey! I'm sorry!" "Let them."- and circles around the fire to snag some fish and then sit down by Lilian, on the opposite side from Petra.      "Thank you," they say. After just enough of a pause for ambiguity: "For being here. . . . It's made a difference to me, that you get it." And then they put a plate of the savory-tangy-sauced white fish down in Lilian's arm's reach, as if trying to entice a stray cat.      "There are talented, diligent, patient people in this outfit..."      Echidna clicks her tongue and winks at Ace, looking remarkably Dieck-like for a second. "That's why I'm glad to have you working for me."      "Oh, you're from inland, aren't you? Here; try some! There's nothing like seafood, but it's a little like snake," says Merlinus to Khosa, who seems far more enriched by plying others with culinary delights than anything to do with strategy or war. It's not unlike tuna, and the sauce has pleasantly floral-herbal undertones past the savoriness.      Her other question makes Larum's nose wrinkle in confusion and Echidna laugh and slap her knee. "Um, no, not like a 'eunuch'..." She nods to Flamel. "I heard there's someone named Ain who's Lord Arcard's new bodyguard or something. An old pale man in a red robe. People call Ain the 'un-man', or 'unhuman', or stuff like that! They say there's nothing behind his eyes, and animals are scared of him..." "Sounds like a dark mage. Even more rotted than Duke Nord was." "Yeah, probably. I think we can handle him, but..." "But 'be careful', right?" "Mmmf-!"      "If we have been ... played, and this intelligence is flawed..."      Alucard just about immediately gets Larum grumpy. "Hey! What are you insinuating! I'm--" "Hey now, Larum. What do you suggest we do, uh- Alucard, right? And Lilian. Keep escape routes open; that's par for the course. But we're the inferior force. We see a chance like this, we can't afford not to take it."
Marigold	"You mean, mind-bending magic," Merlinus says to Flamel, tapping his chin. "That's only in stories here... if you think you can smooth our path in Juteaux, I think you should do it." He looks over to Lilian, too, and gestures at Flamel as if the agent were a product on sale: 'well? what do you think?'      Odette taking Lucius's focus off of the unfolding Rutger-disaster is welcome. He blinks off visions of cataclysm, relaxes into a slight slouch, and smiles self-consciously at her. "Ah, Odette! Rutger is... taking better care of themselves, I think." Picking words carefully. "And you, too! I quite like your little cape."      Her progress has him almost bouncily excited, though. "Truly?! I- Odette, hasn't it only been a few months? You're astonishingly gifted if you can manage even a spark! Or a hard worker, which is even better!" Her failure to do so on the spot doesn't dim his enthusiasm; he stands, puts a hand on her shoulder, and ushers her down into sitting on a rock next to him, aglow with an almost familially proud smile.      "Now, now, you're only anxious. Shut your eyes for me. Take deep breaths- through the nose, as in the Stepping Stones. Cup your hands, like so, and try again." His hands squeeze her shoulders. "Don't hurry. The light of your heart is flowing through you, Odette; only give it room to blossom out..."      And then--      "Dysnomia! Sweet Potato! Rad Banana! Most Dazzling Dragon!"      Lucius's hand involuntarily tightens on Odette's shoulder. Lugh freezes, letting Chad tag him, as he stares through the trees. Marcus draws in a tight breath and stands, taking a half-step towards Mia. The others have only taken dim notice if they've taken it at all; it's just casual words. But even that dim notice creates a light, buzzing tension.      "Dysnomia," says the old knight from behind her, hesitating. "Does this- careless, woman, need to be shown away?"
Khosa	Khosa looks at Flamel's psychic node cleaning with something between fascination and confusion. "The hell are you doing?" she eventually asks. "Because I'm pretty sure that's not what any of us meant." And much as she hates to be on Petra's side of anything, she has to agree with her; she settles for glaring at nobody in particular. "...THAT'S who you were looking for?" If Khosa had known Echolalia was looking for Dysnomia this could have been over a lot faster. "Okay, that's only a little bit stalker-y. Maybe about a seven out of ten if you don't throttle it down some." She's not going to get between Echo and Dysnomia, but Echo *did* just address her. "Hey! Yeah, I'm Khosa. I don't know what a ren faire is; this is Fibernia." She looks Echo up and down thoughtfully, noting the slight mismatch in clothing, but what she actually says is, "Nice hair." (This is honest, not dismissive.) "From a desert," she confirms with Merlinus. "No fish there. I know what they are because I've had them travelling," by which she means out in the Multiverse rather than at home, "but I don't know how you hunt them or anything. Traps? Like... cages?" is her best guess. "Thanks; I'll try it in a minute." The reason Khosa only crouched rather than sat is because, as soon as Echidna and Larum don't tell her to buzz off, she stands up again. "I said I was going to help in the Mines, and I did." Khosa hesitates for a moment - she's thought a lot about how to phrase this, but she's better off when she talks from her heart rather than her head, and she throws away all her preparation to just go for it: "I appreciate it, Madeleine, but I fucked up. I thought when I volunteered I'd be able to control myself. I couldn't. I lost it for a while, I just wanted to kill them instead of following the mission." "I calmed down by the time we actually moved into the mines, and I was thinking straight again when it came to that..." The hostages, she means. "So the only person it got hurt was me. But it could have been worse, and that's my fault. I just - I saw what they were doing, and..." She clenches a fist, then opens it. "So." Khosa gives a slightly stiff bow, like it isn't the expression she's used to for this, but the feeling behind it is honest: "I'm sorry. Won't happen again on my watch." And *then* she drops down to take the fish she's been offered by Merlinus. "Dark mage, huh?" she asks, tilting her head left before snapping it to the right to make her neck pop. "That's some of what I've been trained in. Fighting them, I mean. So if I can help - and I mean that, I won't be a liability this time."
Desire Stars	I'm glad we had Khosa and the rest to back us up.     "So am I," says Neon with the kind of frown reserved for things behind a person, but not totally gone from their mind. "And I'm glad that you're not in that 'business' any more, too."     The stick pauses, and she utters a sharp, restless sigh. "I hope I never have to fight someone like that--someone who's so strong that their weakness is another person. In that mine, I felt... like my blood had turned to ice water." She twirls the stick, making the aimless circles into more of an aimless augur.     "I couldn't move, and I felt the world drop out from under me--like I was suddenly, just pathetically small, in this... hopelessly large place, all alone." She drives the stick further into the dirt. That thought--or something adjacent to it--frightens her. Never become a pharmacist.     Ace catches on faster than a person of his supposed age and self-absorbedness should. "Hoh?" He makes an amused-interested sound, his brows lifting as little sparks of mirth dance in his brown eyes. "Well done." That's why I'm glad to have you working for me.     Echidna gets a little of that look, too. Yeah, probably. I think we can handle him, but... But 'be careful', right?     "This campaign has a tendency of unearthing old, forgotten and esoteric things, doesn't it?" Ace muses. "Whether or not the verdict is one that pleases Zephiel, it seems more and more like he was right about court only being 'adjourned.'"
