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Marigold	COAST OF THE MISSUR PENINSULA, ETRURIA      Just outside the ruined coastal fort.      MUSIC: https://youtu.be/IQ0Nt9dmOb0      Aiming to come to Loyalist Mage-General Cecilia's aid against the Bernish coup of Etruria, you'd arrived a little too late, finding her imprisoned at the site of her final defeat. A brief but fierce struggle had driven off Galle (despite the Divine Weapon, Maltet, in his possession) and the small Bernish garrison before they could take her back to the capital.      Now she lays on Odette's makeshift stretcher, grievously injured by the almost-skullcrushing blow of a huge blade but recovering. There's an anachronistic bloodbag hooked up to her arm bringing color back to her cheeks, courtesy of Odette, and Lucius- the more senior healer of your two- works slowly on her wounds with staff in hand. It's finer work than his usual battlefield reinvigoration.      An hour or two after her liberation, she's strong enough to safely sit up. Echidna and her pals have set up a campfire in the old fort's mossy-stone courtyard for Cecilia to warm her bones by; Marcus and his knights set to making a hearty stew for her, and Roy and Lilina can barely leave the side of their former mentor, babbling softly and gingerly hugging her where she isn't hurt.      "Can't I get you anything? Vulneraries, something to drink, a pillow--"      "Oh, Roy... here *you* are fussing over *me*. They grow up so fast."      "Hey, don't baby us. You're the one who taught us to fuss like this."      "Ahaha... ow. I shouldn't laugh. But I'm not babying you. I'm proud."      "You're..."      "... proud?"      "Shouldn't I be? The children I took care of look so gallant now."      "Ah..."      "Oh, um..."      Neither of the lordlings can take a compliment well.
Marigold	Clarine, the lesser healer, watches from about twenty feet away to study Lucius's technique, slightly pouting. She's got a flannel she borrowed from Echidna tied around her waist, so big it looks like a skirt. (Is this part of 'becoming a lesbian'?) Klein sticks near her- or maybe she clings to him; it's hard to tell which way the adhesion goes.      "I don't quite understand," he says to his (formerly) fellow Etrurian general, after a while.      "Hm?"      "There should've been a larger battle than this. At last reports, this field wouldn't hold a tenth of your troops."      "Ah... I'd scattered most of my commanders along the mountain range, to strike at convoys when the main force had passed them by."      "Sound. But you would've left yourself enough men to--"      "We held the fort here for a week. Then Galle challenged me to single combat to spare the men."      "... Ah."      "I accepted... and then King Zephiel arrived, and demanded to be Galle's 'champion'."      "Excuse me?! The King of Bern, fighting a duel here?!"      "I was as shocked as you. I couldn't pass up the chance to kill him. If it weren't for his Divine Weapon, Eckesachs, I might have won, but..."      "Don't say any more. You did the most anyone could."      "Aha. That's kind of you to say."      The new girl- cellmate, dark mage, whose dress and cloak are ragged-edged from where she tore crude bandages for Cecilia's wounds- can't leave her side either, always clutching one of Cecilia's hands. But that might be less about affection and more about the guilt of being unable to help her more.      Even in the light, 'Sophia' looks eerily similar to what you glimpsed of Iðunn. A head shorter, less piercingly hollow, not a psychic void, but you might assume they were sisters.      "... Cecilia. Should we... should I tell them..." Her voice is so soft you almost have to strain to hear it.      "When you're ready, Sophia. I'm in no state to ride a horse yet, so there's no sense hurrying."      "Thank you... I... a moment..." Kneeling by Cecilia's stretcher, she scrunches her eyes shut and dry-swallows.
Dysnomia	Something she saw in that dark cell, hours ago, made Dysnomia's eyes momentarily widen, immediately dropping her threatening posture.     Thought cut across worlds, from one wyrm to another. "Echolalia. The League has found something you may wish to see."     There's something in the way she moves about the camp, finding little chores to do...But not straying far from Cecilia or her new hanger-on. She doesn't even take the chance to find Marcus, her usual rock, in the midst of this chaos and strangers.     "I was as shocked as you. I couldn't pass up the chance to kill him. If it weren't for his Divine Weapon, Eckesachs, I might have won, but..."     "A bold gamble." Dysnomia grumbled, it was hard to say whether she approved or not. "I don't doubt this war would have fallen apart without him. Luckily, he didn't kill you on the spot. I don't think he assesses us as enough of a threat to warrant it, against the advantages he'd hoped to build."     "Tell me. What of the rest of their forces? Will they have heard of your capture? And what would they have done if they had?" The morale of the revolutionaries was likely flagging anyway--she was at loathe to imagine they would do. "They need to be informed you are well. Promptly."     "Thank you... I... a moment...")     While to the others she talks in her usual, burusque way, to the new girl--Sophia--Dysnomia speaks to with an odd softness, like speaking to a wounded cat she was afraid to frighten off. There's something in the set of her shoulders, the gleam of her pupilless eyes. Anticipation? "Take your time."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel's examining the site of the duel. He's got all kinds of elaborate equipment set up, pointed at the specific spots where the combat went on. It's psychometry gear, he says, he's got it down to a science. He's trying to reconstruct parts of the duel to identify both physical and psychic weakpoints in Zephiel's technique, because of his ongoing efforts to study the man and figure out how to beat him.     He's fiddling with the controls, trying to tune to certain past images. "Hopefully," Flamel rambles. "Next time you're squaring off with him, we'll have more of an advantage when it comes to Divine Weapons. We're doing so well in getting ahold of them! But I'm guessing he only really did that because of his advantage on that. Even though he's got that truth-through-violence philosophy, nobody gets far in the world if they don't focus on fights they can win."     Then, Sophia speaks up. If Flamel had, like, expressive parts of his supposed inhumanity, they'd perk up. What's an expressive MIB perk-up? A sunglasses-gleam? Yeah, that's what hits. "Hey, take any time you need! As long as I can learn good data *eventually*. I'm only about twice as desperately hurried as the average obsessive, last time we tested." His posture shifts, more, though, to something hungrier. "I've been trying to figure out something for *months* now though. I get the feeling you might be a lead on something."
Trudy Grimm	The aftermath of the clash with Galle and his frosty divine spear gives the Lycian League a rare glimpse into Trudy's upkeep of her supposed retainer. The Black Knight now rests by the fire, his greatsword speared in between the mossy cobblestones beside him deeply enough to hold itself upright without his help. Seated as he is on the ground, he silently examines what's left of his right forearm, the hand frozen and gone-- still, presumably, gripping the haft of Maltet if Galle hasn't pried it free by now.     Trudy sits next to him on a log playing the part of a makeshift bench, brought in from the forestland to give some of the soldiers a place to sit that wasn't stone.     > "If it weren't for his Divine Weapon, Eckesachs, I might have won, but..."     "Ah, I see," the witch hums thoughtfully with her eyes closed, "These artifacts truly are a headache. I had forgotten King Zephiel had one already." One eye opens, glancing down and aside at the Black Knight, "But I do wonder where Galle found that spear. That seems new."     The flickering shadows around the Knight darken. He doesn't sink into them, this time. Rather, he brings his left arm up and grips his armored pauldron. With a wrenching motion, the limb separates at the shoulder, letting out a distressing series of cracks, snaps, and pops. When his arm pops loose, there's a little puff of dust-- which he ignores, dropping his now-severed arm into the darkness around him.     "I suppose it was foolish to hope that Bern's soldiers were not doing the same as us; gathering their own divine arsenal." Her gaze shifts the other way, settling on Sophia. She doesn't say anything, but the slightly standoffish stare is hardly subtle.
Echolalia	Nonon and Shajo had to hurry back to Lobcorp but Echolalia got given a MYSTERIOUS call by a MYSTERIOUS lady (it's Dysnomia) so of course she came running. Well flying, but she drops own onto her feet once she gets in view of the fort. She's being nice and quiet just like Dysnomia asked her to be, she decides. Heh heh heh... She's going to be so subtle everybody's gonna notice! She follows the campfire, and where she feels the feet on the earth, and eventually makes her way into view. "YO DYSNOMIA! I ''CAME'' just like you asked!" She shouts heartily and then laughs excitedly as she is just so happy that Dysnomia ASKED for her. This is a big step forward as far as she's concerned. Soon they'll be building a nice little getaway together in no time, she's sure of it. She looks towards Cecilia, first, and then frowns, "Oh geeze...." Her voice lowers as she nears Dysnomia. "How's she doing? ... I can maybe find a local salve..." She hasn't really seen Idunn much herself so her gaze turns towarsd Sophia and quirks her head curiously. ''Should we... should I tell them...'' Echolalia makes an assumption immediately. "Oh! Congratulations--I'm sure it can wait until the General's healed up." She says. She looks at Dysnomia for a long moment and then leans in to murmur to her again. "I'm just kind of guessing I have no idea what's going on. Can you tell me what's going on, Peas and Carrots?"
Blemishine	Were one to ask Blemishine why she's late for the actual engagement, she'd have to go into a whole extended tirade about a sudden skirmish on the Columbian frontierlands, and really, nobody wants to hear about that right now. Including her! Not when...     "Lady Cecilia...! Are you alright!?"     Of course, the aspirant knight doesn't get so close as those like Roy and Lilina, who she's hardly surprised to see attached to the Mage General at the hip. Seeing her compliment them and the pair at an utter loss is about as reassuring a sight as she could get when it comes to knowing that things will be alright for the time being, an exhale leaves her, as does most of her haste.     She immediately busies herself in a way that allows her to stay privy to the conversation while also helping out; while Marcus and his two charges handle the stew, she fetches material for the fire from nearby, of which there's assuredly plenty enough to make use of in the wake of things.     Her eyes can't help but linger on the cloaked magician also at Cecilia's side, perhaps by virtue of her being the only new face among the group at the moment. ...That, and the obvious similarities to one of the cruxes of this entire conflict. Even without the ability to detect one's psychic presence, just off of pure visual appearances, she...     ...seems both the same, and yet also so different.     "...Ah." What snaps Blemishine out of nearly staring enough to make it obvious is the news of Zephiel appearing /here/, and for a duel no less. /That/ gets her to nearly drop the stray wood she was carrying with how she turns to the injured woman. "Galle offered that... and then Zephiel stepped in for him!? What in the world would he have done that for? Did he imagine Galle might've lost, and wanted to keep one of his Generals safe...?"     The way she trails off implies she might have a few other ideas in mind, but if she does, she doesn't voice them. "...I'm concerned about him being all the way up here in Etruria, rather than back in Bern. I don't imagine he'd make the trip and take the field in person for nothing. Any other business he has in the country... ...well, at any rate, I'm just glad you survived the encounter..."     Her lips purse, and she once again slowly drifts her attention towards Sophia. This time, she says nothing; there's no sense rushing her. No matter how much she'd like to hear it.
Khosa	Khosa left for about a half hour after the battle. She didn't go far but she apparently had something to handle out of sight. When she gets back, the carapace she'd grown over her back and shoulders to (hopefully) avoid the wyvern's claws is gone, along with the scales. Getting the carapace off is a viscerally unpleasant experience and she thought she'd be thoughtful and not force people to watch. Despite having shown off her regenerative talent, again, she's taking her time handling her actual injuries; her left arm and hand is more than a little stiff where it froze, and she has several other wounds that look anywhere from 'scabbed over' to 'a few days old' with a couple progressing all the way to 'fresh scar'. (Can she heal them faster than that? Yes; many people here have seen her heal her own wounds almost as fast as she takes them. But doing things battlefield-fast is inefficient, and sometimes requires her to fix the patching-up and short-term repairs later, which is unpleasant at best. Better to do it properly when you have the time.) Since then, she's been roving from group to group, pitching in - she cut some firewood and brought it back on her trip out to make sure the fire was good for a while. She is not going to interfere with Roy and Lilina being embarrassed though. "I'm surprised he took the field himself," Khosa says, before correcting herself: "Well, not the field in general, I know he's not afraid of combat. But I figured he'd let someone like Galle handle their own duels. And - no offense - but I figured if he *did* accept one, and win, he would have taken you back right away." Or killed her, but Khosa doesn't say that part. "At least you're doing better now. I mean, with the treatment and all." She glances toward Flamel. "No shit, about the weapons. You think he's going to try collect more? And - oh, want some extra hands?" she asks in passing, rising to her full height because she means hers and her own telepathic abilities, not his telekinetic hekatonkhire impersonation. Khosa is aware she can be intimidating and is carefully standing a bit further away from Sophia, and if she overhears what she said to Cecilia (she might have; Khosa has sharp ears when she's being attentive) she pretends she hasn't.
