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Marigold	CITY OF JUTEAUX, CAPITAL OF THE WESTERN ISLES      In a tavern by the docks.      It's been a few days since you slew a dragon and liberated the Isles. Its body by now has disintegrated completely, but everyone knows what they saw.      Like new sprouts of green after a wildfire, Juteaux (Jutes?) is starting to heal. Nobody will be rebuilding the blackened husk of Lord Arcard's manor, but the nearby streets that had caught with sparks or been rended by great claws have been patched. The town's mood is light and clear, like the pleasant scent after a cleansing rain.      Some of the strong hands that swept away black-charred wreckage and put down new stones belong to the Lycian army. Some belong to Echidna's crew. Some might be your own work, if you've lingered here and been diligent. And some have been tidied by 'Provisional Archer-General' Klein, your unexpected Etrurian ally, who also happens to be Dieck's mysterious old friend and Clarine's fancy-dressed brother.      Down by Juteaux's docks, the dragon's scorching hasn't reached; a three-masted caravel at least the equal of the ship that brought you here is being loaded with a week's supplies, and Bartre (the swordswoman Fir's bulky father) is waiting by a tavern's door to wave you in. THE ROTTED OAK, its sign proclaims itself, but this isn't the sort of place to make itself obtrusive. The first floor is nearly empty this time of day, but Klein has reserved the second floor completely anyway, rearranging tables to make it an impromptu meeting-hall.      (Juteaux's government buildings probably didn't survive.)      Uptight-and-proper Klein, Dieck relaxing serenely to his right, and fawning Clarine to his left are sitting at the table closest to the stairs, and only Dieck is drinking; Roy, Marcus, and Merlinus form a matching trio at the room's other end, and Echidna with her gang of Larum and Elffin share a table at the triangle's third point between them. Everyone else is all scattered about, though of Klein's soldiers, only the wingleader Thea is present, sitting off in a corner and chatting with her younger sister Shanna.      "... and you took off the reins?"      "Yeah! Sin's been showing me how to guide a horse with just your heels! It's--"      "Shanna, that's much too dangerous. I don't care what the Sacaens do. They don't ride pegasi."      "Wha-? Bu-- It's worked great so far!"      "It'll work great right up until you die. I'm not letting you back on your pegasus until you've relearned the basics."      "Thea, come on! You're not the boss of me!"      "I'm your big sister and I don't want to see you die."      "Well, look who's worried about my safety now. I hate you."      "Shanna-?!"
Marigold	The other sibling dynamics are going a little better.      "... ought to learn from your example!"      "Clarine, you really shouldn't judge people on their looks."      "You know the importance of being put-together, Klein! You're the handsomest man in Etruria! I just don't see why they can't at least aspire to your example. Why, there was a woman here so rattily-dressed I thought she was a man for..."      "Different people value different things, that's all. You never liked it when mother talked about your clothes like that. It's just not our place."      "... Hmph. I suppose. As long as he isn't about to start rubbing off on you."      "Wouldn't dream of it," drawls Dieck, shirtless and a little inebriated.      "Good!! ... Ohh, I missed you, Klein. Did you hear I searched all of Lycia for you!"      "I did. That's... a little worrying--"      "Come on!"      "--but I'm glad that drive of yours hasn't been snuffed out."      "Hmph. Never."      The bickering winds down a little as you all wind in. After a few moments, Klein makes eye contact with Roy across the way, and the former claps his hands together before drawing a great breath.      "Well. Echidna, Lord Roy, I hope you won't mind if I share what we've learned?" "Go on." "Hah. Alright."      He's all tense, eyes shamefully averted, fingers drumming on his knee. "The appearance of an 'artificial dragon' in Juteaux, and the presence of Flaer- a Bernish commander- at Arcard's manor, confirm a Bern-aligned faction within Etruria, responsible for the exploitation of the Isles. It seems metal was being smuggled out from Eburacum to covertly arm this faction. I'm... ashamed it took me so long to understand the situation. It's been brewing for years."      "More to the point..." Deep breath. "I've received news just last night that there was a coup in Etruria." "What?!" "Klein, you can't be serious!" "The moment we turn our backs..." "I'm afraid I'm very serious. King Mordred is a hostage in all but name in the capital. Chancellor Roartz has declared himself regent. General Cecilia has been branded a traitor for refusing to recognize Roartz, and she fights with Etruria's other armies."      Roy looks uncomprehendingly stricken. Hands on his knees, mouth open, he stares at the floor like he's going to be sick. It's Echidna, given some composure by detachment, who's likely the first to speak up: "What's Bern up to then?" "Etruria is negotiating an alliance with them. Lycia is Bern's only opposition on the continent, but since Lycia is now a protectorate of Etruria..." "Tch. Of course." "And... and Lady Guinivere? Is she safe??" "I've heard no word. But if she was in the capital..."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"The appearance of an 'artificial dragon' in Juteaux, and the presence of Flaer- a Bernish commander- at Arcard's manor, confirm a Bern-aligned faction within Etruria, responsible for the exploitation of the Isles."     "That's right," Madeleine says from her corner. "What I'm wondering is, why show their hand with a dragon here? Did word get back to Bern that we were on the Isles? Were they planning a harder move? Or do they have enough dragon-gems that they can spare one for a 'just in case'?"     "Which brings me to my next point. That dark mage fellow used a gem, not a tome, to transform. Dragons are bad enough; dragons which can pop up anywhere Bern has an agent is worse. I think we should prioritize learning more about how their dragons work, if they have a limited supply of these gems or if they can create more, that sort of thing. Flamel, you got a look into that thing's head, right?"
Dysnomia	When Dysnomia comes in, she picks a table not-far from Marcus and Roy, though she doesn't presume to sit at the same table with them. Creating a sense of association with her might be...dangerous, until things cleared up, until Klein made his speech. Maybe even a little after.     Better, to just...claim an empty table, and absorb whatever suspicions there were to be had by her lonesome.     As Klein clapped her hand and began to speak, Dysnomia's face turned into a grim frown, her arms crossing in front of her. Ever since the League pushed back against Etrucian occupation of the isles, Dysnomia had expected things to become complicated with their...'ally,' if that could even be called it.     "Etruria is negotiating an alliance with them. Lycia is Bern's only opposition on the continent, but since Lycia is now a protectorate of Etruria..."     "Now they're trying to take Lycia by negotiating. I'd imagine." Dysnomia closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "It's bad. But it's not the worst it could be. Etruria could have used the resistance of the Lycian League as a symbol of Lycian 'betrayal,' and left them to the buzzards."     "But. It looks like they're arranging terms with Bern, first. Trying to get whatever leverage they can from the deal before giving Bern anything." Her fingers drummed on the table. "This might buy us time, before the League has to prioritize defending their own borders."     "Etrucian backing is some of the League's best leverage against Bern. If the coup succeeds, Lycia will bear Bern's wrath by itself again. We can't allow that to happen."     "...I doubt we can ask the islanders to go and fight this war. But. Bern drove what happened here. And, as far as your Etrucian oppressors...I imagine you'd find Roartz close to the heart of it."
Alucard	As he has done in every locale there has been a destructive battle he participated in, Alucard has been helping out around Juteaux. With strength and stamina beyond mortal man, he's honestly pretty good at doing grunt work for the reconstruction. Lugging timber and stones, supporting beams as others shift them into place. He has been helpful and asked for nothing. Though he has not once refused a mug of beer or wine. Now, though, he has taken the time to clean up, and is seated at the table with everyone else, a flagon in front of him. (Those who check will see it's filled with WATER. Someone write this down.) "Clearly," he says his way that is quiet but somehow still carries. "We must go there to stop this .... usurper."
Echolalia	Echolalia plunks herself down next to Dysnomia in spite of her attempt to not associate with anyone in particular which is, lets face it, accurately summarizes their relationship... But in truth she's a little distracted from the conversation. Artificial dragon aside, the agreement she made with Marcus and Dysnomia is fresh on her mind, fresher than the latest news of the war. She is watching Mia intently, tapping her foot anxiously until... ''There was a coup in Erturia.'' Echolalia frowns. And then frowns further when it seems Guinivere might not be safe. She doesn't know her well but as she's getting to know these people better, it's getting harder to just treat this as an advenure and more like people she's worrying about. This isn't exactly what she was worried about--it's actually worse. That means there's a disaster going on already and adding to it... She turns her attention back to Mia, frowning. ''Lycia will bear Bern's wrath by itself again. We can't allow that to happen.'' Echolalia isn't a tactician and has never fought in a war. She can keep an army fed and hamper enemy movements but grander medieval strategy and politics is a bit far from her life experiences. "So what are we gonna do?" She asks. "I mean we can go over there and un-coup the coup but Bern'll just throw some other country into chaos to throw at us, right? Isn't that what they've always been doing?"
Odette Raskins	Although Odette has lingered at Juteaux for as long as she could, she had to take a day to take care of some things back at her paying job before coming right back to lend her aid to the restoration efforts. She might not have the raw strength that most anyone has here, but she's put her medical expertise to good use to help get the injured back on their feet in the days she has been around. Klein's invitation is a convenient time to return, then, as a chance to just relax for a few hours even while she's still awake! It's also just her luck, then, that this chance to rest is instead coming with news of artificial dragons and yet more difficulties coming from allied territories. Again. She doesn't say anything right away as she listens to Klein spelling the news out for everyone, but there's a very clear tension in Odette's jaw and sag in her shoulders as she just takes all of that in. At least she's wearing a more comfortable sweater under her little white cape instead of her usual jacket. It's more comfortable, if nothing else, even if that doesn't do much to ease the tension. "Artificial how? D-did they.. Uh. If it's made of metal, then that means whatever fire-er. Does it use fire? THere has to... Okay. No. Wait. Yeah. The coup." She inhales deeply, wincing a bit as Klein explains the situation further after Echidna's question. "Th.. They haven't agreed to it yet, then. Th-then there's still time." She doesn't sound all that convinced of it, clearly saying it like she's trying to believe it or perhaps... Convince Roy to believe it? He's the leader of this whole thing, after all, so maybe hearing someone like herself saying it might help rally his spirits some! Odette forces a weak little smile at that, then gives the young lord an awkward pat on the shoulder. "I-if we.. Um. If we can just convince the people that led the coup that it's still not worth it to side with Bern, then... Um. Things'll turn around! We just need to do something big. Like..." She inhales again as she looks over at Dysnomia and Echolalia, grimacing slightly at how easily it sounds like Etruria could be convinced to turn on the League in this state. "... What if we wrecked that.. Uh. Artificial dragon? I-it's easier said than done, but..." 'We', like she'd actually be able to break anything bigger than a shield, never mind an entire war machine. She looks down for a few moments, then eventually nods after Alucard. "I-if the Lycian League could pull something like that off, maybe... That could solve the problem of this coup and anyone else thinking of siding with Bern to fight us?"