Alucard	The dhampir's gaze is cool and level as Laurum gets upset. "I merely wish us to be prepared if things go poorly," he says in an attempt to soothe. "I do not wish for us to become overconfident and walk facefirst into a massacre," he says. "I wish for us to -win- this conflict." He pays absolutely no attention to Mia's little ... guest problem. He wants nothing to do with it.
Echolalia	''That's who you were looking for?'' "Ayup!" Echolalia says. "Fiberrniaaa..." She tries out the word. She looks to Khosa. "Oh--thanks. Uh. Thanks?" She seems at a loss for a moment but then pushes through it. She grows a vine out of her arm that unzips the satchel and draws out bubble pipe and deposits it in her mouth. She breathes through her mouth into the pipe and a bright green flame bursts out the thick end of the pipe. "Now why would I do extra research?" She asks. "When I'm still researching the most important question of why you left without telling me anything. Did you have so little faith in me you thought I'd turn on you? Or did you just not care about how I'd feel? " She lets herself fall back and a stump grows out of the ground so she can sit on it, crossing one leg over the other. She spots Odette looking at her and gives her a quick wink before-- ''Are you from wherever the fuck Dysnomia's from? Are you two exes? What's up with that?'' Echolalia, happy to have attention and to have someone curious about her lore, says, "I am from wherever the fuck Dysnomia's from!" She declares before looking to Dysnomia at the second question. "I dunno. ''Are'' we exes?" Little wisps of floral smelling smoke drifts away from the pipe and she brightens up at being asked the details of her relationship. "I'm so glad you asked! I first met Dysnomia on my home colony of Hronn when she repaired our water treatment plants, helped improve our hydroponic system and even warned us of the incoming famine that she foresaw--ultimately saving thousand of my people's lives. I was immediately struck by how incredibly beautiful she was, but it wasn't until I got to know her later I could see how caring and ''real'' she was, how big her heart was..." She thinks of some other important things too but keeps them to herself for now as she's now actually aware there's other people present. "After my Collapse, we became the best of pals, treasured confidants...!" She swings a hand to her chest overdramatically, leaning back before frowning, forcefully pushing herself out of yesterday and into today's concerns. ''Does this- careless, woman, need to be shown away?'' Echolalia's gaze snaps back to Dysnomia. "Yeah. Does this careless woman need to be shown away? I dunno if Phreak got to ya yet, but the Admiralty's real mad atcha, and I still want to help you, I still want to be on your side. I'm mad, but I still want to help and be a part of your life. But I see you've made good friends here, so maybe you don't ''need'' my help. if you want me to leave, I'll leave. But you gotta say it. No running. Deserve to hear it from your lips at least, don't I? I think I deserve that much."
Flamel Parsons	"What the fuck, Flamel? You can't just say shit like that."     "Yep, that's true! Problem is, traditional sophont minds actually have faster language processing than moral processing, so I technically *can* say abhorrent things, I'll just feel awful after. But only with the help of people like you holding me to account! Do your best to keep up the good work." He beams happily! "That was my mental image of Rutger! Don't worry, mine don't experience a perpetual life of ultraviolence like yours, they just go to the facility."     "The hell are you doing?"     Flamel is happy to cheerfully explain to Khosa. "The astral mindscape is both a literal and psychologically figurative construct. By processing something in multiple ways, like mind-palace memorization, you can improve the whole-brain processing and commitment of a given change. Next time you want to remember something, or change a habit, or things like that, try visualizing it in physical terms, as a physical space or a physical process. You'll see that it actually improves the outcomes a lot. That's why I make sure to use my astral projection specialty to its utmost limit!"     "An old pale man in a red robe. People call Ain the 'un-man', or 'unhuman', or stuff like that! They say there's nothing behind his eyes, and animals are scared of him..."     Flamel's cartoony drawing is a little comically terrifying, but he gets the idea. "Sounds like a guy with quite a psychic presence. If he's the main force at the manor... Well, maybe I can really work my magic and manage to get an astral projection into his mindscape. I'd love to bypass a battle in the physical world, though I don't know if I could manage something like that... Maybe with Lugh's help, but keeping a child under the radar in an infiltration is *tough!*"
Dysnomia	"This long...And your friends STILL haven't talked you out of it?" An element of unsteadiness crept into her voice, as she stood across from Echolalia. "I can feel them watching. They're right, you know. You'd just get dragged down."     "You already have been! How much more you going to push?" An opening, closing of her fists. "Until they stop sending assassins and just declare you an enemy of the fucking state?! One day, someone's going to crunch the numbers, and decide you're not worth it anymore." It was a familiar argument--but usually, Dysnomia was arguing it from the other side of the line.     She was so wound up, Dysnomia barely noticed the tension until Marcus was right beside her, and she felt it radiating all around her. Like a dagger half-hidden behind silk, like the taste of poison on the tongue just before you've swallowed.     Most don't know what we are, Echo. They can't know. It's different here. As thoughts touched thoughts, Mia couldn't hide the element of desperation, gnarled as it was, inside her. They aren't ready.     "She was just leaving." Dysnomia finally speaks up, breaking eye contact. "Echo listen...Just. Go home."
Odette Raskins	Echolalia's wink gets a confused look from Odette. If she and Dysnomia aren't sisters, then could she really have meant that their relationship was that of lovers like she had said over the radio? Not one to pry so blatantly, Odette gives her a meek little wave, trying not to be too obvious about keeping an eye on the two just to see if their wildly different reactions to each other are some kind of show or something. With the situation around Rutger, Fir, and Sue seemingly defused, Odette lets out a relieved noise before turning her attention back to Lucius. Her cheeks brighten up a bit at the compliment to her and the cape, and she flicks it idly while nudging at the edges of it. "Thanks! I-I had to do a little digging around to get something fresh, and a little more to get someone that knew how to trim the edges right... But I figured it'd help me blend in, you know?" Lucius' excitement and praise, meanwhile, have her failing (and also not trying) to hide a broader grin spreading across her face even as she keeps that vial pinched carefully between her fingers. "R-really? Um.. Yeah, a couple of months by now! I thought I was kind of... Er. N-not really living up to your lessons, and then..." She swallows lightly as she keeps her gaze fixed on the vial, trying not to squeak too loudly when she feels his hand on her shoulder. "And then I started wondering if it'd ever happen, and thinking maybe it wouldn't just happen if I did a..." Taking a seat beside Lucius while remembering to breathe again, she continues rambling a bit while flicking her free hand in different ways. "And one of them worked! A-and then the mixer exploded, but it was okay because it was far enough from security so nobody found out I had a mixer there, but..." Odette goes on like that for a little before realizing that she's still anxious as hell, and she forces herself to close her eyes while nodding quickly. "R-right. D.. Deep breaths. In..." This much, at least, is an easy part of the routine for Odette these days. "A-and out... No hurrying. R.. Right." The breathing would normally be the easiest part, too, but Lucius is right there and his hands are still on her shoulders. But if she does well enough and really gets that spark again, then would that mean... One thing at a time. She cups her hands over the vial, and then she starts to breathe again. She'd almost forget that Lucius' hands are on her shoulders, too, up until she feels a tighter squeeze that draws a sharper inhale from her. She keeps her eyes firmly shut the whole time, so she can't see what's actually going on at that moment. Did she do it? Does she need to focus more? Or... Focus less? No, just breathe. Breathe, keep her hands steady, and try to will that spark into existence again. She just needs to remember how it felt moments before the first spark, before accidentally starting that fire. Were her hands like this, or like that? Or was it...
