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Marigold	OFF FIBERNIA'S COAST, EN ROUTE TO MISSUR      On a quite comfortable caravel, courtesy of Klein.      It's a gorgeous day, if not for the knowledge that a thousand miles away on the mainland General Cecilia is fighting for her life, and for the cursed axe sitting in a box on the midboard that nobody wants to address.      The evening sun is sparkling on the water, glass-clear enough that you can see the sparse clouds above reflected in its surface. To port is the jagged coast of Caledonia, second-largest of the Western Isles; to starboard is the endless western ocean, beyond which is- according to every local- absolutely nothing. "They say one of the Sacaen tribes came from overseas," says Sue at one point, "but that was from the north. The ocean here is just forever."      You've been on this ship for several days now, which would be easier to resent if it weren't so pleasant. The beds are soft, the seafood is fresh, and the company is (generally) bright. Elffin and Larum even give musical accompaniment at meals, harp-and-tambourine, though the latter's cooking is lethally bad.      Rutger and Dieck are, today, leaning against a railing near the raised sterncastle, both absolutely covered in bruises. Dieck's shirtless torso has been bludgeoned badly enough with gut-blows that he winces at the ordeal of holding himself upright, and his throat looks like he's been strangled at least once; Rutger's face is a palette of bruise-colors and their clothes cover who-knows-what-else. Both have scraped knuckles.      Dieck seems at-ease about his state in a vaguely hangdog way. Rutger looks a bit embarrassed. Neither has any hostility towards the other, although Klein and Clarine try to push healing on the former while only Sue is there to casually offer a vulnerary to the latter. Both are trying to refuse care.      "Dieck, if this is about your pride..."      "I'll get better before we get there. Don't you spend materiel just for my aches, alright?"      "Excuse me! This is my personal staff, not Roy's, and I'll use it on who I please!"      "Yeah? Use it on Rutger then."      "Huh-?! She's fine! You can barely stand!"      "Pffh. It's nothing."
Marigold	Dieck's boys, 'Wade' and 'Lot', have had their contracts expire; at Echidna's urging they stayed in the Western Isles, their homeland. Geese, her lieutenant, saw the ship off from shore.      On the forecastle, Shanna and Thea are discussing something about family- "Can you believe we're aunts now?"- and shockingly not having a fight about it. Lilina, Lugh, Roy, and Chad (in decreasing order of success) are trying to learn a board game under Marcus's instruction and Lucius's warm approval.      And, by that dreadful leather trunk Klein brought aboard, Echidna and Bartre- Fir's father- are silently staring daggers at each other. The terrible cursed energy of Armads oozes through the box like a magnetic field, skin-prickling, hair-raising.      Larum and Fir eye their respective axe-toting mentors with dread. "Echidna, you can't really mean...?" "Dad, come on...!"      https://youtu.be/FnbDiA4jy_4
Alucard	Another boat. Hopefully this time they don't get jumped by mercenary pirates. Though, honestly, that wasn't too bad. The dragon was worse. The mine was worse. Pirates would, honestly, be a breath of fresh air. Though there's plenty of that too. There were times where the dhampir had considered tagging in to the fistfight 'fun', but he's at least bright enough to know when it's personal. So he just watched them beat the hell out of each other instead. Though, much of his time has been spent staring at the case with the cursed axe in it. Despite prevailing opinions, he does not desire his own end. He's just traumatized. Still, he has no one who counts on him. No children. No family. No nation. The curse would assuredly catch him, but there would be no one to care about it. That's fine, right? Currently, Alucard is paring a small apple with a knife, seated on the deck and leaning against one of the masts. His eyes, glittering in the sun like coins, occasionaly shoot towards the cursed case, feeling the dark magic and considering his options. He pops a sliver of apple in his mouth and makes a face. It's tart.
Aidan Proudpick	Another boat. Surely this one won't be as bad as the last one. Aidan is wearing his half chestplate armor just in case this time, to avoid a fatal bullet wound. Rather than dime store romance novels to practice his reading with, Aidan has a stack of papers with him, tied with twine. Just after the printing press, but just before mass production of paper. Not bound for a book. Like a thick medival leaflet. He has gotten rather cozy around Clarine, especially as she has warmed up to healing duty and Dieck. "Lady Clarine, it's a warrior thing. Wearing signs of a battle and everything. I know some who loved to get scars so they'd have a white streak in their fur." Aidan is vain enough to have never done this because he likes his fur pristine and ruddy orange. And he's back to having a steady colorful sheen! Tridaeg money does wonders for a hair care routine. "There's also kinda just a feeling after being in a good fight, like a dull ache, the pain just on the edge, all that fire starting to leak out of you." Aidan has avoided all attempts at a fight, since a single fist from anyone here but maybe Odette would snap the squirrel in half. "It feels good." His own eyes dart up to the box, considering it. "Has... anyone else volunteered yet?"
Desire Stars	The ocean here is just forever.     "Forever..." Neon leans on the rail of the ship, peering out over the western blue expanse. There's a little awe, in her tone, and maybe a little fear, to think that someone could (that people even have) gone out into that for as long as their supplies or the ocean's bounty would allow, and see nothing but blue. "There had to be someone who went far enough to say it goes on forever, right?"     After a few moments of thought, "How many people do you think went so far that they couldn't come back?" That one sounds a little wistful, almost. Like she might want to be one of them. Pffh. It's nothing.     Ace flashes Dieck an impish smile. He sidles up to the much larger man and casually leans his back against the wall of the sterncastle proper. "I had a dog as a boy -- Konstantin. One day I caught him trying to get onto the counter and get at dinner. Your expression reminds me a little of his. Caught with your nose in the casserole pan."     He reaches over and strokes a thumb over Dieck's bruised abdomen. "Nothing, huh?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine is trying to have a lie down amidships - there's fewer people there, on account of near everyone else steering clear of Armads. A weapon of overtly malicious character is downright familiar to the huntress, on account of the plethora of such armaments among the Excrucians. So she's there, on her beach chair not far from Armads, in her frilly one-piece swimsuit. But something's disturbing her rest anyway - it's Echidna and Bartre. The radiative *interpersonal* malice is also not new to Madeleine, but it's something she'll never really get used to in the same way as she does to the directionless evil of a cursed weapon.     At length she stands, and walks over to the table, and looks between the two axe-wielders. "So do you both want to carry it, or is this a game of chicken to see if the other blinks first and volunteers? Either way I'll say my piece." She leans contrapposto and plants her hands on her hips, obviously settling in for a monologue.     "There's measures not worth taking, right? Otherwise we'd be looking for our own war-dragons to drown King Zephiel in his own medicine. Otherwise we'd be importing horrid weapons from offworld the likes of which could put the Scouring to shame. But we're not, and we won't, and we've got good reason not to. One of those reasons, by my reckoning, is there needs to be something left after the war. Something to save, something to earn a few decades of peace for. If either of you take up this axe, there's nothing left for you. The war is all you'll know. I can't ask either of you to give up the peace that comes after. And neither of you should ask that either, even of yourselves."     "The big war where I'm from, I used to think it'd be my whole life. But that's not a *good* life, not a life worth holding onto. There's measures not worth taking. Like dedicating my every hour to destruction of the foe. Or demanding that someone wield Armads. That's the demand of someone who's given up on peace - someone like King Zephiel."     "The way I see it, we should toss it overboard. It'll be harder to reach at the bottom of the sea even than in some cave on the Isles."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel has been hanging out with the gang. Primarily the boys, which is to say, Lugh and Chad mostly, and learning all the fun boardgames -- though he plays with what he calls Psychic Handicap -- his opponents receive a constant telepathic broadcast of Flamel's thought processes, to make it fair.     But it looks like the topic of Armads is coming up. One that he needs to worry about. And he picks up the tension in the air. Don't need to be a telepath to detect that. He wanders over, inviting Chad and Lugh as well. "Heyyyy there!" He calls out. "I don't suppose any of you have ever tried out a seance before, have you?" Beaming, smiles, optimism. "I've been thinking about Armads." He makes quick placating gestures. "I know, I know, it's been completely out of everyone's mind while we're all relaxing! I bet you all forgot about it. But I've been thinking. And I think it's worth knowing more about the curse! I'd bet there's another soul-print in there, one we could draw out."     He offers hands out, inviting anyone nearby to link hands in a circle. If they follow, he plans on telepathically dimming the lamps and getting started with some ritualistic stuff.     "I've also got a Pre-Regret Field generator! We can simulate the exact specific amount of regret you'd feel about not choosing Armads in all sorts of possible outcomes, which is great for making an informed decision." Soooo cheerful about that too. Anmyone want to compare massive future regrets?
Trudy Grimm	Being one amidst the crew who has extensive experience with curses and cursed items, Trudy Grimm has not distanced herself overmuch from the chest containing Armads. At a few occasions she has acted as the voice of reason to keep the axe-wielding warriors looming over it from seizing the weapon for themselves. Today, she has been mostly silent up until now, with Fir and Larum also now involved.     Instead, she filters through the mass of beads and charms dangling off her wrist with a pensive expression on her face, as if she can't find what she's looking for. After a few moments, she seemingly gives up and just extends her hand. A shadow cast across the trunk's lid darkens and, from within it, a handful of carved bones pop out in a manner not unlike being cast from a cup, scattering across the lid.     Trudy steps up between Echidna and Bartre, then. With a thoughtful noise, she traces the pattern the bones had fallen in with one finger, "Please consider not just the immediate needs, but also the future and those who would be harmed by rash decisions."     Lifting her gaze, the witch glances between the two towering warriors as she collects the scattered bones, "We still have plenty of time to sort out how to move forward. This tension is wholly unnecessary, no?"
Odette Raskins	Odette wasn't expecting to spend this long at sea, but the break from her usual work has done her a lot of good. The time off has given her a lot more time to catch up on things she didn't think she ever would: Training physically and with Lucius' practice staff, mixing together new concoctions of stuff using local ingredients that definitely weren't just found in dingier corners of the ship, and even just letting her mind settle after... Everything? Everything. The idea that she'd be facing dragons (indirectly or otherwise) certainly had her fretting quite a bit, and she's still not the calmest person about it by a wide margin, but she might have a shot at not being THE most freaked out by the idea. It's unlikely, still, but it's possible. Today, she's taking a break from jogging around the ship to observe Rutger and Dieck in their bruised and battered states, wincing a bit at their persistence in refusing treatment. Stroking her chin as Dieck gives a pretty good reason to refuse, she disappears into the cabin briefly to start mixing some of the stuff she's brought and gathered from around/off the ship. A minute later, she comes out with two vials of a greasy-looking fluid meant for improving blood flow and encouraging faster healing, and she all but shoves each one into Dieck's and Rutger's hands. "H-here, drink these. We can't have our fighters healing too slow and being dead weights before we get there, and this stuff's real cheap and easy to get." She explains, fully prepared to puff her cheeks up and try to look intimidating (or just pouty) if they don't. Even in front of warriors, she still has to try and intimidate them into taking better care of themselves.