Flamel Parsons	"...A Bern-aligned faction within Etruria, responsible for the exploitation of the Isles..."     "I've been reading about this!" Flamel declares. "I don't think I agree with a lot of the socio-economic conclusions drawn by the folks talking about it, but I did get some insight into how this is, actually, apparently fairly common for realpolitik. In some sense, it was probably even happening before." He laces his fingers together, propping his chin up behind them and shadowing his eyes darkly behind his sunglasses. "But to go as far and as severe as a coup..."     "That's also exactly what would follow, actually. I had an entire projector presentation about a book I'd read about that too -- I *also* don't agree with all its politics, but I guess we have to use them as a model of the world when there's dark magic involved." Flamel looks like he has a lot of the wind taken out of him. And, unfortunately, he's also been actually catching up on *real* geopolitics in such a way that it completely fails to update his internal ideology.     "Cecilia's got a loyalist faction, though... Wow, so many people in positions of power in Elibe are so strongly sticking to their principals! That's amazing! We need to reach her, and we *need* to reach Guinivere if we're going to have a chance to force Etruria to change long-term with our available violence." A glance to Echidna and a friendly wave. "Even if this is a chance that Lycia and Etruria wouldn't get burned, it's not..." He shakes his head seriously. "Well, my moral processing might be a bit of an opaque blackbox, but while my mental image of Zephiel has a fully-formed argument about why this is fine, my moral processing says it just isn't, and maybe can't, until we get a good look at the state of the Etrurian coup, and the capital, and Roartz's mind!"     "Flamel, you got a look into that thing's head, right?"     "As much as there was anything to look into." Flamel laughs, uneasily. "I'm having a hard time figuring out if that was a person who got hollowed out, or a fully artificial being, or maybe a template-mind stamped onto a dark magic material like mine... Either way, there wasn't a lot there to work with. But I've got the data, if someone could process it better." He looks, a bit hopefully, to the other allied mentalist or ex-mentalist dragons.     "So what are we gonna do?"     "I think, once we get the Etrurian issue confronted, we should be able to push Mordred into some political inertia for dedicating Etruria against Bern -- failing that, at least Cecilia will be focused on it. Even if another nation winds up all messed up, we'll have our chance to turn things around here. But we need to turn things around there, or they won't be turning."     "I-if we.. Um. If we can just convince the people that led the coup that it's still not worth it to side with Bern, then..."     "Mmmm, no." Flamel shakes his head. "Problem is, for a lot of the people involved, it *is* worth it to side with Bern. I need a good look at their minds first, I might be able to find a convincing argument but it's more likely that, uh," He sheepishly scratches the back of his head. "Well, I didn't read the parts of the literature that deal with whatever Echidna does once she actually reaches that class of political actor, but, she'd know. Anyway, I'll take a crack at being as convincing as I can, even if it hasn't really worked out yet!"
Blemishine	Blemishine - Maria - has indeed been in Juteaux for those last few days. The one and only time she left was to briefly take the nearest gate off-world, just to return with an expansive pack of any tool she thought might or might not come in useful for this endeavor, along with clothing better suited for handling the reconstruction work; pure white armor traded out for a drab gray utility jumpsuit.     Which has since had the upper half pulled down and tied off around her waist, showing the tanktop she's wearing beneath-- that's how she walks into The Rotted Oak today, brushing some slightly sweat-matted blonde hair out of her own eyes. Despite the light atmosphere that's come over the city, and most of the restoration over and done with, it seems she's still been helping patch up wherever still needs it, no matter how small.     Some lingering guilt over not having prevented more of the dragon's collateral damage, maybe.     Or maybe she's just like that.     I've received news just last night that there was a coup in Etruria.     "...I wonder if they caught news of what happened here and decided to make their move. Or if they were going to do so regardless." Maria has a grimace on her face, stepping in and finding herself a seat in the makeshift meeting chamber exactly when that comes up.     "So it sounds as if Lady Guinivere is likely as much of a hostage as King Mordred is, until we learn anything to the contrary. I don't have any doubt that, if they're planning an alliance with Bern, they would give her back over to her home country."     There's a deep inhale, and then an exhale - and then a sympathetic look at the state Roy is in. Her eyes close briefly, and then open back up to focus on Klein. "...I've heard you're preparing a ship. So I assume you already have an idea of how you plan to respond."     After Flamel brings her up, "Do you plan to link up with General Cecilia and work from there?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"As much as there was anything to look into." Flamel laughs, uneasily. "I'm having a hard time figuring out if that was a person who got hollowed out, or a fully artificial being, or maybe a template-mind stamped onto a dark magic material like mine..."     "If we can it may be worth finding out where that Ain fellow came from, if he was ever anything besides an ominous lurker in the court. If the guy's got no history before joining Arcard's retinue, he could've been a dragon disguised as a human, rather than a human who turned into a dragon."     A falling star crosses Madeleine's eyes. She snaps her fingers. "What if Iðunn can do more than just make dragons? She's some kind of dark mage, right, and you couldn't get a read on her at *all*. It stands to reason that she could instill similar protections in an underling, then send them to the Isles with some kind of... transformation crystal. Probably getting ahead of myself here, I don't know."
Petra Soroka	Petra would love to stick around and help rebuild the city, after it was decimated by a dragon attack. This sort of thing, the fireman-allegorical admirable selflessness of both being objectively a hero and also getting down to the level of getting her hands dirty to repair the damage with everyone, appeals to her significantly more because of the aesthetic of the ordeal: a foreign dragonslaying soldier sweating to stack bricks up and clear debris away is much more emotionally tangible than doing the same sort of work somewhere else.     Unfortunately, Petra is pretty busy. So she only ends up taking the time to come back and clean up a couple times before the next new betrayal hits Roy's unlucky army.     With the forewarning of a boat, Petra shows up prepared to set out, dressed and otherwise. A simulation-sourced brown vest over a white ruffled shirt, collar poking out above the vest's neckline (and then collar still within that), along with brown pants and a belt pouch that essentially just serves as an appropriately decorative way to hold her compact mirror that holds everything else, means she *almost* blends in when walking around the docks and into the tavern. "Why, there was a woman here so rattily-dressed I thought she was a man for..."     When Petra walks through the door to the second floor, Clarine's words catch her attention like a laser through the conversational murmur, reflexively flinching. *Lilian* has said that about *her* often enough that if someone else echoed the sentiment she might have an aneurysm, and then she'd really have to consider the degree to which her layered vest downplays the curve of her chest, and maybe throw herself into the harbor for good measure. Thankfully, it's Clarine! And Petra knows who she's referring to.     This sort of comment only adds another way that Petra feels sympathetic towards Rutger, however, in addition to the confusedly heartfelt conversation they had about heels before. Neither of her layers of sympathy are correct, but somehow, two wrong answers lead Petra to the right conclusion, and she slides into a chair near Clarine to interject.     "Aw, come on, Clarine. Rutger's been a mercenary and stuff for a while. You can't really blame her for not having a great routine for her hair and skincare when she's slopping around in the mud with a bunch of ratty soldier dudes. Like, can *you* imagine what you'd look like if the only company you had for a while was guys like Dieck?" That poor guy also catches strays from Petra.     "Anyways," Petra leans back in her chair, apparently not bothered to press her scolding too hard. The severity of Clarine's perceived infraction, against the normal girls who happen to dress a little masculinely sometimes, is heavily downplayed by context-- Klein's presence, in particular. "It's nice to see you so upbeat now that Klein's here." She gives him a little wave too, now that he's done shooting arrows at her. ". . . confirm a Bern-aligned faction within Etruria, responsible for the exploitation of the Isles."     "Oh, thank god. So it was always just the same convenient bad guys as always, instead of being something politically complicated. That really makes the whole, burning down the capital of one of our allies' states thing, like, way easier."     Somehow, Petra says this without a shred of sarcasm. She was really worried about Etruria doing slavery, so it's nice to know that it was always someone else's fault and no political introspection is necessary, instead of singleminded opposition to their national enemy. Yippee!
Petra Soroka	"I've received news just last night that there was a coup in Etruria."     "Christ." Petra drops her chin to the table, buried in her folded arms. The mumbled phrase of 'it's always fucking *something* huh...' is muffled, while she quietly gets her whining out during the rest of Klein's explanation.     Petra sighs, raising her head to contribute to the drudgery of tactics again. "Arcard seemed to think that the whole dragon gem situation was given to him by Zephiel just as, like, a powerful tool to keep the isles in line. You know, like they're just fucking besties and sharing stuff that's useful to each other. I don't believe him at all, but that probably means that Zephiel doesn't, like, need the people he's giving them out to to *understand* anything about his plan for it to work."     "So, basically, anyone anywhere could have them." Petra takes a slow sip of water, mind wandering for a moment. "Maybe he just thinks dragons are fucking cool. Maybe that's the plan." "Wow, so many people in positions of power in Elibe are so strongly sticking to their principals!"     Petra stares at Flamel disbelievingly. This sure is a lot of betrayal going around for that to possibly be the case-- is what Petra thinks, since her typical perspective on political leaders is that they're impersonal actors that blandly follow the state agenda without doing anything impressive or unique.     "I guess we just hook up with Cecelia and go burn down another capital. Whatever. At least we know this is the bad guys doing it from the start."
