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Owner	Pose
Marigold	THE ILIAN TUNDRA      En route to Edessa.      Among the things Flamel extracted from a dying General Murdoch's brain was an uncharted warpgate link: one from Ilia's frozen interior wildernesses to the outskirts of Edessa, its capital, where Lugh and his brother Raigh are now in danger.      Unfortunately, that link's still a long overland trek from any charted warpgate, and any move on Castle Edessa's dungeon is best not taken unsupported.      So some days have passed on the road, and Lucius's anguish and Cecilia's triumph and Roy's disheartened regret have had time to cool, and bend a little to practicality and warm venison soups and the rhythm of duty. Maybe urgent willpower can push sore legs further, as the sun sets, but it won't much push the caravan's tired horses.      Rest comes, tonight, in the form of a steep hillside that shelters its southern wooded hollow from the snow-whistling northern wind. In that hollow, the wagons are drawn up in a loose crescent to shelter the fire further; Echidna and Dieck chop maybe a bit too much firewood competitively, as they've done a few times before, and poor old Merlinus has to convince the multitalented Larum that a licorice-smelling root isn't a good fit for their big savory soup.      For those Elites who don't have the luxury of just hanging out with the caravan (which is probably all of them), this is the first time the army's stopped conveniently near another natural warpgate; and thus the first time they can meet back up after Murdoch.      "Well! If it isn't our heroes," General Cecilia says as the first filter out of the woods, and tries to foist a bowl of stew and some hard bread on whoever reaches her soonest. Someone's happy, but she's reeling it back a bit in sympathy for the others.      "I should really get back to my own army," she says as she turns towards the fire, "but I thought I'd stay at least long enough to see you again, and things are going well in the west with Remi, anyway. Now that Murdoch's dead and they know how vulnerable warpgate transport is, they're trying to pull out of cut-off western Ilia altogether..."      "Hm. Roy! Lilina! What can you infer about warpgate logistics?" Pop question for her students! "Well, like you said..." Roy, sitting near Lucius and Sophia, hesitates. "It's a natural bottleneck, like a mountain pass! Small units might be safe, but a large force could be decapitated, right?" Lilina chirps, stepping out of her little tent. "Er, yes. Although... I still wonder why Murdoch was with them. Wasn't that risky of him?" "Mmm... I think he was exchanging commands with Galle. It was a small risk," Cecilia says, re-seating herself on the opposite side of the fire. "Or, in other words... he got slightly careless, and we got very lucky."
Marigold	Sophia, it's plain to see, is compassionately distracting Lucius with what's left of the divine spear Maltet. Ace had broken it once; Gebura broke it again; it cracked still more when Madeleine drove it into a dragon's eye. Now Sophia holds it- with a rag between herself and the metal- and it's little more than a snowflake-shaped spearhead, chipped and cracked, with gold glow showing through.      "Surely they couldn't have been so fragile in the Scouring... or maybe only the skill of their wielders kept them intact. Perhaps there's--" Lucius is saying, but he looks up when Sophia does. "Ah... hello..." "Oh! Oh. I'm sorry, I've... been rude. Hello."      Lucius's smile is angelic as ever, but seeing people he hasn't seen since Lugh's vanishing has clearly reminded him, and it brings him back to earth from his intense examination.      Chad leans against a tree some twenty feet from the priest- one can imagine what uncomfortable conversations they've been having. Rutger is arguing about something not-darkly with Clarine nearer the wagons- something about 'what counts as drawing and 'honor'- and Shanna and Thea, tending their pegasi, are unusually both in a good mood, rather than one's weal being the other's woe. 'Juno' comes up between them.
Audrey Basque	Audrey is here!     Despite an extraordinarily rocky rush for the year's end - having her final thesis to crunch, pressure from her father increasing, being absorbed in personal experiments, increased demands from her training, and the ever-looming effects of not sleeping enough - she's still managing to liberate enough time for everything and everyone that wants some. And then the spare time is used to curl up in a ball and recover. Or throw herself into more work! More work is better. Like mapping the whole Library. That was a fun weekend.     While Audrey's usual choice of attire for Elibe travels isn't entirely suited to chilly northern winds, it's easy enough to wear a larger, thicker cloak over it all, dark blue and gold-lined, plain otherwise. Hair down, hints of bags under her eyes, she might not have been invested enough to have anything useful to say to Murdoch on his deathbed, but she's certainly not going to turn down a chance to socialize over a campfire.     That's, like...     Its own joy, right? When it's not your normal? "Well! If it isn't our heroes,"     "Oh, General Cecilia. I hope everyone's doing well?" Hard bread and stew... it's not what she's used to, but she's not about to turn it down.     "They think warpgate travel is vulnerable? Hopefully no one shows them otherwise. That'll simplify their movements a lot."     She's eager to join the others at the makeshift camp-- Roy gets a warm hello, and Audrey actually reaches into her cloak to pull something out for him. It's a burger! Still hot. Likely fetched on the way.     "Here. Maybe you can have this one uninterrupted. Just unwrap and eat, no fork or knife needed." It's surely plain, meat and cheese and tomato and lettuce, nothing fancy, but he seemed a fan!     Which shifts her towards Lucius afterwards, though she doesn't interrupt the examining of the spear. "Father, a pleasure. I hope you're doing better today." She'll shake his hand, if he offers it, praying it isn't bloody and dirty this time.     Shanna and Thea-- well, Audrey's still absolutely stoked to see the pegasi. Sadly, she's no doubt put weight on since last time-- muscle, at least, even if only a tiny bit-- but she'll still spare the hello and the obviously interested gaze in the beasts.     And she ends her tour at Echidna, to find seating (whether a log or a rock), to whom she offers, out of her cloak, a bottle of fizzy lemonade. "It's no healing salve, but I figured I owed you a little something."
Nobunaga	Nobunaga is preceded by a small gaggle of Nobbu; the little knee-high soldier familiars. A dozen or so funnel into the camp amidst various cheerful Nobu! or No Nobu! or the like. Once they're satisfied, the creatures scatter out to join the soldiers already on watch. Nobunaga herself strides into the firelight as her usual self-- different from the encounter with Murdoch by way of being a full head shorter and sporting black hair again.     She accepts the offered stew and seats herself by the fire, keeping her cape wrapped about her shoulders to hold off the Ilian wind from her back. Eyes closed, she bobs her head from side to side, listening, filing information away. After a moment, those eyes open just a touch to glance sidelong from whence she came, "So now they're fearing future ambushes if they continue to use the warp gates. Good, good."     Murdoch is still a bit of a sore point. She wasn't even the one who killed the guy. Even as angry as she was, /she/ tried to /capture/ him and still got the riot act for it. She shifts her eyes back to the campfire, mulling her thoughts. These people aren't ready for the sort of war she's had to fight-- the sort of monsters in human skin she's faced-- and the sort of monster she is, herself.     After a moment, Nobunaga closes her eyes, head tilting forward a touch to hide her eyes behind the brim, "So with this idea in mind regarding the strengths and drawbacks of warp gates in wartime, what's our plan in Edessa?"