Petra Soroka	After retrieving Cecilia from the cold and damp cellar, once there wasn't any more threat of being stabbed or exploded by dark magic, Petra eased off her insistence on period-appropriate cosplay for a bit. Over top of her usual slutty sailor girl wear, she threw her comfortable flannel shirt, because war is hard sometimes, and she's earned a little bit of feeling cozy. What she didn't expect to also have earned, is Clarine.     "Okay, come on. You can't be doing this." Petra crosses her arms with her hands folded into her armpits, grumpy. "That's not even your size; it's literally gigantic on you."     There's nothing Petra can really do to facilitate Cecilia's recovery, besides be a moderately useful extra set of hands among dozens of other better-qualified ones, so she just awkwardly floats around to stay local to the central emotional focus of the moment, without having much to contribute to solving it. This just means that she's orbiting around everyone else, pacing with post-battle adrenaline slowly draining away rather than stalling and crashing, getting in everyone's business and sometimes randomly pathing into their way too. "I accepted... and then King Zephiel arrived, and demanded to be Galle's 'champion'."     "Uh-- huh?!" Petra's idle animation gets interrupted by whipping her head around in shock, spinning the rest of her body to match up a beat later. "Wait, how long ago? Did he just *leave* after? Why was he even *here*-- was he following you, specifically? Or is there something else he'd be sticking around in the area for?"     "I mean..." Petra attempts to calculate the distance between the tip of Missur and Bern's capital, and the speed a horse would travel along it, and fails. She figures the answer is 'a really long fucking time', though, and rethinks her assumptions. "Was he already in Etruria after the coup happened?" "... Cecilia. Should we... should I tell them..."     Next up on Petra's orbital cycle (now closing steadily in on Cecilia herself due to her renewed interest in the topic of Lore and Cool Named Guys), is Sofia. Out in the light, without the context of Iðunn or her dark magic tome, Sophia looks and sounds way more pathetic even than she did earlier, so Petra attempts to conjure kindness in her direction, given that Petra knows her name now.     "Hey, uh, sorry for calling you a sicko. Based on, like, the context, I sort of figured you were there to guard her cell-- like, from her escaping, which would've been a total sicko thing to do. But you weren't. So."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine knows how to stitch a wound closed, but it's nothing compared to the expertise, technology, and magic of Odette and Lucius. So she spends the first hour or two after the battle patrolling the surrounding terrain, checking all the good hiding spots for spies left behind by Bernish forces. Eventually she comes back to the fort, a little muddy, a little exhausted, but satisfied that at least the immediate vicinity is secure. On her return, she finds herself briefly drawn to Roy and Lilina's fussing over Cecilia. Something about seeing the three reunited obviously sticks in her attention, but whatever it is also has her stomach in a knot so she doesn't interrupt their moment together.     Instead, the huntress is drawn to Sophia, the enigmatic dark mage who helped keep Cecilia alive until their rescue. In the absence of an evaluable threat level to assign to the new girl, Madeleine is left with only her compassion for a woman under acute stress and in the company of strangers. Though she'd not often admit it aloud, she's been there herself. She keeps shifting her posture, trying and failing to find a body language that communicates anything other than "will bite if provoked". Ultimately settling for hands resting gently on hips, lips twitching periodically in what might be the start of a comforting smile, eyes night-sky-blank as ever. The eyes probably aren't helping, except that they might signal 'hey, I'm an outsider too'.     "I get the feeling you might be a lead on something."     Ah. There we go. A chance to prove she's on the new girl's side. "Jeez, dude. Lay off! She's known us all of an hour, and for most of that time someone she obviously cares about was on the brink of death. Give her a minute before prying her for 'leads', okay? People are more than just- just sources for strategic intel or whatever."
Petra Soroka	"Give her a minute before prying her for 'leads', okay?"     "Oh my god, she's not going to fuck you."     It's reflexive. Petra can't help it.     She follows up, though, with a somewhat more substantiated defense of Flamel, for whatever reason. Partly because scolding Madeleine out loud forced her to consolidate an emotional stance that justified that scolding, thereby aligning her more with Flamel for the course of this conversation. If only there was some sort of organization sponsored training course recently that talked about this exact subject.     "He just said that he thinks whatever Sophia's got to say will be important. I'm pretty sure that's *encouraging*, actually, that we'll listen to whatever it is that's stressing her out."
Odette Raskins	Even after all that emergency care, there's still plenty of work to be done making sure Cecilia recovers properly. That's why Odette hasn't left her side this whole time, lingering nearby with a health scanner in hand. She's largely on the sidelines at this point of the treatment, though, mostly using the scanner to seek out further wounds that she couldn't find with her eyes and Cecilia's observations alone. It's also a really good opportunity to get a closer look at how Lucius actually performs his healing magic, even looking focused compared to her usual obviously crushing-self besides him. She's still a little giggly, but more at Roy's and Lilina's gentle treatment of the general. "That's so cute... Wonder if I'll ever have students like that some day." She comments idly, sniffing once as she rummages around in her bag (through its new opening) for some slower acting pain medication. "You two fought real hard to get here.  And... Y-you taught them real well to make sure they survived through all of this, General Cecilia." Odette gives Roy and Lilina a knowing look at that, as though she's trying to give them... Ammo? She can't help but want to turn the tables a little bit on trying to fluster the general, especially after seeing their reactions to her doing just that to them. Afterwards, she turns to the new girl with a sympathetic eye. The EMT reaches for her back when her eyes are shut, hesitates for a moment, then pats Sophia gently to try and give her some semblance of reassurance. "Hey... Um. Sophia, right?  She'll be okay. Really. M-me and Mister Lucius are on it, and..." She pauses, glancing at the edges of the torn cloak and dress, putting together some more context clues about the condition the group had found Cecilia in earlier. "... I-if she wasn't bandaged up as well as she was, we probably would've found someone that's been dead for hours instead of getting anything close to this. Humans.. Um. People can't usually survive that level of blood loss for more than five minutes even after an accident, you know?" Perhaps realizing how morbid that sounds, Odette fumbles over her words a bit more before just giving Sophia another light nudge on the back. "So... Y-you did good!"
Dysnomia	"YO DYSNOMIA! I ''CAME'' just like you asked!"     Momentarily, Dysnomia stared at the sky, closing her eyes, considering the choices in her life that led up to this moment. "You did."     "I'm just kind of guessing I have no idea what's going on. Can you tell me what's going on, Peas and Carrots?"     A slight upward curve of her mouth, "What do you think?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Oh my god, she's not going to fuck you."     "Why's it always about that with you? You don't even act *twenty*. Grow up. And important or not, what she says is up to her, actually? We don't get to decide whether she tells us anything."
Desire Stars	Neon and Ace are both here, both wearing their DGP activewear rather than the warmly pastel and flashily sophisticated clothes they tend to each respectively prefer.     Ace has managed to bring a pair of mostly-intact wooden benches from the decaying fort's dusty mess hall. The sea air has been kinder to these old, grayed, swollen things than to their neighbors, though his does creak under his weight when he crosses his legs. A closed novel rests in his lap, the red silk bookmark standing a quiet vigil draped over his inner thigh.     The rest of the wood to be found in that hall is either left there at the mercy of the slow, grinding wear of the elements or crackling in Echidna's campfire.     Neon sits on the bench opposite from him, alternating between warming her hands and nervously wringing them in the warmth of the fire. She lets out a little gasp when Cecilia sits up. The fidgeting mostly stops after that.     I accepted... and then King Zephiel arrived, and demanded to be Galle's 'champion'.     "He came all that way?" Her brows, initially lifted in surprise, knit together in thoughtful worry. "Do you think he knows about Galle and--" Neon stops herself. "Melady... Cecilia, do you know where she is? Is she alright?"     "Maybe," Ace ponders. "Zephiel gave him the sky. We know for a fact how much that means to him. And even if Galle *didn't* tell him anything, he would have noticed by know."     The veteran rider rubs his chin. "A duel, though... I wonder what effect an offer like that from Galle has on Zephiel's 'trial.' Did he say anything about it during your duel?" He frowns thoughtfully. What about Cecilia's acceptance? "I doubt it changes much... but it's certainly unusual. And any insight we have into his thoughts is a potential advantage." Cecilia. Should we... should I tell them...     Neon and Ace both shoot Sophia an inquiring look. People are more than just- just sources for strategic intel or whatever. Oh my god, she's not going to fuck you.     Neon flushes brightly and looks away.     "I have to agree with dai-sensei," says a smirking Ace, motioning to the Great Teacher Herself. Unlike usual, the honorific is only half-sarcastic. The smirk fades, and he provides a more nuanced thought: "She obviously wants to share what information she has. Probably because she understands that wars tend to be less personally accomodating than even the least well-intentioned individual person."
Lilian Rook	Lilian is engaged in a particular first for her. She doesn't think about the reasons why; only that it feels strange enough to make her uncomfortable, just shy of leaving. While Odette has done the emergency work and Lucius is doing all of the heavy lifting, Lilian hangs around Cecilia with her Paladins advanced-issue trauma kit and attempts to find whatever little ways she can insert herself to help, trying to keep her head down and look like she belongs here while obviously feeling out of place. She isn't bad at it by far, but there's a certain hesitance to the way she interacts, and a restless discomfort to hanging around this long. Like she can't stop thinking about something else.     'Oh, Roy... here *you* are fussing over *me*. They grow up so fast.'     "These are times where one can't help that. Aren't they?" Lilian says, subdued. "Better that he has than remained the child you remember."     'Ah...'     'Oh, um...'     "When someone says something kind that you don't know how to respond to, just smile and say thank you, or that it's reassuring to hear it. That works nineteen in twenty times." says Lilian, who succeeds at doing this seventeen in twenty.     'I accepted... and then King Zephiel arrived, and demanded to be Galle's 'champion'.'     Lilian's uneasy holding pattern shatters on the spot. Restless dissatisfaction turns to teeth-grit frustration on the spot. Her hands quietly ball into fists, until the leather of her gloves groans from strain. She holds a sharp breath in for entirely too long. "I don't understand him at all." creaks from the back of her throat, too heavy to enunciate. "I thought I did. I thought I had some idea of what he must be thinking. But we're nothing alike at all."     "Why is he so in love with violence, so hellbent on conquering everything, claiming he detests it all, and yet so eager to bare his neck. It's like he's daring someone to kill him. There was no reason not to trust Galle; he just wanted to. He came all the way here to spill your blood with his own hands, and order an execution himself. It couldn't have been quick to get here either; he would have departed a long time ago. What is wrong with him?"     Lilian squeezes her eyes shut, lets out the dregs of her breath, and then turns around to stare at the sky for a moment. "At any rate, it was the right idea for you to scatter your troops. His victory here will come at a ridiculous price, should they be successful in ravaging Bern's supply lines. We have an idea of how they've been managing their absurd surplus in manpower, but the men sent here are doubtlessly human, and some of Bern's regular fighting force; not the green troops sent to Lycia. It's not a negligible loss they've taken here. Thank you for holding out this long."     Dreadfully, Lilian looks at Roy as if she doesn't want to; like she would much rather say something as encouraging as always.     "Lord Roy. I strongly suggest we begin to push our march from here. The troops we have are more capable than we're giving them credit for; we can't afford this pace until we've caught up with Zephiel's spearhead. I'm certain that Marcus and Merlinus will advise you the same."     'Next time you're squaring off with him, we'll have more of an advantage when it comes to Divine Weapons.'     "God willing he'll take out half of you when it comes to that." Lilian says. "Well, ideally not you specifically; we'll need you for him more than anyone else. But knowing he's this strong makes the prospect taking him on actually more feasible."
Lilian Rook	'These artifacts truly are a headache. I had forgotten King Zephiel had one already.'     "A sword can't surpass its wielder. That man didn't stop at his own funeral. He's drenched in blood and paranoia."     'I suppose it was foolish to hope that Bern's soldiers were not doing the same as us; gathering their own divine arsenal.'     Bordering on concilliatory, Lilian says "It was an easy mistake to make. I'm seldom right when I assume our opposition is doing as I would do. We've gotten used to lazier foes, less likely to press when they already have an advantage."     'Did he imagine Galle might've lost, and wanted to keep one of his Generals safe...?'     "I doubt it. I'm certain he understands that Cecilia is an immaculate general and a fighting prodigy; he's not the sort to underevaluate his opposition once they've taken to the field. But General Galle has more experience in hand to hand combat, and is in possession of Maltet. Furthermore, it was unlikely that General Cecilia would have been able to kill him before capture were possible, nd she isn't the type to immediately execute an enemy General."     'Was he already in Etruria after the coup happened?'     "I can't imagine any other possibility. And it seems the dragons followed him."     'That's so cute... Wonder if I'll ever have students like that some day.'     Thinking about it, Lilian suddenly comes to a partial understanding of Cecilia. "God I hope I never end up like this in front of mine."     '... Cecilia. Should we... should I tell them...'     Unfortunately, Lilian knows this type. She snaps her fingers once, twice, shockingly loud.     "Don't look at her. Look at me. Whatever you're holding onto, tell me as soon as possible. Once General Cecilia is stable, we can't be burning time here."     Pausing, Lilian looks off in the distance of momentary recollection, and says "Ah." as she finds it. Turning back to the group, she says "That reminds me. Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel."