Dysnomia	Dysnomia looks exhausted--she IS exhausted, more by prior conversation and ambient tension--some of it real, maybe some of it imagined--than anything else. She amuses herself by watching Marcus teach the youngins near the front of the ship, the corner of her lips turned up in a not-quite-smile.     "Quite productive." She murmured soft approval. "Good way to test your tactical acumen." Was that really why? Sometimes, Mia pokes at it herself, in particular testing against Flamel, playing a convoluted game of trying to succeed while their thoughts were both exposed to each other.     "But I've been thinking. And I think it's worth knowing more about the curse! I'd bet there's another soul-print in there, one we could draw out."     "Stars, and this was such a good trip..." Dysnomia groused, trying not to make the step she takes back too obvious, glance at where Armads lied as if it were above to rise up and strike her, like a viper. "You're CONVINCED this won't go south on us somehow, agent?"
Flamel Parsons	"I think," Flamel waves an index finger of a telekinetic hand. "We'd already be a bit in trouble if the axe could get into combat all on its own. A seance only makes us more able to hear what it would already want to say! I really think we'll be fine, definitely. Except for emotional stress! That might happen."
Petra Soroka	Back on the water, again.     As difficult as the last trip on the Dia's Lily was at some points, Petra didn't manage much resentment for it. She'd be insane to, even despite the less-than-luxurious accomodations, the isolation on the water and limited access to recreation, and the assortments of wounds she kept collecting even before their encounter with the 'pirates'. Good company and enriching surroundings are worth any amount of suffering-- some would argue that they can only exist with a sufficient amount of suffering-- and Petra is a slut for adventure.     This time, she's bizarrely insistent on doing all the worst chores, while also not being at all excited to do them. Rather than getting to enjoy the cooking, Petra is relegated to cleaning up the kitchen herself, or scrubbing the decks at night, and generally acting like she's being hazed as a new sailor on a ship that is absolutely not insisting that she be hazed. Maybe this is just normal for her. She's so responsible!     Today, Petra is wearing a set of white and brown overalls, accent-belted around the waist, along with a dual-layered brown and black jacket. It almost seems a *little* less like a pirate cosplay today, but the laced neckline is still suspicious. She's rolling her sleeves down after completing some chore, covering her arms before emerging onto the deck, when she sees the cluster around Rutger and Clarine (and some other people, probably). "Yeah? Use it on Rutger then."     "Well, he's right." Petra slides in to the cluster nearby Clarine, drawn to an argument even without context. "Rutger obviously won. So she should be patched up, and Dieck should have to heal on his own."     She glances at Dieck's neck, then at Rutger's hands. Even the brief diversion of her attention on that *particular* aspect would be cause for Rutger's embarrassment to spike, and when Petra raises her gaze to Rutger's fucked up face, she says, as if it's conspiratorial without actually lowering her voice at all, "Damn, though. Nice." "Echidna, you can't really mean...?"     Oh, it's Armads time. Petra hasn't been skittish around the box like most of the others have been-- instead, she's been the opposite; vaguely allured by the cursed energy like holding a magnifying glass to an anthill. Her investment isn't just shallow voyeurism, though. It wouldn't matter too much to her if some random Elite got cursed to die horribly because of an evil axe, but unfortunately, Petra has too much respect for the Elibe locals to shrug something like that off.     Looking between Bartre and Echidna, Petra starts to raise a finger and open her mouth, prepared to say something almost certainly bad. Flamel saves her by introducing more and different emotional stress into the situation, via psychonautry. "I've also got a Pre-Regret Field generator!"     "Hold on, what? Like, how bad off we'd be if none of us used Armads? I feel like we should use that to measure how much regret the volunteers would feel in the future when the curse comes to collect, right? And the person with the least amount of regret over dying horribly should take it." Oh no! She's become a utilitarian!
Angela	Shajo and Nonon and relaxing with Tennant and Sakura (wearing the Heaven EGO Gear and is apparently the opposite of Tennant, gushing about making movies as opposed to watching them). "Yeah I agree," Sakura is saying. "Nobody was as skilled at the low budget soap opera as BongBong. I heard they actually signed up with us." "Hell yeah!" Nonon shouts. "BongBong!" "Who?" Shajo asks. "Oh don't tell me you don't know BongBong." Tennant says. "I bet if we showed some BongBong clips to the evil axe it'll voluntarily lift the curse." "Okay but who is he?" Shajo asks again. "THEY--" "Sorry," Shajo says. "They. Who are they?" "They are only ... A STAR." Sakura spreads out his arms dramatically and Shajo sighs and gets up, pulling Nonon along towards Echidna, Larum, and the others, the former flinching (he also primarily used axes in life) at the evil energy field of Armads. "Are you fighting over who is gonna wield it? Maybe coin flip it?" Shajo asks. "I thought Flamel was going to do a seance--" Shajo frowns again. "I dunno what an axe that enjoys killing its user is gonna say that we'd wanna hear." ''I've also got a Pre-Regret Field gnerator!'' A peaceful expression flickers across Shajo's face as the ridiculousness of the conversations he is in have passed beyond despair and into acceptance. "Ah yes. Let's go ahead and simulate regrets, sure. Why not." He says, smiling lazily.
Flamel Parsons	"No no no. I have noooo way to predict that kind of thing. What I *can* do is convince your brain that you've lived for about thirty years in a small variety of possible outcomes, and you can authentically feel what you'd have felt about never wielding Armads!" Flamel explains to Petra, briefly pulling a helmet out of his bag and proudly showing off the helmet that has precisely the amount of exposed electronics that's enough to make you worry it'll fry your brain without being enough to make you know for *sure* that it will.
Lilian Rook	Several days on a boat is just nnnnnnnot what Lilian needed right now actually. The idea is incredibly cozy, and with one special exception, last time actually was. It's just that once the novelty of the first two days; existing in a shared living space, eating with company, drinking in the local food and music, seeing people outside of missions and in the midst of their little daily routines, learning about their habits and spending time with the Lycian League with nothing on the line, Lilian finds herself more and more with time to spare on nothing more than her own thoughts.     Her regular training can only use up so much time. Sue's urging to attempt more regular meditation is counter to forgetting anything. Even right now, Lilian wouldn't do any chores aboard the ship instead of making Petra do them. And without her coursework, what else is there? For the first time in a while, Lilian misses being in school. Perhaps she should take a course on something? She doesn't even have a new language to work on.     Instead, for the past thirty minutes, Lilian has spent her time by the edge of the boat, zoning out while staring at the horizon, and intermittently examining her right hand, pulling her sleeve back from the wrist and flexing all of her fingers as if to make sure that it's still there. A fistfight would slip right by her notice even if she were right there for it. It's either Clarine's shrill tones, or the subject of Armads, that pulls her away from her spacing out-- or perhaps Sue would have called that meditation?     'Pffh. It's nothing.'     Returning from the rail, Lilian blinks at the two covered in bruises, and with a polite little 'Hmm?' prelude, she asks, "What was the argument about?"     'There's also kinda just a feeling after being in a good fight, like a dull ache, the pain just on the edge, all that fire starting to leak out of you.'     "I think you're the only one here who enjoys being beaten to a pulp, Pr--" Lilian stops and immediately looks at Petra, then shakes her head. "Proudpick. Have you considered that you associate it with relief because the mindset that leads you into combat is unhealthy in the first place?"     'How many people do you think went so far that they couldn't come back?'     "Hopefully not many. I can't imagine starving aboard a ship is a pleasant way to go." says Lilian. The romance is not shared.     'Otherwise we'd be looking for our own war-dragons to drown King Zephiel in his own medicine.'     "Beg pardon?" Lilian whirls around to look without really thinking. "We can do that?" she says, scanning around the ship with the look of someone suspecting they missed something important. "Hang on a minute; if we can do that then why wouldn't we? Did I miss this?"     'Otherwise we'd be importing horrid weapons from offworld the likes of which could put the Scouring to shame.'     "Huh?" Lilian's voice pitches up. "Does anyone here even have access to something like that? I can't imagine they do. Otherwise we'd certainly be putting the issue to a vote at least."     'The way I see it, we should toss it overboard. It'll be harder to reach at the bottom of the sea even than in some cave on the Isles.'     "What?! No! We're not tossing a divine artifact into the ocean! Are you mad?! How does that help us in any way?! Bern has several of the weapons already-- throwing one away doesn't improve anything! It only puts lives in danger you imbecile! Do you think not even one person will die as a result of throwing power away?!"     'I've also got a Pre-Regret Field generator! We can simulate the exact specific amount of regret you'd feel about
Petra Soroka	"But you could totally do the other way, right? Simulate thirty years and then stimulate someone's neurons to put them in the mindstate of being absolutely totally sure they're about to die violently, because of a choice they made thirty years ago." Petra is not bound by the Psychonauts code of ethics. "And there's a-- you know, a flaw there, anyways. If you assume everyone who takes it would live thirty more years, then you're missing out on the variable of the people who are going to live *less* than that, so they'd have *more* regret about not choosing Armads because they're dying anyways."
Lilian Rook	'I've also got a Pre-Regret Field generator! We can simulate the exact specific amount of regret you'd feel about not choosing Armads in all sorts of possible outcomes, which is great for making an informed decision.'     Lilian lapses into stunned silence for a while. "Can I have one?" slips out before she gathers her composure again.     'You're CONVINCED this won't go south on us somehow, agent?'     "Just fuck off into the sky like usual for a while. It only went wrong because you were there last time, right?" says Lilian. For a change, her tone is completely bone-dry practical about it. Even if it is mean.
Angela	"Yeah I mean it's no different from how Lobotomy Corp does things. You pick someone to do the job that will kill them but will save everyone else. Happens all the time," Shajo says. "You gotta fit the qualifications and also be ready to do it. Usually the Manager just picks someone." Nonon raises her hand up high, "Ooh!! Ooh ooh ooh!!" Shajo pushes it back down and leans in to murmur, "Hey, sweetie... You can't punch your way through the curse..." "I can try!"
Trudy Grimm	"Out of curiosity," Trudy speaks up, her eyes closed as she tucks the carved bones into her sleeve, "Does anyone know how the curse may behave if the one who wields Armads is already dead?"     After a pause, she opens one eye, fixated on Flamel, "Perhaps that is something we can learn from your methods. Though-- hee~, calling it a seance is a little nostalgic, isn't it?"