Flamel Parsons	Flamel Parsons is... in good enough spirits. He doesn't look beat up, but he does look rather focused. He's eating just fine. "Taking advantage of the intersection of luck and carelessness is at least half of spycraft. Honestly most of it." He nods a fair bit. "Not a fan of the sacrifices though. I wouldn't have had Lugh make the choices he made, but he... Well, maybe he's taking advantage of the intersection of luck and carelessness himself!" There's that struggling optimism. Hard for him to get Lugh off his mind, but he shakes his head and focuses on the situation.     "We've taken a huge step forward, dealing with Murdoch like this. We've got ahold of the initiative, or the... tempo I guess? I don't really play chess, someone get Merlinus to handle that kind of metaphor!" He stretches his arms a little while he eats, as if limbering up. "A bottlenecked retreat is always easier than a bottlenecked advance, though, that's for sure. I want to handle scouting ahead through the route, I know the ways to get through most natural gates without getting detected. And it gives me first pick of tactically-valuable minds!"     A glance to Chad though. And Lucius. God, Flamel sure has *had enough* of inflicting terrible pain, even proxy pain, onto people through the obligate sacrifices borne by the young and vulnerable! Images of a certain exhausted man still flash in his mind every so often.
Odette Raskins	After the fight against Murdoch, Odette's had some time to recover physically! Not enough, though, since she still has her left arm bandaged from the forearm down, and a dense eyepatch keeps the top left side of her face partially obscured. She's visibly trying not to let it get her down, too, although she's also doing a terrible job at it since she hasn't really had enough time to recover mentally, either. That's why today is important, then, since it'll be an opportunity to rest, or at least try and ease her mind about some things. Arriving in her Elibe-styled adventurer gear, she greets Cecilia with a light wave before adjusting her glasses to straighten them out and make sure the frames partially cover the bags under her uncovered eye. "H-hey, General Cecilia! Ah. Yeah, we had to have shaken them up a lot with what happened. If they can't move their stuff through the gates, then they'll have to do it the old fashioned way." She can still sound satisfied about that much, at least, and she giggles lightly at that sudden questioning for Cecilia's students. "Hey, Lord Roy. Hey, Lady Lilina.. Y-yes, taking out Murdoch and snagging Maltet... Um. What's left of Maltet really was a lucky break, mhm. If we can get m..." She trails off and turns her head aside to stifle a yawn, then chokes briefly on nothing when she sees Lucius smiling in that way he does. "R-r-rude? Oh, no, you haven't.. Th-that's okay! Ah. H-hi, Father Lucius. Hi, Miss Sophia." Odette blurts out in a quick reply, flapping her cape idly with her left hand to keep it covered once she remembers that showing all that off might still dredge up some bad memories. "Um... S-so! Have you found any.. Uh. Anything out about Maltet now that we've got it in our hands?" Noticing the rag, she rummages around in the medical case hung on her right, eventually picking out an extra pair of latex gloves. "W-would this help, or probably not enough.. Um. Material?" She asks, looking over briefly in the direction of the tree and waving way over there.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine accepts the offered meal gratefully, and lingers wordlessly near Roy for a minute to make sure he seems okay before gravitating inevitably toward Maltet, and Lucius and Sophia by extension.     "Father, Sophia, it's good to see you again. I haven't seen Odette since..." Since she very nearly died. "But you really worked a wonder with her. Thank you." Then, more matter-of-fact, looking down at the spear's remains with her arms folded: "It's not in great shape, huh. Maybe whatever deep workings Iðunn's up to with the world's magical balance is affecting it? In which case we need to be careful about how we use the others, too."     She taps her chin. "I'm sure between the lot of us we know somebody who could attempt repairs - the issue is finding out which of the methods will actually stick. What do you know about Maltet's origin and history, Father? It didn't seem to have like, a whole heroic spirit guarding it like Armads or Durandal, but I still... felt something, when I was holding Maltet. Hard to pin down what, but it's like it didn't mind my using it."
Angela	Gebura hasn't returned this time. Instead it's Roland, like before, and strangely enough Angela who comes along with him--and, because Petra's completely necessary for her to come along, they're with Petra as well. Angela likes the people from Elibe, but her expression isn't exactly pleased, it's fairly neutral and stoic as usual--actually, that frown of hers seems slightly deeper. She passes by Lucius and looks towards him for a long moment. "Father Lucius. While I am certain I am missing a detail or three, I have heard what happened with Lugh. It seems you may be a man of faith after all." She feels Lucius will understand her meaning without needing to put any extra weight on it than that. "My understanding is that my Sephirah focused on matters that the General deemed important rather than what I deem important. I apologize for their inept sense of priorities. As someone who is not a soldier or a general, my concerns here are not particularly aligned with how to win a war most efficiently. I have corrected their misunderstanding. Roland, apologize." "Ah...Sorry." Roland manages. He actually does sound embarrassed and even contrite, avoiding looking at the priest's eyes directly. "I wasn't thinking clearly." "Thank you, Roland." Angela says. Angela then turns to GEneral Cecilia. "It is very fortunate that this happy accident resulted in the demise of an enemy General. As far as a war is concerned, I feel you made intelligent sacrifices and trades. However... Something I neglected to mention since I felt a war would not be particularly psychologically harmful to my people relative to what they already have to deal with, is that I do have to consider the psychological welfare of my Sephirah." She pauses. "And my Roland. I cannot in good faith leave them in situations where they are compelled by the promise of victory to make these sorts of choices." She fans her hands from side to side. "The one who activates the orphan crusher is me, not them. Their job is similar, but not quite the same. So for now I would like to hear the plan to rescue Lugh and this brother of his." Angela brings her hands back in front of her. "Please."