Flamel Parsons	"No shit, about the weapons. You think he's going to try collect more? And - oh, want some extra hands?"     "Would love an extra hand! Help me tune my frequencies, psychometry's sometimes more of an art than a science." Flamel says, about something that should involve zero art and all science. He's definitely clearly intimidated, but luckily, his default response to being intimdated is a slightly different form of bright friendliness. "I know the people helping him would definitely have plenty of their own! ...But for some reason, that doesn't quite add up. The way those weapons are being used for him, I mean. I think it's something to do with the psychic anomaly I'm tracking down."     "Give her a minute before prying her for 'leads', okay? People are more than just- just sources for strategic intel or whatever."     "Oh, no, actually one of the parts of how my mind is constructed makes me see people as sources of data and information. It's part of a balancing factor to keep other parts of my mind working properly, but I actually can't recognize certain parts of what you would call 'personhood' as anything other than data-sources." He beams brightly at Madeleine. "It's part of why I like people so much!"     "He just said that he thinks whatever Sophia's got to say will be important."     "Oh, absolutely that too. Don't have to be a psychic to know that something important and worth listening to is weighing on that mind. And I can't wait to help ease the stress!" Some nods to Petra, which he's carefully calibrated to be affirming without associating, positive without friendly, so that kindness receives gratitude without encouraging her more psychohazardous behaviors.     "Well, ideally not you specifically; we'll need you for him more than anyone else."     "That's true! There's such a huge psychic anomaly around him... I don't want to question anyone else's competence, but I think I'm the best you're going to get when it comes to psychic anomaly investigation." Flamel's easygoing, friendly shrug to Lilian brushes past the discussion of Zephiel's future decimation (bisection?) of the forces. "Just make sure I'm not elimitated by Bernish ultraviolence before I get those last facts and solve his anomaly!"
Khosa	"Hey Echo," Khosa says, because she hasn't seen her yet today, unlike most of the others. Unlike Sophia, Khosa doesn't care if she intimidates Flamel, though she's not trying to intimidate anyone today at all. Or at least not right now. "Sure," she says, deliberately easy-going about it. "You're definitely better at psychometry than I am, but I'm good at psychic impressions - that is, impressions of power, not emotion. So I'll keep an eye out for that." <Here,> she adds, mentally doing what she considers the psychic equivalent of knocking politely to be admitted. She does not try to read Flamel's mind, hovering right at the outskirts instead of diving in, but simply be available for communication and passing images and sensory impressions back and forth. <If it'll end up helping I'll go into meditation but I can do this part standing. If you want anything remembered so we can look at it later, pass it to me. I've got perfect recall and I can pass it back later, or show the others.> "Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel." "Oh really," Khosa says, before looking directly at Petra. "Can't imagine who'd be doing that," she says, making an immediate guess with absolutely no proof whatsoever.
Odette Raskins	"Next time you're squaring off with him, we'll have more of an advantage when it comes to Divine Weapons." "But I do wonder where Galle found that spear. That seems new." "You think he's going to try collect more?" "If they're starting to track them down, too, then... Nn. W-we might be in even more trouble." Odette mumbles, looking a little more anxious as she just keeps her gaze fixed on the scanner. "Bern's probably got more... Um. Unified resources and people to look for those faster than we could. If they really are, then..." She glances at Flamel and Trudy and Khosa uneasily, then over at Sophia and Lilian. "MAybe... Ugh. W-well, we're making good progress in making sure General Cecilia's safe to move again, so we can walk and talk once we're done here." "I don't imagine he'd make the trip and take the field in person for nothing." "D.. Do you think he might have a lead on a weapon that he'll have to get himself?" Odette asks, glancing around for a moment before picking up a small half-used gauze bag to do a little cleanup on Cecilia. "OR even... Mmn. Y-you don't think he might come to try and find us now, do you?" "People are more than just- just sources for strategic intel or whatever." That, strangely enough, has Odette looking a little more anxious. "That's... Nn. That'd be great if things worked like that, but this.. Uh. This situation's really putting us on a time crunch, Miss Madeleine. If there's anything or anyone that can give us an advantage to make sure we survive past all this, then... W-we can suck it up a bit, you know?" "YO DYSNOMIA! I ''CAME'' just like you asked!" "Oh my god, she's not going to fuck you." Odette is very glad she's not looking in several directions at this moment. She just has to keep her eyes on Cecilia and the scanner to make sure she, Lucius, and Lilian don't miss any vitally terrible wounds, and to try and help Sophia feel better. Eyes forward, don't think too hard about what Echolalia or Petra are saying to Dysnomia and Madeleine. Like Neon, though, she's still turning a smidge red at just hearing all of that. It only lasts for a moment, thankfully, as her attention comes back to the far more important matter of actually treating Cecilia's wounds. Lilian being there is somewhat of a surprise, but that (and having that trauma kit) probably means she knows a thing or two about this sort of treatment as well. It's relieving, but Odette doesn't let her attention lapse from the scanner for too long. "Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel." "What." Odette's voice takes on a flat affect at first as she's still in hte middle of replacing another bandage. Once she finishes, she takes a deep breath, then gives Lilian a wide-eyed stare. "What?! H-how? Who?" As she asks that, though, some of the shock fades from her eyes a bit as she settles into a tired sigh. "... Well, it wouldn't be the first time this happened out here."
Echolalia	"Aww c'mon," Echolalia says. "Everybody here knows he's going to war against, like, ''humanity'' right? Who would betray the defense of a cause like that by sending information to King Zephiel?" She thinks for a moment, recalling some memories of her own, then says, "Oh no wait nevermind. I guess it isn't that out there." She waves a hand towards KHosa, grinning at her. ''Can't imagine who'd be doing that'' ECholalia looks towards Petra as well and frowns thoughtfully... Before saying, "I don't know... Isn't Zephiel, like, a dude?" This seems to be her biggest criticism of Khosa's theory.
Blemishine	But I do wonder where Galle found that spear. That seems new.     "Mulagir, the bow... and Maltet, the spear. The Divine Weapons that belonged to the founders of Sacae and Ilia respectively... ...both nations that've fallen under Bern's control." Blemishine recounts to Trudy, with a frown. "I remember hearing they were supposed to be hidden away, like the others... but if Galle is using Maltet now, maybe we should expect them to have Mulagir as well..."     General Galle has more experience in hand to hand combat, and is in possession of Maltet. Furthermore, it was unlikely that General Cecilia would have been able to kill him before capture were possible, and she isn't the type to immediately execute an enemy General.     "Hmmmn... both true. But he certainly had some reason for not letting Galle fight his own battle - one he certainly was likely to win - but I just can't imagine what it could possibly be..."     Blemishine taps her chin in thought, finding a place around the fire and the conversation proper. Much like Lilian's own little bit not long before that about simply not understanding how he thinks, she's also at a clear loss.     She's still openly thinking about it when Lilian also drops quite the bombshell. Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel.     "Ah!?" If she seemed surprised before, it's double as much now. Her blonde ponytail swooshes through the air as she turns to look over the group herself, blinking - before going to Petra, then double-taking between her and Khosa. "Are you sure? I really don't think so..." There's a meaningful glance to Lilian after, probably because she informs her reasoning in some way.     And since she also asks after, "...Dame Commander, can I ask how you're sure of this?"
Desire Stars	What is wrong with him?     Ace shrugs. "Who can say?"     "We can only look to what he does for answer, and I'm just as uncertain as you are. Even during ideological conflicts like crusades or whether a Catholic or Protestant sits on the throne of the world, there's a belief among the beligerrents that their side is right and the other is wrong."     "It isn't a matter of answering a question so much as it is demonstrating to the rest of the world what the supposed rightful victor already knew, or punishing the people who'd dare to have the wrong answer."     Ace drums his fingers on the cover of his hardback novel. "Zephiel isn't doing this to demonstrate a self-evident 'fact,' to punish or even to enrich himself. The answer to that question lies with whatever question *he* thinks is unanswered." Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel.     Neon goes white as a sheet. Can't imagine who'd be doing that.     "Probably not Petra," Neon says. "I know you two don't get along, but Petra is really honest about what she thinks of other people. If she wanted to betray us, she'd probably say something like 'You guys suck, I'm going to work for Zephiel now' and then do that."     Ace smiles. "Which would be pretty unlikely, because doing that would mean betraying Lilian. I want to hear what Lilian has to say before we start pointing fingers. We're acquaintances at best, but even I know she wouldn't say something like that lightly."
Petra Soroka	"And important or not, what she says is up to her, actually? We don't get to decide whether she tells us anything."     Petra sticks her tongue out at Madeleine, and then immediately retracts it because it makes her self-conscious about appearing immature. "Literally all I'm hearing is you jumping to white knight for the new girl against literally nothing because you decided that you wanted to look like someone who'd protect her. My point totally stands. You're saying nothing and just trying to look cool even though everyone's being normal." "Probably because she understands that wars tend to be less personally accomodating than even the least well-intentioned individual person."     "What he said," Petra says smugly, even accepting Ace's assistance in this particular own. "Why is he so in love with violence, so hellbent on conquering everything, claiming he detests it all, and yet so eager to bare his neck. It's like he's daring someone to kill him."     Petra carefully raises her hand, like she feels like she needs permission to say this one. "Um,"     "I mean, based on what I know about him, that tracks, right? The viewpoint that the world is defined by violence, and, like, that you can test the world in the crucible of turboviolence to make a point, sort of forces you to also kind of want to get violenced yourself, right? Or at least be open to the idea, or else you're a hypocrite, but I can't imagine just, like, passively waiting for it."     "Fighting everyone forever isn't, like, something you end up doing because you're thrilled with how stuff's going, I think. Violence isn't the *ideal* way for things to be, it's just the way things are, and, like, distancing yourself from it doesn't serve any point besides letting the fucked up mechanisms in the world that already exist to dissociate you from it do their job. It's not an ideological war if you don't get involved, and it's not a-- an honest stress test of the violence inherent in humanity if you're not being subject to it too." "That reminds me. Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel."     After all of that, Petra's eyes widen, and she raises her second hand along with the first like she's at gunpoint. "Okay, but, like, it's not me though. Not this time." "Can't imagine who'd be doing that,"     Petra meets Khosa's glare with a petulant whine. "Hey! It's literally *not*!"
Trudy Grimm	"We've gotten used to lazier foes, less likely to press when they already have an advantage."     Trudy nods slowly, eyes closed, "Unfortunate but true. Complacency often sneaks up on us. We'll have to correct our expectations and push harder, then." > "I remember hearing they were supposed to be hidden away, like the others... but if Galle is using Maltet now, maybe we should expect them to have Mulagir as well..."     Eyes still closed, the witch tilts her head slightly in thought. A bow as well. That is going to be problematic, isn't it? She pauses, suddenly, glancing at Lilian when she says-- > "Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel."     She blinks briefly, then follows various other gazes to Petra. However it's clear she dismisses that possibility rather quickly, even before Echolalia points out the obvious. Ultimately the witch winds up looking into the fire itself, cradling her chin and tapping a finger against her lips.     "No, it couldn't be Petra. Which makes figuring out who a lot more difficult."