Trudy Grimm	The witch may have missed the engagement at Arcard's manor and the whole business with the dragon, but she's caught up with the party at this point. The Black Knight and Grimnir are outside, the Knight assisting with rebuilding while the sage entertains some kids with stories of the old gods of his homeland.     Trudy hums over a glass of fragrant herbal tea, her eyes closed as she soaks in the atmosphere of the tavern and the banter between Clarine and Klein as well as the others. Roy speaks up, and Klein shares dire news from the mainland.     > "...there was a coup in Etruria."     Straightening her posture, Trudy sets her teacup down, her eyes remaining closed.     "So it would seem like we are now fighting two entire nations, then." She exhales, a long low sigh, "Or would it be three now, with Lycia in mind?" At last her eyes open, sliding towards Roy and Klein, then shifting the other way across the tavern's interior.
Lilian Rook	'I'm your big sister and I don't want to see you die.' 'Well, look who's worried about my safety now. I hate you.' 'I did. That's... a little worrying--' 'Come on!'     Sitting at this table, Lilian can only warily conclude that she doesn't get 'family' even more than she first thought. Despite her endless labour to never conciously acknowledge it, she had known perfectly well that everyone else's parents are different than hers; the way other people feel and behave towards their mothers and fathers had never shocked her for being difficult to understand. Her siblings, however-- both older, even, as is the case here-- had been the only living people save Cecilia that she'd ever gotten along with for most of her life; however rarely she ever actually saw them. So . . .     No, no amount of staring vaguely aghast at Clarine and wincing confusedly at Shanna is making it any clearer. Lilian really just doesn't get it. Is it because they're all military? Would she and Bryce be like that if he was still an officer?     'I've received news just last night that there was a coup in Etruria.' 'King Mordred is a hostage in all but name in the capital'     "Oh come on . . . !" Lilian utters as a strangled whisper, for the second time, about the same person, for a completely different reason than the first time. Quietly learing her throat, she tries to raise her voice a little, hits a mumble-frustrated pitch of "How are they everywhere?", and then tries again a little more loudly.     'General Cecilia has been branded a traitor for refusing to recognize Roartz, and she fights with Etruria's other armies.'     "Naturally." says Lilian, in the same tone as 'Good.', brushing back her hair as if this were already old news. "General Cecilia is the most trustworthy person we've run across so far." she says, without clarifying where she's drawing the goalposts at where 'we' cut off and 'run across' started. "If they've named her an enemy of the state then her hands won't be tied. They've dared to move so openly because they're confident in the force they have, and because Bern wins even from a civil war that their faction within Etruria loses. Bleak as it is to say, this is an opportunity for us."     Lilian folds her hands and proceeds without any steadying. "The pro-Bern faction has outed itself in broad daylight. It'd have been more difficult for us if they bided their time and continued draining time and resources, binding up our potential allies and muddying the gears of Etruria's military, making it difficult to defend Lycia. If they've gone all in, then we have an opportunity to wipe them out directly, and the attitude of Etruria's following leadership should become fervently anti-Bern."     "No doubt a considerable portion of the population is already displeased with this turn of events; even those who weren't directly affected by what Echidna's resistance has been fighting. If we're able to support Cecilia and crush the Bern faction in an efficient enough manner, we may be able to galvanize Etruria's unconditional military opposition to Bern in support of Lycia. The essential issue is accomplishing that much without an unacceptable depletion of Etruria's military assets from the conflict."     This has nothing at all to do with Lilian's unconditional allegiance to anyone by the name 'Cecilia' of course. "It's tedious enough that Bern has kept us engaged in this much infighting rather than taking any offensive action against them, but unless King Zephiel somehow hires every fighting man and woman in Sacae, Etruria would appear to be the last major power that can be subverted against the League like this; and certainly powerful enough to resist the aggression of any more minor states."
Harper Bellamy	The scent of ash and seasalt mingle in the rush of wind around Harper's solar surfer, a windsurfboard-like flying skiff that they've set into a perilous dive from on high towards the dockside water. Brassy sail fluttering alongside brassy hair, Harper's neck is craned, the whole descent, out towards the scorched streets closer and closer below, and the busy people becoming less and less like ants. The signs of recent catastrophe are familiar; always lagging behind the chaos, always leaving before it's pieced back together, years of exposure don't lessen the bitter sting of making landfall somewhere that's still bleeding. - - - - -      Surfer moored out at the dockyards, extra time spent grabbing up some of the to-be-loaded supply crates and following along with the dock porters that Harper definitely isn't one of, and finally dipping out towards the noted tavern, Harper's time to skim Paladins reports is short. The boot-creak sound of clambering up to the second story meeting room is exciting- new assignments always are, and rooms full of strangers, even more so.     Shaggy dyed-blonde hair, covered-over with belts, pouches and loose holsters, loose longsleeve blouse, pirate-like earrings and a satchel held one-handed over their shoulder, a slight lazy slump to their posture, Harper looks *direly* fitting to be a lamplit dockside tavern denizen, as they raise up a hand in greeting toward the ecclectic group. A toothy smile follows, which could be nervous and could be happy.     "Hi, Harper Bellamy, Paladins Che-val-yay, reclamations, reconaissance, and a right sharp shipspilot- good to make acquaintances, late notice came in of assignments here? Whose hand is best to shake and ask to work alongside?" Tone stiltedly over-casual, they scan the room, hand still raised up in a waving posture, and fail to try and match report-listed names with the entourage's present faces.     Sitting out at a table's bench, satchel placed down with a *thump*, they place elbows on the surface, and their chin in one palm. As if it's almost an afterthought- it's not, but if it seems like one, that's more comfortable than a please-like-me offering- "Oh. I brought candy. Does anyone like candy? Everyone likes candy." A small pile of convinience store quality candies are pulled out, and placed on the table. 'I've received news just last night that there was a coup in Etruria.'     Harper sucks air through their teeth. Coups, betrayals, and- that's one of the countries *most* dotted about in the reports, it's hard to have an immediately severe-enough reaction to something they're still uninvolved in, but Harper grimaces, anyways- as the chorus of shock and frustration carries up all around. "Bad day. Real bad day."     Harper pushes the candy pile outwards, to usher awareness for it. Candy! Good for bad days.     "That was the... biggest holdout? And now it's not. What holdouts are there otherwise? Weren't that many to begin with- apologies, at least, I think there weren't? I was reading up more on the reconstruction here. Thought wrong the rest'd be less immediate." They gesture with a small pad of paper, scrawled-over with messy notes. 'I guess we just hook up with Cecelia and go burn down another capital. Whatever. At least we know this is the bad guys doing it from the start.'     "Oh, is that what the big harborside ship's for? Your lot setting out on a warpath?"
Flamel Parsons	"It stands to reason that she could instill similar protections in an underling..."     "That's actually a really good point!" Flamel says, snapping his fingers eagerly. "I've at least got enough data to study that. Here, take a look." He taps one of his temples, takes his sunglasses off, and projects some psychic data out of his eyes. "Here's a standard sophont brain." A cartoonish mess of wrinkles and lobes. "Here's what Ain looked like." Something that looks like an incredibly simplified symbol of a brain, rendered in monowidth penwork. "And *here's* what I could read off of Iðunn."     The next frame of the presentation is so blank that it looks like he's shut the projection off entirely. "Nothing. Not just block, but nothing! And then... Here's Zephiel!" An elegant sketch of a brain, still cartoony like the very first but in a 'depicted myself as the chad and you as the crying soyjack' kind of way, with some key areas sharpened.     "A fairly standard sophont brain, but most importantly, lacking any of that obfuscation. He'd be the one she'd *most* protect, wouldn't he? I don't think she can put a block or protection on people like that, but I *do* think she can make sure the underlings don't have much to protect to begin with. Like replacing organs instead of adding armor!" He clicks the little projection off."     "Do you plan to link up with General Cecilia and work from there?"     Flamel raises his hand. "I'm in favor of that one! It'd definitely help out with the regime-change, that's for sure. Some continuity of power always helps. Even better if we can help Mordred!"     "So it would seem like we are now fighting two entire nations, then."     "Hopefully we'll only be fighting the one of them, in total: Partially Bern, and partially Etruria! But... while Roartz faction has control of things, that math is gonna be able to swing over a total of one more than I'd ever like."     "Hi, Harper Bellamy, Paladins Che-val-yay, reclamations, reconaissance, and a right sharp shipspilot..."     "Flamel Parsons, agent of a vague yet menacing government organization! Great to meet you, Bellamy. Start with Roy! Roy's our boy, and if he's already decided to scrape out portions of his mind and identity to accommodate the responsibilities of leadership we might as well oblige." He beams, as if he weren't saying any of the things he was saying about Roy. "As for holdouts -- yep! If we lose Etruria, we're probably going to lose all our geopolitical momentum! It's pretty much all at stake, there."
Petra Soroka	"If we're able to support Cecilia and crush the Bern faction in an efficient enough manner, . . ."     Petra is nodding along with Lilian's explanation of the plan, of course, but it's especially this part that gets her to eagerly agree. The plan is, in essence, to do violence to the people doing the bad things, because we know they're bad people and they're in the open to do violence to. And that's exactly what Petra's all about! "Hi, Harper Bellamy,"     Petra is scrutinizing Harper's outfit from the moment they walk in the door, laser-focused on assessing their vibes. The outfit is good, the attitude is good, the hair is... Petra has the eye to pick out dye versus natural easily, but she has complicated feelings about scruffiness. More data will need to be gathered, for her to form an opinion on this.     "Right, you're the one from earlier." No further elaboration is given by this. Petra also forgets that she hasn't introduced herself to Harper, yet. "Oh. I brought candy."     Petra looks down at the bowl, then up at Harper. Without considering her actions for even a split moment, she chooses violence as her first time introduction, cutting straight through the facade as if it wasn't even there.     "Oh, you're *lonely* lonely, huh?"