Petra Soroka	"Hang on a minute; if we can do that then why wouldn't we? Did I miss this?"     Once Lilian is confused, Petra also inherits the status effect secondhand, even though she hadn't even bothered to give the suggestion a second thought until Lilian remarked on it. She squints at Madeleine appraisingly, then derisively. Her typical mental heuristic for dealing with nonsensical things that other people say applies perfectly here.     "I think people are just suggesting stupid things that aren't real in order to, uh, not have to think about the obvious difficult decision. Like, you know, what if we just invented some contraption that solved it instantly and totally owned King Zephiel and had him running away and crying? What if we just outsmarted the nasty rude guy, like we're always able to do, and we're just choosing not to, for whatever reason. It's fucking stupid and lazy."     "... I guess, theoretically, there's some guys I could contact that might have, um, captive dragons, for villainous lairs, and stuff. There's a whole animal trade I've never gotten into, for people who want exotic and dangerous-- like, magical creatures as status symbols or weapons." Petra looks a little uncomfortable, as she should in the presence of Dysnomia, about buying dragon slaves. "I probably wouldn't do that, though."
Aidan Proudpick	"Have you considered that you associate it with relief because the mindset that leads you into combat is unhealthy in the first place?" "Testing your mettle is normal!" Aidan protests, "Sometimes it's about testing yourself, sometimes it's about two people locking into the heat of the moment and expressing their skills and emotions. I am NOT weird about it." He notices the glance to Petra, looking over at her. That's new information. Aidan is not sure how to process this information. It slides into the back of his head to the 'things that make it hard for Aidan to deal with Petra because of' drawer, which is already filled with an exceptionally large number of thoughts. "I've also got a Pre-Regret Field generator!" "Uh, is there an instruction video on youtube? For home use."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Lilian: "It only puts lives in danger you imbecile! Do you think not even one person will die as a result of throwing power away?!"     Madeleine starts to count off on her fingers. "Either someone starts wielding it now, or we save it and Bern steals it from us because we aren't using it, or we throw it away where nobody can get it. Unless you think we should put it in a glass box that says 'break in case of Bern', like a fire extinguisher, and then forever dedicate some of our number to guarding against its theft?"     Flamel: "We can simulate the exact specific amount of regret you'd feel about not choosing Armads in all sorts of possible outcomes, which is great for making an informed decision."     "There's something to regret any which way. If we use Armads, we've condemned one of our own. If we don't, there'll be more danger and more death. I'm not of the opinion that we should kill one of us now to save ten of us later. Besides, it's not like we're responsible for *Bern's* actions. If Zephiel kills a million people because we didn't pull out absolutely every last stop against him, that's on him."     "A seance sounds pretty neat though, count me in."     Trudy: "Does anyone know how the curse may behave if the one who wields Armads is already dead?"     "Point, actually," Madeleine says with a nod. "Why not the Black Knight?"
Petra Soroka	"Testing your mettle is normal!"     "You've literally never tested yourself in your life. You're a lazy, aimless, hunk of unformed nothing, who does everything possible to avoid being challenged and growing as a person. So your opinion isn't worth anything."     The idea that it's some sort of reveal that Petra gets recreationally beaten to a pulp doesn't even occur to her, and it's especially not worth worrying about because she wasn't pointed out by name. Even if she caught it, Petra would just think Aidan is gross for being so unaware of his surroundings to not have noticed already-- and, of course, tell him that any conclusions he drew from Lilian's comment are wrong, because he's incapable of comprehending her on a fundamental level. "Besides, it's not like we're responsible for *Bern's* actions. If Zephiel kills a million people because we didn't pull out absolutely every last stop against him, that's on him."     Petra squints even harder at Madeleine. "What do you think our *job* is?!"
Lilian Rook	'Sometimes it's about testing yourself, sometimes it's about two people locking into the heat of the moment and expressing their skills and emotions.'     "Speaking with your fists is fake." Lilian says with absolute confidence. "Nobody ever changed their mind or experienced growth because you beat them up. It's just something you gaslight people into being satisfied with." She is still thinking about Hibiki.     'Unless you think we should put it in a glass box that says 'break in case of Bern', like a fire extinguisher, and then forever dedicate some of our number to guarding against its theft?'     "Oh so we could put the Scouring to shame, but we can't keep anyone from pinching an axe? Really?" says Lilian, incredulous. Her eyebrows disappear into her bangs as she stares at Madeleine like she'd said something particularly unhinged about whether the sex counts as gay. "Obviously someone wields it. And if there's no one suitable right now, we hold on to it until we find someone who can. It's not exactly something you keep dangling from your belt in town. It's not going to get nicked by some plucky street orphan while you aren't looking. Christ." she sighs aggressively. "And even if it did, I could get it back straight away."     'Does anyone know how the curse may behave if the one who wields Armads is already dead?'     "No, but I anticipate that fucking about and trying to cheat curses seldom ever goes well." Lilian says. "Hector dying didn't close it out, after all. It'd no doubt, at minimum, consider his absolute, permanent destruction to be a curse clause. And need I remind you, the curse then brings disaster on you and all of your other minions too. It literally fates you to catastrophically lose for being 'his side'."     'Besides, it's not like we're responsible for *Bern's* actions. If Zephiel kills a million people because we didn't pull out absolutely every last stop against him, that's on him.'     "Our entire goal is to stop him from doing that!" Lilian yells, escalating right back up to incredulously shrill. "More importantly, if we're down a divine anti-dragon weapon when we really need it, do you think whoever chose not to wield it is going to be spared? It's not as if either Echidna or Bartre are safe from dying a violent death if you throw it into the ocean. It could be them, or Lord Roy, or Rutger or Dieck or Lucius or Marcus or Cecilia Clarine or Chad or Lugh or anyone in the League! It could be one of us! It could be you!"
Angela	''If Zephiel kills a million people...'' "I don't like the idea of only using 90 percent effort..." Nonon says, despite the whole axe killing YOU thing. ''What do you think our *job* is?!'' Shajo blinks once. He knows what his JOB is, but it's pretty clear Petra isn't speaking about Enkephalin here. He stares into the distance. What will his job be once his work with LobCorp is over? What is his job, philisophically speaking? If he lives as an 'Elite' what would he see himself as doing? "Well our job here is... to help out as part of being a good multiversal citizen so we continue to receive support back in the labs..." He says, setting that aside for a moment. "So taking a weapon that will kill one of us would be a little against the point of why ''we'' are here." He rubs at his neck. "BUt I guess... if someone else takes it that doesn't work for the facility, that is, conversely, good for us? Unless we count as the 'side' that will automatically lose because of someone wielding the axe but I'm kinda assuming that using the axe doesn't mean it'll destroy the alliance, right? At least it'd have to be someone who...doesn't see that as their side? RIght?" Shajo wrinkles his nose in confusion.
Lilian Rook	'but I'm kinda assuming that using the axe doesn't mean it'll destroy the alliance, right'     Lilian huffs. "It happens years and years later. We're not going to be fighting together in two or three decades. That axe has the power to destroy anything it's turned against, but it denies absolutely any chance of its wielder building a lasting legacy from war."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Lilian: "It happens years and years later. We're not going to be fighting together in two or three decades."     "How sure are you that it's always so delayed? Are you willing to bet the safety of the Lycian League - of Roy, Guinivere, everyone else - on that?"     Petra: "What do you think our *job* is?!"     "This isn't really our 'job'. You go back to L corp, I go back to the Concord. We're basically playing Fixer on a world which doesn't have it as an established career option. The only one of us who's actually been staying here has been like, Alucard I think." A thoughtful pause. "I guess whether to employ Armads to begin with should be up to Roy, as the locals' appointed commander. I'm going to go ask him what he thinks, while there's not anyone leaning on him one way or the other."     Madeleine immediately marches off to do just that, heedless of the fact that she's interrupting a leisurely board game. "Hey, Roy? What're you going to do with Armads, anyway?" She's doing her best to pretend it's a matter of mere curiosity, but it's obvious she's been arguing with the other Elites over it.
Odette Raskins	Ace doing that thumb thing with Dieck sends Odette some mixed messages. On one hand, irritating an injured person isn't good by any stretch of the imagination, but she can't NOT look at them. She NEEDS to see what happens after that. "Y... You should be careful, too, Mister Ace. You were really going at it during that last fight, so..." Odette trails off for a moment, then coughs into her hand and forces herself to look away from his face and Dieck's abs. "Be careful, okay? I'll bring some.. Er. M-more meds by later if it works okay for Mister Dieck and Miss Rutger." "The way I see it, we should toss it overboard." "No... Someone's definitely going to fish it out if that happens." Odette shakes her head quickly at MAdeleine's suggestion, shivering already as she seems to recall something she's seen/watched. "It might be rusty by then, but we'd be lucky if whoever found it only found it that way. I-it might be covered in curses by then, or it might be even hungrier for blood after drinking nothing but sea water and shrimp for so long." "If Zephiel kills a million people because we didn't pull out absolutely every last stop against him, that's on him." "I don't.. I don't think I'd be happy with that. O-or anyone living here, either, if they knew we had something that could've stopped him and just... Didn't do it." The EMT shuffles a bit, looking steadily more anxious as she looks over at that ominous box. "I-I mean, yeah, it's going to suck if it's the kind of thing that's going to ruin whoever uses it, but... History'll hate whoever left it alone if it doesn't get used at all, you know?" "... it denies absolutely any chance of its wielder building a lasting legacy from war." "Then.. Would it be better if someone that isn't planning to go to war uses it?" Odette asks, not to Lilian specifically but just aloud in general. Despite saying it loudly enough to be heard, however, there's still a hesitation tone as she keeps staring at that  box. "Then there's no... Um. War legacy to worry about! Although if it's anything like how Lord Hector's curse is, that might still be a bad... Er. Hard choice for anyone to make, even if they say they have nothing to lose."
Petra Soroka	"Well our job here is... to help out as part of being a good multiversal citizen so we continue to receive support back in the labs..."     Petra looks over at Shajo, dubious about his reflective mood. "Not *yours*. You're not an Elite. I mean, Angela's the Partner, and technically it's all win for her to have one of you die by wielding the axe. You won't even be on *her* side by the time it comes around."     "... I kind of think it'd be a shitty wedding gift, though," She adds, visibly uncomfortable with Nonon volunteering. "This isn't really our 'job'. You go back to L corp, I go back to the Concord."     As disbelieving as Petra often is at the antics of her fellow Elites, it's rare that she's actually struck dumb by something they say. Jaw dropped, lips parted, struggling for words for several seconds, before blurting out, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Of course it's our job to make sure as few people here die as possible! Being a *Fixer* is basically like being an *Elite*, not the other way around!"     Petra spits at Madeleine, summoning the most insulting phrase she can. "You fucking tourist."