Petra Soroka	> Horses cannot gain a second wind due to emotions and willpower.     This just isn't true.     Petra thinks about horses once getting through the warpgate. She's wearing the red and gold uniform that she's favored, though her gay little cape is replaced with the more practical cloak she picked up earlier in Ilia. Her past few days have oscillated wildly between extremely mundane-- it's the start of the new semester, and most of her time has been spent on... college?-- and extremely strange-- the balancing act required to maintain her willpower in this circumstance she's placed herself in is taxing in new and uncomfortable ways.     Horses, though-- Petra's always been fond of horses. One of her classmates mentioned that her family owns a ranch down in southern California, so she's been primed to think about them. Horses are intelligent enough to have emotional goals rather than just instinctual ones; they've got very noticeable personalities, and they can either be motivated or unmotivated to do something, and boredom can tire them out quicker.     Though, a horse's political aims are not ever going to be aligned with the army. At least, not consciously: a wise horse would be aware of its symbiotic relationship with humanity, and the hostile relationship it can expect to have with genocidal dragons. So, since the horses can't be properly motivated, they're basically just dead weight. Really, there's probably so many other ways to carry everything the army needs. It'd be better to just eat the horses, right? It's a lot more efficient. Petra should suggest this, tactically, for everyone's benefit.     Joined by Angela, Petra makes a low distressed sound for seemingly no reason, shaking her head like a wet dog. She digs in the pocket of her cloak for a bottle of pills, slaps one into her mouth and dry swallows it, and then wipes her mouth. This doesn't seem like it makes her look any less queasy, but she's more focused, at least. "Now that Murdoch's dead and they know how vulnerable warpgate transport is, they're trying to pull out of cut-off western Ilia altogether..."     A better topic to distract herself! And she gets to talk to people she likes! "Oh, yeah! What's the plan over there now? Like, is it just to chase them out, or is it to pen them in and hunt them down so they can't rejoin with Bern?"     Oh no! She's fucked it up! Now her mind is fixated on *that*. Petra is gripped by the same kind of vague terror as if she's just taken a dose of shrooms and then walked into a crowded room: somehow, everyone *knows*. "Oh! Oh. I'm sorry, I've... been rude. Hello."     "Hey Lucius. Hey Sophia." Petra can smile normally at them at least, though she does still seem distantly sick and exhausted. Probably Lucius does too. There's not any point in bringing up Lugh, so she wheels the conversation back around to the weapon in Sophia's hands.     "I mean, the same thing happened with Armads, right? And Forblaze is reaching the end of its life too. There's no way they were like this back in the Scouring, or Iðunn would've drowned them in dragons. It's just... the end of their era, I guess. Their last hurrah, you know?"
Lilian Rook	'Well! If it isn't our heroes'     "I earnestly don't know how to feel about that." says Lilian, her first words fresh out of the warpgate, delivered with a slow shake of her head. She doesn't look nearly as crushed a Lucius still seems, even if he's improved considerably since the two of them were last together, immediately in the aftermath of Lugh's departure; but that's because she wasn't there for Murdoch's last moments, and she knows, even if it's just between her and god, that she chose not to be. And that bit of emotional cowardice leaves her looking put-out all the same. "It went about as well as it reasonably could have. Even with the dragon. So I suppose I won't object to it being a 'heroic' effort."     Not quite feeling like full-on 'cosplay', Lilian's fur-lined version of cloak reveals, as she finds a place to sit around the fire, the soft turtleneck and thick stockings she incidentally wears at home when trying very hard to relax, between the practical, locally sourced gloves and boots. "I'm glad to hear things are working out in the west, at least." she says to Cecilia, trying to lighten her own mood. "We've had so little good news in this war for so long that I'd be ridiculous to not appreciate things finally tilting in our favour."     'Hm. Roy! Lilina!'     Lilian perks up in Cecilia's direction, then double takes, as she often does when a woman named Cecilia takes that tone towards a girl with a nearly identical name to hers. She makes that same little chagrined squiggle with her mouth as usual. "It was bold of them to try. And, frankly, it worked out quite well for them for a while. Far too many people are far too conservative about taking advantage of the new resource before them. Even my world is slower to adapt than this one, though quicker than most."     Though she is always very picky about 'low class' food when on the job, Lilian is as happy as ever to accept the army's cooking; even the most simple stews are fine; they're 'traditional', which is different, in both a very real sense and also in the sense of how she thinks about them. She properly removes her gloves before she starts tearing up the bread for dunking and mopping up.     There's plenty to watch with interest while she eats, too. No doubt whatever conversation Clarine is attempting to have about swords with Rutger is going to be disastrously fascinating, and Lucius with Sofia on the subject of a divine weapon can't not be wise. She strains her attention trying to split the difference, but hastily skipping a few bites and going through a quarter of her canteen (she still prefers to bring water from home rather than melting snow), Lilian offers her own opinion unasked-for.
Lilian Rook	'Surely they couldn't have been so fragile in the Scouring... or maybe only the skill of their wielders kept them intact.'     "Even I have to keep in mind Night Mist's physical limits whilst using it, and it's about as tough and uncomplicated as a magic sword can get. I can name three battles in as many years where I might've damaged it if I handled it poorly enough." she says, with the sound of a preliminary setup. "But Galle is far from unskilled. I'd say he's the best spearfighter I've ever seen; besides Scáthach of course." Lilian adds the last part a bit hastily.     "The sheer amount of combat they've seen, against the enemies they've fought, and I imagine very little time to allow thorough maintenance, could very well have riddled them with wear and tear; even exceptionally fine weapons eventually accumulate metal fatigue and micro-fractures over time, and Maltet has certainly seen more action than the most storied silver spear." Pausing to finish off her stew, in just a bit of a hurry, Lilian pats her collar as if anticipating difficulty swallowing, blinks to be sure, and then finally adds, "But there's the very real possibility that whatever form of magic that enabled them is simply guttering out. We may even be using up the last dregs of that ancient magic in the world. It wouldn't surprise me if an inanimate object were able to enshrine it in a more stable form, for longer, than a living thing, like the modern dragons have experienced, but there's simply no using them without invoking that ancient law they're preserving."     She takes a deep breath, and turns her head. "Now, Clarine. What are you harassing Rutger about this time? You know her policy on swords is quite clear."
Desire Stars	Ace and Neon both arrive in their DGP activewear--the cold weather variants, with big fur-lined hooded jackets. Soup is accepted graciously, given the location of the camp. Or, in other words... he got slightly careless, and we got very lucky.      "A long time ago, there were two kingdoms from Earth, the Ottomans and the Polish, who were at war, on and off, for hundreds of years. One of the last battles between them saw..." Ace looks briefly upwards, as if in recollection. "Conservatively, 40,000 men dispatched by the Ottomans to raid the Polish countryside. For good reason, too--the countryside was undefended, and the Polish could only scrape together 400 men to defend it."      "The Polish used abandoned furniture and fences from previous Ottoman raids to fortify their position. They fought for six hours. Even when they ran out of ammunition for their guns, they replaced it with arrowheads from the Ottomans. By the end of it, the Ottomans attempted to negotiate a surrender, the Polish declined, and they were forced to retreat."      "The fighting went on for another four years before the Holy League--which Poland was part of--managed to win. I don't want to lay it on too thick, but 'lucky' is an understatement; that was something the history books here will probably talk about. Not to mention that we're not out of the woods yet."      Neon finds her way to Shanna and Thea. "Hey," she says, balancing her soup on one hand to wave lightly with the other. "It's been a while since I could talk to you two." It doesn't escape her notice that they aren't arguing or at odds with each other, but there is a better way to put it than the most obvious way. "You look excited..." she ventures with a smile. "I heard a little on the way over. Who's Juno?"