Petra Soroka	"The master...? Hey! Hey, wait! Why does everybody keep calling her 'they'?!"     Petra is about to come to one conclusion, prepared to lecture about the degendering of women in arguments as a way to deny their difference from the masculine cultural norm, pauses, skips right over the secondary argument that's technically most relevent to her, and then squints in confusion for a second. Due to external factors, Petra suddenly succeeds on a skill check that hadn't even come to mind before now.     She gradually tilts over towards Lilian, being as subtle as she can be while seated at a 45 degree angle, and says in a low voice, "... Wait, *should* we?" "For being here. . . . It's made a difference to me, that you get it."     Oh! Nevermind. That answers that. Lilian wouldn't really 'get' a woman who wants to be nonbinary instead, and it's much more likely that Rutger's appreciation is for Lilian's considerable insights on being a woman in a combat-focused environment that's passively radioactive to you. She nods at Rutger in what she hopes is a supportive way that indicates her similar allyship on this topic-- she's had thoughts about this that aren't even inherited from Lilian!     "Mhm, Lilian's smart. I get it too, mostly, but I'd have it a bit easier than you since you're more feminine than I am." "Problem is, traditional sophont minds actually have faster language processing than moral processing, so I technically *can* say abhorrent things, I'll just feel awful after."     "I thought you literally had a chip in your brain to stop you from doing that." In the context of Petra's earlier (almost) realization about Rutger, Flamel's statement somehow makes both more and less sense. Petra decides to shelve that thought and not try to dig for meaning in things people other than Lilian say, because it's usually disappointing. "Wait, do you have an image of *everyone* in the facility?" "Did you have so little faith in me you thought I'd turn on you? Or did you just not care about how I'd feel? "     Petra leans forwards. "I dunno. ''Are'' we exes?"     Petra presses both of her fists up to her mouth. "Oh my god," she says aside to Lilian, not taking her eyes off the show. "This is so fucking funny. Why would they even do this here?" "I was immediately struck by how incredibly beautiful she was, but it wasn't until I got to know her later I could see how caring and ''real'' she was, how big her heart was..."     Still in audience-gossiping mode, Petra muses like she should be tossing popcorn into her mouth. "Maybe this isn't the same Dysnomia? Or maybe everyone else's standards for that are so low they'll just throw it around at anyone." "Until they stop sending assassins and just declare you an enemy of the fucking state?! One day, someone's going to crunch the numbers, and decide your not worth it anymore."     "Oh my god. She's getting emotional. Have you ever seen that before?" Under her breath, not interrupting the action on the silver screen.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"And I'm glad that you're not in that 'business' any more, too."     "Yeah. I mean, I can miss parts of it sometimes. But giving it up's been good for me."     "I hope I never have to fight someone like that--someone who's so strong that their weakness is another person."     "It's not often a person's *only* weakness, even if it's their most accessible. I'm sure I could've done my job without it, just would've been harder." Madeleine shrugs. "When you care about your goal more than your methods, whatever gets it done easiest is the right thing to do. When things are the other way round, you have to get creative sometimes."     "I couldn't move, and I felt the world drop out from under me--like I was suddenly, just pathetically small, in this... hopelessly large place, all alone."     Madeleine frowns, visibly concerned. "You know, I wish I could say there'll always be someone to turn to in those moments... but I can't. Not with a straight face. In the mine there were other Elites, and the locals we're helping, but there's not always gonna be someone to catch you besides yourself. All we can do is thank our stars when there are people there for us, and try to be ready for when there aren't. And hope we can scrape ourselves back together if that second part doesn't pan out."
Lilian Rook	'I'm just tired of our preparations coming true'     "Better that than to be tired of not being prepared for it." Lilian says, sighing commiseratively. She folds her book gently down into her lap, and places her elbows on top of it. "Proceeding in faith and being spited instead is exhausting whether you prepare for it or not. Trust me. We'll all appreciate the relief of knowing we were being too cautious, on the day it finally happens."     'The master...? Hey! Hey, wait! Why does everybody keep calling her 'they'?!'     "I hadn't noticed." Lilian says, half-lying, fully angled to imply that Fir is being kind of a freak by noticing and pointing it out. Such is the power of the one person who'd strenuously avoided ever even using a pronoun for months, and now gets to be retroactively correct all along.     'Thank you. For being here. . . . It's made a difference to me, that you get it.'     Lilian maintains her vaguely unhappy poker face for a little while longer, but it doesn't last. Rutger so seldom takes initiative like this that it all feels too important, and too personal, to give them the same treatment as everyone else. "I do my best to." she says. "Or rather, I wouldn't have been able to just ignore it even if I understood less." Lacing her fingers under her chin, Lilian shuts her eyes for the space of an open-mouthed sigh, and rocks forward a little in her seat. Her foot bounces idly, leg over knee.     "I'm developing quit the incorrigible flaw. When I see people who look as if they need a little help, but no one seems to understand then, I get awfully competitive about it. Then I start trying to find something we have in common, and sympathizing with one thing at a time from there. It's gotten me into a lot of trouble already." Lilian says, and resigns herself to picking up the fish and using her book as a coaster for her lap. "If you don't mind." she says, as if Rutger really just so happened to put it there.     'Sounds like a dark mage. Even more rotted than Duke Nord was.'     'Yeah, probably. I think we can handle him, but...'     "I've been wondering." Lilian says, and looks to Lucius only briefly. "Though this may not be your specialty . . . Are dark mages known to have any sort of general weaknesses? I'm well-versed in defeated all sorts of armed and monstrous enemies, but I'll admit that my experience in mage-hunting is relatively limited." she says.     "I've been making do with simply targeting their implements and physically overpowering them thusfar, but that corrupt priest was using magic relatively similar to mine; and so I've decided to assume that veterans at battling mages might already know how to deal with it, rather than coast on my victories so far." This is, of course, a tremendous lie, but only in one aspect. In usual Lilian fashion, the deception is obliquely irrelevant to the purpose of speaking up. "I have a suspicion we'll keep running into more powerful mages as Bern begins to take notice of us, and as we naturally set our sights higher. Most of our group's highly mobile or long-ranged fighters either lack experience or lack firepower, and are neither especially sturdy nor expendable. We can't keep relying on Sue and Lucius forever. Parsons at a stretch."