Angela	Shajo says, "Eh? I'm not? And she is a Partner?" He hasn't heard all of these details. "Well I guess it's hard to be on anyone's 'side' if you're settling down." "Don't worry babe. We're totally Elite." Nonon murmurs to him. Neither of them were around for when Petra suggested someone endanger a building of civilians to serve as a distraction. "Guess you've got a point though, but I mean I can't endanger Apple Tree Island either, you know that." ''I kind of think it'd be a shitty wedding gift, though.'' "I definitely want like ten years of honeymoon before we pick up a cursed weapon." Shajo decides. "Aww..."
Dysnomia	"Just fuck off into the sky like usual for a while. It only went wrong because you were there last time, right?"     "You may be forgetting a few small details about what happened." Dysnomia said, her stomach hitching and dropping again--she wasn't used to being exposed like this, here. She didn't want them to look at her like--her hands clenched, unclenched. "...In your eagerness to frame me as the problem. It's sloppy. Unlike you."     Her thoughts strayed to Madeleine and Dorung...and to Roy. But whatever she had in mind, she barely spent long enough on it lend them her focus--and certainly didn't give it voice.     "There's a whole animal trade I've never gotten into, for people who want exotic and dangerous-- like, magical creatures as status symbols or weapons...I probably wouldn't do that, though."     Dysnomia's steely stare at Petra doesn't lose much of its intensity, by the end of her speil. She searches for a way to articulate her protests in a way palatable for this audience, eventually arriving at--"If you do choose to bring any captive creatures, you'd best make sure they aren't sapient. You copy?"
Lilian Rook	'How sure are you that it's always so delayed? Are you willing to bet the safety of the Lycian League - of Roy, Guinivere, everyone else - on that?'     "Because we have two data points, and both of them say the same thing, and we have a curse expert, who also concluded the same thing, and oh my god don't do this inane slippery slope thing now!" Lilian ratchets all the way up to fists-balled shoulders-squared two seconds from screaming 'unbelievable!' huffing. "It sounds to me that either you're being a recalcitrant troll as an automatic response to losing face, or you're terrified of power and responsibility and you cope with it by putting on a holier-than-thou attitude and claiming nobody should use it."     'This isn't really our 'job'. You go back to L corp, I go back to the Concord.'     "Then fuck off and go home!" Lilian shouts, escalating halfway to the top of her lungs. "If you don't care about these people then we have no need for you, so tata! Bye!" Lilian waves her hand shoo-shoo style for emphasis. "Those of us who are actually going to be affected by this choice will finish up without you! In fact, if it's just about the job, I'll pay you a thousand credits to fuck right off!"     God Lilian hates ships now.     'Aww...'     Lilian huffs angrily through her nose. "Listen to your husband on this, Nonon. You promised to take responsibility for being together, didn't you?" she says, folding her arms.     '...In your eagerness to frame me as the problem. It's sloppy. Unlike you.'     "Kiss my ass Becky."
Aidan Proudpick	It's that feeling of having a knife carving ice, having Petra drag that sentence across his brain. Phrases of it dip in and Aidan's confidence has taken too much of a blow to pick out which ones are which. Aidan crams his claws into his palms. It's a cross country journey, not a race. Just keep moving forward. "I'm going to prove you wrong, Petra." "Nobody ever changed their mind or experienced growth because you beat them up." "Maybe you are just doing it wrong. It's really about putting your emotion into it." Aidan might be colored by the fact he had to rip Kale's feathers out to get him to be nicer to his crew. "Does anyone know how the curse may behave if the one who wields Armads is already dead?" To focus on something else, he looks over at Trudy, "I dunno, that doesn't seem right. You could just put it in the hands of any soldier and keep moving through them. There's always going to be one person who will wield it, right? I bet you have to have a certain willpower to use it." He eyes the Black Knight, "It just seems like cheating. You can't really cheat a curse of a magical weapon," he says with absolute certainity.
Alucard	There is A Lot going on. Alucard, mostly not wanting any of that nonsense or smoke aimed at him, keeps his mouth shut. He watches and listens, but he doesn't say a damn word, he just eats slivers of his too tart apple and enjoys the sea air. If it starts to go really bad, he simply won't be here anymore because he's turned to mist and slipped below decks.
Lilian Rook	'Maybe you are just doing it wrong. It's really about putting your emotion into it.'     "I'm not doing it at all. I'm watching the rest of you beat the snot out of each other and pretend like you have an unspoken bond for a few days before going back to business as usual." Lilian says, rolling her eyes. "The only thing you can socially accomplish with violence is making someone scared you'll blow up again or develop a psychotic fixation and beating you for the rest of their lives."
Marigold	"What was the argument about?"      Rutger blink-startles from their oceangazing reverie, and Dieck immediately puts up a hand. "No, there--" "No argument. She said we couldn't train swords, because she can't draw a blade--" "Yeah." "--so I said, 'let's do it bare-knuckles instead', and then..." "... Yeah."      "There's also kinda just a feeling after being in a good fight..."      Dieck is just casually nodding along with Aidan when Ace tries to poke his bruised abs. "Ghh- hey-!" He swats Ace's hand away, then freezes, and then laughs while slumping back. "Alright. You got me. I guess it's not nothing. So what?"      "Dieck..." Klein says reproachfully. Dieck sighs and shrugs with his hands while his elbows are propped behind him on the railing. "It'd be disrespectful. Alright?" "Disrespectful?" "To her. She's..."      Dieck looks over at his opponent a ways down the railing, two inches shorter than him and forty pounds lighter; Rutger is either admirably zoned out again or just pretending not to listen now. "... I dunno. Every time I had her on the ropes, she got this look in her eyes, and it's like she's possessed. I think it's important that she got me good. I don't wanna just wipe it away."      "... Thanks." "Hah. Yeah." "Dieck, your new friends are scary." "I'm not 'scary'." "See, Klein? She's not."      "H-here, drink these."      Rutger and Dieck both reluctantly take an Odette-provided vial, hesitate, and look at each other for approval. Finally, Rutger manages a small smile of approval, and Dieck nods- "Well, if she's satisfied"- and they both knock it back.      "Damn, though. Nice."      Rutger might be blushing just slightly under those bruises when she averts her eyes. Clarine, on the other hand, looks between Petra and Rutger with a hand over her mouth in horror. "Strangling Dieck is 'nice'??" she says, as if she were aghast at a wild animal's gruesome habit. "So lady 'homosexuals' really do hate men . . ."      Sue doesn't advertise it, but she does sigh-relax a little when Rutger takes the medicine. Then she turns her attention to Neon: "Maybe a few," after uncomfortable thought. "Do you have to go forever, to know that there's nothing? No driftwood comes. The wind and waves don't speak of land. That can be enough."      Flamel, and anyone else joining in with the little game, discover that it's not a war game so much as a governance game. One balances resources, trades with and pressures partners, and takes advantage of events. Roy has education, Lugh has talent, Lilina has both, and Chad has neither, but everyone gets enough encouragement to keep them upbeat.
Marigold	"Please consider not just the immediate needs..."      "She's right," says Bartre, of Trudy's words of wisdom. "We've got to be thinking about the long term."      "Mm-hmm. So give it to me. I've got a new country to protect."      "Huh?? Hang on, me! I'm older, I've got less of a life ahead of me!"      "Me. I don't have a family."      "Echidna, aren't we family??"      "Well, that's different."      This is going nowhere.      "Otherwise we'd be importing horrid weapons from offworld the likes of which could put the Scouring to shame."      "Besides, it's not like we're responsible for *Bern's* actions. If Zephiel kills a million people..."      At some point between Madeleine saying those two things, Echidna straightens up with a tight breath and wrings her knuckles. Shortly after, Maddie gets to experience being picked up by the front of her shirt one-handed and slammed into the forecastle's wooden wall.      "Hey," says the very big woman, whose eyes make a mockery of her gentle tone. "I'm sure your hometown got razed, right? I'm sure your family got killed, right? If you're talking like that. If you've got the guts to talk like that. Because if someone, who hadn't lost anything to Bern, was saying we can afford to take the high road, I might have to break her little--" "Echidna!!" "Lass..."      Echidna breathes out and, if Madeleine hasn't already gotten away, drops her. "Alright. ... Alright, we'll do the seance. Because someone is using it. You throw it overboard and I'm diving after. Are we clear?"      "Does anyone know how the curse may behave if the one who wields Armads is already dead?"      It's Marcus, long-quiet, who pipes up there: "I don't think anyone can rightly say. Dead things like yours don't walk our world. If Parsons is right, Armads might tell us itself."      Lugh and Chad hop down to the ship's middle to crowd around Flamel, joining hands with him- one on each side- and encouraging others to gather around the box too. Klein bends down and undoes the latches, opening up the velvet-interior case for occult attunement.      Inside is an unwholesome instrument. Armads, the Thunder Axe is a lurid brassy hue with edges ground silver, and its two blades are curved as if they were the edges of a single lightning-strike or flickering flame. It's also massive, immediately casting into doubt the idea that anyone less thewsy than Echidna or Bartre could use it.      "Haha, wow..." "Saint preserve us, that's really it." "Hasn't changed a bit..."
Lilian Rook	'... I dunno. Every time I had her on the ropes, she got this look in her eyes, and it's like she's possessed. I think it's important that she got me good.'     Lilian tries not to curl into herself at that, redirects the urge into staring too-pointedly at the deck, shuffles uncomfortably, and says "You're a smart and sensitive man, Dieck."     'So lady 'homosexuals' really do hate men . . .'     "Excuse you!" Lilian scoffs. "That's a harmful stereotype and not at all true. Petra is just a psychopath who hates everyone."     'Do you have to go forever, to know that there's nothing? No driftwood comes. The wind and waves don't speak of land. That can be enough.'     "Some people don't learn anything until they try it for themselves. I prefer to carefully observe before trying something, but I can't deny that I appear to be in the minority."     'Because if someone, who hadn't lost anything to Bern, was saying we can afford to take the high road, I might have to break her little--'     Lilian's eyes widen by a few degrees, and she stops blinking for several seconds while she carefully watches Echidna. The look in her eyes when Echidna turns around again doesn't seem to be shocked in a bad way. The specific manner in which Lilian tilts her head to the side somehow feels like the equivalent of a slow nod.
Angela	'You promised to take responsibility for being together, didn't you?'' Nonon's eyes widen and she twiddles her fingers together, a chastized expression that looks a little ridiculous on a woman of her musculature. "W--well when you put it like that--yeah I can't take the axe either. Sorry guys. I know it'd be really cool to see me cleave someone lengthwise but I guess I'll just have to liquify their internal organs with punches instead." Her mood dips considerably until Echidna approaches Madeleine and lifts her up off the ground! While people go 'Echidna!!' and 'Lass...'... Nonon goes, "Hell yeah! Now throw her over your shoulder!!" As her mood is immediately restored to normal.