Dysnomia	"What if Iðunn can do more than just make dragons? She's some kind of dark mage, right, and you couldn't get a read on her at *all*."     "I don't think she can put a block or protection on people like that, but I *do* think she can make sure the underlings don't have much to protect to begin with."     Dysnomia raised a hand. "I can posit an explanation. According to Marcus and Lucius, there were some sort of creatures they encountered in the past. Artifically created humans, from the essence of sacrifices, with no history and simple, purpose-made minds."     "Trying to influence a mind like that would be like trying to 'hack' a pully, or a wheel, or trying to negotiate with an ant. When there's nothing inside its mind except; 'burn,' there's just nothing to exploit. One of the few advantages of creating creatures this empty."     "They even faded away into darkness. As this dragon did. I think they are very similar existences."
Odette Raskins	"Problem is, for a lot of the people involved, it *is* worth it to side with Bern." "Dang-er. D-darn it. That's not gonna make things any easier unless... Yeah." Odette purses her lips lightly at Flamel's assessment of the situation. She might not fully get the way his thinking works, but the way he says it does somehow get her to agree. "It'd take something real big happening even with the right... Um. Mind looking?" "... if they're planning an alliance with Bern, they would give her back over to her home country." "So we've got to find a way to get her out, too. And.. Hh." Odette's not doing a great job holding it together as Blemishine reminds her of one of their few actual allies being stuck in such a precarious position, and knowing that she's not even in a good position to offer suggestions on how to extract Guinevere from there just makes it stab in deeper. Even getting there in time could be an issue, and- "That really makes the whole, burning down the capital of one of our allies' states thing, like, way easier." "So, basically, anyone anywhere could have them." The EMT sinks a bit deeper into her seat and just nods slowly at Petra, squeezing the staff in her lap a little tigher like it might be able to reassure her somehow. "Th... They are pretty cool if you ignore the... Burning everything down part." "If they've gone all in, then we have an opportunity to wipe them out directly, and the attitude of Etruria's following leadership should become fervently anti-Bern." Odette feels another shot to her chest as she finds herself agreeing with Lilian inwardly. It makes sense, after all, and with the Elites present here besides herself, it almost feels like a foregone conclusion. "W-we just kill them all, and... Y-yeah, that'd be the sort of big show of force that could work. I-if Bern's most vocal supporters in Etruria get taken out, then it'd make the whole idea look weak, too. But to do it without messing up the military..." ODette inhales again, then looks up from the surface of table. "Would precise hits work? Like... Um. Targeted strikes on the heads, all at once, and before they'd be able to muster any defenses or find somewhere to hide?" She suggests, looking and sounding like she wants to do anything but suggest that. "Oh. I brought candy. Does anyone like candy? Everyone likes candy." "... Oh! Y-you're that guy from the radio. Hello!" After shaking off some of that discomfort, she tries to take her mind off the matter by greeting Harper with a friendly (if still anxious) smile. Her eyes go straight to their candy seconds later, and she snags a few pieces before unwrapping one and popping it in almost immediately. "Thanks. It's.. Um. Y-you sure came in at an interesting time!" She laughs awkwardly. It's so uncomfortable, but visibly because of the situation and not at Harper themselves.
Echolalia	''Oh, you're *lonely* lonely, huh?'' "What?? Who?? I'm not--" Echolalia asks then realizes Petra's not talking about her. "Oh, well, wait, why??" She blinks once, "Oh! It's Harper! I remember you, from the radio! Don't worry, no furter ghost problems yet. I'm totally not cursed or anything." She winks at them, mysteriously. She eases back in her chair, smugly smirking as she glances over to Dysnomia. ansi92,")Oh gosh, really? So, like, uh. You're basically saying he was made that way? ... But they were humans first, not dragons?" She's not sure if 'made that way' or 'turned into that from a previous person state' bothers her more and so she decides to let that be something for future Echolalia to talk about. Lilian brings up the idea that there are only so many nations for Bern to subvert or ally with. Echolalia broadly agrees it'll be tiresome to do infighting forever but she supposes that she isn't really having done this nearly as long as the others.
Marigold	"why show their hand with a dragon here?"      "Huh? Isn't that clear? They figured it'd put down our little rebellion if we ever got this far," says Echidna a little too casually. "Probably would've been right if not for you all and Durandal. And who cares what a bunch of offshore hicks see, right?" She nods vaguely at Petra, echoing the girl's understanding.      As for 'suspicion' on Dysnomia, Shanna eyes her uneasily and Sue stares from a corner, but Klein's revelation drives the wind out of idle wondering. There may be a cloud of vague questions around her, but if she's going to be run out, it won't be now.      "...I doubt we can ask the islanders to go and fight this war."      "Well, considering the aid we tendered to them, it'd be nice if--" "We don't owe you a thing," Echidna cuts over Klein, who flinches apologetically. "Let's get that straight. You didn't do us favors; we had a shared enemy."      There's a long pause. Elffin and Larum both look at Echidna vaguely aghast as if she might just leave it there. Then she breathes, looks from Mia to Klein, and shuts her eyes. "... But." Her two pals relax, relieved. "Pretty clear now that Bern wants the whole continent. We're free now. But if they win, that's not gonna last long. My men are tired, but I'm coming." "Oh, Echidna, you're the coolest!" "My gratitude, as always." "Hey, hey, it's just smart..." "Well, thank you regardless."      "So it would seem like we are now fighting two entire nations, then."      "Bern itself, occupied Sacae, compromised Ilia, and now Etruria. That's the shape of it," says Klein, with a grim nod to Trudy. Roy has not yet succeeded at looking any less like he's going to puke. For Harper, he continues: "That leaves our allies as the liberated Western Isles, and the Lycian League, for however long until they fold to Etruria's pressure."      "Whose hand is best to shake and ask to work alongside?"      Clarine lunges in. "Shake Kl--" "Roy's." Klein points across the way. "Klein?! Hmph."      "... what you'd look like if the only company you had for a while was guys like Dieck?"      Clarine looks over at Dieck, makes a Face, and reluctantly agrees with Petra. "Well... okayyy... I guess I won't give her a hard time. But I still ought to teach her some proper cosmetics." "Hey. Most of the ladies like me, I'll have you know." "Hmph! How Klein grew up so wonderfully under your care, I'll never know." "Clarine, please, be kind to him." "Sigh... okay..."      Harper slides by. Clarine's eyes narrow a little as her cheek squishes into her hand. "Look, there goes another one." "Pardon?" "A... an unkempt."
Marigold	"So what are we gonna do?"      "We must go there to stop this .... usurper."      "Bleak as it is to say, this is an opportunity for us."      "Oh, is that what the big harborside ship's for? Your lot setting out on a warpath?"      "Do you plan to link up with General Cecilia and work from there?"      Klein takes another big, steeling breath, and smiles a deeply unhappy smile. "It's so," he says. "We can't possibly allow this to go unchallenged. General Cecilia is our most valuable ally, so as the Dame Commander says, we must go to relieve her. I'm sorry to say it, but as she commands only a third of Etruria's armies, her position is likely grim on her own."      "We'll lend you our strength, of course, Klein," says Roy. "Actually, I'll be lending you mine." "Huh?" "My mercenaries had contracts only to serve in the Western Isles. And my Etrurian knights have no desire to fight in a civil war. Which means, ah... Wingleader Thea is my only loyal soldier." "... Oh." "Ahem. Ah. I hope you make good use of the two of us." "Y-yes, I'm sure we will."      Shanna reaches over to take a candy during a lull in her sibling squabble- "thank'm"- and Father Lucius pats the seat next to him for Odette, before putting his arm around her.      "Artificial how?"      "According to Marcus and Lucius, there were some sort of creatures they encountered in the past."      "... he could've been a dragon disguised as a human..."      "... I *do* think she can make sure the underlings don't have much to protect to begin with."      Lucius clears his throat and looks to Marcus. They weigh something between them; then Marcus nods, and Lucius continues. "... As I have said before, records from the Scouring say that some kind of dark magic created artificial dragons back then. And a sorcerer created hollow people from shadow in an incident thirty years ago."      "It's possible the magic has been rediscovered by 'Iðunn', who named herself after the Demon Dragon accordingly. I doubt that man 'Ain' was truly a dark mage himself at all. More likely he was an outright creation designed to change forms. The purpose of the crystal..." "We're afraid we just can't say." "Um, yes. Likely just a strange bauble, or a quirk of the magic."      "Well," says Klein, who rubs his face while trying to absorb the news, "I'm afraid we'll likely see such beings employed far more often, now that Bern cares less about public horror." "Mmmm..."      "It's likely," he concludes, "at any rate, that our success at freeing the Isles had nothing to do with the coup being sprung. Rather, they probably sent the Lycian army here to get you out of the coup's way. It's been brewing for at least two years, after all."      Roy startles up from his gutwrenched double-over with an even more gutwrenching realization. "Wait... then the reason Bern invaded Lycia and then retreated when Etruria moved in-- was it to ensure Lycia would become an Etrurian protectorate, so Lycia would be in Bern's palm with the coup?! Have we been dancing in their palm the whole time?!" "... It's possible. But us freeing the Isles wasn't part of their plan. And I think this was Bern's final card. They have no reason to believe they wouldn't control the whole continent by now."