Petra Soroka	"My understanding is that my Sephirah focused on matters that the General deemed important rather than what I deem important. I apologize for their inept sense of priorities."     Petra turns her head slightly towards Angela at the phrasing of 'Sephirah', both because it can theoretically apply to her now, and also because it applies to no one at all. Petra, and Gebura, are patron librarians, and the Sephirah all 'died' when they were put to sleep and deconstructed after the war. She's also, guiltily, conscious that she did less than nothing to prevent Lugh from leaving either; she wasn't even there when he made the decision. "It is very fortunate that this happy accident resulted in the demise of an enemy General."     Petra looks away, guilty for being there instead of guilty for not. "It was pretty convenient, yeah. If he hadn't been there, then... getting caught would've meant forcing them to change their supply route, but it wouldn't have really been a... win."     It's just simple math, emotionally. Preventing the supply of an army is something abstract but useful, and trading away Lugh couldn't possibly be worth that even if it saved thousands of lives. Killing a general advances an objective, so it's just one life for another. ... Hopefully not, though.     On the stew situation, Petra politely refuses. Doing so causes her stomach to growl, but it's a moral imperative, she thinks. If she eats, she'll want to eat. To maintain the purity of her willpower, she has to only eat any food when she's fully planned on it, or else convenience will worm its way into her psyche and undermine her spirit. "Here. Maybe you can have this one uninterrupted. Just unwrap and eat, no fork or knife needed."     She can't help it, though, when Audrey unwraps that burger. Her eyes whip in that direction at the first crinkle, forcefully enough at her upper torso twitches in response, pupils contracting. She effortfully wrenches herself in the opposite direction, tugging at Angela's hand to bring her to sit down by the fire. Ignoring the burger as a moral imperative has the side benefit of also being able to ignore Audrey. 'what counts as drawing'     A little vibratingly-stressed with the addict-trembles of her determination, Petra latches onto whatever she overhears from Clarine and Rutger. She blurts out, to fill the space, "I heard if you only put the sword halfway in and then stay still it doesn't count as drawing."
Lilian Rook	'Conservatively, 40,000 men dispatched by the Ottomans to raid the Polish countryside. For good reason, too--the countryside was undefended, and the Polish could only scrape together 400 men to defend it.'     "I could take four-hundred men easy." Lilian says, smiling ironic-dismissive, trying to copy Miyamomo's 'I could block that' habit about movies on purpose for levity's sake. "Now, having songs sung about me; that would be something. Much more so than posts."     Lilian briefly stops, stunned, considering whether any of the places she saved and left have done that alread. Or written history about her. Or made art. Or anything, actually. How would she know?     'I heard if you only put the sword halfway in and then stay still it doesn't count as drawing.'     "Don't be embarrassing." Lilian says, rolling her eyes. She quietly laughs anyways, though. "You can't say that sort of thing while you don't have a real appreciation for the kinesthetic appeal of the sword. It just makes you sound like a guy."
Petra Soroka	"It just makes you sound like a guy."     "Huh. Isn't that just because it was a rude joke...?" Petra knows better than to suggest something like the tendency for men to be the ones who know about swords to Lilian. She looks down at her hip, where a morphmetal hilt is plugged into a sheathe, a contrivance that she only ever uses while in Elibe.     "And I *do* use a sword... though actually, I don't, um, *get* it like you do. Even with practice I still couldn't really manage in a fight if it wasn't EGO or the Silver. So I'll shut up."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel, entirely uninvolved in the conversation until now, rambles the first sword-related thought that comes through his mind around a few mouthfuls of hard bread: "Did you know the median brain's body-map thinks a sword is a kind of very weird, long fingernail?" Thanks.
Lilian Rook	'Huh. Isn't that just because it was a rude joke...?'     "Do you take me for someone that shallow?" says Lilian, raising an eyebrow. "Being funny is a feminine trait. You're not following me." she says, setting aside her bowl. "You sound like a guy because you're casting the sword as phallic imagery and the scabbard as yonic, assumed to be obvious to everyone a priori before you make the actual joke; about Mormons. Reducing the concept of 'drawing your sword' to the coupling of a passive recipient and a violating actor makes it so obvious you know nothing about anything."     This may, in fact, be the most detailed and serious opinion Lilian has ever expressed about gender roles and symbolism where people can actually see it. By lightyears, even. Clapping off her skirt cloak, Lilian removes and folds the latter with a sigh, and walks over to Petra. "Give me that." she says, pointing at the hilt on Petra's waist, but not allowing her the personal space to remove it. She says it like she's taking the mouse away from a computer illiterate relative. "I'll show you how stupid you look." is said like it's an obvious synonym for 'show you how it's done.     "Look straight ahead. Put your feet apart to match the placement of your shoulders. Slide one half-step forward with the foot on your dominant side. Lower your center of gravity until it stops feeling wobbly."     Lilian's hands press down on Petra's shoulder. Her heel presses on the inside of Petra's right foot and scrapes it across the ground to settle in some designated place she can see as well as if it were painted on. One hand touches her waist, over the scabbard, and tilts her left side partway back towards her. "Disengage the tension in your calves. Unlock your knees. Don't turn them to jelly; you should be feeling as if you're stably supported by your bones instead of your muscles."