Desire Stars	I can't imagine starving aboard a ship is a pleasant way to go.     Neon blanches. "I hadn't thought about it like that..." The wind and waves don't speak of land. That can be enough.     "Maybe," says Neon, nodding as the breeze plays with her hair. "Or maybe the people that made it far enough found something worth staying for--something that the wind and waves keep quiet about."     "Maybe I'm just daydreaming," she says. "I think about being... 'away,' a lot." I guess it's not nothing. So what? I don't wanna just wipe it away.     Ace smiles at Rutger, then at Dieck. "The marks are really that important..." A glint of mischief sparkles in his eye. "Very interesting, if so." It's really about putting your emotion into it.     "I don't think anyone could accuse Petra of being half-hearted when it comes to other people's emotional states and development." The only thing you can socially accomplish with violence is making someone scared you'll blow up again or develop a psychotic fixation and beating you for the rest of their lives.     Ace nods in agreement. "Force isn't what changes people. Unless you think Zephiel is going to change his mind because one of us shouts loud enough and overpowers him?"     If Parsons is right, Armads might tell us itself.      "I'd prefer to wait until I hear what it has to say, then."
Aidan Proudpick	"The only thing you can socially accomplish with violence..." "I'm not talking about socially, it's a more intimate thing, not some thing you can just use as social tool," he's deeply entrenched now, he can't pull back. "There's just an expression in there," Aidan shakes his hands, as if he can really feel it. Unless you think Zephiel is going to change his mind because one of us shouts loud enough and overpowers him? "Well it doesn't work EVERY time." LADY HOMOSEXUALS. Aidan immediately attempts to fade back behind Clarine so that he can't be seen. "Just a good blow, probably," he coughs, trying not to look directly at Petra. This isn't guy stuff, he can't be in this. "She also really likes going for the strangle." Aidan fingers around his throat, remembering every time the Silver was used to dig into his throat and hoist him up. "Mm-hmm. So give it to me. I've got a new country to protect." Aidan looks over at Echidna, eying her up and down, doing some sort of lengthy storybook calculus in his head, before finally, "Yea, I bet she can beat the curse!"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Echidna slams Madeleine against the wall, and it's like something in the huntress breaks. Her eyes are blank as ever, but the rest of her face shows the instinctive fear of a larger and angrier being. She raises her hands defensively but hardly struggles. "Okay, okay! I wasn't gonna toss it myself. Take up the axe, if it's that important to you!" A pause, long enough for Echidna to drop her. Madeleine stands, visibly shaken. "I guess I'm just used to different wars," she mumbles.     (Indeed she is. The Excrucian War of her homeworld is restricted to small numbers on either side, and governed by harshly enforced rules of engagement. Even for an assassin, it was the sort of war where you spend more time monologuing and posturing than actually doing violence, where making someone *feel* threatened is more important than executing on a threat. The sort of war that convinces a person that exchanging private letters with the archenemy is fine and good.)     Madeleine scoots away from Echidna, preferably to somewhere fully across the table. "So, uh. Seance, right?"
Petra Soroka	"So lady 'homosexuals' really do hate men . . ."     In some sense, this is the future that Petra has wrought for herself, on purpose. Not just embracing being honest with herself, but embracing the alien incomprehensibility, embracing the hostility and misunderstanding, eager to be loathed for stereotypes and preconceptions whether they're true or not. All that can be true, but also, she was just called a 'lady homosexual'.     After recovering from wheezing out all the air in her lungs, Petra eventually manages, "Th-that's-- I don't hate all men. Just most of them. And-- yeah, Lilian's right, I hate most women, too. That's just me. I don't even hate Dieck at all, the strangling thing is just... different... because...."     Given enough time to get her breath back, Petra whirls around to point at Clarine, going on the attack in an extremely ill-advised way that can only be ascribed to still being shaken by her new moniker. "We *literally* talked about that, before setting sail! You were agreeing with *me* about Dieck being kind of gross! In fact, you basically said *all* the same things about the guys in the room that I did, so maybe *you* should think about what accusations you're throwing around!" "I'm going to prove you wrong, Petra."     Petra bothers to look over at Aidan for the first time today, despite standing near him (due to his unfortunate proximity to Clarine) for some time already. Her head turns a fraction to the side, looking at Aidan out of the corner of her eyes with her voice flat. "I gave up hope on that a long time ago."     "No one ever changes. Almost no one. Not from getting beat up, and not for any other reason, either. People just look at the emotional arcs of what they assume happened and should happen, and make shit up that fits barely enough, and pretend like it actually fits into how they're acting now, so that they can *declare* they've changed and don't have any responsibility anymore." "Because if someone, who hadn't lost anything to Bern, was saying we can afford to take the high road, I might have to break her little--"     Petra, still seething, huffs out a rough exhalation of air when Echidna drops Madeleine. She's about an inch away from following up with physical violence of her own, but leaves that to the tall woman instead, settling for scrunching up her fist and grumbling her approval at Echidna. "Good. Fucking get her ass."
Lilian Rook	'I think about being... 'away,' a lot.'     "You and I both." says Lilian. "But I can tell that you're not ready for it. Few are, and you're certainly not one of them."     'I'm not talking about socially, it's a more intimate thing, not some thing you can just use as social tool. There's just an expression in there," Aidan shakes his hands, as if he can really feel it.'     "What is expressing yourself if not social?!" Lilian gasps in exasperation. "Is the word 'social' a kind of synonym for nefarious politicking and ladder-climbing in your mind? You express yourself to other people. Sharing your emotions is a social activity! 'Intimate' doesn't mean anything! Sex is social! Not that you'd fucking kn--"     Lilian stops abruptly before another thought. "Go on. Tell me what Xion expressed to you in that duel of yours. Her blade was certainly heavy with all sorts of emotions. She spent the entire time yelling at you to try and get something through your head. Can you tell me what she was feeling? What you learned from her beating the tar out of you?"     'so maybe *you* should think about what accusations you're throwing around!'     "That's true . . ." Lilian suddenly drops off into a thoughtful murmur, holding her chin in her fingers. "She has a strong preference for the least masculine men in the room, and she did spend all that time chase-- pining after Rutger; a fellow woman . . ."
Flamel Parsons	"Calling it a seance is a little nostalgic, isn't it?"     "Hope it's not appropriative!" Flamel cheerfully chatters. "Necrokinesis isn't really allowed or accepted where I come from, but seances are usually more mentalist territory."     "Can I have one?"     "Probably not! Planning any grand act of self-annihilation? I tuned this one to suicidal possibilities only, but it's *possible* I could tune it to other choices."     "There's something to regret any which way.     "True! That's why you need to be able to measure it objectively. Using scientific equipment, ideally! But I can tell you now, this thing won't pick up much regret from anyone besides an Eliberian. For obvious reasons."     Flamel dims lanters, extinguishes torches, closes portholes. Even the creaking of the wood starts to... soften. He doesn't move, when this happens. His smile stays just as cheery, but there's a little gleam in his teeth. "We have the central key of a seance. The object of connection. Armads the Thunder." He says, telekinetically shifting the case and slowly setting it aside, careful to hold the axe only telekinetically, without a "grip" on it. The axe will drift up, to stay in the center of the ring of clasped hands. Flamel turns the lights out completely.     "Durban the Berserker. In life, your senses and movements laced into this, and made it a part of you! And in war, your dreams were held by its hilt and sharpened into its blade. In peace, your intent cursed it. Berserker Durban, you left so much behind. What was important to you is still here, right? Hi there! I'm special agent Flamel Parsons, acolyte of an ominous yet mysterious order -- and I call on you to speak, please!"     The gravitas and the chipper friendliness weave together into a... startlingly effective tone. But Flamel's expertise in mentalism should be energizing this space with enough psychic energy to form at least a phantom projection of whatever's in Armads. "We want to know what the intention of the curse is, why it'll doom the wielder, and what your feelings were about those who should still wield it!"     "And the rest of you -- any questions, please!" He asides. "We probably won't have a lot of time, old mental impressions don't have a lot of active wakefulness."
Odette Raskins	Today, Odette learns that Shajo and Nonon are married. She lets outa  quiet little 'aww' under her breath and tries not to smile too much at that brief hit of happy-feeling that precedes remembering that they're still risking their lives here. "D... Don't worry! As long as I'm around, I'll make sure you get way more than ten years." She declares to the Agents, realizes how that might have sounded, and then hastily adds "Er.. I-I mean, I can.. If you get HURT while we're here, I can make sure you get proper medical care and stuff! Not... Uh." She trails off and instead turns right back to Rutger and Dieck to make sure they drink her stuff, relaxing visibly when they do. "That's better. I-I've got plenty more where that came from in case you two want to go a few more rounds, too-" "I think it's important that she got me good." "The marks are really that important..." "You're a smart and sensitive man, Dieck." "-especially if you're going that hard... Um. Is it?" Odette asks, clearly not understanding a goddamn thing as she looks between Lilian and Ace. "... Still, it couldn't hurt to get some i-" Wait. She looks to her left, to her right, back at the cabins, then slumps a bit in place. Of course there wouldn't be any ice here. There's no freezers! And last Odette's seen, magic here seems to mostly be of the fire and lightning and scary dark stuff variety... "W... Well, I've got plenty of cheap and good stuff, so don't be too afraid." She tries to reassure them with an awkward little chuckle, then jumps in place when she hears Echidna getting understandably hostile towards Madeleine. Odette turns to stare, of course, and it takes several seconds after Echidna lets go of Madeleine for her to remember to breathe again. "N... Nobody's throwing it overboard! A-at the end of the day, we're going to need it, so... We'll figure it out, okay?" She chimes in, awkwardly trying to step in between the two like that'll actually calm anything down before letting out a relieved sigh once Madeleine backs off. She shivers again as Armads is unveiled and Flamel begins the seance, stepping towards it to get a closer look at the immense weapon. "Wow... Looks like you'd need to be pretty beefy just to lift it. D-do we even have any...?" She comments and trails off, shrinking back a bit from the floating axe while also feeling a distinct urge to just try and wiggle the handle of the weapon around to get some idea of how much it weighs. "And the rest of you -- any questions, please!" "R.. Right! Um. Armads! Do..." Asking the weapon something pointless like 'is it racist' wouldn't be helpful. Instead, a different question comes to mind: "What kind of wielder do you want?"
Alucard	Alucard is silent, though the corner of his mouth twitches slightly as Madeline is womanhandled by Echidna. What, it's funny. As the group starts to crowd around the axe, the dhampir sighs, wiping his knife off and slipping it away before he hucks the cleanly pared apple core over the side rail. He levers himself to his feet, and crosses the deck to where the axe and everyone else is. He still doesn't say anything, though.