Lilian Rook	'And Lilian. Keep escape routes open; that's par for the course. But we're the inferior force. We see a chance like this, we can't afford not to take it.'     "Of course we take it. Creating an opportunity to tempt your enemy to attack is a tactic employed by master strategists precisely because few experienced generals will turn down a good one, even if it appears to be a trap, and creating one that doesn't put yourself at risk is supremely difficult in the first place." says Lilian, who has read Art of War once (and more importantly, is actually somewhat trained in small unit tactics, which are currently still applicable).     "If we encounter far more resistance than the garrison, then we should all be prepared and organized to engage an immediate fighting retreat to an advantageous location where we can stall the enemy, while a small group suited to rapid insertion deep into enemy territory slips through and infiltrates the castle. Should we blow through as planned, only to be attacked from behind and hemmed in, then we should immediately prioritize breaking into the castle itself, where we can restrict the enemy to hall-by-hall skirmishes and neutralize their numerical advantage."     "In either case, we want to designed an advance team; at minimum, whoever can operate with little to no support and move around a fortified area without drawing too much attention. If everything goes as planned, they'll still be useful in breaching the defenses we know about. Really, if we're getting into it, we should start organizing semi-permanent teams of specialists, if we want to start making the best of our small number of highly skilled personnel . . ." Her fixation is sidetracked by reacting in mild surprise to how tasty her first bite of fish is.     'Well done.'     "As is everything I do and say, of course." Lilian is about to add something else, but her eyes fall on Neon, and something about the . . . moment, that she's having, puts the words back in her mouth.     'I hope I never have to fight someone like that--someone who's so strong that their weakness is another person.'     "Zephiel."     'By processing something in multiple ways, like mind-palace memorization, you can improve the whole-brain processing and commitment of a given change. Next time you want to remember something, or change a habit, or things like that, try visualizing it in physical terms, as a physical space or a physical process.'     Lilian, in tones of dread so briefly intense that she forgets to be cooly disaffected, says, "Do people . . . not usually do that?" This is going to be like the counting seconds thing again; she's sure.     'Mhm, Lilian's smart. I get it too, mostly, but I'd have it a bit easier than you since you're more feminine than I am.'     Lilian turns and stares at Petra as if shocked with electricity. She stares into the back of her head with an utterly baffled expression, draws in breath, opens her mouth to begin a clearly denigrating excoriaton of Petra's common sense, realizes she doesn't actually know what the fuck Petra is thinking well enough to run down a lit, and closes her mouth again. She furiously ponders what she's supposed to be saying until the topic rapidly moves on. %
Lilian Rook	'This is so fucking funny. Why would they even do this here?'     "Why does anyone ever talk about anything where the rest of us can hear it? It's practically always embarrassing." says Lilian, trying to sound too cool for this, and mostly succeeding, but ruining the effect by obviously staring, eyes full of perverse fascination.     'I was immediately struck by how incredibly beautiful she was, but it wasn't until I got to know her later I could see how caring and ''real'' she was, how big her heart was...'     "Hello? Pardon me? Is she even talking about--"     'Maybe this isn't the same Dysnomia?'     Lilian covers her hand with her mouth and only half-muffles the nasty Heather giggle.     "No, no, I'm quite engaged now. Why are there assassins if someone is still 'worth it'? Is being put on a hit-list not enough of a sign that you're an enemy of the state? Besides, this one clearly has it more together; somehow."
Desire Stars	When you care about your goal more than your methods, whatever gets it done easiest is the right thing to do.     "Yeah..." Neon's free hand pulls closer, as if she were half-huddling for warmth.     "It's a nice thought," she says, after a moment. "Wishing you could say something to comfort me, I mean," clarifies Neon, looking up at Madeleine.     "But... I'm happy you can't, if that makes sense." She frowns thoughtfully. "I'm happy to take help when people give it, but I don't want to be help*less.* It's actually really important that I'm not, you know? Otherwise, you just get..."     "Handled," she settles on. The words leave a bad taste in her mouth. Zephiel.     Neon can't disagree--and it isn't hard to imagine who that weakness is. Lilian doesn't have to be a mindreader to see the question Neon wrestles with. *She's right. But who am I to take that away? Could I, if there wasn't any other way?* We can't keep relying on Sue and Lucius forever. Parsons at a stretch.     "I agree. That bishop was clearly pretty experienced--he fought well, as outnumbered as he was. Having something actionable to press before we're up against another spellcaster like him would be preferable." Ace's gaze shifts towards Lucius.
Echolalia	'Well you heard her. I told you this was a bad idea.' 'Shaddup Cat. Echolalia responds without heat. 'YOU HAVE MADE THE HUMANS FEAR YOU, NICE.' Echolalia grimaces and a guilty look briefly flickers across her eyes but it's gone quickly. 'She didn't answer, but that doesn't mean you can ignore her wishes.' Echolalia stares into Dysnomia's eyes. She listens to her. And then she listens to her. She pulls back. She is about to say something immediately, but her psionic transmission that ''does'' seem to match what she feels, gives her some pause. She takes a steady breath and lets it out slowly. "Even now you're worried about us more than yourself. You're lying. You're lying to me about this because you're scared I'll get hurt. But you can't live life scared of love, Mia." "Sure, you can run from my love of you. Outpacing your love for yourself is even easier." Echolalia says. "But you can't run from Ran's love or her Light. It travels at 186,000 miles per second. That's way faster than the both of us combined." She stands up. The stump pushes itself back into the floor, she pulls the pipe free from her mouth and twirls it between her fingers. She then looks to Marcus. And she smiles at him. "I'm glad she's made friends here who are worried about her. Though honestly, I'm kinda glad she's getting shittalked a little too. I'm Echolalia." She offers her hand to the old knight. Her eyes slant towards Petra and then Lilian but she doesn't comment on it, instead looking into Lilian's eyes for just a moment. Before she turns back to Marcus. "Nice to meetcha. Mind if I lend a hand anyway? To make up for the scare?"