Marigold	"So now they're fearing future ambushes if they continue to use the warp gates."      "They think warpgate travel is vulnerable? Hopefully no one shows them otherwise."      "It is. Maybe not for individuals, but for armies, it's a gamble," Cecilia says, looking back in surprise. "Marching your troops through a succession of unsecured territories, largely blind, each with its own choke-point... a general's nightmare is to be exposed in all four directions. With those 'warpgates', one's practically exposed in five."      Roy slowly chews on the fact that Cecilia sounds right, but that this wasn't common sense to a combat-trained Audrey, and arrives at...      "The Otherworld really is a peaceful place, isn't it? I mean, on the whole." Directed at Audrey, partly, but everyone, really.      "A long time ago, there were two kingdoms from Earth..."      Roy soaks up the Ottomans and the Poles with rapt attention, eyebrows climbing his forehead at arrowheads-as-bullets. But it's Cecilia who chimes in first: "The Dame-Commander's quite right. It is about time something went our way." "... Is it?" "Hm? What are you saying, Lilina?" "Well... it just so happened that the Otherworld portals opened up right as Bern was winning. And that Odette was here to revive my dad Hector and Father Lucius..." Roy catches on: "And that you were imprisoned with someone who knew of Arcadia, even." "Well from where I'm standing," Cecilia says with arms crossing, "a coup evaded my notice until it snatched my country out from under me, my colleagues all turned out to be traitors, and just when I had my chance to throttle Galle the direct descendant of Hartmut personally showed up with Eckesachs in-hand to beat my head in. So forgive me if I don't feel particularly smiled-upon by the Saint." "Hm..." "... Ah, sorry. Nevermind it."      "I don't really play chess, someone get Merlinus to handle that kind of metaphor!" "Hm? What's chess?" Merlinus says. "It's a game they play, I've heard." "Oh. Well, sounds a bit unserious, doesn't it?"      Seeing Odette in her injured-and-rattled state, Lucius's smile turns almost pained with over-tenderness. He pats the spot on the other side from Sophia, inviting her over, and then delicately puts his arm behind her lower back if she comes. "Back already... you're brave, Odette. It doesn't still hurt, does it?"      (Sophia tries on the latex gloves, and looks relieved when they do, in fact, shield her from Maltet.)
Marigold	"Have you found any.. Uh. Anything out about Maltet"      "What do you know about Maltet's origin and history, Father?"      "Ah... the origin of the weapons is contested, Madeleine," Lucius says, happy once again to be distracted. "Shanna and Thea might know more of its history, being Ilians. I know it was held by Barigan the Faithful, once, who founded Ilia after the Scouring. Ilia's knights still uphold his image... of course, he was too large a man to ever ride a pegasus. Like Galle, I suppose."      "It's just... the end of their era, I guess. Their last hurrah, you know?"      "Maybe whatever deep workings Iðunn's up to...?"      "We may even be using up the last dregs of that ancient magic in the world."      Lucius nods solemnly. It's Sophia who answers. "Athos told me... Forblaze, is weaker now... after the Scouring, and Ending Winter. The other weapons, probably too... but... if Iðunn is 'fixing' the world, then... she's making them better again?"      "Just too slowly to matter," Lucius nods, touching Maltet's glowing cracks thoughtfully. "Even if waiting a decade might make the Divine Weapons a bit stronger, it won't be worth it. The Demon must be recovering, too. At this rate, though... I wouldn't be surprised if Maltet doesn't survive its next use." He moves to hand it to Madeleine, reverently.      "I heard a little on the way over. Who's Juno?"      Both of the pegasus knights turn and beam at Neon (and wave at Audrey!), although Thea a bit more reservedly. "Neon! I missed you... oh, Juno's our older sister! She's the coolest pegasus knight ever-" "After Sigrun, maybe." "(I don't care if Sigrun's strong, she isn't cool!)" "Alright, alright..." "-And she's an important lady in Edessa!" "... Don't think we're nobles who've had it easy, though. We're commoners. She married a local lord just before the war," Thea clarifies. "But Zelot's out there on the front lines somewhere, and Juno's at home, so..." "... We're a little worried for her, now that Bern took over. I heard they might have her locked up." "She wouldn't want us worrying for her, Shanna. She's always worrying over us." "Mmm..."      Several people ask about the plan in Edessa. "Of course, Angela." But Cecilia looks to Roy- that's his circus, not hers- and the way Roy shifts, a little uncomfortably, says there isn't as much of a plan as he'd like.      "If Lugh's evaded suspicion, then he's evaded suspicion," he starts, and then hesitates. "If he's dead, then... well, he's dead. The most urgent case is the one where he's been imprisoned, because Bern wants an explanation why there are two Raighs. Flamel gleaned that Castle Edessa's cellars are being used as a dungeon for Bern's prisoners, and that there might be local resistance with a way in."      "It's a lot more densely-occupied than most of Ilia, though. We can't afford to just march on the city. And General Cecilia's army is moving east, but they won't get here in time to help Lugh... we'll have to stay under Bern's eyes and make contacts who can help us break in." All of that still feels like far too little scaffolding. He knows it, and he shifts, and takes the burger from Audrey with a grateful look- something else to keep his mouth occupied.      "I'm sorry. That's all I can say for now," he finishes lamely, and then bites down, getting ketchup on his cheeks. "... I do like those meat paste buns." "Burgers, Roy." "Burgers."
Marigold	It doesn't take him too long to notice Petra flinching away from it, and he carefully slices the burger in half- wrapper and all- before offering her a part, sort of inadvertently waving it under her nose. "I'm sorry, are the soups no good for you? Otherworld food is more familiar, I guess..."      "I apologize for their inept sense of priorities."      "Ah... no. It's, alright, Lady Angela. What a surprise to see you in person," Lucius struggles out. He takes on that pained-kind tone: "While I would've protected Lugh over chasing Murdoch. myself, if I could have... I think Lugh made it clear what he would have wanted your soldiers to do. There's no need for me to forgive you, Roland."      He might really believe that. But it hurts, too.      "The one who activates the orphan crusher is me, not them."      "Pard-- excuse me? The orphan crusher, Lady Angela?" Lucius practically coughs, from behind her. Chad, off to the side, forces himself not to laugh.      "... I figured I owed you a little something."      Echidna startles, mid-struggling with Dieck over whether one axe is sharper than the other one and who should get that one in her little contest, and then smoothly abandons that to take the fizzy lemonade and wipe her brow like she's just been doing hours of hard work.      (She hasn't been. She's practically been goofing off.)      "Well now, thank-you. If everybody I saved was this nice I'd be swimming in it," she says, laying one heavy arm around Audrey jovially and popping the bottlecap with her thumb as she sits. "Do you do this for all the gallant heroes, or just for me?"      "What are you harassing Rutger about this time?"      "I heard if you only put the sword halfway in..."      "That's just it!" Clarine pouts, wheeling around on the intruders as Rutger broadcasts a low-intensity 'save me' signal with her eyes. "She's being a hypocrite about her code!"      "Don't have one," Rutger says, and is ignored.      "She told me she drew her blade halfway out to kill some soldiers, and Neon told her not to, so she sheathed it again! And that that 'doesn't count', so she can still say she's never drawn it without killing anyone!"      "I don't say that," Rutger says, still ignored.      "Huh? What's that have to do with sounding like a guy though? Rutger and Petra both sound really pretty."