Lilian Rook	'Can't imagine who'd be doing that'     "Why are you looking at her?" Lilian says. "Do you seriously think Petra of all people would go through that much effort to talk to a big manly man behind my back? She's a simpering loser with barely an original thought in her brain. Plus she knows better than to cross me."     'Just make sure I'm not elimitated by Bernish ultraviolence before I get those last facts and solve his anomaly!'     "Working on it. And even if you were, I'd just have Raskins stick your head back on anyways."     'Bern's probably got more... Um. Unified resources and people to look for those faster than we could.'     "We have Durandal, Armads, and the Fire Emblem required to complete the Binding Blade. If we assume they've already found the rest, that puts us at two to six. If we wrest Maltet from Galle, that's three to five. If we get even one more ahead of them, we're evenly matched at four and four. Retrieving the Binding Blade would make it five and four. We're not in so bad of a position. What we need to worry about is our own weapons trading hands."     'OR even... Mmn. Y-you don't think he might come to try and find us now, do you?'     "I hope he does."     'Hmmmn... both true. But he certainly had some reason for not letting Galle fight his own battle - one he certainly was likely to win - but I just can't imagine what it could possibly be...'     "For the reason that Durban spoke." Lilian says, as if it were self-evident. The emotion drains from her voice, continuing on in rigid, mechanical disappointment. "He thinks of himself as a noble soul amongst madmen; that he is the only one who can look at the truth of the world without turning away. He claims he despises war, and that he merely tolerates that it is his only tool to end it. But whether he knows it or not, he hasn't escaped the madness that visits those who master it. He's become so powerful that he thinks he is equal to God."     '...Dame Commander, can I ask how you're sure of this?'     "I travelled to the redoubt we used to sue for peace and spoke to him. There, upon realizing I didn't know, he freely admitted he was receiving intelligence from one amongst our number. It's hardly complicated."     'It's not an ideological war if you don't get involved, and it's not a-- an honest stress test of the violence inherent in humanity if you're not being subject to it too.'     "Then he'd have killed you all in that conference room, the moment we met. He isn't aimlessly lashing out at the world to make an ideological point, Petra. He seriously thinks he can end war forever if he defeats the entire world."     'No, it couldn't be Petra. Which makes figuring out who a lot more difficult.'     "Oh, not at all." says Lilian, brimming with Flamel-esque faux cheer. "Everyone here will consent to a mental examination by either Parsons or myself for treachery. Anyone who refuses is automatically suspect and will be detained accordingly."
Trudy Grimm	> "Everyone here will consent to a mental examination by either Parsons or myself for treachery. Anyone who refuses is automatically suspect and will be detained accordingly."     "Ohno, my witchly secrets!" Trudy's objection is mock; her tone teasing, "Oh but I suppose if it's you taking a peek, I wouldn't mind. As difficult as it is for me to open up to people, I'd like to think I can safely be an open book for you, Lilian."     Eyes closing, the witch flitters her fingertips, "Just watch your step in there. I wouldn't want to sully your shoes with my cretinous thoughts."
Dysnomia	"Don't look at her. Look at me. Whatever you're holding onto, tell me as soon as possible. Once General Cecilia is stable, we can't be burning time here."     Dysnomia's eyes slid sharply toward Lilian, narrow. "Maybe you didn't hear; she's not going to be riding soon. We have the time. Don't rush her."     "Everyone here will consent to a mental examination by either Parsons or myself for treachery. Anyone who refuses is automatically suspect and will be detained accordingly."     "No." Dysnomia said, flatly. "We are not opening the minds of everyone in the damn League on the word of our enemy. What in the stars in wrong with you?"
Echolalia	"Mmmmmm...." Echolalia is thoughtful about the mind-reading mandate. She's not one who typically cares about people rummaging around in her mind--she doesn't have shame or anything like that--but the very idea of it being a 'mandate' makes her a little leery. It's still not a hard no at first, of course, because it's uncommon in the Terran Authority either. But on the other hand, she doesn't really know LIlian too well, and Flamel even less. "Nah. No thanks." She says after a moment. "I'm not feeling it." She rubs at her neck. "I mean, Mia's right--uh at least with the on the word of the enemy part. All we have is Zephiel's word that there even is a traitor. Maybe he just thinks there is, or maybe he's even stretching the truth or outright lying?" "But I mean, even if he was absolutely being honest, I think I wouldn't agree to it... but I get that's a security issue, so. If that's what you think is appropriate."
Khosa	Khosa's brow furrows because she doesn't actually have an answer for Echo's objection, or Lilian backing it up in her own fashion. (Though privately she thinks that if anyone ever defended *her* like that, she'd probably deck them.) She's about to bristle defensively herself as everybody objects, when Petra beats her to it by raising both hands. "Not this time, huh," she says, letting out an irritated sigh. It takes her a moment to speak again. "You're an untrustworthy piece of shit," Khosa informs Petra, before continuing, grudgingly, "except I can't even say that; you can be trusted to do exactly what you're going to do and nothing else. I've never heard you say you'll do something and *not* try to do it. So you know what? Fine. I still don't trust you about anything else, but let's assume it's actually not you... this time." "Who is it, then, do you think?" Khosa doesn't actually have any other ideas. Petra was the person she trusts least; Trudy comes second but she's pretty sure it's not Trudy, and she doesn't even bring her up. Lilian's solution is acceptable enough, anyway; it's legal in war and with certain crimes. "If you really want to. I've already contacted Flamel so he can feel free to taste my truth: I've never given Zephiel any information at all. But it's not like mind-probing is entirely reliable. Especially since we've only got Zephiel's word for it anyway... and you and Flamel aren't any more exempt than the rest of us. Fair's fair, and all that."
Marigold	Flamel's history-reading reconstructs images of a short, brutal duel. Zephiel is a big strong lumbering dude in big bulky armor, too skilled and not quite lumbering enough to comfortably pigeonhole as 'juggernaut'. He 'super-armors' through Cecilia's magical attacks to badger her down, and Eckesachs' lightning-blasts complement him perfectly, covering the long-range niche where big guys tend to fail. 'Being far away and very lightning-proof' or 'goading him into hitting hard targets' might be the only discernable weaknesses.      "Okay, come on. You can't be doing this. That's not even your size; it's literally gigantic on you."      "It's normal and fine and I don't know what you're talking about!" Clarine says, lesbianly. "Clarine..." "Don't 'Clarine' me, Klein! I just thought it looked cool when Echidna wore it! Here--"      She unties the huge flannel jacket from her waist and puts it on properly. It comes down to her knees like a big peacoat. Frustratingly, that's kind of a fit. "See??"      "They need to be informed you are well. Promptly."      "That's smart. It's a good thing we have pegasus riders. They can spread the news."      "Should we... should I tell them..."      "Oh! Congratulations--I'm sure it can wait until the General's healed up."      Cecilia and Sophia look at each other bewildered, and then at Echolalia, and then at each other again. "That's... not..." "What?"      Clarine is covering her mouth with both hands, eyes wide.      "Y-you taught them real well to make sure they survived through all of this, General Cecilia."      Cecilia smiles with her eyes. "I suppose I'm a good teacher, if not a good duelist. You're studying healing magic, aren't you? Here, watch. The human body is a template for itself, so when he touches a wound, he concentrates on his own body there like a diagram." Lucius smiles silently, absorbed in his work, but his eyes do flit in the ways Cecilia says- his arm, her arm; her shoulder, his shoulder.      "So... Y-you did good!"      "I'm not sure... if I were a healer..." "Sophia. Take the compliment." "Ah... thank you."      "Melady... Cecilia, do you know where she is? Is she alright?"      Cecilia shakes her head slowly, and winces when that stretches a bad tendon. "No. Last I heard, Guinivere and her two aides were in the capital, Aquleia. But the capital is under the coup's control... I hope she's kept the Fire Emblem safe."      "But I do wonder where Galle found that spear. That seems new."      It's Thea, the pegasus-rider who was under Klein, who speaks up from where she's sifting through a stack of lances on the back of a wagon (spoils from the battle). "Maltet is the Divine Weapon of Ilia, my home. Ilia's been in Bern's hands for a while... I guess they just found it. Or just found a wielder worthy of it. I wonder if Galle being an Ilian has something to do with it."      "Shouldn't they give it to Grand Flightleader Sigrun?" says Shanna, Thea's little sister. "Bern bought her out, didn't they?"      "I dunno. Maybe they don't trust her. Maybe it's too heavy for a pegasus rider? Barrigan couldn't ride a pegasus, so..."      "Maybe Galle's just better?"      "As if."
Marigold	"Was he already in Etruria after the coup happened?"      "I'm surprised he took the field himself."      "Did he imagine Galle might've lost, and wanted to keep one of his Generals safe...?"      "Did he say anything about it during your duel?"      Thinking back on the duel brings a haunted, hangdog look to Cecilia's normally-angelic face. She droops forward, hunching. "He must have already been in the capital to negotiate when I 'attacked' it. My wind magic is a good match for fliers, so maybe he was worried for Galle even with Maltet... or maybe he just wanted the satisfaction himself. He didn't so much as speak a word to me, but his eyes seemed... 'angry' isn't quite right."      Roy and Lilina absorb Lilian's advice with a solemn rapt attention, and Cecilia studies them as they do, coming to some conclusion when her eyes rest on Lilian again. And when Lilian tenses up, at her very tightest-balled and breath-sharpened, Cecilia instinctively lays a gentle hand atop her head. A second later, it shifts to her shoulder, and squeezes.      "You've given yourself a lot of responsibilities, haven't you? Like little Roy has. But this isn't even your home. I'm sure you have other duties, too... so please be kind to yourself, Lilian." So she remembered... "Whatever kinship you feel with him, 'understanding' that man isn't your job alone. I'm just grateful for whatever you can do."      "Someone here is leaking information to Zephiel."      That kind of accusation lands heavily. Half the people in the army murmur; the other half look at each other, questioningly or mistrustfully. "That can't be right," Roy almost-pleads, disbelievingly. "... You're sure of this?" says Marcus, immediately straightening up and crossing his arms with a not-hostile severity. "Perhaps our new friend should hold her news, then, until..."      "No!" "No?" "N... no. Bern... already knows... there's no point, to hiding it anymore." "... If you're certain."
Marigold	Sophia, though she shouldn't have any real reason to suspect anything strange of Mia and Echolalia (besides the latter's skin tone), keeps stealing little questioning glances at both of them. When Trudy's standoffish stare lands on her in turn, she shrinks in on herself and smiles guiltily, apologizing for some transgression she's sure she must have made.      When Petra and Madeleine start arguing over her, she shrinks in on herself, leaning away on her bended knees and hugging her dark tome to her chest like it could keep in her pounding heart. Her eyes dart haplessly between the two of them, until--      Bonk. Cecilia borrows Lucius's staff to gently boink Petra on the head, not-quite-hard-enough to hurt. She tries to do the same to Maddie too, but falls short by a couple inches' reach. "Be nice to her," Cecilia says with a teacher's firmness. "The girl's scared."      Lilian helps coax Sophia out of it. A breath catches in the girl's throat at the finger-snap. She looks to Cecilia for one last confirmation. The general nods: "Please, understand that while I can't verify anything Sophia is about to say, I have no reason to doubt her either. She's a trustworthy person." And then...      "I... I come from a village... in the middle of the Nabata Desert. Arcadia. I'm not supposed to tell anyone... It's been hidden for centuries..."      Why, just then, do Marcus and Lucius look at each other with gut-dropping anxiety? The latter's healing magic flickers and pauses. Merlinus sucks in his breath, too. "Etruria has no record of this, do we?" Klein murmurs to Cecilia, who shakes her head.      "Bern captured me when I was trading with one of the fishing villages... I didn't tell them anything... but they knew I must have come from somewhere in the desert."      The tension between the three members of the 'old adventure', of the whatever-happened-thirty-years-ago, ratchets up about thirty notches. Lucius puts a hand to his own chest. Marcus's gauntlet creaks.      "They want to exploit Arcadia's power... because Athos, the archsage, left his Divine Weapon there... and because it's a place where dragons and humans live in harmony."      "Come again?"      "What?!"      "But they're all...!"      "Cecilia, is she serious?!"      "In Etruria's own borders..."      "That's just a fairytale, isn't it...?"      "Like from before the Scouring??"      The uproar is instant, but Sophia had been bracing for it all along. She stands up from where she's kneeling, walks towards the fire, and crouches uncomfortably near it, and seen through the too-bright light of the flames her pupils constrict into--      something reptilian and terrible.      Everyone on that side of the fire goes quiet abruptly. And that leaves room for Marcus, in a hollowed-out depleted voice, to say "She's telling the truth. I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it's so." There is a decades-old rattle behind the words.