Marigold	The tension slowly recedes as Mia and Echo's deal starts looking more and more like a lovers' spat. Maybe 'dragon' was only an especially morbid pet name? Tension still hangs, but a little less of it. Only a few pairs of eyes still linger on them.      "She was just leaving."      "As you say, Mia." Marcus rests his wrist on the pommel of the sword at his hip as he turns away. Unable to find any other words to soothe a conflict he knows nothing about: "I'm sorry." But Mia's business is Mia's business, he signals, unless Echo makes it everyone's.      Then that last question from Echo arrests him. "Mind if I lend a hand anyway? To make up for the scare?" "... I don't know. Do we mind, Dysnomia?"      "You catch them in nets like bugs," Merlinus says, delighted to be able to explain fish to Khosa, "or you put some food on a little metal hook and wait for them to bite the hook!" This sounds outrageously fake. He knows it sounds fake. That's part of the avuncular joy of it.      Something in Echidna deflates in the face of Khosa's sincerity. The usual invincibly gallant wryness drops away. "Yeah," she says, looks down, and then slaps her knees and stands too.      "You're a real earnest one, huh," she says. Her hand lays on Khosa's shoulder, and she turns her body aside, as if welcoming Khosa into some covert understanding. "I... look. I made a stupid call in the cave. The little lords looked like they were gonna throw up. Maybe we messed up a little, but that's human. Anybody who wouldn't lose their head in there-" she looks over her shoulder at Neon and Madeleine, clearly affected; and at Lilian, lingeringly limping- "is someone I don't trust."      "So. You're right. It won't happen again. Because right now, saying that, you're one of the solidest people I have here. Got it? And don't you think about bailing."      When she sits back down, it's with a satisfied sigh, like that was hard work worthy of a good meal in itself. Larum looks a little starstruck, hands on mouth. "Echidna... you're so..." "Yeah?" "Nothing!"      "I wish for us to -win- this conflict."      "So do we," says Elffin the bard, opening his pale blue eyes to administer his mildly-cutting tone to Alucard. "... So? Have you any ideas, friend, beyond questioning our devotion or pragmatism?"      like I was suddenly, just pathetically small, in this... hopelessly large place, all alone.      While she's over nearer Neon's side of the fire, stamping out a stray spark as pretense, Larum pipes up tenderly. "Right then, you seemed really big to me."
Marigold	The kids' game is wrapping up. Roy and Lilina come in from the evening-darkening forest together, grass-stained and twig-haired, with the two orphans not far behind. There's a residual joy buzzing between them; Roy's gotten a nutrient he didn't really know he needed. How many chances has he gotten in the last half-year to just play silly games?      He sits down and catches his breath in time to raptly absorb Lilian's discussion of tactics. "What you're proposing," says Merlinus thoughtfully-but-warily, "depends greatly on tight communication, on small-unit discipline, and competent squad leaders. If anyone fails to do their job, splitting up becomes a disaster. I'll lay down preparations for a fighting retreat, but are you, perhaps, used to a more regimented force than..."      Merlinus makes a broad gesture around at 'the Lycians, assorted Etrurian recruits, Dieck's squad, sundry other mercenaries, and the Elites'.      "Zephiel."      "... it seems more and more like he was right about court only being 'adjourned.'"      "'A thousand years of peace' racks up a debt of tension," Roy agrees glumly. "I wish we could've had it out in any way but this." "Me too. But never forget we picked up the sword 'cause we had to. Or who's making peace impossible," says Echidna, smoothly slipping into the role of mentor. "Yeah..." "'Yeah'? Hah." "Huh??" "You're just not that formal, I guess."      "Sounds like a guy with quite a psychic presence."      "Are dark mages known to have any sort of general weaknesses?"      "Not... necessarily," says Marcus to both, resting his old bones by the fire again. Echidna nods, ceding the questions. "Dark mages may hollow out their own hearts for power. A kind of sacrificial trade that not all undertake, and not all to the same extent. Being so 'empty' might make them sloppy, or it might not."      He touches his jaw while staring into the fire, plumbing his brains for an answer. Speaking slowly: "For mages, generally... it's rare for a spellbook to contain diagrams for more than one spell, lest the heat of combat get them mixed up. Less complete diagrams can have flexibility, but are slower to cast... so, as a practicality, you will rarely see a mage use more than one 'shape' of magic in combat, if they are suited as more than artillery. Like that Oro fellow and his surrounding bolts, or our Father Lucius and his beams. Once you've seen it, you may count on it."      Lucius has been lost in uncomfortable thought for a moment. Marcus jars him a little. "Old friend?" "Hm?" "It still troubles you, doesn't it?" "... It does." "Mmmh."
Marigold	"It's gotten me into a lot of trouble already."      "Me too," says Rutger. Deadpanning: "... I promise not to turn into Clarine." They nudge the fish a little further towards her in implicit invitation, then fold their hands lamely together. "You're a kind person. I think."      "... Wait, *should* we?"      Rutger freezes in a doeishly startled way that looks exotic on them. They've really never seemed hapless before.      "I..." There's a desperately grasping look behind their eyes. Leaning forward, they glance between Lilian and Petra-around-Lilian. Frankly they'd just seemed content to be seen as anything not-a-guy; this is opening a trapdoor of unconsidered possibilities under their feet. "... don't, know?"      "I'd have it a bit easier than you since you're more feminine than I am."      Rutger immediately looks like they've just been punched in the gut, eyes widening and doubling at the waist. "You're--" they start, try to search for a way to dispute it that isn't self-deprecatory, fumble, and come up with "short??"      When he's able to settle back in, Lucius puts a hand on each of Odette's shoulders, squishing inwards just slightly. "I can't be the reason you're getting into trouble at work," he says warmly. "Be safe, Odette. I'd feel guilty. Now... don't strain or stretch. Let all the thoughts of 'trying' leave you. The light can only flow when your spirit is fully relaxed. Feel the breath in your nose- in, out- and your throat- in, out- and your chest. And let it kindle there, and flow out to your hands... it's natural. Only don't get in its way."      He matches his breathing to hers, and can't help that tenderly proud smile that keeps returning to his face. It's exactly how he looks with Lugh or Chad.