Nobunaga	Roy explains the Edessa situation as it stands, and Nobunaga listens though it doesn't really look like she's paying much attention when her eyes are on the stew she's barely touched. She honestly looks lost in thought, an image that's only broken when she finally speaks up.     "If you cannot march in with an army, sneak in and make a new army," the warlord states plainly.     Glancing up, she expands the idea, "A small group sneaks in and makes contact with the rebels you mentioned. We might have to do some 'chores' to prove we're trustworthy. In the end, we get the resistance on our side. That includes not just their people but their information and contacts."     Raising her free hand, Nobunaga offers, "We'll be able to make more informed decisions from there; but my ideal outcome would be to turn all of Edessa against the occupation force. A full-fledged Ilian rebellion would cripple Bern's influence in the region."     It's similar to what she had tried to initiate at that first village, with the benefit of there already being a resistance cell in place (apparently).     Clarine argues about Rutger's code, which Rutger denies. Nobunaga's attention shifts sideways, "Speaking as a samurai, it's not drawn until it's completely free of the saya." Lilian's giving an impromptu sword exercise to Petra, prompting a laugh from the little warlord. Her mood is brightening already.     "You used a spear when you dueled with me, but it pays to broaden one's martial horizons!" Asiding more towards Lilian, she adds, "Do you have any idea how many of these people I've offered to teach the way of the sword? You can probably guess how many accepted."
Angela	Angela worries about the psychological well being of Petra but while she would agree 'Sephirah' can theoretically apply to Petra, it isn't really the title that Angela thinks of first when she thinks of Petra these days. But she IS upset. She does not take Lugh's rescue as given or inevitable. Similarly, she is aware that throwing Lugh into a wood chipper would be worth inflicting a vicious blow against the strategic and tactical capacity of Bern but in her opinion this is as much a war about the sort of world to live in rather than just a military conflict--and she knows what happens when you are careless with the children at hand. "It is always a pleasure, Father Lucius. And I am sure he did. Nevertheless." She uses NEvertheless like it's her word on the subject despite the absence of explanation. Roland winces visibly all the same despite being told he needed no forgiveness. "You're a better man than I, Lucius." He says, completely honestly. Strangely, he says it's more like a fact of life than a platitude. ''Some discussion about the Divine Weapons'' "The Divine Weapons are as strong as they are because of the spirits that imbue them, correct?" She seems thoughtful about that for a moment but is distracted, for a bit, by Lucius asking about the orphan crusher. "Ah, it's a long unpleasant story." And because Angela is an AI that can lie. "I don't mind telling you." She would, but some part of her wants to preserve whatever positivity the priest has for her. She DOES approve of Roy having taken more of a hand in the 'war effort' even if this isn't really 'the war effort', exactly, since it's more a personal rescue for one person but it sort of blends together in Angela's mind. "I see. Gebura unfortunately stands out but Roland looks like anyone. I'll leave him with you to assist in the rescue." Unfortunately Angela also stands out and Petra throwing up bird feathers mid mission would probably be ... bad. She pats Petra on her shoulder gently. A show of reassurance. "Thank you for bringing me here, Petra. I felt this was a situation where I needed to pay a personal visit though--perhaps I was a touch too concerned. It seems like there's a beginning of a plan after all. Thank you, Roy." She pauses, "I'd like to try something with Maltet. As an experiment." When Petra is ready she'll make her way towards Maltet. "...Since it's already in a sorry state, this is suitable for an experiment." She reaches out with her hand and then snaps her finger--her eyes widen as even then she's able to pull a page out from the weapon. This answers a question that she's been wondering, but that little shimmer of light fades some as the page turns from light into stack of paper. "I see. So it is possible even in cases like this."
Odette Raskins	"The one who activates the orphan crusher is me, not them." That specific phrasing gets Odette to look right over at Angela. She should be horrified by that, but she isn't, and that seems to confuse the EMT. Isn't Angela supposed to be the boss of her corporation? Shouldn't she be more heartless? The fact that she's also asking about the plan to rescue Lugh and Raigh puts a conflicted smile on Odette's face. "A good one...?" Odette murmurs to herself quietly as she starts on her bowl of stew, finding it easier to bolster her spirits and feel even more confused about that. It certainly doesn't hurt that the stew's coming at just the right time for her, either. She's really particular about the way she eats it, too, biting off a bit of the bread to get it opened up before stirring the stew with it and letting it soak that all up. "But you really worked a wonder with her. Thank you." "You did good, too! I-I would've really been in trouble if not for you, Father Lucius, General Cecilia all working so fast." Madeleine gets an awkward chuckle out of Odette, and the EMT's smile settles a bit more naturally as she takes another bite of that stew. "I-I mean, my hand's back where it should be, and my eye's just kind of sore instead of gone. That'd be pretty tough to do even for a top-notch surgeon." She adds, looking back over at Lucius and Cecilia with the same grateful smile. "the Ottomans and the Polish" "Th... That big of a difference? Whoa. When you put it that way, I-I guess we really are pulling off something amazing." Odette lets that go to her head for all of two seconds before remembering how badly she got hurt just by walking in a straight line, and then she forces an awkward chuckle before munching on her bread again. "Well... Y-you guys are. Fighting dragons, weapons from the Scouring, beating back armies. Just need to.. Um. Get out of the woods before anyone can really relax, yeah." "I could take four-hundred men easy." "You could? Wow..." Odette comments after Lilian, going from awestruck to a 'yeah, that tracks' kind of knowing nod. She can't be that surprised after seeing Lilian at work, "Mhm... Oh. I-if you want songs, maybe Hibiki or Miss Regulus could help? They came up with that new stuff pretty fast, if.. Um. If going back to another place you've saved isn't an option." She pauses to wonder about why that would even be the case, and to get more bread in her face. She's making sure not to dip too much in at once, so the hard part of the bread never gets too soggy. "Did you know the median brain's body-map thinks a sword is a kind of very weird, long fingernail?" "M-mixing those two up could be real dangerous. If someone tried picking their teeth with one, or scratching their ears..." Odette laughs lightly at Flamel's trivia, pausing again to think too hard about that. "This must include... Er. People with nails that really are just swords, right?"