Blemishine	Hi, Harper Bellamy, Paladins Che-val-yay, reclamations, reconaissance, and a right sharp shipspilot- good to make acquaintances.     "Maria Nearl! Ah, codename Blemishine. Combat operator, engineer, craftswoman... quite a few things, actually. Pleased to meet you!" A few days of work and the heavy subject has dimmed her usual upbeatness, but she still gives a proper greeting to the latest Che-val-yay on the block, briefly bringing a hand to her chest.     "Flamel is right; you'd do well to talk with the locals we've been working alongside. Roy is..." She gives an awkward chuckle at Flamel's description of their leader, followed by a frown. "...A very good leader indeed." She means it.     So we've got to find a way to get her out, too. And.. Hh.     "Ah, well..." Maria takes in Odette's reaction to that news and contemplates a bit. She certainly wouldn't want her to lose heart over it. After a moment, she puts on a small smile. "Like I said, until we learn anything to the contrary - and we very well might. General Cecilia could've taken her under her protection, after all. We won't know until we get there.     Ahem. Ah. I hope you make good use of the two of us.     "We'll be happy to have you two on board," Maria says back to Klein, perhaps less worried about having 'two people' compared to 'an entire mercenary force'. The 'why' is elaborated on not long after. "Your skills with a bow will be a huge help, I can already tell. And Thea and Shanna working together..."     A few pleased-sounding 'hmhmhm'-brand noises say all they need to about her thoughts on that. But after that, her thoughts turn to how deep the plot to get them out of the way of the coup d'eat must've run. And also...     I'm afraid we'll likely see such beings employed far more often, now that Bern cares less about public horror.     "...Lord Roy."     Maria softly interjects in the middle of his (very understandable) gutwrenching-ness about this entire situation, with a somewhat... it's hard to tell what feeling the look on her face has. It's not strictly bad news, compared to everything else, but still something she seems hesitant to bring up. But she does, after a moment.     "As I recall, one of the Divine Weapons was entombed here in the Western Isles, wasn't it? Not far from Juteaux either, if I remember your very words correctly. If we're going to be down in manpower compared to our foes, even after joining up with General Cecilia, /and/ we're going to have even more of those artificial dragons to deal with in the future..." She trails off, glancing from Roy, to Klein, to the rest of the meeting hall.     "...Might I suggest we retrieve Armads before we leave the Isles?"
Alucard	Alucard is, like most of these meetings, silent. He listens and watches. He takes in the body language of others, even their scents, to gauge the room. Golden eyes do flicker to Harper as they come in. Someone he has never seen before. Interesting. His attention slides back to the matter at hand, letting the fresh new insult of 'Unkempt' lodge in his mind. He'll save it for Trevor, though it's even odds that the Belmont knows what the word means. He closes his eyes, thinking. Working all of this over in his mind. Demon Dragons. Political Intrigue. Part of him wishes he knew where his father's Forgemasters went. Though Devil Forging may be too monstrous for this assembly. Except Trudy. She probably would think it's great. His eyes slide to Blemishine. Maria. He opens his eyes before asking her a question. "What do you prefer to be addressed as?" People asked him this question, after all! "Is that weapon not cursed? What hand shall wield that fateful weapon?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Would precise hits work?"     Madeleine nods at Odette's suggestion. "We're still few enough in number that pitched battle won't favor us, until we can link up with Cecilia. And I reckon we should recover Guinivere before making a big show of our return to the continent. Precision strikes're what I'm good at, that and tracking people down. I'm honestly tempted to run ahead via warpgate and do some legwork so we already know where to roll up to rescue Guinivere by the time Klein's ship arrives on the mainland."     "Wouldn't have to do it alone, of course. Flamel's good at infiltration, Dysnomia can help too, plenty of us otherworlders have the right skills for it - and having a few hands who know the local nations would round us out well."
Trudy Grimm	When Flamel tries to alleviate the weight of her statement, Trudy eyes him for a moment. Klein clarifies and, as if to highlight his point, she lifts a hand and gestures to him, "Downplaying the severity of our situation does us few favors, unfortunately."     Eyes drifting down, Trudy collects her teacup again and drains the remainder. Relaxing in her seat, she shifts it about, teasing remaining liquid around amidst the leaves still in the bottom.     "More and more, this 'dragon' of Bern grows in size. It already looms before us as if it were the Lindwyrm itself," A pause, and then, "Lyndbern." She laughs into the cup in her hand, shifting it about some more.     "With this new information, though--" She pauses, eyes glancing up, "I do not think the 'head of the dragon' is King Zephiel. It is most certainly that woman, Iðunn. The Bernish King is little more to her than 'useful'. He certainly agrees with her, that much is clear, but he is not the one truely in charge, I think."
Odette Raskins	"You didn't do us favors; we had a shared enemy." "My men are tired, but I'm coming." "Oh, Echidna, you're the coolest!" Like Klein, Odette flinches slightly despite not actually saying anything, but totally did take Echidna's allegiance in this matter for granted. The guilt (about that) doesn't last that long, though, as her reaction, like Larum's, is one of admiration. "Whoa... Th-thanks, Miss Echidna. It'll be great to have you with us! And..." She pauses, waiting for a brief lull to approach Echidna and whisper. "Hey.. M-Miss Echidna? What kind of training do you do to get that strong, anyway?" She asks, looking and sounding desperate enough to actually try whatever it is Echidna responds with. Whether she sticks with it is another story, of course, but there's a clear glint of admiration there. "General Cecilia could've taken her under her protection, after all. We won't know until we get there." Even though Odette doesn't have any evidence to prove or disprove that, she can still rest a bit more easily at Blemishine's reassurance there. "Yeah... L-let's hope so. Other than Lady Guinevere, General Cecilia might be the most reliable person in there right now. Even more of a reason to go help her out, just like-" She nods at Lilian and Klein, grimacing just a bit at the latter's non-smiley smile. "Like Dame Commander Rook and Mister Klein said." Lucius' invitation to go sit by him is not missed, of course, and Odette scooches over his way before long to settle in with the staff still settled carefully over her lap. Her brain short-circuits visibly when he gets that arm around her, of course, and she seems torn on whether or not to lean towards him or not. Sure, she wants to, but he's got a reputation to uphold! But if he didn't want her to, it wouldn't amke sense for him to do this! But if this is a test, then... Her train of thought is interrupted by actually hearing Lucius speak, and also by realizing she's already settled in against his arm anyway, blushing and all. "Ah, F-Father Lucius! So the artificial dragons were..." Craeted by dark magic, not from metal. That helps Odette put a few more pieces of all this together, although the implications aren't any better than before. "... That one we fought. If that was an artificial dragon, then Bern must have more up their sleeves. A-and even if  that was a real dragon, that just means we..." She rubs her face around the same time Klein does. "W-we'll need to be prepared for more fights like that one, then. And if Bern's not going to be trying to hide it any more..." Odette inhales again, looking back up over at Lucius briefly before quickly looking back at the table. "I'll... We'll need to be ready for them, I guess. I-I'll make sure to stock up on plenty of medicine, and-" She squeezes the staff again. "-keep working at the... Training. There wouldn't happen to be more of those.. Er." "...Might I suggest we retrieve Armads before we leave the Isles?" She snaps her fingers lightly while looking over at Maria. "Y-yeah, that. And any others, if... Uh. If they're still around."
Lilian Rook	'He'd be the one she'd *most* protect, wouldn't he? I don't think she can put a block or protection on people like that, but I *do* think she can make sure the underlings don't have much to protect to begin with.'     Lilian appears briefly stunned by Flamel's cartoony brain-renderings and at a loss of what to think of him. The actual cause becomes apparent when she uneasily ventures to say "You've thought that through very well, haven't you?" to him. "Indeed, if the technique were extensible, King Zephiel himself would be too inexcusable a security risk to pretend that it weren't. I see that you're taking this seriously." She breathes easy for a moment, laces her fingers, and then despite herself, doubles back. "Do you actually see people's brains like that?" comes out a little plaintively. "Is there a cartoon brain for everyone here?"     'Oh, you're *lonely* lonely, huh?'     "Oh my God I can't take you anywhere." Lilian gasps in aggravation at a woman she didn't actually take here. She stomps sharply on Petra's foot under the table. "She didn't even do anything." Lilian says, making several assumptions.     'Th... They are pretty cool if you ignore the... Burning everything down part.'     "Frankly, I don't see the appeal." Lilian says to Odette, whom she has completely forgotten she threatened and humiliated over a misunderstanding.     '-we just kill them all, and... Y-yeah, that'd be the sort of big show of force that could work.'     "What the fuck is wrong with you?" says Lilian, face turned to Odette by the words, two parts puzzled and one part aghast. "Creep." slips out under her breath. She definitely remembers now.     'We don't owe you a thing. Let's get that straight. You didn't do us favors; we had a shared enemy.'     Lilian sharply looks around and silently double-takes at Echidna. She'd been so amicable-- specifically in that way large, strong, popular women can be-- for enough time by now that she'd nearly lost track of her original attitude.     '. . . But. Pretty clear now that Bern wants the whole continent. We're free now. But if they win, that's not gonna last long. My men are tired, but I'm coming.'     Lilian's stare drifts to Elffin, then Larum, and finally to Klein. Her mouth is just barely open, as if caught off-guard by an inside joke amongst a group of friends.     §Hey. What the fuck. How come nobody reacts like that when I do it?!§     "I'm pleased to hear that." Lilian says. "It'll be reassuring to have you along. And your people have earned the right to enjoy what they've fought for."     'Hmph! How Klein grew up so wonderfully under your care, I'll never know.'     "Huh?" Lilian finally evolves to the point of dumbfounded blinking. "Are you mental? Just look at him?" she says, gesturing to Dieck's outrageous gladiator bod. "The man can't pretend to be classless for more than five minutes. I noticed the moment he slipped up and said 'aperitif'." Skimming past another large assumption, Lilian narrows her eyes at Clarine, then glances suspiciously to her brother and back. "Don't you think . . . ?" Lilian begins, only to double check Klein out of the corner of her eye, and tail off with a look at Clarine that screams 'I know what you are'.