Khosa	Khosa is taken aback by Echolalia's next trick. "You can grow *vines*?" she says, then shuts up. Because, honestly, she has no intention of getting between Echolalia and Dysnomia at this time. She keeps an eye on things, though... possibly just for her own amusement. She focuses on a more professional (theoretically) conversation with Flamel. "I know how mind palaces work," Khosa says, still sounding slightly baffled, "though the training I had calls them mind citadels. I don't forget things if I don't want to; memories stay where I put them. I just don't know why you're blowing on it." She pauses a moment, then: "You do know I'm psychic, right? I know some of this stuff. I can feel you when you do things." This is not quite true; Flamel is subtle, sometimes, and Khosa misses some of his less obvious actions. But other times, she can't help but notice. "Maybe I'm not the best telepath in the world, but I get by." Neon speaks up, and Khosa isn't quite sure what to say at first. Which, of course, does not stop her from saying it: "It's never gonna be easy," she says, with a sigh. "Sometimes all you can do is the best you can do. When I say that I don't mean 'accept losing', because fuck that. I mean you have to *do* it, even if you're afraid; even if you don't think what you can do is enough you have to do *something*. Make it better than it would be without you." "You're a real earnest one, huh. ...Because right now, saying that, you're one of the solidest people I have here. Got it? And don't you think about bailing." Khosa is enormously relieved, like a weight came off her shoulders. She grins again, big enough to show teeth. "It wasn't that bad a call. Like I said to Neon, sometimes you gotta do the best you can. Oh, I wasn't gonna bail," she says. "But I owed you the truth, anyway, and if I'd made shit worse I'd owe you more than that." She reaches out - and thumps Echidna's shoulder in return, because she gets her. "So relax. I'm in it for the long haul."
Khosa	"I'm well-versed in defeated all sorts of armed and monstrous enemies, but I'll admit that my experience in mage-hunting is relatively limited." Khosa looks serious again. "Well, you know, I can be pretty mobile if I decide to be," Khosa says, "but yes, I have experience fighting mages. Especially ones that draw on that kind of power. I'll explain the kinds of spellcasters we classify if you want, though it's not really relevant right now - just take it from me, the kinds of energy they're working with is the kind I've trained against. Especially that kind of sacrifice..." "So, first off, I have some resistance to what they do, though I don't know if I can explain how I do it quickly enough to be useful to anyone else. Not unless they've got the same kind of control over themselves I do." Khosa scowls, more to herself than at anyone: "It's the kind of thing that took me a couple years to really master. I can always focus on mage-hunting, though, instead of fighting troops." "Punching them and taking away their things does work pretty well though," she agrees. "So does distracting them. I can do it with telepathy; Parsons can too, I'm sure. They're gonna need to think and probably see clearly to do anything useful. I know there's wards you can set up if you're good at wards, which I'm not, but I'll see if I can get the scrolls out of the library if you want to look at them. Some of them are dependant on places of power, so if you can get them out of it they're at a disadvantage." "I notice mages here like to use staffs, or books," Khosa says. "Like, actively - like you said, with the spell diagrams. Will getting them away help at all, or can they just call them back to hand?" That's addressed more to Marcus, because Khosa figures he knows better than anyone else as he brought it up. A beat to pause, then: "This really *is* good fish!" Pretty much to anyone who'll listen, but she directs it at least generally toward Merlinus, who gave it to her. "But really, a hook? What, do they just come up to it? At least use a spear or something. ... Though on a fish this size you'd need a real small spear."
Dysnomia	"Sure, you can run from my love of you . . . But you can't run from Ran's love or her Light. It travels at 186,000 miles per second. That's way faster than the both of us combined."     Dysnomia grates her teeth, turning her eyes away from Echo, unable to continue meeting her gaze. "Are you quite done?" She tries for indifference. But she doesn't make it.     When Marcus raises the question to her, Dysnomia blinks, momentarily shocked at someone actually checking in for her thoughts. Ther power to deny this to echo rested firmly in her grasp. To not have to see her again.     "...If she can be discrete. I suppose" Dysnomia grumbled. "She'd be a powerful asset. A credit to the League." The admission seemed to rip the energy from her in a long, haggard sigh.     "No, no, I'm quite engaged now. Why are there assassins if someone is still 'worth it'? Is being put on a hit-list not enough of a sign that you're an enemy of the state?"     "Then go ahead and ask her." Dysnomia snapped, her last nerve reduced to a frayed tassle. "I'll be scouting." She turned away from the campfire and dissolved into the night. She considered not coming back.     But, eventually, she did.
Odette Raskins	From the furthest edges of her hearing, Odette can still hear Echolalia and Dysnomia. In any other situation, she might have joined Petra and Lilian and watching the fascinating goings on between those two. She'd be coming up with her own thoughts about what their past might be, speculating on where things could go going forward, why such specific things have been said... But she's trying super hard to focus on nothing right now, to empty her mind and feel the world around her. She actually manages not to inhale when Lucius returns, too, although she does wiggle briefly before settling back into the breathing exercises she's worked on for months already. It's not as though she can't be conscious about him holding onto her again, after all, but... It'll be way more impressive if she can actually pull this off a second time. And then if she can impress him that much... "T... Trouble...? O-oh, don't worry about that. It's nothing to do with this, and more the..." She goes quiet for a moment, then giggles in half-bashfulness and half-mischievousness as she tries to redirect her attention away from the heat in her cheeks to the instigating event that got her here in the first place. "Um. EMTs usually aren't allowed into the labs to mix their own stuff, so... We usually look for other places to do that. But nobody got caught, so it's all okay." Despite her admission, Odette's still careful to keep quiet. Who knows if there's somehow a mole from the Company all the way out here? She's able to cast those concerns out of her mind eventually, though, as she returns to Lucius' guidance with steady breaths once more. After recalling how she had felt even with that initial spark, it actually does become easier to stop thinking about the act, as she didn't really expect or think to force it that time, either. She just has to relax, and feel the flow of her breathing again. The hands cupping the vial carefully draw back to her lap first, holding it there as she really lets that breath linger before starting to hold it out again. There's the briefest moment where the drop of fuel in the vial ignites, and then it's empty.