Desire Stars	He didn't so much as speak a word to me, but his eyes seemed... 'angry' isn't quite right.      "Driven," says Ace. No. Last I heard, Guinivere and her two aides were in the capital, Aquleia. But the capital is under the coup's control... I hope she's kept the Fire Emblem safe.      Neon goes back to squeezing her hands together anxiously. "I hope she's kept herself safe. She and Galle miss each other a lot. I know he's our enemy, but..." The sky isn't the only thing that's important to him. Is it really worth having if there's no one to share it with? We are not opening the minds of everyone in the damn League on the word of our enemy. What in the stars in wrong with you? Nah. No Thanks. I'm not feeling it.     "There's not going to be a solution to this that's palatable to you," says Ace. He procures a stamped golden coin--probably the oldest thing he's been seen with, that thing--and rolls it along the back of his fingers.     "Flamel and Lilian could have looked into our minds any time they wanted to. And the fact that we only just now found out about this... well, that's kind of proof that they haven't, right?" Neon chews her lip anxiously.     "I get it. Really, I do," she says. "There are some things you don't want other people to see. Sides of you that you'd prefer to keep to yourself. It's just..." She makes a frustrated noise, drawing into herself and leaning closer to the fire.     "What else would we do? We can't have guard details if we don't know who the spy is. If we go through everyone's personal belongings, isn't that... well, just as much of an invasion of privacy?" She stands from the bench, wiping her hands on her DGP windbreaker.     "Lilian, you can read me if you want."     "Ditto, for Parsons," says Ace, with a little two-finger point at Flamel, flipping the gold denarius into the air with his thumb and catching it in the opposite hand. They want to exploit Arcadia's power... because Athos, the archsage, left his Divine Weapon there... and because it's a place where dragons and humans live in harmony. I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it's so.      "To what? That Bern is going to conscript those dragons...?" Neon fidgets, watching the flames dance, "I... hate that. If it weren't for this war, maybe what Sophia said just now, about that village, would be happy news. But if they get their way, then a lot of people are going to die and... and so will a 'second chance' that would have been a miracle in any other situation."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine's eyes reveal nothing more or less than usual, though her brow wrinkles in concern. What might outwardly appear to be worry about the possibility of a traitor is inwardly worry that *she's* a traitor. Not taking things seriously enough, sure. But had she let on more to the King in her letters than she'd thought? "What," she says to Lilian, her tone carefully measured, "did he say to convince you of this?"     "Everyone here will consent to a mental examination by either Parsons or myself for treachery."     "You're cracked if you think I'm letting you anywhere near me, Little Miss Mind-Probe. Parsons can have a look... *if* Roy says it's necessary. This is his war. You and me and the Agent are just tourists, remember?"     Sophia's tale, brief though it may be, draws her attention away from the matter of possible treachery. "Like, real ones? Dragons, I mean. Not the war-dragons made from ichor or whatever. The genuine article?" Madeleine visibly perks up a little, eager for a change of topic in general and interested in this new topic in particular. When Sophia demonstrates her reptilian eyes, Madeleine softly "ooh"s under her breath and takes a half-step toward the girl. She opens her mouth just a little, preparing to speak, but just barely restrains the urge to ask for a closer or longer look.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel makes sure to raise his hand. "Mmmm, usually I'd back something like that, Lilian! But I actually have to push on this one case just a little. It's a *big* measure! Psychic privacy violations -- you know, besides the usual daily monitoring by secret societies and alien forces and un-chemtrailed rebel Cloudanoids -- can be a lot of stress, and it'll be a *big* downer on morale. Unless the leak is a lot of high-value intel, it's pretty likely that it's someone accidentally letting slip some basic assumptions."     He does brim with a lot of eagerness though. "But if it *was* really essential data, I won't turn down a chance to get a look at some mindscapes! You guys can even redact sensitive personal data out of my memory if you need, just getting a look at the landscape's usually enough for me!" He claps his hands together happily, seeming almost two-faced in his defense of personal privacy.     "Remember, though!" He raises the hand again, trying to get everyone's attention. "Leaks can be unintentional! Mysterious local friends, 'off-hours' talk with an enemy, pen-pal contact, all kinds of stuff -- trust me, it's *hard* to keep track of what the enemy knows and what they don't, and to keep yourself from accidentally injecting useful intel into your assumptions for things you say! And Bern just has this *amazing* habit of getting into your head and making you help them, I guess."     The whole thing blows up a little, when he's faced with something unexpected. "What? Hold on, hold on." He approaches "Dragons are still alive in Elibe? The *old* Eliberian dragon race are still alive?" He watches those eyes, jaw kind of hanging. He checks them, again and again. Scanners come out, and he intensively examines the psychometric data of Sofia's actual bodymass, careful to never touch her but failing to respect personal space sometimes. He's astounded by the idea.     There's also another heavy sort of mental ca-chunk noise, a physical motion of stone shifting and crunching into place in his skull. "That was another one. One more. No, yeah." He nods. "That's part of the anomaly, Zephiel's anomaly, somehow." He snaps his fingers. "I'm one clue short of figuring it out now. But only the one clue. I think we should definitely go there. Or at least someone should -- to make sure he doesn't get the Archsage's Divine Weapon, to keep it protected. And if dragons are still living there... I bet they can even tell us what Iðunn is doing!"     He beams at Lucius and Marcus. "You two knew about that, didn't you? Wow, that's *amazing*, this kind of info-sec for thirty years. It must be really important!"
Trudy Grimm	"Honestly," Trudy closes her eyes with a shrug, "I volunteer for one simple reason." She pauses, eyes opening to look skyward, "Because a wretched creature such as myself would be the most obvious suspect."     Beside her, the Black Knight has apparently waited long enough. With his remaining arm, he leans forward and reaches into his shadow, fishing about. Once he has what he's looking for, he leans back and hauls out a replacement, already clad in armor with ragged strips of chainmail hanging off the separated shoulder joint. Soundlessly, he shoves this into place with just a little resistance that only ends with the meaty crack-snap of the humeral head sliding into the shoulder socket. The result is immediate, as he rolls his right arm around in its shoulder to test, bends at the elbow a few times, then flexes the gauntlet-clad fingers on his new right hand. Every motion pops and crackles and snaps in unsavory ways, like the limb hadn't moved any of its joints in a long time. Mercifully, the more he does it, the less it happens.     Trudy ignores her servant's antics, no matter what he might be doing to the nerves or appetites of the other soldiers. Her attention has shifted, instead, entirely to Sophia and her big reveal with the reptilian pupils, "Oh, my." She brings up a hand, fingers splayed across her mouth and cheek, "So you're the real deal, hmm?"     She pauses, then leans forward slightly towards the dragon-ish woman, "Tell me, do you have an older sister? Or perhaps do you owe your looks to your mother?" Flamel carrying on about Zephiel; but Trudy is considering possible links between this woman and the woman she resembles-- Iðunn
Blemishine	But whether he knows it or not, he hasn't escaped the madness that visits those who master it. He's become so powerful that he thinks he is equal to God."Is that how it is..." Blemishine's expression shifts towards the complicated. She's silent for a few seconds. "...I suppose it's difficult for me to put himself in his shoes, and his mental state." And that's where she leaves it, for the moment.     Everyone here will consent to a mental examination by either Parsons or myself for treachery. Anyone who refuses is automatically suspect and will be detained accordingly.     "Nothing to hide here, so I have no issues with that," she says, level and starkly serious, in a way that's once again a bit complicated and hard to get a read on.     "...And I understand why it's necessary, if there's really an intelligence leak. I don't think Zephiel would be the kind of man to create complete lies about that, just to cause division. He's quite good at causing that without. Just be gentle with it, please?" She sounds as if she's saying that for the sake of others, more than herself.     Sophia, of course, gets her attention when she tries to speak up - anybody could tell that, even all the build-up aside, it's going to be important.     She just wasn't quite sure /how/ important, until she hears it.     And sees it - reflected in the shape of her eyes.     "Oh, Miss Sophia..." Blemishine exhales, a hand on her chest, and then quietly inhales. With a side-glance to the trio of Merlinus, Marcus, and Lucius. She's another member of the long quiet, that eventually gets broken by the old knight. Her own words come whole seconds after. "...I see, Sir Marcus. It must've been a place you visited in the last great war... I don't blame you for keeping it a secret."     And yet another exhale, audible. Her eyes slowly close. "...A village straight out from a fairytale, where two peoples who were in a world-shattering war live in peace, separated from the rest of the world... ...under better circumstances, I'd love to see and hear all about it," she says, more or less echoing Neon.     "...But now that Bern knows of its existence, it's more important than ever to remove their influence from Etruria, and make sure they don't find it. As long as they have free access to the Nabata Desert, I can't imagine Zephiel stopping..."     Despite the endless string of dire news coming down, when she opens her eyes again, she attempts to give Sophia her warmest smile of reassurance. Which is quite warm! "...I'm glad. That you didn't tell them anything. That couldn't have been an easy thing to weather. Thank you, for protecting your home. You'll have our help doing that now, too!"     There's a burning question on her mind - but this isn't the time nor the place for curiosity. Later, maybe.
Petra Soroka	"Don't 'Clarine' me, Klein! I just thought it looked cool when Echidna wore it!"     Petra is about to keep snarking at Clarine, but the moment that a much eviller idea crosses her mind is visible on her face. Suppressing a smirk, faux-casual and praising, "Oh, *that's* why? Nevermind then; I guess you're actually learning really quickly." "I don't know... Isn't Zephiel, like, a dude?"     Petra glares at Echolalia, bristling with surprisingly intense aggression. "Hey, what the fuck? What the fuck's your problem? What's that have to fucking do with it, huh?" "No, it couldn't be Petra."     "Okay, hey, come on, seriously--" "Do you seriously think Petra of all people would go through that much effort to talk to a big manly man behind my back?"     "Okay, but, like, *actually*, thoughhhh!" Somehow, Petra has entirely flipped over to complaining about people deciding she *wouldn't* be the mole to Zephiel, actually. "That wouldn't be why! I can totally talk to guys! Don't make Clarine any weirder!" "If she wanted to betray us, she'd probably say something like 'You guys suck, I'm going to work for Zephiel now' and then do that."     "Yeah, see, that's why." "Which would be pretty unlikely, because doing that would mean betraying Lilian."     "I mean-- that too, yeah. I only even came here in the first place because of Lilian."     Petra nods, relieved to have an accurate assessment of her character in the air for her to bounce off of. "And even if Lilian wasn't here, I like too many of you guys to do that, anyways; and you'd definitely know if I didn't."     "Well-- I like *you* guys," A gesture to the locals, and Lilian, and a begrudging angular drift *near* where Neon and Ace are to make it ambiguous whether they're included, "But not you guys." A gesture towards everyone else. How sweet of her. "I've never heard you say you'll do something and *not* try to do it."     "See? *Thank* you." Despite still being berated, that does appease Petra a bit. When she's asked who it might actually be, though, she looks totally helpless again. "Uh, huh? I've got no clue who it is." "Then he'd have killed you all in that conference room, the moment we met."     "Huh? Oh, that one time for that peace conference thing?" Petra wasn't there for that, she just got up to date by talking with the agents before showing up. "I mean, I've never met him, so I'm kind of guessing. But-- is it being an ideological thing and a-- a practical thing, really different? I didn't mean that he wasn't expecting anything, like, to literally change. I just meant that I figure that *he* figures the way he goes about it matters, as, like, a demonstration."     "Like you said, he thinks he's the only sane and good person in the world. So, subjecting himself to it all, and winning anyways...." "Everyone here will consent to a mental examination by either Parsons or myself for treachery."     Petra makes a little 'huhuuu~' smug face, crossing her arms and looking instantly like a spoiled pet of a villain. "Well, then, it's extra convenient that it's definitely not me."
Petra Soroka	"Maybe you didn't hear; she's not going to be riding soon."     Petra rolls her eyes at Dysnomia, exasperatedly cutting. "*God*, you fucking dicksuckers. We're in a *war*. Who the fuck are you trying to earn points with? Do you just not have an off switch in your brain for mindless fucking suffocating--" "Be nice to her,"     "--Buh?" Petra claps her hand on top of her head, looking at Cecilia in petulant shock. "Huh? I thought I *was* being nice to her!" "They want to exploit Arcadia's power... because Athos, the archsage, left his Divine Weapon there... and because it's a place where dragons and humans live in harmony."     "Woah, holy shit." Petra processes this with an expression on her face like lip-chewing excitement, looking over Sophia. "I mean-- so Zephiel's probably headed there himself, isn't he? He was here recently. It's a *while* to go back. He's really into dragons. We should, like, get *going* as soon as possible, right?"     After a few seconds, Petra adds, quieter to Sofia, "Like, you're a real dragon, right? Do you do the whole-- looking like a dragon, thing? Like, not just, being a a dragon by technicality, or whatever, but actually being one? And everyone's cool there? --Or, wait, is that, like, insensitive?"