Lilian Rook	'I'm sorry to say it, but as she commands only a third of Etruria's armies, her position is likely grim on her own.'     "If they outnumber her two to on then we're looking at a fair fight." says Lilian. "The woman is a genius. If I were promised her or six Otherworlders, I'd choose her in a heartbeat." she says, as if she doesn't count herself. "But an even chance of defeat is indeed grim, and even her victory would be unacceptably costly. I'm reassured that you see the reason in it."     'And my Etrurian knights have no desire to fight in a civil war.'     And yet, Lilian's posture, demeanour, the air about her, becomes strangely displeased.     'It's possible the magic has been rediscovered by 'Iðunn', who named herself after the Demon Dragon accordingly. I doubt that man 'Ain' was truly a dark mage himself at all. More likely he was an outright creation designed to change forms.'     "Even if that was my theory, I was still afraid of hearing that." Lilian sighs. "Our group is still of the size that it's feasible to begin drafting and implementing specialized measures for 'dragons'. If nothing else, being able to handle them more smoothly than the other day would make this assemblage strategically indispensible." she says. ". . . But, I admit, if we were to do so, I'd want to be able to rely on more than just Durandal's strength. We can't rely on that one sword to be our trump card."     'Have we been dancing in their palm the whole time?!'     That causes Lilian to pause. "It's possible that was King Zephiel's aim. I'll admit it." Lilian says, slowing down to be doubly sure of her words. "But how true it is depends too much on our 'Iðunn'." Lilian rubs the back of her knuckles and twists her lip in thought.     "She was there. And now I have an idea of what that magic was. It's probable that she retreated so as not to tip off Etruria of the possibility of Bern's 'shadow agents', but it doesn't explain why she would have gone to the battlefield at all, never mind as if to tip the scales should the assault begin to stall, if their aim wasn't to crush us completely from the outset."     Lilian shakes her head slowly. "I'd like to believe that means she and King Zephiel aren't co-conspirators; that they each have their own aims and simply agree to cooperate outside the military. It'd be convenient for us if she had her own designs apart from his strategies, at least."     She tilts up her chin to stare at the ceiling. "But this world has humbled my hopeful expectations repeatedly and thoroughly enough that I should know well enough to take the hint. It's likely that their plans are even more convoluted than that."
Dysnomia	"...Might I suggest we retrieve Armads before we leave the Isles?"     "Is that weapon not cursed?"     "It's an ugly weapon," Dysnomia groused, crossing her arms. "Its curse nearly condemned Hector to death already, and if Ostia was to be attacked again it might be the end of the city."     "It kills not only what it cuts, but the hand that holds it." There's surely no other reason why she might be wary of this weapon. "If you think we need the advantage so badly, fine. But I doubt we've need of the damned thing."     "Have we been dancing in their palm the whole time?!"     "It's possible that was King Zephiel's aim. I'll admit it."     "I doubt it. Remember what Cecilia told us at the victory dinner." She paused, briefly. Maybe the rest had just been too drunk to remember...? Nevertheless, she forged onward. "She did NOT have permission to mount her counteroffensive. Any plan of Zephiel's to the effect would have to rely on taking the chance that Cecilia would go against orders to aid Lyrica in their hour of need."     "Too convoluted. And risks us distrusting the Etrucian council, when we'd need to take their word for our excursion to the isles." Dysnomia shook her head. "No. He simply adapted his plans to the circumstances. Though that is an equally dangerous quality."     The topic of dragons continues, and Dysnomia's hackles visibly rise. With a grimace, her eyes wandered to Echolalia, then to Marcus, and sighed. Breathed in. And, with immense effort, pushed out. "...If any of you have questions about myself or Echolalia, defer your questions until after this strategy meeting...In private, if possible. This is not the time."
Flamel Parsons	"... As I have said before, records from the Scouring say that some kind of dark magic created artificial dragons back then. And a sorcerer created hollow people from shadow in an incident thirty years ago."     "Exactly! I thought so." Flamel confabulates, just a little. "And he *did* have that feeling of an artificial creation. I think he and I were probably more similar than would be comfortable!" He smiles soooo wide. "But it... hmm, you know, it sort of makes me curious. Does she have a reserve of mind-prints? A collection of connectomes? I still feel like this contributes to my theory, the idea that she found some draconic equivalent to the divine weapons and their capacity to encode souls. His dedication to the race of Eliberian dragons did seem pretty sincere." He shakes his head a bit.     "Do you actually see people's brains like that?"     "Oh yeah, before I even see faces." Flamel beams happily. "Sometimes I just see the brain and no face unless I focus, but that's sort of impolite. That's really all I can get without a dedicated telepathic read though."     "Is that weapon not cursed? What hand shall wield that fateful weapon?"     "Oh, this is gonna be such an unethical thing. *But*," Flamel reaches into a bag he set aside. He pulls out a big device that looks like a radiation detector. "I've got a device here to help detect unhealthily self-destructive impulses! So, whoever decides to volunteer, we can scan them!" He waves it around a little, accidentally points it at Petra, and it instantly screeches and bursts into electronic smoke.     "..."     Flamel quietly puts out the fire, puts the device away, then returns to his seat, with a badly forced smile. "Anyway, good luck with the decision! I'm sure one of you can figure out the ethical issues."
Odette Raskins	"Oh my God I can't take you anywhere." Odette tries very hard not to look at Petra and Lilian, but it's clear that she's holding in a little grin at their rapport...? Relationship? She's not sure what it is, but it's close in some way, and it's almost reassuring to see after everything else she's used to seeing here. "Frankly, I don't see the appeal." "Y-you don't? It's like... I mean, haven't you ever wanted to stronger than you are, and bigger so you can see and reach everything?" Odette pantomimes sweeping her hand across the table without actually extending her arm all the way across. Her sweater isn't the cleanest, but she also doesn't want to just wipe the table with her sleeve, either. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Creep." "Huh? B-but I was agreeing with... Y-your strategy, when you said to..." Odette stammers, shocked at first and then sinking further into her seat like someone that's just gotten smacked. "Not like I like it, but..." She tries to add on some more, but ends up trailing off and staring at the table sullenly instead. Once again, she's trying not to look at Lilian, but for a distinctly different reason. "Is that weapon not cursed? What hand shall wield that fateful weapon?" "Oh, this is gonna be such an unethical thing. *But*," "We'd... Um. N-need some way to counteract, or maybe... Just not, yeah. M-maybe." Odette mutters almost inaudibly, still staring at the table instead of looking back up at Dysnomia and Flamel right this moment. Talking out loud helps distract her from wallowing,  and the screeching and smoking even gets her to glance up briefly!
Petra Soroka	"What?? Who?? I'm not--"     The sentence fragment is enough. There's no way Echolalia could cut herself off quickly enough for Petra to not catch the display of weakness and veer her attention over to her, the social knifeblade still dripping with Harper's blood when she plunges it into Echo.     "How could *you* be lonely? Your girlfriend's here!" The fact that Dysnomia is caught in the splash damage is more of a benefit than a downside. "Hey. Most of the ladies like me, I'll have you know."     Petra, sitting across from this shirtless, objectively attractive man, wrinkles her nose at him in tandem with Clarine. "Who fucking knows why. Men should have to take care of themselves too--" As if Dieck just has muscles like that by coincidence, "-- so there's really no excuse. Like, Klein's a much better example. For guys, I mean." "Are you mental? Just look at him?"     Petra squints at Lilian. "Why?" "A... an unkempt."     Petra snickers, elbow on the back of her chair to twist around and briefly glance at Harper's back as they walk away. "Come on, Clarine. She doesn't look like a guy either. Are you, like, sure you don't have--" Petra blinks and hesitates before continuing, "... Some opinions about how guys should look?" "Oh my God I can't take you anywhere."     Petra yelps when stomped on, erasing any subtlety from it being under the table. She pulls her knee up to her chest to retract her foot from Lilian's range, squishing the aching spot with her knuckles semi-resentfully. "I barely did anything...." "I'm sorry to say it, but as she commands only a third of Etruria's armies, her position is likely grim on her own."     "Oh, good, so it's just two to one." This isn't as good as Petra makes it sound. "Well, plus whoever Bern sends there. And maybe dragons." "Which means, ah... Wingleader Thea is my only loyal soldier."     "Against our... three. Extra. Including Echidna." "More likely he was an outright creation designed to change forms."     Petra squints at this, gnawing on her knuckle in thought. Her first thought isn't particularly practical, but she slowly drags it into something relevant. "How much intentionality goes into that sort of creation? I guess you guys would know?" That's directed at Lucius. "Did Iðunn have to make up, like, backstories for them to hold up to scrutiny? Or would we be able to pressure the human guise a bit to tell that they're not real-- oh, wait, we'd probably catch a lot of real humans that way." "We can't rely on that one sword to be our trump card." "...Might I suggest we retrieve Armads before we leave the Isles?"     Petra hums, crossing her arms and leaning back. "Hmmm... well, obviously someone's gotta take the curse. Hector's pretty old, so it's not a huge problem. Who here is expecting to die before sixty?"
Petra Soroka	"I've got a device here to help detect unhealthily self-destructive impulses!"     "Wait, hold on--" Petra whips her head around to try and stop Flamel, based solely on how specifically that line felt directed at her, but she's too late. She stares at the ruined device for a moment, fallen silent. "... You don't have to use me as a guinnea pig for *any* ethical issue you can think of, Parsons." "Have we been dancing in their palm the whole time?!"     Petra pauses before blurting out her automatic gut reaction to that, and holds her feelings for just a few seconds longer in order to better process her response. "... Well, we've still been doing the most reasonable action at each bit. We've still been maintaining our *own* goals with each victory we've gotten, right? So whether or not Zephiel wanted us to-- I don't think we would've let Ostia or whatever be ignored and fall apart just because we knew he expected us to do what we did. We're still in a better position than we were earlier on."