Petra Soroka	"No, no, I'm quite engaged now."     "Me too, me too. Honestly, I'm looking forwards to how they justify Dysnomia having a girlfriend at all. I just don't believe it, but maybe they'll backjustify it with a reveal later."     Petra continues to be unbelievably rude to two people who are fully within earshot of her. She's having fun, though! Doing this with Lilian makes her happy. Would you really take that away from her? "But you can't live life scared of love, Mia."     Realizing that she does have snacks, Petra flips open her compact mirror to shuffle through its contents, eventually pulling out another bag of beef jerky. She pulls it open, fluffs the bag out a bit, and then places it neatly on the grass between herself and Lilian, gnawing on a piece of her own while she commentates on the ongoing interaction in an identical way to how she talked about movies.     "It's a little cliche, right? And I just don't know if it tracks with what we know about Dysnomia. It kind of feels like suddenly changing over to a soap opera without that tone being established from the start, doesn't it?)]")] "But you can't run from Ran's love or her Light. It travels at 186,000 miles per second. That's way faster than the both of us combined."     Let it not be said that Petra has nothing positive to say about the reunion. She nods and tears off a strip of meat with her teeth, then shifts around her knees in the grass to plant her palm on the ground for support. "That's kinda cute. But it sounds a little threatening, and I don't know why." "Really, if we're getting into it, we should start organizing semi-permanent teams of specialists, if we want to start making the best of our small number of highly skilled personnel . . ."     Petra absorbs Lilian's long tactical breakdown with the same openly rapt attention that Roy does, and maybe a little more glassy-eyed by the end. Once Lilian trails off, Petra shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut, holding them there like she's trying to take a screenshot with her brain. Apparently satisified with the results of that, she says, "Hmmm... I'm not really able to do my thing while being sneaky, but if you point me at something, I'll do it, and it won't matter if I get separated." So, business as usual. "I... ... don't, know?"     Petra stares at Rutger for a few seconds, slowly leaning over Lilian to meet their confused gaze. The realization of how fucking stupid she's been for months snaps onto her face before her lips even start to form a drawn-out "Ohhhh..." and in the beat of silence after, the phrase 'people can do that even in fantasy-times?' is practically written on her face.     Petra does have one major advantage here, though: she, ultimately, is completely unshaken by something that's been normal to her for most of her life. "Okay. Well, let us know." Now Lilian has the dangerous bar to overcome, of potentially failing to be as normal as Petra about something.
Petra Soroka	"You're-- short??"     Petra's eyes widen-- calling Rutger feminine might've been a misstep, from the way they looked so uncomfortable! She attempts to soothe this however she can, waving her hand in front of her placatingly. "A-ah-- like, you know, because your hair is so long? And soft-looking? And your face shape is-- you know, like that, and being short isn't *really* that feminine-looking-- well, I don't know the standards on Elibe, but longer legs like yours are more like the conventional beauty standard anyways?"     Petra's perspective is now considerably more accurate and in a way that makes Petra much more relaxed in some abstract way. "That's all changeable if you need it to be, though. Like, leg length can be changed around with lowering those belts on your cloak a bit to change where your waist looks like it is, and when I was younger my mom used to always joke that I shouldn't leave the house without heels on, but I kind of hated that."     This is some complicated thing adjacent to girl-talk, that Petra has engaged in. She may still be operating on some incorrect assumptions. "Are you quite done?"     Afterwards, Petra turns her attention to the resolution of the little display from earlier, slightly disappointed and confused. "Well, I guess it's our Dysnomia. But I don't get it at all."
Flamel Parsons	"Hollow out their hearts..." Flamel rubs his chin. "I've seen something like that already. Someone who seemed 'empty'. If that's the case... well, it's the kind of psychic defense I can't break, because there's nothing astral for me to work with! I guess we'll need to expect to engage on the material plane." But he paces, thinking about this. "I wonder if that's how that woman does what she does. I've never seen her use a book or a staff, and her mind, her 'heart', is so... void..." He drops his fist into his palm, decisively. "I need to get a look at this guy. I need to learn more about this!"     "You do know I'm psychic, right?"     "People get upset if I scan their brains *openly*. But, well, then you get what I was doing!" His smile is cheerful, friendly, and perpetual. "Sounds like you already know most of the stuff yourself. But, I make sure to use to change myself and grow, quite a bit." He wags a finger at her for a moment. "If I don't, someone else will, after all! There's dozens of secret societies and dark mind-control influences like that. And besides, from the sound of this dark magic stuff, I'm definitely competing with some other people who've taken an active hand in shaping their minds."
Lilian Rook	'What you're proposing...'     "I'll admit that I am. My title isn't actually just for show." Lilian says, warily. "And I know what I'm proposing, but this is already a hypothetical disaster scenario in the first place. If we're ambushed or hemmed in, the only thing worse than splitting up badly is thrashing around aimlessly all in one place. By the time we're fighting organized veterans, we won't have the luxury of grand speeches while throwing fire every which way any longer." The way she says 'we' seems to imply 'Otherworlders' by its placement, as if taking responsibility for them in the negative, for once.     "If we don't want to see our members being picked apart and ground down one by one over the rest of this campaign, practising tighter organization at some point is inevitable; better earlier and in a more advantageous position than later." Lilian says. Her gaze drifts to Lucius and Odette breaking up their practice. "I don't want our side relying too much on our given talents. We're beginning to run into forces where an informed commander should be capable of fielding effective counters to the crutches we've leaned on up until now, and the more we operate, the less ignorant our enemies will remain of our capabilities."     'Less complete diagrams can have flexibility, but are slower to cast... so, as a practicality, you will rarely see a mage use more than one 'shape' of magic in combat, if they are suited as more than artillery.'     "That's . . ." Lilian pauses for a second, then breaks into an uneasy smile at Marcus. "Incredibly helpful, actually. Thank you. You have a talent for easily grasping the point of vague requests."     '... I promise not to turn into Clarine.'     A little relieved by the exchange, Lilian settles back in her seat, fish half-finished, and sighs wearily at the heavens. "I could hardly even begin to imagine it. Perhaps I needn't be too hard on her, though; it's been months since I've heard a word out of her about the sanctity of my line or whatever. She may have had a change of heart and taken it upon herself to become normal."     'You're a kind person. I think.'     "Hmph."     'I can always focus on mage-hunting, though, instead of fighting troops.'     ". . . As much as I'd like to hope for the best, someone with a special title like 'un-human' is probably our most significant operational obstacle. Our rapid insertion team will have to be able to handle him." Lilian says. "So that means I'll need to be certain that I can trust you not to go berserk again, and also listen to what I tell you."     Oh. That's what was missing from her talking to Merlinus. She'd already mentally appointed herself de facto leader of the small surgical unit.     'Me too, me too. Honestly, I'm looking forwards to how they justify Dysnomia having a girlfriend at all. I just don't believe it, but maybe they'll backjustify it with a reveal later.''     Completely missing that Petra is deep in unhinged show-talk about real people, Lilian plants her chin in her palms and says "I certainly didn't see it coming. It has to be one of those 'stoic, angry oblivious type meets delusionally dedicated stalker' situations, right? Where one party has to be so unrealistically obsessed that it's like a mental illness, to justify why they keep chasing after the utterly unlovable interest character."