Odette Raskins	"The Otherworld really is a peaceful place, isn't it?" "K.. Kind of, yeah. Where I'm from, anyway." Odette starts to answer Roy, pausing to think a little about why that is, and how much to really tell him without accidentally scaring him. "I-I'm from a place that's really spread out all over, and a lot of it is controlled by the Company. It's pretty peaceful, but it's also kind of... Locked down? Like..." She really wishes she had the Operators' way with words right about now. "Like if you couldn't eat enough or survive for long unless you did enough to make someone you couldn't see happy about you following their orders, and nobody really knew you could fight back." "Back already... you're brave, Odette. It doesn't still hurt, does it?" Perking up a bit more at Lucius' praise, Odette shakes her head quickly and clenches her jaw for a moment to stave off the dizziness. "N-n-not at all! It's okay now, yes. Um. Another week or two, and I should be able to take these off!" She replies while taking a seat beside Lucius, holding up her bandaged up hand and flexing that arm a little to try and reassure him even while she feels her face burning at his arm going around her back. Sophia trying the gloves on and said gloves working also proves to be a nice morale boost for the EMT. Everything's coming up her way today! "Ilia's knights still uphold his image... of course, he was too large a man to ever ride a pegasus. Like Galle, I suppose." "It almost sounds like.. M-maybe Barigan was Galle's inspiration because of that." She suggests, trying not to think too hard about what Barigan might have looked like with Lucius right next to her. "And the pegasus knights, too, if they're training to become strong defenders of their homelands like he must've been? Although if Maltet was used in the Scouring, then he..." Remembering what she had seen of the old heroes way back when has Odette uncertain of how to feel once again, and she can't quite figure out how to finish that thought.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel feels somewhat confident: "I don't think Lugh is dead. I trained him. Not just counseling and psychonautic healing. Being a psi-cadet means knowing how to work within systems, stay unthreatening, avoid getting killed by systems of Censors. He made this choice because..."     He rubs his face a bit, letting frustration get the better of him. "He made this choice because I taught him what he needed to know, to feel like it wouldn't kill him to do this. And I suppose that was right, but I sure wish he'd waited until I could run his assessments first and put him through official work. Or something more suited to magical talents instead of psychic ones. But he's run around dangerous minds enough to be able to run around dangerous situations..."     "A small group sneaks in and makes contact with the rebels you mentioned..."     Flamel raises his hand. "My specialty. But we're going to have a tough time doing that in the middle of a capital. Personally, I'd say less of a full-scale rebellion and more restoring whatever teams are in those cellars and doing all the damage we can. At this point..." He scratches his cheek awkwardly. "Continent-wide attrition has gotten so far that Elibe is starting to run out of physically war-ready men and women. We're looking for existing teams, ones that have survived a lot until now. And something for them to hit that will give the Lycian League a chance to advance on that route fast."     He plants his hands on his hips, thoughtfully. "If I were Lugh, right now, or if Lugh's picked up my training well enough, then he'll already have some groundwork laid there. More than we could put together in an improvised way." His expression defocuses a bit. "We really should trust Lugh on this one."
Desire Stars	I could easily take 400 men.     "Come on now. No need to be modest," says Ace with his distinctive smug smile.     The Otherworld really is a peaceful place, isn't it? I mean, on the whole.     "Yes and no," Ace eventually decides. "It's rare that a world is engaged in war of the scope that we're seeing here. But it does happen. My people live in relative peace, now," he admits. "Even so, there are people there who were alive when we were at war--people who had friends or neighbors or relatives that died to terrible weapons of mass destruction, or who threw their lives away for a very mortal man. Around the world, there are people who lived through that war, from one country or another, from all walks of life. The peace that exists on my world now is a very fragile thing. Many of the most powerful nations have terrible weapons in reserve, and even the peace we do have doesn't reach everyone." Ace mulls it over with a spoonful of stew.      "Remember Fibernia?" he asks with a frown. "Earth has a few places like that, and lots more where people aren't so much forced to work with armed guards as they are kept poor to keep valuable resources cheap for rich countries. The people in countries like that don't know about the fighting in other places, and a lot of the time, they don't want to." He shrugs softly.      "I've lived through my share of wars, from a few different perspectives. So maybe I'm biased. But it's hard for me to picture the Otherworld as peaceful when I see signs to the contrary more easily than most. Or maybe it's that a lot of worlds are really good at brushing it under the rug." She wouldn't want us worrying for her, Shanna. She's always worrying over us.     "It sounds like you three are really close," Neon says, smiling fondly. "So you shouldn't feel guilty about worrying about her," she asserts with a nod.     "I mean... it's possible to overdo it, but, you called her a knight, and you think of each other as knights, too, so... to me, it sounds like you all accept that you can make your own decisions." Something about saying that out loud seems to take some of the wind for her sails, but Neon is aware of that herself, and quickly course-corrects away from those thoughts, brightening up effortfully.     "I promise to help you make sure she's safe."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"I wouldn't be surprised if Maltet doesn't survive its next use."     "It's definitely the most beat-up of the Weapons we've got," Madeleine agrees as she carefully accepts the spearhead. "I'll get it fitted to a new haft, and do my best to be cautious with it."     She reaches out with her hand and then snaps her finger--her eyes widen as even then she's able to pull a page out from the weapon. This answers a question that she's been wondering, but that little shimmer of light fades some as the page turns from light into stack of paper. "I see. So it is possible even in cases like this."     "Yo, what?" Madeleine exclaims. "Lemme have a look at those." She scoots around to peer over Angela's shoulder at the papers. "Might tell us something useful."     After she's satisfied her curiosity about the contents of Maltet's page, the weapon goes into her backpack - better not keep it out, lest she gesture too broadly with the instrument and make its 'last use' be giving Sophia the nick of a lifetime.     "You did good, too! I-I would've really been in trouble if not for you, Father Lucius, General Cecilia all working so fast."     Madeleine shifts uncomfortably. "You're, uh, you're welcome?"     The huntress hears talk start up of plans for Edessa, and takes the opportunity to drift over to Roy. "Make contacts... 'the Ilian resistance' is a bit abstract, but if we can get a name or whatever of someone to look for, I'll be able to find them. 'Course, making friends once we've found these folks is a different matter. Maybe Flamel can help with both parts of that?"