Dysnomia	"Flamel and Lilian could have looked into our minds any time they wanted to. And the fact that we only just now found out about this... well, that's kind of proof that they haven't, right?"     "If there even is a spy." Dysnomia said, flatly, "If Zephiel's words can be relied on. If he's not just sowing discord among his enemies, like he has across every nation he's touched. This isn't reasonable."     She makes a seething sound through her teeth. Then, she glares at Parsons. "If I agree to this, after you confirm it, you will delete every other trace of information you pull out of my brain. Do you copy? I'll be watching." She tapped at her own head.     When Sophia starts talking, Dysnomia falls to rapt silence. She catches Sophia's glances, offering her a little smile. "We're from the Otherworld, like them." The thought found Sophia. "Where things work a little differently."     "She's telling the truth. I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it's so."     "Indeed." Dysnomia said, clasping her hands. "...Honestly, it was only a matter of time before Zephiel's damn crusade flushed out the ones just trying to live on their own."     "It's not so difficult to imagine, is it?" She leaned forward. "An entire war, and not ONE dragon stepped away from the fighting? Not ONE wasn't so fixated on the murder of humanity? I'm sure it makes a good story; 'we exterminated all of them,' but...no. Every war, every Bern has its Meladys, its Gunivieres...Its everyday farmers or seamstress who just want to put food on the table tomorrow."     "The thought that every dragon in the Scouring would have fought to the last--would have fought at ALL--is just absurd."     "And now. In his quest to burn the world, using the face of a lost people, he'll try to bring fire to the actual remnants of that people." Dysnomia clasped her hands. "...We can't allow this."
Blemishine	Like, you're a real dragon, right? Do you do the whole-- looking like a dragon, thing? Like, not just, being a a dragon by technicality, or whatever, but actually being one? And everyone's cool there? --Or, wait, is that, like, insensitive?     Blemishine, although not pointed directly at Petra, lets out a slightly beleaguered sigh, followed by an awkward chuckle. How in the world did this girl blurt out the exact thing she was trying to /not/ say, almost as soon as she thought it!? This is a fearsome skill...     "A-Ahahaha... um... just tell us what you're comfortable with, Miss Sophia?"
Echolalia	''What's that have to fucking do with it, huh?'' "Oh well--I mean, I just figured. If you say you'd do it in some other situation..." ''I get it. Really I do. There are some things you don't want other people to see.'' "No, not really. It has nothing to do with that." Echolalia says to Neon. "I don't have my own secrets. I'm an open book, baby! But I might have ''someone else's'' secrets. And I'd be betraying their trust if I let someone take a looksee in my brain. And I don't really know either of 'em that well you know? I'm willing to be detained if that's the consequence of that." Dysnomia is probably well aware of what secret she's concerned with spilling and the Dysnomia it belongs to. She is distracted, however, by Sophia looking at her. She gives her a little bit of a wink. It is mostly a matter of reassurance. She's been through a lot. ''Sophia's Story.'' Echolalia smiles at Cecilia, briefly, before looking to Sophia. She listens carefully. A hidden village. Captured when she was just trying to trade with a fishing village! And they want to exploit Arcadia's power. A Divine WEapon there! .... And where dragons and humans live in harmony?!! Echolalia says, "Oh my gosh! Me too!" Echolalia exclaims. "That's wonderful...! I mean, the um, the village you know! That it exists." ''Zephiel's probably headed there himself, isn't he?'' But ... it sounds like--they might be closing in on your home, maybe? ... Do your people need help? I ''love'' deserts, fyi...!" Echolalia continues to babble. "Can we be penpals?"
Petra Soroka	"You're cracked if you think I'm letting you anywhere near me, Little Miss Mind-Probe."     Petra has no reason to think anyone here is a traitor, besides the fact that she loathes almost every Elite and thinks none of them have any real principles besides doing whatever's most annoying to her and Lilian personally as possible. But being *rude* to *Lilian* categorically makes someone 'not on Petra's side' no matter what the context is, and Madeleine's aggro spikes into dangerous ranges instantly.     Petra wheels on her, fist clenched and eyes narrowed, stepping in to her personal bubble on purpose. "Hey, jackass, watch your *fucking* tone. I don't give a single fucking shit about your fucking privacy or whether you're the traitor or not, but you *shut* your fucking mouth and *beg* for forgiveness for fucking throwing around schoolkid insults at Lilian. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
Odette Raskins	"You're studying healing magic, aren't you?" "Th.. That's right! AH. I mean, any magic would be great, but healing would... I-it'd help a lot  with my work, yes." Odette nods quickly as Cecilia all but dominates her attention for those moments, setting the analyzer aside to focus better. Looking over at Lucius' hands and then his face, she watches the more subtle aspects of how he moves while keeping Cecilia's guidance in mind. "So when he wants to fix the.. Y-yeah, like there. He's thinking about his own...?" It's a long shot, but it can't hurt to see if she can't at least try and feel the physical movements out. Odette leans back to just barely pull her training staff over with her finger tips, holds in a yelp as she nearly topples backwards doing so, then shoots herself upright. She starts mimicking Lucius' movements at that point, closing her eyes every now and then and talking to herself while naming the part of the body she's trying to focus on. "If she wanted to betray us, she'd probably say something like 'You guys suck, I'm going to work for Zephiel now' and then do that." It takes Odette two seconds to mull that over, tilt her head one way, then nod quickly in agreement with Neon. ""Okay, but, like, it's not me though. Not this time." It takes Odette another two seconds to process that, then look over at Petra. "Th.. This time?" "She's a simpering loser with barely an original thought in her brain." Once again, her confusion about Lilian's and Petra's relationship continues to climb. Such a direct insult even has Odette looking incredibly uncomfortable, and she tries to nonchalantly continue staring at her medical scanner like she's suddenly something incredibly interesting in there. That won't last long, though, so she's going to need a save! "Just make sure I'm not elimitated . . ." ". . .I'd just have Raskins stick your head back on anyways." There it is. The save! "I.. Um. I-I'd do my best to get it to stick! Er. Work! With enough sutures, drugs, and a big enough shock, it should work." She chimes in, sounding like she's both trying to sound confident and joking about something so morbid and winding up just sounding nervous like she usually does. "I'm not sure... if I were a healer..." "Ah... thank you." "You don't have to be, if you just want to learn basic first aid. I-if you want, I could even show you some more stuff?" Odette offers with a plainly eager smile. "I-I mean, if you were able to manage that without formal training, then that's a good sign already."
Odette Raskins	"Everyone here will consent to a mental examination by either Parsons or myself for treachery. Anyone who refuses is automatically suspect and will be detained accordingly." At first, Odette looks a little off-put at the thought, but shrugs lightly. "I guess that's..?". She doesn't have to worry about that, right? She wouldn't even know how to contact Zephiel if she wanted to, but... She pauses as the thoughts start to roll around in her head, and she starts to sweat progressively more and more as they keep flooding in. What if they find something else and think it's weird? What if they find out I'm into Lucius? Or Echidna? Or Hector? Or Durban? Or Cecilia? Or . . . What if they find out I'm in the Watch? Oh heck, what if they find out about my collections?! Or that phase two years ago?! Odette's sweating bullets by now, and she can barely get her voice out as she holds a hand up. "I-I-I don't think that's a... Good idea?" Y-y-yeah, Miss Mia's right. Th.. That must have just been a... Ploy to get this reaction, yeah!" She stammers out, hoping desperately for something else to draw attention away from the topic. Anything! Sophia starts dropping bombshells, and Odette looks relieved. A second later, and then she looks a little ashamed, and then she's back to normally surprised by the time Sophia reveals why Arcadia would be so important. "That means... Then the dragons ARE still alive, and there's proof humans and dragons can still coexist. I-isn't that great?" A second later, and then Odette furrows her brow while Sophia approaches the fire. "Oh, but then there's... However many generations since the Scouring, yeah. I-it'd take a while for people to get used to that, and we don't have... Uh. Miss Sophia?" She blinks slowly as she starts watching Sophia, leaning over to get a better look at what she's trying to show everyone. The EMT sweats a bit seeing Sophia get so close to the fire, and she looks like she's ready to sprint over when she sees something change in those eyes. "Pretty..." She says quietly, then catches herself and clears her throat. "Ah... W-wait, why would this be a bad thing? I mean, we shouldn't.. I don't want to drag anyone from Miss Sophia's home into the war, but now we know where the next Divine Weapon is, right? Then it might be a matter of time before Bern finds out, so..." She pauses for a second, to reorganize her thoughts. "... I-If we get it first and make it obvious that we have it, then they won't have a reason to bother anyone there. Er. Right?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Hey, jackass, watch your *fucking* tone."     Madeleine half-steps to the side, shifting such that Petra no longer blocks her view of Sophia. "Huh? Yeah, whatever." She's pulled out a notepad and pen, her attention fully on the apparently-dragon. She glances back and forth between Sophia and the note-paper, making a rough sketch of the girl's pupils in the firelight.
Khosa	"Hn." Khosa is actually surprised by all the pushback; it would be perfectly legal in Tyr to use telepathy or clairsentience to try to root out someone leaking information to another city-state. (It would be legal to use the other psionic disciplines too, but there's only so many ways you can use, say, pyrokinesis to root out a traitor, and most of the options would be better used once you've already identified them.) Either way, it didn't strike her as an unusual or outrageous request, so the response surprises her. Even from Flamel. "It had *better* be something like that," she says instead, meaning Flamel's words: something low-value, something accidental, if it exists at all. Khosa's played guard enough to know that minor knowledge adds up. She keeps herself in link with Flamel unless he shoos her off to make his life a little easier, just on the edge of contact, but she makes no attempt to probe him, nor to stop him from checking the surface of her thoughts in case he *does* go for the test. She spends at least a few moments trying to figure out what the hell a cloudanoid is, and eventually decides it's something like a cross between a fog bank, an air elemental and an octopus, though she is thinking of one of the sand monsters and not an *octopus* as such. Tentacles, though. Why she decides this will never be known. "Don't fucking thank me," Khosa responds to Petra, with some heat back in her voice; it's good to have an excuse to lash out a little bit. "I'm not your friend, I don't like you, and I don't want to be thanked by you. Being reliably a little piece of shit doesn't make you not a piece of shit. Just go back to shutting up until Lilian calls, then you can rush over like a good little pet." She glowers, but isn't going to do anything more than that. Sophia is ready to talk, though, and Khosa lets her. She tries, once again, to not look or sound intimidating, which when she's angry is hard for her. "I'm from the middle of a desert too," she says, perhaps thinking it is reassuring to have a similarity. She didn't realize quite how *different* it was about to get. Khosa's eyes widen. She starts to say something, cuts herself off because it wasn't helpful, and starts again: "I believe it," she says, implicitly agreeing with Dysnomia. Not everyone is going to fight... and it's awfully hard to exterminate people who can fly, and then hide. Fight, sure. Destroy their homes, sure. But it's too easy to miss some... "You knew?" she asks Marcus instead, and then looks toward Lucius. A beat. "Are you seriously just going to ask what she can do as soon as you find out about her?" she snaps at Petra, as much out of pettiness as anything else - normally she'd let it pass. This means Madeleine catches a glare out of splash damage. She sighs, continuing to Odette: "Yeah, there is. To kill them if they won't play along. Which makes it sound like we're going to end up defending them... especially if they do have the Weapon, nobody wants Bern to have that. But I'm not exactly eager to watch a whole town die for any reason." Khosa glances at Cecilia, who obviously is on the same side as Sophia, and has been the whole time. And Marcus and Lucius, who at least apparently kept it secret. Khosa rolls her neck, then reaches behind, scratching at a scar on her upper back that her hair just brushed against. "Well, at least I know how desert campaigns work."
Petra Soroka	"Just go back to shutting up until Lilian calls, then you can rush over like a good little pet."     "*Always* the fucking *pet* card, huh?" Petra scoffs angrily, while wearing a collar with Lilian's insignia on it. "Can you people not come up with a better insult than the fact that I'm actually capable of caring about someone enough to not blindly fucking insist on your whole radical individuality thing? It's fucking embarrassing that you all always pick my *best* trait as the one to insult me for. I'm not a fucking pet." "Huh? Yeah, whatever."     Thirty seconds later, Petra is swinging her fist into Madeleine's jaw, hard enough to split her own knuckles. She slides her foot back into a fighting stance, but while Madeleine is dazed, she doesn't immediately follow up with another hit-- just, instead, spitting on her.     "At least *commit* to being an asshole, freak. Don't *back out*. You don't get to *choose* when it's time to *de-escalate*, and you don't get to say that shit without *sticking* to it, or *apologizing*."     Teeth gritted, eyes narrowed with face-flushing hatred, Petra's focus is solely lasered in on Madeleine, with a narrow chink in the haze for Lilian's words to slip in if she says them. The broader war with Zephiel vanishes for the moment, in favor of this tiny representation of the broadest war of them all, in Petra's eyes.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine is sent reeling by Petra's punch, having been too occupied by !!a real dragon!! to defend herself or maintain any stable footing. For a long, perilous moment it seems she's about to fall into the fire, scattering hot coals and ashes everywhere and probably setting herself alight. Then she staggers counterclockwise around the pyre and runs sidelong into Sophia, sending the pair sprawling in a heap beside the firepit. There's a string of apologies as Madeleine tries to extricate herself from the dragon-girl without rolling into the fire, but notably none of them are directed at Petra - let alone the Dame Commander.