Lilian Rook	'... Still, it couldn't hurt to get some i-'     "Dredge up some water and I'll freeze it for you."     'Wow... Looks like you'd need to be pretty beefy just to lift it. D-do we even have any...?'     "Obviously it's not going to be me." Lilian says, as if she were asked. "More than the weight, you'd need someone tall and upward-balanced. I don't have the height and my center of gravity is low." she says. "Besides. I'm already tangled up in a destined curse and what my power will some day do to me. I'm not adding a second one."
Angela	''Don't worry! As long as I'm around, I'll make sure you get way more than ten years.'' Neither Shajo or Nonon expected to make it past 30 let alone past 40. Nonon rubs at her neck awkwardly and says, "Aw that's really sweet Odette, but you'll probably die before us right? Don't medics live shorter lives?" Shajo frowns. "I think doctors tend to live longer actually." "But Odette isn't a doctor she's a combat medic." Nonon points out. "Oh yeah." Shajo says. "Good point." ''The seance'' Three of the four LobCorp agents have questions. "What's your favorite movie?" "It's an axe it doesn't have a favorite movie." "Hey why do you go around killing and dooming the people who use you?" "Who would you prefer to wield you and could we make some kind of alternate pact while we've got you here?"
Petra Soroka	"We have the central key of a seance. The object of connection. Armads the Thunder."     Petra can't help getting into the mood for a seance, in the way only a white girl with a complicated and heartfelt but ultimately shallowly appropriative relationship to commercialized spirituality can. Her interest in the simmering arguments wanes with the lights, her focus settles and her mind clears, quieting down and sitting in the rough circle around the axe, fidgeting with the engraved buckle of her belt while Flamel goes through the incantation. When she's welcome to talk again, her voice is hushed with the expectant energy of a ouija board on Halloween night.     In that state of mind, Petra can best conceptualize communing with Armads as a matter of ghosts, rather than curses. And ghosts, usually, respond pretty well to kindness.     "Is there... some way we can satisfy you, before choosing your wielder? Or convince you that we have a noble cause that you'd approve of using your power for?"
Trudy Grimm	> "Hope it's not appropriative!"     "Oh, hardly," Trudy waves Flamel's concern away with closed eyes. > "Mm-hmm. So give it to me. I've got a new country to protect."     "This is a weapon cursed specifically to not be able to protect anything," Trudy warns Echidna, "It's as Lilian said; there is a particular artistry to it, rendering it impossible to build an empire with."     She follows Echidna with her eyes when the taller woman turns her frustrations on Madeleine, then closes her eyes again with a little sigh. It's a welcome little distraction, come to think of it. At least it got her attention off the cursed artifact for a moment.     Armads' chest is opened and Flamel begins speaking out to Durban through whatever links he still holds to the axe. She lets out a soft, thoughtful noise. Subconsciously, her left hand shifts to rest on the spine of her Grimoire where it hangs at her side. After a moment, she lifts her right and produces Eiwaz, the Rune of Death-- lending her spiritual power to Flamel's psychic in the effort to commune with spirits.     "Please come and speak to us. I would like to know what dreams of yours have yet to be fulfilled."
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan shifts, putting himself in a sudden shift. He wasn't there the last time Lilian womanhandled Clarine, he's not about to let that happen again. As Petra starts to speak, Aidan leans back. This is normal. "I gave up hope on that a long time ago." "Cross country journey," he repeats his mantra, "Focus on making myself someone can trust and rely on. Don't go back on my word." He turns back around as he relaxes, "it's my story, not yours." "Go on." A turn of the head, shame. "That I've been doing this for myself the whole time. My glory. And not caring enough when it wasn't for my glory. I spat in her face by not treating the duel as important, but she still gave me everything. To push me. To help me try and kill my pride." He looks back up at Lilian. "And be a hero for the right reasons." With a grunt, Aidan pushes himself up. He turns his head back towards Lilian, a sidelong glance before he goes to join the seance, his smile creeping back up on his face, "I wanna be good enough to help carry the sector on my shoulders. Not just be a hero. So people," Kale, you, "stop feeling like they have to drown in responsibility. I dunno how long it'll take, but I got time." He tucks the script he was reading into his breastplate. The seance immediately lifts Aidan's SPIRITS as he moves in, He stares at the axe, tail subtly flicking as he joins the circle. The gravity of the situation weighs on him as he tries to sift through his brain. What is the most important question? Dammit, Petra gets there first. He continues, taking on a more performative and dramatic voice, "Who must wield you? A leader of the people? A quiet farm boy? A general with unbreakable will?"
Odette Raskins	"Dredge up some water and I'll freeze it for you." "Oh! S... Sure thing. Thanks, Mi-um. D-Dame Commander, ma'am. I'll get some after the axe business is sorted out." Odette stumbles over her words as she tries to get that out with a minimum of word stumbling. "And.. Also, I didn't know you could do that. That could be really useful on the field, for sure..." She makes a mental note to practice harder with that staff, in case that's something she could do herself someday. "More than the weight, you'd need someone tall and upward-balanced." That, meanwhile, has Odette slumping a bit more. That's basically the opposite of herself, isn't it? She looks down briefly at her legs, then sighs lightly and doesn't even bother staying on her toes. "... you'll probably die before us right? Don't medics live shorter lives?" "... Huh?! I-I don't think so? What kind of medics do you have around your...?" She starts, then shivers lightly upon remembering that Shajo and Nonon don't work in the same conditions she does. Maybe their medics really do have a shorter life expectancy. "Hh... B-but no, I don't think I'll die before... I mean, not that I think either of you are gonna die anytime soon! But if some of us have..." More slumping, and Odette whimpers quietly as she realizes the hole she's dug. There's really no good way to continue that sentence, is there?
Lilian Rook	'I wanna be good enough to help carry the sector on my shoulders. Not just be a hero. So people, stop feeling like they have to drown in responsibility.'     "Funny." Lilian says in a far off tone. "Hearthward said something just like that to me. The day he realized that Quicknest had fallen to him, in fact. I believed him when he said it. At least, I believe him more than you."     'Oh! S... Sure thing. Thanks, Mi-um. D-Dame Commander, ma'am.'     "Don't mention it. We're allies, aren't we?" says Lilian, in feather-light ignorance of Odette's lingering feelings. "Before I was a knight, I was an alchemist descended from druids. Of course I can do a little thing or two like that."
Desire Stars	But I can tell that you're not ready for it. Few are, and you're certainly not one of them.     "I'm not ready for almost anything I want."     "That doesn't make it easier to not want," Neon answers. "Just the opposite." She fidgets anxiously.
Marigold	Maddie seems to want to drop the topic, and Echidna gracefully obliges, dusting off her hand on her thigh and turning to go with Larum anxiously clinging to her arm. "Uh-huh."      "Maybe I'm just daydreaming. I think about being... 'away,' a lot."      "Maybe," says Sue, who now turns her gaze fully to the infinite(?) western sea. The wind blows through her hair for a peaceful moment. "Aren't you 'away' right now?" She presses her lips for a second, and then looks back at Neon: "Should I be helping you be more 'away'?"      "Unless you think Zephiel is going to change his mind because one of us shouts loud enough and overpowers him?"      After coughing into his arm with restrained embarrassment about 'marks', Dieck swallows and (wincingly) straightens up. "Maybe this is just me being a, uh, unrepentant brute--" "As if." "--but I think Zephiel's mind is only gonna change when someone splatters his brains, right?"      "I don't even hate Dieck at all..."      For an 'unrepentant brute' he looks kind of flattered.      "You're a smart and sensitive man, Dieck."      And now he's blushing and rubbing his face. "Ah, you think so...? No, don't answer that. Haha." Klein shrugs: "I learned it from someone, Dieck."      "She also really likes going for the strangle."      Clarine looks between Aidan and Petra with absolute bewilderment and a creeping pinkness to match Dieck's. "Wh-- wha-- she does? Is that, you know, a practice for them?"      "In fact, you basically said *all* the same things about the guys in the room that I did, so maybe *you* should think about what accusations you're throwing around!"      And then that's the finisher, abruptly, to the wavering-blinking-red state that Clarine didn't even know she was in. She reels backwards, hands clasped over her mouth, and doubles over when she bumps into the ship's railing. "I-- I didn't-- I like men! I like men. I like, um--"      "and she did spend all that time chase-- pining after Rutger; a fellow woman . . ."      Clarine makes a noise transcribable as 'ghuuooohhh' and slumps to her knees, cradling her stomach as if stabbed. "Rutger... Klein... someone, save me..." "I mean..." "KLEIN?!" "Would it be so bad? "YES!!" She pounds the deck impotently with a little fist.
Marigold	- - - -      https://youtu.be/L4_VBwioIqc      It isn't hard to bring the axe down into the hold, where the lighting can be dimmed for it. As Flamel performs the rite, the dread axe floats upwards. It answers his greeting with a little ksshkk crackle of electricity down its handle. And then a vague shape shifts in the darkness--      "I am power, whose name is Durban."      For a second the silhouette doesn't seem human at all. It takes a moment to recognize the form as a colossus of a man, so enormous he has to hunch down under the spacious ceiling. Only Hector could remotely compare, but did even Hector wield Armads one-handed?      For such a bestial figure, his eyes seem sad, but it's hard to read emotion into a voice that deep. "Bonebreaker, skullcrusher, dragonslayer. The idleness that men call peace has ended, if they look to me again. Who among you will bear my price?" When he grips a supporting timber to lean forward over Flamel, even as a ghost, it splinters beneath his fingers.      His eyes linger on Mia for a hair-raisingly long moment. His lips shift in an indistinctly murky expression. But unlike Roland, he doesn't lurch to murder her- at least, not this second. Marcus moves in front of her protectively, anyway.      "We want to know what the intention of the curse is, why it'll doom the wielder, and what your feelings were about those who should still wield it!"      "Hey why do you go around killing and dooming the people who use you?"      Then he remembers Flamel, in front of him, still exists. Chad and Lugh flinch away from the ghost's stare. "Armads humbles the proud. My own strength, I reveled in and was revolted by. I knew I would sink into the savage garden of war's delights. So I wished, while I still had reason, to be crushed as I crushed others. It must make no-one invincible. Whoever is drunk on power, it will sober; whoever it lifts up will be brought low."      "What kind of wielder do you want?"      "Who must wield you? A leader of the people? A quiet farm boy? A general with unbreakable will?"      Durban looks briefly surprised to be asked. But he doesn't take long to think. "Someone like me," he says, which is a deep challenge. "Someone proud. Someone who does not wish to die. One who will feed me the blood I've come to thirst for."      Why do his eyes, for just a second, track to Lilian? But then they turn away. No.      "I would like to know what dreams of yours have yet to be fulfilled."      "... and could we make some kind of alternate pact while we've got you here?"      That stirs something in him. The emotion behind his eyes shifts; a different shade of sadness.      "The Western Isles. The clans I founded. Are they still...?" "We broke their chains." "Soon they'll be stronger than ever." His eyes turn to Echidna and Bartre with a new, dawning appraisal.      "My son. My daughter." "Yeah." ". . ." "Lift up the homes of my children. And I will claim only the wielder's life, and not fell your cause."