Harper Bellamy	'Right, you're the one from earlier.'     "Have we met? I don't think I saw you out by the docks, but-" 'Oh, you're *lonely* lonely, huh?'     Harper pauses, scowls, and tries to guess Petra's intent in saying that- and comes up inconclusive. Unfortuntely, she's correct. Whatever spark of 'nuh-uh' that wells up dies immediately, replaced with a slightly defeated, "I thought it'd be nice. Have some?" 'Thanks. It's.. Um. Y-you sure came in at an interesting time!'     A little mirrored nervous laugh, at the tail-end of a wince that started at Odette's first line their way. "When isn't interesting? Nah, yeah, but this sounds like a rough one." Still chatting amongst a few elites, they nod Maria's way, and quietly repeat 'Blemishine', as if trying to work the codename into memory. "Lots of talents you've got. Charmed to meet you."     Introductions, even repetitive ones, carry fun attention- Harper's tension starts to melt away, despite even the immediate jabs- 'Agent of a vague yet menacing government organization!'     "Aren't all of them vague and menacing? They all speak in the language of paperwork, and never say what dialect to practice." ' Great to meet you, Bellamy.'     "Harper. Likewise." 'Start with Roy! Roy's our boy,'     "Yeah? And that's-" 'Shake Kl--' 'Roy's.'     Momentary doubletake, more from Clarine's immediate urgency than anything, and they backstep away- "Got it, got it-" an apologetic smile at Clarine, and they route off the way Klein points.     Walking right up to Roy, Harper sticks out their hand to shake, and beams his way. "I've read about you in the reports. You're the one to offer aid to, aye? I'm offering mine." With a little secondary smile, afterwards, they make to dip out of the way- leadership has more pressing things to worry about. 'Look, there goes another one.'     Overheard, while slipping back towards their seat, Harper's skin prickles. An unconscious hand raeaches up towards their face, tapping at the side of their own cheek, and then shifts to finger-combing their hair, as if that'll fight back at its scruffiness. Stifling their fidgetting, they take one of their own candies, just to tear its wrapper into little shreds. 'It's so,' 'We can't possibly allow this to go unchallenged.'     Harper exhales, breath tense. "How many are there beyond this room..? Is that everyone?" They keep their voice quiet, out of hopes not to throw unwanted worry into the limelight. A throat-clear. "This General Cecilia- it's *military* relief you're hoping to give? Extra hands and guns-" A little look around the environment, "-swords? Or is it the supply kind, too? I didn't do a count, but if that ship out there's being loaded up for more than just a journey, is holdspace something you're wanting for?" '...Might I suggest we retrieve Armads before we leave the Isles?'     Harper visibly perks up at the idea of a *treasure hunt*. "Looking for lost, famous artifacts..?" Harper's filling in a gap in details with assumptions based off 'divine weapon'. "Count me in to any search efforts. That's serendipity, if it's here, and you're justabouts needed elsewhere, quickly? Coincidences like that shouldn't be ignored." The mention of how cursed it might be doesn't dim any of the sudden brightness in their demeanor.
Lilian Rook	'Y-you don't? It's like... I mean, haven't you ever wanted to stronger than you are, and bigger so you can see and reach everything?'     "What? No." Lilian lies as naturally as she breathes.     'Huh? B-but I was agreeing with... Y-your strategy, when you said to...'     "At what godforsaken point did I say to kill everyone who supports Bern?"     'Anyuway, good luck with the decision!'     "You earned that." Lilian says, instantly. "I mean what else did you expect?"     'Why?'     "You are mental."     'Hmmm... well, obviously someone's gotta take the curse. Hector's pretty old, so it's not a huge problem.'     "Need I remind you that the curse also brings ruin to the side of the conflict you fight on behalf of." Lilian says.     'Who here is expecting to die before sixty?'     Lilian doesn't stop staring at Petra.
Echolalia	Echolalia squints at Dysnomia, "That's not exactly what we agreed to. We can't let it, you know, ''be a surprise''. Even if I guess it would be weird to get into ''now''. We owe it to Roy, remember? Lots of people for that, yeah?" She tries to keep her voice low but before she can press the issue. ''How could *you* be lonely? Your girlfriend's here!'' Echolalia says, "Aha... Well..." She almost seems inclined to argue that point. "You know. Being around but not being around is a thing that happens, but I ''said'' I was fine, yeah? But I feel pretty far away from Ran right now so I guess I am a ''little'' lonely." She looks up towards the sky. It is too far to feel that light right now. She looks towards Maria as she speaks about Divine Weapons and the like but doesn't say anything, just watching her.
Blemishine	What do you prefer to be addressed as?     Is that weapon not cursed? What hand shall wield that fateful weapon?     "Oh, I tell everybody they're free to call me Maria casually!" Her reply to Alucard has a brief return to her usual chipperness. "Blemishine is just, you know, the official codename when on duty. Wait, does this meeting right now count as on duty...?"     It certainly sounds like an 'either or' sort of situation.     She returns to subdued and slightly solemn neutral afterwards, though. "I don't know," she answers honestly. "It might be like Durandal, where it'll choose its own owner. Or maybe it'll be whoever's brave enough to take it up. I'm certainly in no position to say who should take it up, if anybody. But like the Dame Commander said; we'll need more than just one trump card, fighting enemies like... that."     The Dragon.     It kills not only what it cuts, but the hand that holds it.     Need I remind you that the curse also brings ruin to the side of the conflict you fight on behalf of.     "...Mn. The curse doesn't come to collect for years, so it's not an immediate issue to this campaign - ...but in the long term, there'll be a price to pay for wielding it. As we know very well from Hector. The fact he's even still alive is nothing short of... ahaha, well. Several miracles, really."     Who here is expecting to die before sixty?     Maria just sort of gives Petra a bit of a Look with pursed lips, before averting her gaze again so that Lilian is the only one giving her a Look.
Petra Soroka	"You are mental."     "... Oh, yeah." Whether this is being used as a synonym for 'lesbian' is immaterial in the moment. It's true either way. "Need I remind you that the curse also brings ruin to the side of the conflict you fight on behalf of."     Petra purses her lips and then apologizes, like she's wronged Lilian personally by saying that. Considering what side *she's* on, it's entirely possible that Lilian would be the *only* one affected. "Right. Sorry."     "Is that an issue if you die early, though? Like if you just die normally, when you're thirty or whatever, then it's not going to cause everyone else to get fucked with you, right? What if you just do all your battles and then kill yourself outside of battle? Or get cancer, or whatever."     As Lilian continues to stare at her, Petra raises her hands up like she's pointing a gun instead. Also like she's at gunpoint, she continues rambling, prompted by nothing at all. "I mean, I'm not *strictly* suggesting myself. I'm just, you know, figuring out the-- like, the choice we need to make, the things we should think about. But like, you can't really imagine me living to be as old as Hector, right? If I died at sixty to a fucked up axe curse, that seems like, a pretty solid-- like a pretty lucky outcome for me, right? Instead of shooting my-- getting shot, or tripping on a rock and falling down the stairs, or getting cancer, or just getting assassinated by NAZCA like Ash keeps saying, or-- you know. I'm just saying maybe we sort down to just those people."
Marigold	"...A very good leader indeed."      Roy smiles shakily and squirms in place before shaking Harper's hand. "Thank you," he says, bowing his head. A good leader he may be, but he isn't good at taking compliments! By the look of him, he can't possibly be eighteen; only acne and a wispy moustache could make him seem more like a teenager.      "No. He simply adapted his plans to the circumstances."      "But how true it is depends too much on our 'Iðunn'.      "Ah... you're likely right," says Roy of Zephiel's plans, and rubs his face with both hands to reinvigorate himself. "Iðunn was deployed to crush us, and Cecilia came only at the last moment... driving us into a corrupt Etruria's arms was only a backup plan at most, then." "Lord Roy, are you alright?" "I don't have a head for this three-steps-ahead stuff, Marcus." "Hah. Well, you have friends for that."      'Th... They are pretty cool if you ignore the... Burning everything down part.'      "Frankly, I don't see the appeal."      "There is an appeal," says Marcus the old knight after coughing into his fist. He then crosses his arms and looks off to the side, as if he had only unwillingly defended someone else's honor. "Not that such a thing as that had any commendable qualities, of course, but..."      "...If any of you have questions about myself or Echolalia,"      Predictably, Mia saying that in the context of dragons doesn't make there be fewer questions. A murmur passes through Roy's rank-and-file troops, and even Klein looks at her a little funny. But: "Alright," says Sue, breaking her peace for the first time. "Later." And she means it, turning her attention to sharpening an arrowhead. The others follow her lead with varying degrees of sheepishness.      "Hey.. M-Miss Echidna? What kind of training do you do to get that strong, anyway?"      "Huh?" says Echidna, uncrossing her arms and looking at Odette with a faint skepticism. "Luck to be this tall, good diet, and about fifteen years of hard labor, mostly. Not like I don't work out, but that's the cherry on top. Why? I can't help you be less short."      "...Might I suggest we retrieve Armads before we leave the Isles?"      "Is that weapon not cursed? What hand shall wield that fateful weapon?"      "Well, Thea and I haven't been completely idle," says Klein, reaching under his table and hauling up a great suitcase-like box. He struggles a little, so Dieck lends a hand. "Hup-- thank you." "Anytime." Thunk.      "That's not...?" "Armads," Klein confirms, with a little gesture at the weighty box. Even in a sealed case, its cursed energy is skin-prickling. "Don't worry, it's quite harmless like this. But we will discuss, later, who should lay hands on it." "... I don't like that thing one bit," Roy concludes, but he can't afford to reject the idea of using it.
Marigold	Lucius does feel the need to correct one thing about 'sixty', though. Leaning in and faux-whispering to Petra: "Lord Hector is the same age as me. He just looks like that."      ... Hello?! What age is Lucius?!      Leaning back in, he does hug Odette unhesitatingly against his side, regardless of whether she leans in. Only after a moment does he startle, smile awkwardly, and say "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I being too familiar? I forgot you weren't Chad or Lugh, for a moment."      "How much intentionality goes into that sort of creation?"      "It... depends, Petra." Lucius hesitates for a second, but this isn't a topic he's cagey about. "If human sacrifice is used to make them, they may retain a hint of their former selves. Otherwise, I imagine it comes down to how much care she weaves them with. Dark creations such as that may almost resemble people, at the finest level of artistry-- and I have no place to say that they might not obtain a soul-- but surely such a beast as Ain is a blunt cudgel."      "This General Cecilia- it's *military* relief you're hoping to give?"      "Good question," Klein breathes unhappily. "Personnel. The Isles have a lot of weapons and armor; we might as well bring those. Food, maybe, but we don't know if she's low. There's no reason not to load the ship as heavy as it'll go. Why?"      Just for handy reference, he rummages for a map before spreading it out on a nearby table: "There. We're headed for the Missur peninsula, in southern Etruria; it's where General Cecilia found herself when the coup broke out. The mountains steal the rain, so all north of the range is the uninhabited Nabata desert, but that thin strip of fertile foothills is important."      "I do not think the 'head of the dragon' is King Zephiel. It is most certainly that woman, Iðunn."      "It might be so," says Marcus to Trudy, continuing to be a friend of odd dark-powered women. He taps his own lips with two fingers. "Too convenient, that she appeared with the magic to make his dreams a reality, just as he began to show those dreams. But in the end he's still the King of Bern. Their dragons aren't so great that they've done away with human soldiers, now are they?"