Desire Stars	Leaks can be unintentional! Mysterious local friends, 'off-hours' talk with an enemy, pen-pal contact, all kinds of stuff.     "I don't think 'off-hours' exists for that man. But I understand the point you're making. You can begin whenever you're comfortable."     Ever been to a library, and seen where they keep all of the microfiche? It's a necessity, because there's no way any of that information would keep for as long as the archive needed it to otherwise.     That's a little bit what it's like in Ace Ukiyo's mind; a library. Quiet, almost reverently so; a very dense amount of information compared to the average person, organized with purposeful intent, ready to be called upon if he needs it. The only memories that exist in their uncompressed form are those of the past... twenty years or so?     The sheer amount of memories present would imply that he's several orders of magnitude older than he appears to be--many lifetimes are stored away in cleanly delineated sections. In their private conversation, Ace had admitted to feeling some envy towards Flamel over the latter's discovery of why he exists. This probably gives a little more context. Towards the recent end of the uncompressed information, there's no indication that Ace has even contacted Zephiel, much less divulged anything, willingly or otherwise.     There is one that's much older--probably a foundational memory. Walking in the dappled shade of fig, carob and Judas trees, through a stone arch on the outskirts of Sephoris, as fast as tiny legs can carry, all to keep up with her.     "You'll be happier if you forget about me." ---     Neon, should Lilian take her up, has little to hide, and much to give context to her earlier spoken desire to be 'away.'     Home is a place of constant anxiety and quiet dread, ironically ameliorated only by the bodyguards hired to keep her from wandering free of those smothering confines. They've become something like brothers.     Zephiel isn't someone she'd ever reach out to--the memory of their first meeting is stained through with a twisted whorl of fear, shame at the aforementioned fear, and quiet contempt for his cruelty.     She keeps exclusively to the other Elites present and to those within the League. Of those people, she primarily speaks with Shanna. The only 'enemy combatant' she's spoken to was Galle, on two occasions; both with the intent of getting him to defect. Some things are important enough to make dumb decisions for. Even now, she hopes that he might come around. If she has to go without what he has with Melady, then she should still protect it where she sees it, shouldn't she?
Dysnomia	If Flamel looks into Dysnomia's mind, what he finds is a ruin. A mess of shattered lenses, machinery sabotaged and ripped apart by blunt force and endless, weightless fog. The machanisms of interacting with other minds manifest in the form of torpedos, mines and guns--weaponry, for the sake of destroying and subjugating other minds--most of which seemed to have been ripped apart from the inside. Left to rust, rather than be replaced.     He doesn't need to peer into the fractal eternities reflected in those lenses--many seeping a bright, metallic red--to find what he wants about Zephiel. There's a fear, there, in her, some connections to a truly nasty figure in her psyche that she associates him with.     She fears that overpowering dream of his. Felt the conviction and RIGHTNESS of it radiating off of him like the Elephant's Foot. A deep terror at the thought of being caught up in his pace, swept away, losing track of her own wants in the sheer psychic gravity of his sureity.     ...Dysnomia wouldn't associate with him. She wouldn't even want to be around him. The idea of staying in the same room as him fills her with a fear of being used and suborned into an instrument from his secondhand feelings.
Marigold	Sophia seems shellshocked, in that overextended way that comes from expecting more resistance than you get. The ghastly sight of slitted pupils through flames- you saw the same at Juteaux- is softened when her eyes slide off to the side, and she flinches into herself, guiltily smiling.      "You don't have to be, if you just want to learn basic first aid."      "Ah... you're, an apothecary...?" Sophia says, filled with a soft awe at Odette. She smiles weakly. "I'm... a slow learner. I'm sorry... but if you're patient, I'd love to try..."      "... then they won't have a reason to bother anyone there. Er. Right?"      "As long as they have free access to the Nabata Desert, I can't imagine Zephiel stopping..."      "We have a full-blooded dragon who's strong... 'Bern' might take villagers hostage to make her fight. That's what we're always afraid of," Sophia says, eyes on the hands in her lap. "So, like Lady Maria says, you're not safe until we kick Bern off the whole peninsula," Roy muses uncomfortably. "I'm afraid so..."      "We should, like, get *going* as soon as possible, right?"      "They don't know exactly where Arcadia is, or they would've stopped interrogating her," Cecilia says, fielding this one. Sophia nods along. "Sophia says dragons can sense other dragons, including Bern's fakes, so they'll know when they get close. But I believe we can get there first."      "That couldn't have been an easy thing to weather. Thank you, for protecting your home."      Sophia looks up at Blemishine, smiles blearily with her eyes, and makes a squiggly-uneasy shape with her mouth. "Thank you... but I still feel like I've ruined everything... I shouldn't have gotten captured. I shouldn't even be telling you now, but I don't know what else to do..."      "Do you do the whole-- looking like a dragon, thing?"      "I'm curious, too. Apart from the eyes, she looks perfectly human," says Klein. "So..."      "Ah... dragons can 'transform', by storing their energy as a stone... it's normal for them to look human, sometimes." Just like the artificial dragon in Juteaux. "But, I'm only half-dragon... and I wasn't born healthy... so, I only have this shape..."      She smiles apologetically at Madeleine and Petra, while fidgeting uncomfortably with her dress, as if she's somehow let them down. Flamel's intrusions are taken-as-normal; she just limply lets him prod.      It's true. Her body's psychometric profile is 'a liminality, a slight melancholy, a subtle abjection, a site of care'. Being something special. Being something misfit. Being something carefully loved and nurtured. Endangered orchid, two-headed calf, made healthy and strong by human (and inhuman) hands.
Marigold	"I hate to be the one to say this, since everybody's so mushy," Echidna says slowly. "But we really can't trust her. Does this feel like a setup to anybody else? Bern's doing dragon things. I'm one-for-one on dragons trying to kill me. Never heard of a 'half-dragon'. And she wants us to go into the desert, where we know Bern is, overextended into unknown terrain, for a village we don't know is real."      "But it is real," says Lucius, not looking up from Cecilia's wounds, with a kind of soft-heavy resignation. She stares at him, confused.      "What, so you've been?"      "No, but..."      "Thirty years ago," Marcus says- with his hand tentatively on Mia's shoulder to reassure, and a nodding glance to Khosa- "when we, Lord Roy's father Eliwood, and Lord Hector set off to stop the mad sorceror Nergal's schemes, we were joined by his two half-dragon children. And the archsage Athos."      "I'm sorry, one of the Eight Heroes is still alive?"      "No. He died at the end of our journey. But along the way, he told us of a village called Arcadia, which he had helped to build. For his and Sophia's accounts to line up so..."      "Well, alright. Guess I'm in over my head."      Roy, though, has a dozen muscles in his face half-tensed in a way that can't reconcile to a single expression. Hurt, maybe? "And you never thought to tell us this, Marcus? My own father never told me?"      The old knight winces, in turn. "It... I apologize deeply, Lord Roy. I often struggled with what to say and when to say it. If I'd thought it was relevant before now, I would have spoken. But there are people who might still be hurt by the truth."      "I... I see. Thank you, Marcus."      "Please, don't."      "I bet they can even tell us what Iðunn is doing!"      "Tell me, do you have an older sister? Or perhaps do you owe your looks to your mother?"      "Iðunn..." Sophia murmurs, trying to jog her own memory. "Isn't that what humans called the Demon? I think Athos said that name, once..." While she's still lost in thought, she shakes her head in Trudy's direction. "I don't have any siblings... and my mother died when I was young, so I don't know... half-dragons always lose a parent young. I'm sorry..."      "However many generations since the Scouring, yeah."      "Thirty-five generations for humans," Sophia says. "It hasn't been a generation yet for dragons..."
Marigold	Around the time Sophia is getting bowled over by a reeling Madeleine and Roy is scrambling to throw water on them both, Cecilia is poaching Lucius's staff again- this time to hastily battlefield-reinvigorate herself enough to haul up out of the stretcher and rap the metal staff against stone like a bell-ringing gavel.      "What is wrong with the two of you? No, the three of you. What sort of example are you setting for Roy and Lilina?" she says in a still injury-trembly voice, while grunting to help a probably-soggy Sophia up with one arm. "This is still an army. You-" Petra, indicated with the staff- "stop picking fights or go home, and don't say you weren't. You-" Madeleine- "since you won't open up, if we don't find another spy you're first on the chopping block. Further behavior that fails to better Roy's army: the warpgate is there, and the ocean is there."      She tries to strike a not-angry-just-disappointed tone, but her still-bloodstained clothes, the IV in her arm, and her sharp eyes seen through bedraggled hair just make her look a little crazed. "Am I clear??"      Reflexively, Roy and Lilina nodnodnod, even though they weren't addressed.      In the end, all but five of Roy's army consent to being mind-read: Marcus, Lucius, and Merlinus all still have some kind of shared secret but vouch for each other. Strangely, Elffin and Larum also opt out, but Echidna does agree to being read, and she insists whatever secrets her two companions have are benign. Rutger hesitates, but ultimately agrees, as long as it's Lilian.      Clarine seems eager for the novel experience. Lilian and Flamel might have to draw straws about who endures that one. Everyone who does get scanned, of course, is clean- none of the locals have been in correspondence with Zephiel.
Khosa	Sophia's story strikes some uncomfortable chords with Khosa, too. She is unsure how to say anything, or even if she should try, but she decides to try, at the last moment: "If it makes you feel better, I'm only half-human, too," Khosa says. And she probably lost a parent early too, though that means nothing to her because she never met her father, either - she only assumes about her mother, it's true more often than not. She's not in a position to talk about the rest of it - the secrets, from the locals. She doesn't like dragons, either - but a dragon you can talk to, like Sophia, is hardly a dragon at all. She can't talk about the secrets - well, she can, but it comes from an outsider. Still: "I believe her enough to listen. And I believe you too," to Marcus. "If there's *anyone* in the desert, you want Bern to roll over them too? I don't." When Petra snaps back at her, Khosa raises her voice again. "You're right. You're more like a kritic, but I figured you'd never heard of one and I didn't want to confuse you!" If Petra's going to keep talking back Khosa is going to keep taking her up on that. Of course, given a kritic (which she pronounces cry-tick) is a small, mostly feral lizard who attaches itself to one particular person if they get fed regularly, and then warns them of danger (and only them, because they are aggressive and would hunt people but are not actually big or dangerous enough to be personally threatening)... well, it's not all wrong. When Petra goes for a punch - well, Khosa wasn't expecting it. She was half-expecting to catch one herself, and that's where her sense of danger is best; she *wasn't* expecting her to open up at Madeleine. So after a moment of being taken aback, Khosa rises up to her full height. "Fucking *stop it*," she growls, simply attempting to break up the fight in the most direct way she can think of: stand between Petra and her target, or at least interpose one stone-tough arm. With her other, she tries to heft MAdeleine to her feet without falling back into the fire. "What were you thinking?" She turns her head, slightly, toward Cecilia and Sophia. "Please accept my apologies on behalf of the party," Khosa says, polite and a lot more formal-sounding than she has been all night. "It won't happen again. And if it does I'm going to throw them out *myself*." And probably right into the ocean. It's a good threat, from Cecilia, and given Khosa's general distrust of oceans, it hits hard.