Aidan Proudpick	"At least, I believe him more than you." A smile widens on Aidan's face. "Someone has to keep that bird from getting himself killed. How's he gonna be Breakfast Boy again if he's taking on everything by himself?" "Rutger... Klein... someone, save me..." "You can like both, that's an option!" He offers helpfully. Firmly into the Seanace now! Aidan flinches on instinct from the sound of the cracking timber. But the sound of it, the MIGHT of this hero(?). The feeling of the murky rumbling voice around him, the creak of the timbers in that very presence. The ground shifts around him, wood planks creaking. The entire boat seems to shift in his mind, either his own mind running wild, or just the weight of this tremendous decision. Aidan listens in awe. "A man who humbled himself. So that he would never become a force of nature upon the world. And to doom all others to be humble as well..." "Lift up the homes of my children. And I will claim only the wielder's life, and not fell your cause." Aidan nods once. "Thank you, Durban." Hesitate. No, he has to, "Even so, they are gonna wield the axe for your clans. It doesn't seem just to take away a leader of your people after victory. A hero of the clans suddenly laid low just for saving them?" He turns his head towards Echidna, "If she wields the axe, she should be able to stay as a hero to her people!"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine nods gently along with Durban's account of his woes and wishes. Now is not the time for sass. She remains quiet - her opinions were made clear enough abovedecks, and she's doubting the wisdom of her own position now that the axe has a voice.
Angela	Shajo looks to Odette. "Oh uh. Sorry. I guess--we're a little used to frankly talking about this sort of thing. Don't worry about it--we, you know, we trust you and all. Uh. PLease don't whimper--" Odette starts whimpering. "Um. At least don't cry..." ''Armads humbles the proud. My own strength, I reveled in and was revolted by.'' Nonon frowns. She doesn't seem to care for this answer because she is someone who revels in the savage garden of war's delights. She rubs at her neck and she says, "Well... It can be pretty fun sometimes, you know?" She's a little petulant about it. ''Lift up the homes of my children. And I will claim only the wielder's life, and not fell your cause.'' This is the best possible deal that can be made. But since it's so directly with the axe itself, neither Shajo or Nonon really feel that this is something that can be cheated--even relative to Hector's own situation. Nonon glances again at Odette for a long time. "...Sounds about the best deal that can be asked for..." Shajo admits. Well, naturally, nobody dying would be better but Lilian was quite clear that one life for all of humanity was more than a fair enough exchange. Of course, there's the possibility such a sacrifice will just mean one extra corpse amongst the millions. But Shajo doesn't want to believe in that possibility. He looks at his EGO armor and feels as slick and disgusting as the suit he's wearing. "Huh... One of those two..." She looks t Bartre--and then over to Echidna. And then she smiles a big bright smile right at her friend. "You should take it Echidna!" She says, encouragingly. "You're really fucking strong AND you'll look AMAZING tearing it all apart with a magic cursed axe. It'd be epic...! I'd be starstruck seeing it!" Shajo's eyes widen and he says, "Nonon...that's..." Nonon keeps on smiling but averts her gaze from Echidna slightly. "...She'd be a legend. Her name would be etched in the hearts of everyone here and everyone's descendents and ours too. Most people don't get that, you know? How could I not be hella encouraging right now?" Shajo pulls his hand back. If he asks Nonon's reasons anymore, he thinks it'll break something precious. So he remains silent.
Trudy Grimm	Trudy closes her eyes, humming softly in focus. It is the roaring voice that opens them again, beholding the colossal silhouette of a man. Her left hand leaves the Grimoire, touching to her lips and cheek as she stares upward in awe, "Oh, my... This must be what it would be like to stand before the Thunderer himself." She smiles, flashing those pointed teeth of hers, "How positively electrifying."     The witch dips forward slightly at the waist, keeping her eyes turned up towards the spirit's face, sweeping her hands out to either side with Eiwaz's sickly green rune balanced carefully above one palm, "Trudy Grimm. A humble witch of little import. Pleased to meet you." > "The Western Isles. The clans I founded. Are they still...?"     Trudy nods once as she straightens her posture once more, adding on when Echidna and Bartre reveal their freedom, "And those who were wronged were given a chance at revenge-- and then a proper burial." Her smile turns apologetic, "I'm sorry, I don't know the rites of your people. I hope the rituals to my own gods will still help those who passed rest peacefully." > "Lift up the homes of my children. And I will claim only the wielder's life, and not fell your cause."     Eyes closing, she clasps her hands together, "Generous and merciful of you, Durban. I will see to it with all my power that we do as you ask. Ah-- as Sir Hector's price came to be paid many years later, can we hope you would claim your wielder after many years of peace; once it is clear that their strength and yours are not needed for some time?"     When Aidan insists Echidna should be able to stay alive as a hero, she shoots him a look.
Desire Stars	Aren't you 'away' right now?     "A little," she says.     "Ships belong out at sea. But driftwood always gets pulled back to shore, even if it takes so long that you can't tell where it came from."     "I feel... pulled back to a particular place where there's nothing for me. I'm here because my... employers can give me something that all the money in the world can't buy. I've stayed because I've seen that same thing taken away from people by Bern. Those are my reasons. But..." She squints at the endless sea, as if trying to find something just over the horizon.     "Moments like this--where I can appreciate how far away from there I am--they've been nice. So, in a way, you're helping me just by being here." Her smile is notably less tired and sad, when she turns to level it towards Sue.
Lilian Rook	'That doesn't make it easier to not want. Just the opposite.'     "Yeah . . ."     'I think Zephiel's mind is only gonna change when someone splatters his brains, right?'     "I wouldn't change my mind for any reason short of that if I were him." Lilian says, grimly. "What reason does he have to? How exactly is any one of us going to tell him he's wrong?" She almost whispers 'he's not', and swallows it just before it escapes.     'Wh-- wha-- she does? Is that, you know, a practice for them?'     "Look at that girl's neck and tell me she does the strangling." Lilian says, fate-temptingly. "Now tell me Clarine. Why would it be so bad that you'd scream about it? Do you feel as if you'd be fundamentally lessened as a person?" she adds to Clarine's outburst, archly.     Her amusement can't last for too much longer. Durban's presence is overwhelming. Lilian's attention is naturally drawn to anyone who could be called a ghost, but more than his size or his sheer presence even as a shade, the same thing that compels him to look at her compels her to look away.     'Someone proud. Someone who does not wish to die. One who will feed me the blood I've come to thirst for.     "Apologies. I doubt we'd get along. I've never felt revolted by my strength in my life." Head turned, arms folded, Lilian lies once again as naturally as she breathes. No half-truth suffices. "I'm taken." she whispers, and half-dares to glance resentfully at her right wrist.     'Someone has to keep that bird from getting himself killed.'     "It won't be you." Lilian says. "Don't condescend to think that he needs your help, now that he's lost what little faith in you he had. Hearthward is maturing, not acting irresponsibly."     Inevitably, though, her attention is brought back to Bartre and Echidna. She remains quiet for a while, and then says, without being able to summon up any particular gravitas, "I'm not going to tell one of you to die."
Flamel Parsons	"Who among you will bear my price?"     "Absolutely not me, for sure." Flamel puts both hands up plaintively, laughing nervously under the looming figure. Thankfully, Trudy's aid means he can break focus enough to chatter. "Couldn't swing that axe even *with* telekinesis! And couldn't bear a price like that."     "It must make no-one invincible."     Flamel snaps his fingers. "I can respect that! A weapon *too* powerful... it could really unbalance things, without commensurate development everywhere else. I *can't* respect the lethality, but I suppose you don't really take notes, huh? Haha."     Someone proud... someone who doesn't wish to die... "I'll make sure whoever takes this on won't have a trace of suicidal sentiment!" He says, cheerfully. "But... I think our main candidates definitely don't have that. The ones we're choosing between are people who want to win more than they want to live, not people who want to die more."     Then a wide grin. "And thanks, for understanding about the cause! These dark dragons we're up against... I know this sure is a single-incident exception, but it's something we'll be thankful for."
Petra Soroka	"How's he gonna be Breakfast Boy again if he's taking on everything by himself?"     Petra radiates disgust at Aidan, lips curling into a sneer. "None of your sentimentality is real and no one you pretend to care about actually feels the same. Rot."     There's a certain tone she only ever brings out when Aidan smiles like *that*, crystalline with razor edges slick with disdain, words punctuated like physical barbs in her throat. It's a tone that'd be impossible to replicate if she didn't really, truly want nothing but his immediate death in the moment. "What reason does he have to? How exactly is any one of us going to tell him he's wrong?"     The mental filters that Lilian has are conspicuously absent in Petra. "He's not even wrong. It's just inconvenient for him to be right, because we don't want this world destroyed. Fighting him would only prove that he's more right, anyways, not convince him that he's not." "Rutger... Klein... someone, save me..."     Petra is briefly shocked to have instantly brought Clarine to such a snivelling low with her frantic counterattack. *She* wasn't ever this pathetic-- or at least, not in this *way*, at a glancing accusation of being gay, was she? She got angry and defensive, sure, but crumbling on the ground and whining for her brother to save her is....     ... Really fucking funny. Petra forms a neural connection about a new kind of bullying she's capable of doing, and squats down beside Clarine to start utilizing this fascinating new skill.     "Come to think of it, Clarine, I don't think I've *ever* seen you talk to a man without disparaging him in some way. Besides Klein, obviously. I'd definitely have trouble naming any that you seem to *like*."     Petra's voice lowers, not enough to actually be soothing, but enough to *affect* being reassuring, for plausibly well-meaning condescension. "Look, I get having trouble untangling those kinds of gut negative feelings towards them, but it's really something you should think about. There's plenty of *possible* reasons, but whenever the way you act doesn't seem to line up with the way you think you should be feeling, it's worth thinking about. And... you've kind of been asking a lot of questions every time it's come up, haven't you?"     Petra has zero expectations of this actually being *true* about Clarine. She hardly even understands the weapon she's wielding in this case-- the teasing is toyetic to her, prodding Clarine's buttons just because they're buttons that get reactions. She's trying to mock her and make her panic, not be a genuine lesbian awakening. Such a thing is probably impossible, for her. "The Western Isles. The clans I founded. Are they still...?"     "That you founded...." The political existence of the Isles sharpens in Petra's mind with this new knowledge, having a face to put to 'the Isles' as an entity. Personification is the only way for her to understand nations, after all! "We're just now leaving them after fucking up some assholes trying to control them. And part of our goal now's to get rid of the fuckers who'd try to conquer them again."     Being face to face-- or, face to knee, really-- with Durban erases any possibility from Petra's mind that some throwaway Elite could be used to scam the curse and then kill themselves early. A powerful relic with a curse is abstract like a math problem. A spirit, with history and motives, and paternal care for the modern world, deserves a lot more respect than that-- which, unfortunately, means that it *has* to be someone whose life Petra values more than most Elites.     She doesn't say it, because it's really not her place, but she glances over to Echidna before looking away.