Marigold	"Men should have to take care of themselves too ... so there's really no excuse. Like, Klein's a much better example."      Both Dieck and Klein look at Petra like she's just confidently asserted the world is flat. They trade a look- pitying?- with each other, and then slowwwwly pivot right back to her. "Do you--" "Are you--" "You don't like men, do you?" "Yeah." "Excuse you?! Of course she does!" says Clarine, taking a bullet that doesn't need to be taken.      "And of course I know what gentlemen should look like," the noblegirl sniffs at Petra. "Like my darling Klein! Or that Elffin fellow over there; or Alucard, or perhaps like Lucius." "P-pardon??" "You know, cultured. Refined."      She has just named every vaguely feminine blonde man in the building. Klein looks like he might die. "Anyway, I'm coming with you. I hope you didn't imagine I'd merely retire back to Reglay now that I've found my Klein!"      "I noticed the moment he slipped up and said 'aperitif'."      "Ahhh... no contest," Dieck sighs fondly at Lilian, and pats Klein on the shoulder in a deeply familiar way, who doesn't object. "Let's say I'm like Lord Klein's older brother, alright?" "You're what?! Why did I never hear about you!" "It's alright, Clarine. Just- understand that he's a big part of why I grew up this way, alright?" "Well... I guess I do have to thank him, then."
Marigold	"I'm honestly tempted to run ahead via warpgate..."      "Not that I'll discourage you from trying," says Klein- still vaguely unhappy- "but if that were practical, we'd all be doing it. Bear in mind we've only been connected to your Otherworld for less than a year. If there are any gates in Missur, we've no idea where they connect to. When we get there, it'll be easier to trace back."
Petra Soroka	"Lord Hector is the same age as me. He just looks like that."     Petra looks at Lucius with wide eyes, leaning in his direction as if her gaze is conspiratorial in itself. She glances over to Hector, and then back. The calculations in her mind are practically inscribed on her face, constructing two venn diagram circles that contain Lucius's possible ages and Hector's possible ages, and being distraught by the total lack of overlap between them.     "So... uh... f--... th--... thirt--.... Well, it doesn't really matter the specific age. Just, like, far enough in the future that it doesn't matter." If Lucius reveals that he's twenty-five, then that's still far enough in the future that Petra wouldn't consider the curse an immediate threat. "Dark creations such as that may almost resemble people, at the finest level of artistry--"     "I see... so like Elites...." Petra's flippant joke is downplayed by the fact that she's sincerely internalizing the information and considering its ramifications. "Copying people's appearances and personalities is actually a way bigger threat than I'd thought." "You don't like men, do you?"     "Why?!" Petra pitches up into a shriek, clutching the table and leaning forwards in dismay. The lily ornament around her neck rattles with the movement. "What did I even do?!"     Clarine's automatic defense(?) of her knocks the wind out of her lungs, causing her to splutter and slowly lower her face to press it into the cool wood of the table. She rolls to the side, squishing her cheek to look resentfully up at Klein. "Clarine, you don't need to-- I still have *aesthetic sense*. It doesn't even matterrrrrrrr, about *that*, because I still have *eyes* and *taste*." "Like my darling Klein! Or that Elffin fellow over there; or Alucard, or perhaps like Lucius."     Still flat against the table, Petra nods in agreement, eyes closed in relief for the indirect support. "See? That's basically exactly who I'd say-- well, Alucard's lame. But that's because he's a depressed little alcoholic and that makes you ugly. But besides him, you're right." "my darling Klein!" . . . "my Klein!"     Petra squints at nothing in particular, then sits upright and pushes her hair out of her face. Eyes narrows, she glances between Clarine and Klein again, saying nothing before moving on.
Alucard	Alucard, despite Petra's words, is not a depressed little alcoholic. He's a depressed, taller than average alcoholic. Though, by barest technicality, he's merely a binge drinker. Since he's probably physically incapable of becoming addicted. Psychologically on the other hand. That may be a different tale. Not for this time, though. He lets the insult flow by, because that Case comes out. He can feel it from here. Golden eyes hone in on it, narrowing slightly as he's almost walloped by the potency of the magic. He considers throwing his name in the ring to use it. What does he have? A castle full of ghosts and an underground vault of occult knowledge. His friends have left him, and certainly few here would care. He doesn't do it though.
Harper Bellamy	'...Mn. The curse doesn't come to collect for years, so it's not an immediate issue to this campaign'     "Oh. That makes it scarier. That's worse than something short, if anything wrought stays hanging. Nothing to be free of afterwards." Harper looks Maria's way, and stares, blank-eyed, before blinking twice in quick succession. "Well. No, dying and losing everything up front ought to be measures worse, but that's still right awful. Well-"     Weighing pros and cons of short vs long-term curses takes enough of Harper's mental considerations that they stop talking, and just stare blankly ahead.     [I don't like how often you think of me when you talk about curses.] An unheard voice- Calypso's, curselike in her omnipresence and ever-haunting them, -whispers to Harper, carefully softening her voice as if anyone else could listen in.     "As if you're not basically-" Harper's voice *is* out loud, though. They look next to them on the bench- and scoot away, as if giving room for somone who isn't there.     [Don't you start. You can't say I don't look out for you. Even when you dawdle around into distractions like this.]     From next to them, a hand rests on the side of their tense arm. Harper jolts, unprompted, further away from the empty spot besides them- and then moves back.     [There's plenty far better suited to be 'hanging threats' than me, but you know that. Ones that would really hurt you. It won't make me care less, but I just *don't* *like* *the* *habit*.] Each of Calypso's unheard final words are punctuated by Harper's obvious reaction to being poked, little shifts in gaze and posture. Trying their best not to continue the one side of the conversation others can hear, Harper finally bites down on the candy bar they've demolished the wrapper of, and hushes up. Thunk.     "... Oh. No seeking-out needed." They refocus, and adjust their posture straighter- if only to then slump, and exude a little bit of dissapointment. They cross their arms, and scratch, uncomfortable, through fabric. Having an evil axe to blaim for why their skin feels worth crawling out of instead of just overheard chatter from basically-strangers isn't a comfort, but you can scowl at it with fewer strange looks back. 'And of course I know what gentlemen should look like,'     "... Why is everyone she named blonde..?" Harper mutters, at nobody- some weird back-brain worried notion that yellow hair is somehow masculine dies as quickly as it crosses their mind. 'There's no reason not to load the ship as heavy as it'll go. Why?'     "Because I have a trawler with empty holds, and that's not doing me any good, or doing anyone else any good. Reasoned if you need to carry more than that one out in the harbor's capable of, she could at least do someone else good and haul some extra. I've rigged her up to fly-" *fly?* "-mostly on her own, so think of her pretty much just..." Harper grimaces, pained to speak almost-ill of their own ship, "...as an extra cargo barge to take along?"     "Not a long trip out for me to fetch her. If timetables are too tight, though, scrap the notion. If not, a word's all you need? Costs me about the same."
Odette Raskins	"Nah, yeah, but this sounds like a rough one." "I-it really was. Is. Um. It's nothing like the kind of work I have to handle back home, for sure." Odette chimes in after Harper, trying just a bit too hard to sound upbeat about the matter. "But.. Um. You should be okay! I-I mean, it's not easy, but, there's... There's a lot to do here, for sure." She notices them wincing, too, but she hasn't figured out why just yet. It does, however, plant the pain seed in her gut about saying something wrong again. "At what godforsaken point did I say to kill everyone who supports Bern?" "... Huh? Nobody said to... What?" Rather than continuing to withdraw, Odette just sounds confused instead. It doesn't take much to recall the last time this happened, though, and her gaze fixes on the table while she focuses on fixing her jaw and letting the idea stop there. To Odette, it's better for everyone if she stays quiet, anyway. She's not a strategist, she's not a warrior, and she's certainly not a leader. Better to just suck it up and leave the planning to the professionals rather than risk distracting any of them over this. "Luck to be this tall, good diet, and about fifteen years of hard labor, mostly. Not like I don't work out, but that's the cherry on top. Why? I can't help you be less short." "O-oh. That's... That'll take a lot of substituting, then." Tall luck? Probably not doable without extensive surgery. Diet? She could probably stand to change that some. Fifteen years of physical ttraining? She'd be well into her thirties, but also doable. "... A-and I didn't say anything about being sh-erg. Getting taller!" Odette whines, inadvertently coming out of her funk through flustered indignation. "There is an appeal," "Not that such a thing as that had any commendable qualities, of course, but..." Odette looks up and over at Marcus slowly, almost intently and with a deeper awe than she had seen him with all those other times. He understands... "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I being too familiar?" Odette is still more than content to settle right into the side-hug. "Uh? O-oh! No, no, that's.. It's fine, Father Lucius! You can be..." "I forgot you weren't Chad or Lugh, for a moment." Wait. Aren't those two his kids? Then he means... Is that how he sees her, too? Odette isn't sure how to feel about that, and the confusion is evident on her face. Is she disappointed? A little, but it's not like she doesn't like the idea of still being close to Lucius in a different context. Could there be more later? Would he be weirded out if she tried to push it any other way than he's seeing it now? All the competing thoughts in Odette's brain end up having her latch onto Lucius anyway. "Y.. Yeah! That's fine. That's cool! I mean, you're... Probably about my parents' age, too? A-about?" She half-says and half-asks, somehow not seeming too bothered by the Hector age comparison.