Trudy Grimm	The girls are fighting.     Trudy lowers her face, pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed.     The second the punch lands, the Black Knight is already on his feet. His new right arm pulls his sword from where it had been jammed into the ground. Joints pop and snap as he wheels the blade up, overhead, and then straight down in front of Petra with the ring of steel biting into stone.     "Try existing for thirty seconds with/out/ embarrassing yourself." the witch mutters. It's unclear who she's talking to; entirely possible she's talking to the both of them. "And if you have some aggression you want to work out, he's got a new arm to get used to."     The Black Knight releases his weapon, leaving it where it landed. Turning his palm upward, he flexes his fingers one at a time to form a fist with each and every knuckle crackle-snapping into position amidst the grinding of rusted steel plates.     The witch eyes the situation, then flicks her hand slightly, "Deal with it as you want," directed to the Black Knight-- who responds by straightening his posture and tilting his head one side, then snaps it to the other with an audible crack.     "As for you, miss Sophia--" Trudy hums thoughtfully at her answer, "No relations, no siblings, and yet-- how curious." Her eyes close in thought and she nods her head slightly a few times, "Because a woman who looks like you, but older-- like your mother or older sister, perhaps-- is King Zephiel's closest confidant."     One eye opens, fixated on Sophia directly, "If you don't know anything about that, this leaves my little theory somewhat adrift, I suppose. Ah, but she does call herself Iðunn." After a moment, she glances towards Roy, "Should we consider if that woman is also a dragon, the dragons of this village might recognize her?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Since you won't open up, if we don't find another spy you're first on the chopping block."     Freshly soggy courtesy of a fire-safety-conscious Roy, Madeleine raises her hands in complaint. "Jeez, okay, okay! It's like Flamel said, I write the guy a couple letters, he writes a few back, now I'm 'on the chopping block'?" Wait, did she just admit to keeping a secret correspondence with King Zephiel? Her mind catches up with her mouth and she goes even paler than usual. Her eyes stay on Cecilia. "I mean, I, uh- let's just let Flamel have a look, okay? I didn't ever tell him where I was, or what I was doing, or anything like that." A pause. "I'm no more a spy for talking to him privately than Lilian is." As she protests, she winds her way through the crowd to Flamel, rolls her eyes, and waits for him to reach within--     Madeleine's psyche is a forest in deepest winter, white on black on white. The wind whistles. Flamel is not alone. Here, broad animal prints in the snow, half-filled by windblown flurries. There, a great scar torn deep into the bark of a tree. To know Madeleine this closely, to feel the contours of her existence, is to share the burden of the curse.     There is little here to glean until Flamel touches one of the trees. Its bark whispers secrets freely into his skin. A correspondence with a certain king. The wind howls. A shape moves atop a distant hill. Some philosophical back-and-forth, perhaps a little more let slip than intended in either direction, but little ventured and little gained. The wind screams. There is something behind you--     The vision is gone, but Flamel has what he was looking for. The contents of the letters, largely unremarkable - except, perhaps, to someone with an acute interest in King Zephiel's psychology.
Petra Soroka	"But, I'm only half-dragon... and I wasn't born healthy... so, I only have this shape..."     Sophia's shameful expression is noticed, but as Petra plumbs her psyche for an emotional context to understand and empathize with this through, she realizes that there's no existing schema for her to reference. She bites the inside of her lip and zones out for a bit, manually assembling something in her mind that could provoke that sort of expression from her. A physical token of your own power and identity, external from yourself, revoked from birth in a way that leaves you the sole handicapped one within your local community on this particular axis. Also, you're stuck tiny, and you're supposed to breathe fire and fly or something, but can't.     Something almost connects in Petra's mind there, but she gets distracted thinking about whether the secret village dragons are allowed to transform and fly around the desert. What if they got caught on drone footage? Or, after that thought is discarded, by a wanderer in the desert? Have people just died every time they got that deep into the desert for the past thousand years, or do they get adopted? What are they eating? Is there an oasis or something?     And then Petra punches Madeleine, and tentative empathy is burned away in favor of slugging someone for being annoying. "What were you thinking?"     Petra glares up at Khosa from below shoulder-height, teeth gritted. "The same thing I said out *loud*, idiot. What the fuck do you think I was thinking? That's not a magic fucking spell you can chant to make someone suddenly feel ashamed of themselves, unless they *don't* know what they were thinking. Like all of you fucking morons." "Try existing for thirty seconds with/out/ embarrassing yourself."     "Tch." Petra clicks her tongue loudly, only taking a step back from where Madeleine is engaging her Charlie Chaplin routine with the fire once she's outnumbered by the Black Knight. "Is that it? Both of you? Just fucking civility shaming, all over again? Why even say *anything*; you know I don't give a shit about that. You're just wasting air to feel like a fucking condescending fucking authority figure, instead of just doing the honest thing of threatening me." "Stop picking fights or go home, and don't say you weren't."     The rule of threes applies, though. Being scolded a third time, and for the first time by someone she has any reason to like, drains the last of the aggression out of Petra's stance, leaving her crossing her arms with petulant anger and sour-simmering shame. "Well-- well, sure I was picking a fight, I did escalate it. But she *started* it. I'm--" "Am I clear??"     Petra's head droops. "Yep. Sorry. Only for doing it here."
Trudy Grimm	> Is that it? Both of you? Just fucking civility shaming, all over again?"     "Your actions don't reflect only on /you/, stupid," Trudy's eyes shift towards Petra when she speaks, without turning her head, "Think about who you're closely associated with and how your behavior makes things more difficult for them."     She lets that hang in the air for a moment before speaking again: "Since I don't trust you to understand that, due to your /profound/ stupidity: Why don't you stop making things harder for Lilian?"
Dysnomia	The fight rises to a pitch, suddenly, and Dysnomia's face breaks into a scowl. "Would you just let them TALK?!" But it was lost in the momentum, the push and pull of everything, while Dysnomia gritted her teeth, wishing they would focus on what was IMPORTANT--     The hour of reckoning had come. The revelation, where the truth was laid bare, and the true nature of the world was spilled in front of them. Vision and foresight resolved into reality, and again--again! Even now! No one was fucking LISTENING--     Then Cecilia stands up, cutting everything off. Dysnomia seethed, quietly, breathing out a heavy breath that smelled too-much like ozone as she ran a hand over her eyes.     "...we were joined by his two half-dragon children..."     Half-Dragon? That can happen?     Possibilities came sharply, suddenly into focus, as if Dysnomia had never lost her Sight. Discrete facts came together into a sharp line. She doesn't quite manage to disguise the look she gives Marcus, then, the widening eyes, but she--through great effort--manages to keep her eyes from swiveling again.     "This village." She says, to give anyone paying attention something to associate her stare with. "They were some of the people you were protecting, weren't they?" She doesn't mention who else might be being protected.     She doesn't mention that they might be here.
Blemishine	Thank you... but I still feel like I've ruined everything... I shouldn't have gotten captured. I shouldn't even be telling you now, but I don't know what else to do...     "Maybe not, but you're doing the best you can in the situation you're in. You may seem a bit on the quiet side, but it honestly takes a lot of willpower to do what you've done - helping Lady Cecilia included! We won't let that go to waste." Blemishine beams back, and every word is genuine, even if there's a bit of intentionally wanting to lift Sophia's spirit added in.     Her mention of being half-dragon certainly sates her curiosity, as well... as does hearing Marcus' correction to Echidna, and the mention of their traveling partners. For reasons known perhaps only to herself, she spares a quiet moment to look down at her sword hand, where she might be imagining Durandal being held.     It'll likely remain known only to herself. When it's her turn for a mindscan, a peek at her mental landscape reveals nothing of the sort and not a hint of correspondence with Zephiel. But the peek is a feeling akin to traveling a long road forward, with no end on the horizon. The sun overhead is dim, but warm, more than enough to illuminate the path ahead. It doesn't have to do so alone though; there's a truly blindingly radiant figure right alongside, every step of the way.     A mindscape like this would be pretty poor at keeping any serious secrets!     ...     Cecilia giving Petra and Madeleine a formal chewing out for their moment there reminds her of... "...She reminds me of Auntie when she's angry..." Such is spoken under her breath, as if /that/ were the great confidential matter she must take to her grave. After that sinks in, there's a little exhale - and a glance to Madeleine.     It's like Flamel said, I write the guy a couple letters, he writes a few back, now I'm 'on the chopping block'?     "Well, you had to have understood how /not/ letting anybody know you were doing that would come off, if it ever came out...?"     Like right now, in other words. She mostly says it in a reasonably neutral 'this should be obvious, right?' sort of way, while gesturing towards some of the others prepping for their mind-glancing with one hand - her other is helping fix back up Sophia's spot by the fire, to warm back up and dry off after Roy's timely aid.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons can't get involved in this fight. When girls start beating the shit out of each other, that's just girls' business. But it looks like the review is going to happen. And Flamel makes sure to do it in a dedicated way, not just a cursory scan.     What's the review process like? It's not one hundred percent clear if Flamel Parsons is approaching this right. Because he does something perhaps truly foolish: He gets Lugh involved. He also gets Lilian involved. He asks them, with utmost gravitas, to help him perform this scan properly, one person at a time in a private room. Specifically, Lilian must be Nice MIB, while Lugh is required to be Mean MIB. He's very emphatic. This is the only way to get this right, to make sure people are emotionally open. He, himself, takes what seems to be a supporting role, operating scanning gear alone.     Flamel is quick in his visit to the archives in each brain.     What in the world is going on in Ace's brain? How does he have so many memories? This archiveopolis could keep Flamel in here for years. Lugh's mean-MIB routine might be needed to pull him out.     Dysnomia's vast superpositioned fractal eternities and annihilated machinery has him feeling agonized when he wanders around. On one hand, he loves to see disarmament. But he can't abide and appreciate the harm to a mind... what's the middleground here? Well, there's nothing about leaking things to Bern... He can just exit the uncomfortable thing.     What about Blemishine? This road, this warm path... He can just shade his eyes a lot, and drift forward, asking radiant figures all kinds of funny questions!     Let's see. Who else... Trudy? Probably a necropolis, he'll find any tombs or records about Zephiel and step back easily. Echolalia? She'll be similar to Dysnomia, right? He'll have to repress his impulsive disarmament, but that's organized enough to visit -- though she doesn't want him there, so there's a good chance he never gets the opportunity. Khosa's got a hell of a psionic power on her own, Flamel might not even get a chance to get into the mindscape before there's a direct memory exchange. And Madeleine... Oh! This spooky forest, this lonesome absence-of-isolation, the strange sense of hunting, being hunted...     "Oh!" He finally breaks his zone-out and speaks actively for the first time in the routine. "Woah! I think I get it -- I think you slipped and showed knowing something he didn't know we knew." He snaps. "You're not doing those letters anymore, right? Man, Zephiel's a heck of a guy. Want to redact those letters out of my brain? I don't know how personal that stuff is." He does, truly, simply expose the deeper memory mechanisms right to Madeleine there, psychically inviting her to a small office to mark the memories out in black ink if she so wishes.     He emerges from the ruins of the castle with a wide grin and a thumbs-up. "Think we figured it out! I think stuff's solved."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Well, you had to have understood how /not/ letting anybody know you were doing that would come off, if it ever came out...?"     Madeleine raises an eyebrow. "Is it that unusual to trade private words with the enemy? I don't see Lilian volunteering anything else she told him or he told her, just the bit where he told her there was a spy and she believed him. Which there wasn't."     "Want to redact those letters out of my brain? I don't know how personal that stuff is."     "Well, since you're offering..." Madeleine reaches in and carefully smudges out each of her letters, while leaving Zephiel's replies intact. "Way I figure, he hasn't exactly earned any favors from me. You can keep his stuff."
Odette Raskins	"Yeah, there is. To kill them if . . . die for any reason." "That's been the playbook for them, hasn't it? Ergh... I-if they can't get someone to betray us, they'll steamroll anyone who doesn't work for them?" Odette replies to Khosa, letting out an uncertain noise and rubbing her arm for a moment. "It wouldn't make sense long-term, but since Zephiel just wants to burn everything down, I guess it... Actually kind of works out for him?" "I'm sorry... but if you're patient, I'd love to try..." "D.. Definitely! I-I mean, I'm not licensed to teach anyone yet because it's really expensive and I need to save up for other training, but I can still get you versed in the basics." Odette's feeling even more fired up now. Her first student, AND she's a half-dragon! "It'd be a big help for me, too, so.. Um. Y-yeah! We can get started after you get some rest, too." ". . . but I don't know what else to do..." Odette's breath hitches lightly. Just how much has this girl been hurt? How much is she holding onto? If she can reach Sophia from where she's hovering by Cecilia, she'll give the half-dragon another gentle pat on the back. "Then.. Do what you can, right? I-I mean, nobody can do everything themselves, and... Heck, I can't even do much more than fixing people up. Just imagine how much you could do with your powers AND knowing how to fix people!" She can't ignore nor discount Echidna's distrust, however, and she doesn't know how even remotely try and reassure her about all those concerns she brings up. Marcus provides a relevant history lesson that seems to address that, thankfully, and Odette eventually laughs lightly while looking over at Echidna. "D.. Don't worry, Miss Echidna. I think we.. A lot of us are. A-at least we've got more allies and leads now, though!" When Petra decks Madeleine, Odette sucks in a sharp breath and gets up, but stops herself from actually approaching a moment later. Even though Cecilia's stable, she's still injured Odette and Lucius' care until she's made a proper recovery. Reminding herself about that, the EMT starts to settle back down, then hastily follows Cecilia to make sure she's nearby in case the general needs extra physical support while dressing them down. Just in case, she all but shoves her head and shoulders under Cecilia's arm so she has someone to fall on if she needs to. Eventually, Odette does consent to/let herself get peer pressured into the mind-reading, but she's still sweating and nervous as all hell about it despite not being guilty whatsoever. She just really didn't want anyone to find out about her tastes in the locals here (all of them likely over a decade or even centuries her senior), or her emo phase, or her trash slop collection.