Odette Raskins	"We're allies, aren't we?" "Before I was a knight, I was an alchemist descended from druids." Although Odette is still visibly antsy around Lilian from some lingering feelings, being addressed as an ally and having things explained to her in such a way gives her quite a bit of a boost. "Y.. Yeah! Er. Yes, am'am. A knight and an alchemist, huh? That's so cool..." She murmurs, sounding somewhat awestruck as the notion of a chemist also being a knight  seems to reinvigorate her quite a bit. After all, if even someone like (Odette's mental image of the past) Lilian used to be an alchemist, maybe she really does have a chance at becoming cool herself one day! "Did you learn chemis-I mean alchemy-from your parents?" A beat, and she quickly realizes her mistake while making another one. "No... Your grandparents?" To Odette, the alchemist-to-storied-knight pipeline would be too far short for it to have come from Lilian's parents. It's got to be her grandparents or some other older-than-parents figures that had a hand in this, right? Right. Otherwise, she wouldn't have said she was descended from them! "PLease don't whimper--" "Um. At least don't cry..." Somehow, that actually works on Odette. She looks up at Shajo in confusion at first, then forces herself to grunt semi-roughly to try and look too tough to ever cry. "O-of course I won't! I'm... I'm not planning on dying, and you shouldn't either! Even if medics in your.. Er. Line of work tend to... That, and security in mine might do the same?" It makes sense in her head, but she's still a little uncertain there. The axe speaks, and Odette straightens up inadvertently as she gets a better look at the spirit housed inside it. Durban, he calls himself, and... Wait. This guy doesn't look like what she was expecting at all, does he? Odette didn't have any expectations, actually, but the figure he cuts is certainly fitting for the wielder of a legendary axe. The sad expression draws her in, too, and she finds herself just sort of staring at Durban far too long to be merely committing his look to memory. "A proud wielder? That might not be so hard to find, if.." She starts, stroking her chin lightly while considering who among the group would be a good fit for that while also being strong enough to even move that axe on a regular basis. She catches Nonon's look and holds her breath for a moment, actually seeming to understand what she might be thinking about already. Odette fidgets a little uncomfortably at that, clearly not too keen on the notion of letting Nonon die after that boast just a minute ago. Instead, she looks right back up at Durban. "I don't think there's a shortage of anyone here that doesn't want to die, at least... A-although someone that's proud AND can actually handle your si-uh. Armads' size might narrow that down a little." She comments with an awkward cough and glance around, then sucks in another breath when people start nudging Echidna towards the role. "Mmnh... I don't think..." Even though so many signs are pointing her way, Odette forces herself not to look at Echidna and Bartre. There's a clear discomfort on her face, and why not? Even with the need for a sacrifice in this situation, she's still visibly uncomfortable with trying to sell either one of them on the idea and ends up just staying quiet. It'll be easier to hear if either of them speak up that way.
Alucard	Alucard's eyes widen only slightly as the specter of Durban manifests. His eyes flicker to the floating axe once or twice, but he is silent, taking this in. He's almost relieved when the ghost lays down some rules. While it's true, he has no wish to die, but he is not proud of his strength. He feels like he's dodged a bullet. This time, anyway.
Lilian Rook	'Fighting him would only prove that he's more right, anyways, not convince him that he's not.'     "And yet, we're going to do it anyways." says Lilian. "There's no avoiding it.I'm not here to argue ideology nor to maximize my perceived moral superiority. I'm going to win and I'm going to protect Elibe." A moment after, she sighs. "Besides. I have the feeling he'd know I was lying."     'And... you've kind of been asking a lot of questions every time it's come up, haven't you?'     "Oh be nice to her . . ."     'Did you learn chemis-I mean alchemy-from your parents?'     "Apologies, Raskins, but I'd rather not talk about my parents."
Odette Raskins	"Apologies, Raskins, but I'd rather not talk about my parents." "Oh! Sure." Odette replies, blinking slowly for just a moment before nodding quickly a few seconds later.
Marigold	Upstairs, Sue rummages in a little belt-pouch for some dried fish and holds it out in hopes of a seabird coming. They don't, at least not yet, but it's a nice exercise in patience.      "I'm glad," says Sue, slow enough to really savor meaning it. "... Eels swim upstream to die. I'm sorry if it's like that."      Another pause, long enough for the ship's ordinary creaking and the sloshing of gentle waters to fill the gaps.      "I'm being pulled back, too. Me and Sin. And I am scared, but for a different reason. What if I'm too late? . . . That's a silly reason to take longer. But . . ." She stops short. Her thumb stirs the dried fish in her palm, crumbling it.      Then she tries to give half of it to Neon, pouring it from palm-to-palm. "Well, here. This will make the drifting sweeter." And a guilty smile.      - - - -      Meanwhile, thankfully out of eashot, Clarine wails with her face muffled against the deck and kicks her legs in a little desolate tanty; not even out of anger, just because they're the one thing in her life she still has control over. Klein crouches down to reassuringly pet her shoulder.      "nngghhoooouu... I like men... I like men... Lucius, and-- and E-Elffin, annd... o-of course it's something to be asha-hamed of! My parents would... o-our noble house..."      "... Clarine? Don't you hate our parents?"      "H-huh?"      "I mean, with running away from home, I just thought--"      "I--" She peels herself up off the deck, wiping away tears of frustration, and blinks her way to a new clarity looking back at him.      "So isn't it a little weird for you to still care about being a proper lady and--"      "Klein! You're right! I'm-- I'm going to become a lesbian!"      Now it's Klein's turn to make a wounded noise. "Nnn- maybe calm down a little?"
Marigold	"And part of our goal now's to get rid of the fuckers who'd try to conquer them again."      The slow way he turns his gaze towards Petra, then nods, gives the impression that his head weighs a hundred pounds. "This is good. Power means nothing unless it is used. Kill in my name."      "... and then a proper burial. I'm sorry, I don't know the rites of your people."      Durban slightly lowers his head again. "I am pleased, sage," he says, and the aching feeling behind it bears through in even his gravelly voice. "We had no rites. There were no bodies to bury."      Seeing the war-dragon in Juteaux, it's chillingly easy to imagine. Ash-fall and nothing else.      "... can we hope you would claim your wielder after many years of peace; once it is clear that their strength and yours are not needed for some time?"      Perhaps it's because everyone's done a good job buttering him up, but he does acquiesce to Trudy's request. "It will be so. As long as they do not lose themselves to the heat of blood. To master war is a power like God, and this brings madness." He knows.      "I've never felt revolted by my strength in my life."      "You lie," he rumbles. "No matter. You are not soaked in blood."      "If she wields the axe, she should be able to stay as a hero to her people!"      "No," says Durban darkly.      "No..." says Echidna, touched.      "Anyone who holds death at arm's length is unworthy as a wielder. Anyone who can't invite death into themselves, like you. Is that right?" Durban nods, agreeing with no pleasure.      "One thing more," he says as he shifts to hold out Armads. His eyes drill into Mia, and Marcus beside her. "Why do you tolerate the Enemy?" Marcus tenses with a chill of dread, and he raises his shield, but somehow keeps his voice level.      "They aren't--"      "You lie."      ". . ."      "No matter. I kill no longer, or the curse has no meaning."      Marcus breathes out, and looks like he might collapse in shaky relief.      And Durban holds out that awful axe, pommel-up, in one great hand.      "...She'd be a legend. Her name would be etched in the hearts of everyone here and everyone's descendents and ours too."      "That's right," says Echidna, meeting Nonon's look with an absolutely heartbreaking smile. "You understand me. You really, really do. For a long while there I thought I was going to die anyway. And in a way... won't this be like living forever?"
Marigold	It all happens in an instant--      Bartre and Larum execute their silently-coordinated plan. The older man lunges for the axe in Durban's hand, and Larum jerks Echidna off-balance with their entwined arms. "Echidna, you can't! You promised--" But Echidna sends Bartre sprawling with a back-hand to the face, and tears away from Larum with an adrenaline fueled lunge, and--      --and her hand closes around the grip.      The way it electrifies her whole arm lights up the shadowy belowdecks with a hideous radiance, banishing Durban. KSSSHHHHH, arcing to blacken the floor and smoldering her leather armguards just by proximity. Echidna falls to one knee and chokes back a noise of anguish.      She stays down for a long second as the crackling fades. And then she rises, and turns around with a smiling false bravado, smoke still rising from her arm. Her cheeks are wet. The death is already inside her. But she's always been good at pretending to be proud.      "Hah. Alright. Thanks, Bartre, but she's right. It was always going to be me." "Nnnh..." "Oh, you idiot... how could you??" "Cheer up, Larum. I might live longer this way~."
Lilian Rook	'Klein! You're right! I'm-- I'm going to become a lesbian!'     Instantaneously-- without the slightest hesitation-- Lilian whirls to face Clarine, eyes wide, fist clutched to her chest, and takes one hesitant step back, then two in quick succession. "Um . . . That's probably . . . That might be . . . Taking it a little too far?" Lilian says, nervously. Glancing left and right as if for an escape route, she flinches away from the little princess on the deck as if she had suddenly become an incredibly dangerous hazard.     ...     'You lie'     Lilian bristles up all at once. She nearly meets Durban's eyes, then glances just to the side. "I've no idea what compels you to say that." she says, though she isn't about to argue with someone like that; phantom or not.     'No matter. You are not soaked in blood.'     ". . ."     'Why do you tolerate the Enemy?'     Lilian looks at Marcus, believes she understands what they're talking about, and shakes her head reluctantly.     'Echidna, you can't! You promised--'     Lilian flinches back from the coruscating thunderclap of Armads accepting its new leader. Her heart rate spikes, cold adrenaline floods her veins, and for a single moment of lurching moral vertigo, she wonders if refusing to choose was really the right thing to do. It takes her nearly a minute of catching her breath to swallow and force out the words--     'Cheer up, Larum. I might live longer this way~.'     "I hope so."