Echolalia	Echolalia brightens as Mia relents. She isn't oblivious to Dysnomia acting indifferent and not quite making it, but she doesn't remark on it because she figures she's already pushed her plenty today and she just doesn't have it in her to press any harder. She smiles big--though ... she is starting to get the feeling that Mia has just not told anybody where she's from. In retrospect, it makes sense? Why would she if she's on the run? She probably...should at least tell the Paladins 'why the assassins' just in case they cause trouble later, though. She just doesn't really want to do that HERE and NOW. She isn't someone who cares for subtlety but even she has her exposition and drama limits. "I'll be SO discrete," Echolalia says unconvincingly. ''It's a little cliche, right? I just don't know if it tracks with what we know about Dysnomia.'' She REALLY can't tell Petra off for the running commentary when she brought this all out in the open (well she COULD, but Petra immediately soothes her over by saying that she sounded cute AND threatening with that line soothes everything over and she is going to focus on that instead of the rest of it). Echolalia cares about her role as a priestess of Ran (totally not a cult) ((It's probably a cult)). She sees Roy and Lilina return and thinks that's just real swell it's nice for the leaders of this army to let the kids play around and enjoy themselves. She finds that very charming. With her obsession satisfied for the moment, she can actually check reports later and learn the truth but she's not doing that NOW. She has gotten something of an idea of what's goign on. There's a war, of course, and they fight with swords and magic? The lady who called her a creep seems to be in charge of some tactical planning? She marvels a little at the idea of a THOUSAND YEARS of peace, but mostly because if she maveled a lot right now she'd probably never stop. She looks to Lucius and mavels at his drip. She waves at him with a hand and a smile, since her mood is vastly improved from how it was not long ago. "I can really help." Echolalia says. "No army can move on an empty stomach right? You won't have to worry about a lack of provisions if I'm around...!" Clearly her character class is Chef. She'll figure out how to talk about being an etherwy--a drag-- Maybe she should find some other neutral term that combines both etherwyrm and dragon? For diplomacy? Like taking the e from etherwyrm and making...Like... Eragon or something? She'll have to think about it, she reflects, frowning in deep thought. ''To justify why they keep chasing after the utterly unlovable interest character.'' It's okay, Echolalia thinks to herself, she'll just have to convince everybody just how loveable Dysnomia is. No matter how much Dysnomia tries to stop her!
Lilian Rook	'It's a little cliche, right? And I just don't know if it tracks with what we know about Dysnomia.'     "What do we know of her, actually?" Lilian stops to look to Petra for that one. "You were her ally for a little while, weren't you?"     'I'll be scouting.'     "You mean seething." Lilian says in angelically patient tones, smugging to herself as Dysnomia takes off.     'I... ... don't, know?'     Lilian abruptly slides to pursing her lips together and looking deeply troubled. Karma giveth and karma taketh away. "If you don't know how you feel, then . . ." she begins, deadly cautious with every verbal step. "Perhaps wait and see how your original goal suits you, before you go trying on the other alternatives. That's . . . You know, like trying to learn a technique for a weapon you've never held. If you haven't finished mastering your fundamentals, then . . ."     Lilian trails off, rubs the bridge of her nose, and then makes 'it's swordsman stuff' gestures with her hand to ward off interest from outside. "You understand." she simply declares. There's no way she can push this further without suspicion.     "Lord Roy! Welcome back!" Hello convenient distraction. "My, you look well-rested for the second time I've seen you. I was just discussing our fallback strategies with the Seneschal, but I'd like your approval--" She quickly scans her gaze to Lilina. "--once we've finished hammering out the details."
Marigold	"...If she can be discrete. I suppose"      Marcus raises a silver bushy eyebrow, looking between Mia and Echo to read into that audible hesitation. "Only if you're sure, Dysnomia." He motions for Echo to follow him back towards the campfire, then shakes his head fondly after Mia when she takes off into the sky.      "She doesn't fool me," he says to Echolalia as he walks. "That's her sacrificing for our sake. Please, don't make her regret it." Merlinus of course is immediately charmed by the mention of easing logistics, and starts striking up a conversation with Echo about what she can grow.      "So relax. I'm in it for the long haul."      Echidna does relax, even if she'd never admit it, and bubbles over into a mirroring little teeth-showing laugh. "Good. I wasn't gonna let you go anyway," she jokes. "If I had a drink I'd give it to you, but... I don't know. Thanks for helping get Larum back."      "'Resistance' to dark magic," Marcus says, vaguely impressed. "Some people have that here, but it'd take years to teach. It's just a little harder for mages to hurt mages."      "I notice mages here like to use staffs, or books..."      Marcus seems warmed, in a familiar way, that such a thing occured to Khosa. "Mmm. Casting without them's too slow for combat. Disarming them does work. Of course, it's the first thing everyone thinks of; don't think it'll take a mage off-guard."      "Incredibly helpful, actually. Thank you."      Marcus smiles lopsidedly. "Well, I have a gift with young knights."      "I won't tell," says Lucius to Odette, trying to warmly soothe her back down into a conducive state. But he can't stop the little gasp catching in his throat when she makes the vial flicker. "Odette...!" he says, with a little awed laugh. "Odette, open your eyes! Look! It burned! Ahaha, it took me longer than that. You really might be some kind of prodigy..."      He takes the chance to wrap her up in a biiiig hug, chin atop her head and angelically eyes-shut smile on his face. "Ahh, oh, God bless you... you should still spend most of your time on the meditation, now! But I'll send you home with a practice staff that you can put that spark through, alright?"
Marigold	"my mom used to always joke that I shouldn't leave the house without heels on..."      Rutger wobbles between 'tenderly flushing a little' and 'slow-dawning wincing at themselves' as Petra goes on. There's the dreadful temptation to burst some bubble, some illusion that she's laboring under, that doesn't quiiite make which bubble clear. "I... thank you? For, thinking I'm, beautiful. I don't understand." Oh no... making themselves rugged for war has taken away their ability to see themselves as lovably feminine, clearly...      "Sorry about your mom," they add clumsily, a beat too late.      "I've seen something like that already. Someone who seemed 'empty'."      "You mean 'Iðunn'? That woman who was with Zephiel?" Roy hazards. He touches his lips with a finger. "As Marcus says, one can use magic without a tome or staff... but it's a great labor. 'Sacrificing oneself completely' is something only Bramimond did. I haven't met that woman, and I don't think I'll like it when I do."      When Lilian pivots and greets him, he laughs awkwardly, for exactly two seconds looking his age. "Do I look rested? Ah... thank you, I guess. Um. Of course, though I don't imagine I'll have much objection. You'll help me understand the details, won't you, Lilina?" She seems startled at first to be addressed- by him and implicitly by Lilian- but then beams and straightens up, hands clasped gleefully.      "Ahah- of course! I mean, I'm Cecilia's star student, so..." "That's right. You're the closest thing to a general here." "Goodness..."      "If you haven't finished mastering your fundamentals, then . . ."      That seems to reassure and steady Rutger. "I understand," she says, even if maybe she doesn't at all. "Carry through and then correct. Don't waver in the middle." She straightens up, not resolute at first, but gaining firmness as she chews it over. "As long as I won't need heels."      RUTGER PRONOUNS UNLOCKED: SHE SLASH HER