Audrey Basque	"It is. Maybe not for individuals, but for armies, it's a gamble," "The Otherworld really is a peaceful place, isn't it?"     "I-- guess that makes sense. I suppose I'm looking at these things from the perspective problems seem to be solved by small groups of powerful people more than armies, more often than not. It might be a bit of a blessing that Bern is operating on a larger scale."     But peaceful? It's been anything but, hasn't it?     "Statistically I'm sure most worlds are... peaceful, sure. And yet most conversations and places I get to go are centered on the worlds that aren't. So it hasn't felt like it at all. It's not all *wars*, mind you, but--" Ah. Did he mean...? "My upbringing was comfortable in a place isolated from conflict. So until recently, all I knew was 'peaceful'. But it's not really."     She doesn't elaborate.     The corkboard still isn't filled up. "Hm? What's chess?"     "You don't have chess here? It's actually... as games go you couldn't hope for a more tactical one," Audrey idly rattles off to Merlinus and Cecilia. "I have a set on me, if you'd like to learn? Though it takes a very long time to master, and the ability to think ahead multiple moves." It's... somewhere in her cloak, for sure! Among the dozens of random things she's got stashed elsewhere. It's actually been a moment she's played, but it's something her father kept pushing on her. "... I do like those meat paste buns." "Burgers, Roy." "Burgers."     "Haaaa... he's not entirely wrong. It's meat paste, at the cheaper places. And it's still meat paste at the more expensive places but they're better about you not noticing." Petra being weird.     Well, Petra's been weird for--     Since...     Petra's always been weird, but it's been worse since that night, and then got worser last week. Though if Audrey intended to make a note of it, the desire to is quickly stamped out by the sword-chatter and Lilian's proximity. Don't keep putting your hand on the stove, right?     Though the outfit--     Audrey mutters under her breath a bit, pulling her phone out of her cloak. Tap tap, swipe... messages... there's hers... scroll up, up... uuuuup. Ah-- there's the... r-right.     Audrey reddens and shakes her head. "Do you do this for all the gallant heroes, or just for me?"     Audrey flinches, suffering damage, and being caught completely by surprise when Echidna sits by her and wraps an arm around her. She fumbles with her phone to put it back in her cloak like the brick of shame it is.     "I-I haven't been saved often enough to tally it up yet. Isn't it just the least I can do though?"     She doesn't move, evidently a bit spooked and stiffer now.     BE NORMAL. ABOUT THIS.     "Ah? A lot of people, though? I guess that's not-- surprising, with how long this war has been going on, but how long have you been fighting?" "Do you have any idea how many of these people I've offered to teach the way of the sword? You can probably guess how many accepted."     Audrey raises her voice a bit, to shout towards Nobunaga. "You led with offering to teach me how to *behead people*! That creates a-- that's-- d-don't do that!" insists the girl currently learning to swing a sword from Gebura, of all people. Her life is something.
Odette Raskins	"It doesn't still hurt, does it?" Instead of finishing her previous thought, Odette's mind instead swerves back to a less pleasant direction. Once she's (mostly) gotten over being so close to Lucius physically, she remembers that pained look she's seen on Lucius' face quite a few times already tonight, and that brings her mind back to the glimpses she had seen of him in-between flashing in and out of consciousness during the fight. The axe flashes in her mind again, and Lucius can practically the tension in her back spiking for that second. It reminds her of what's been keeping her up, and there's a slightly guilty look crossing Odette's face. "... Actually. Um. Father Lucius... H-have you ever heard of someone losing their magic? Like... After getting injured, and then it stopped coming out right? O-or at all?"
Lilian Rook	'The Otherworld really is a peaceful place, isn't it? I mean, on the whole.'     "It depends on where you go." Lilian says, trying for levity, if just barely. It's a bit odd with her hands on Petra. "It was at war, everywhere, for nearly twenty years, until the last decade. Even then, each region may enjoy peace and ignorance that a neighbouring region can scarcely dream of. Somtimes even regions of the same region." she says, glancing at Audrey meaningfully. "Where I'm from, perhaps somewhat more than one in one thousand nobles, counting youth, know anything about warfare. Those of us who take up that responsibility just have to be that much more disciplined to make up for it."     Straightening out the alignment of her scabbard, so that the exact meeting point between hilt and blade rests on the top of Petra's hip bone, Lilian says, six inches from talking into Petra's shoulder, "I take these natural warpgates that you find, and not any of the other ones that I know of, because no matter how unlikely, there's no guarantee that some too-clever asshole hasn't put a bomb right in front of it, or has fifty archers and ten anima mages ready to fire; not unless this army is already there. The Concord polices their Warpgates so well because they're the single best place to assassinate a member."     'Well... it just so happened that the Otherworld portals opened up right as Bern was winning.'     "King Zephiel walked head first into Iðunn right as he hit his most misanthropic rock bottom. This war started because fate conspired for it. If luck conspired to even it up, that's fine by me." Lilian says, firmly. "Try to avoid thinking about how things could have been worse if you were unluckier. Almost always, things should have been much better if you had even an average amount of luck in the first place."     'Oh. Well, sounds a bit unserious, doesn't it?'     "I'll show you a much better one." Lilian interjects, a tiny bit excited. "I got Lord Roy to play, and he seemed to enjoy it. I'm certain General Cecilia would approve, even."     'of course, he was too large a man to ever ride a pegasus. Like Galle, I suppose.'     "That sounds kind of mean. When you say it that way." Lilian says, impulsively. She purses her lips for a second of reflection. "I don't know why." She sighs. "I think we'd better save Maltet for what we all know we'll need it for, then."     'they won't get here in time to help Lugh... we'll have to stay under Bern's eyes and make contacts who can help us break in.'     "A prison break, then? Just like old times." Lilian says, smiling slightly. 'Old times' meaning the beginning of this campaign, albeit. There were a string of those, at first. "It's gotten much more complicated, since then."
Lilian Rook	'And that that 'doesn't count', so she can still say she's never drawn it without killing anyone!'     'I don't say that'     "I think you might be conflating something." Lilian says, with a little grimace, and goes no further. "That holds up from my perspective, though. You can't kill someone with a half drawn blade. No sane swordsman would tell you that a blade halfway-sheathed is ready for battle. Besides, are you going to start staring at her sword all the time and monitoring it for when it gets jostled even slightly out of its usual rest? If 'drawn' isn't 'all the way', then how many inches of blade is the cutoff?"     'M-mixing those two up could be real dangerous. If someone tried picking their teeth with one, or scratching their ears...'     Lilian spares an instant to stare at Odette's nails and look grossed-out.     'Come on now. No need to be modest'     "I didn't say only four-hundred." Lilian snorts back.
Petra Soroka	"So forgive me if I don't feel particularly smiled-upon by the Saint."     "She also did attack your city with beams and lasers," Petra reasons. Remembering that Lucius is listening and in a bad mood, she hastily adds, "But then she apologized afterwards so who's to say whether our luck is good or bad." "Oh. Well, sounds a bit unserious, doesn't it?"     "That's true. Parsons is extremely unserious. *I* don't know anything about chess, because all *my* time goes to *important* things." In the last week, most of Petra's free time has been spent goofing off with an electric guitar she bought on impulse. But an electric guitar is music, and practicing music is essential for cultivating your soul, and chess is a silly little game with no intellectual value at all. "Do you do this for all the gallant heroes, or just for me?"     Petra doesn't bring any attention to herself, but Audrey might be able to feel a glare burning a hole in her back. There's not a glimpse spared for Echidna, simply a handful of seconds where raw, messy contempt looms behind her like a physical force. "Even if waiting a decade might make the Divine Weapons a bit stronger, it won't be worth it."     Petra curls her arms around her knees, craning her neck to look at Maltet while seated on the ground. Receiving a lecture from Lucius this way isn't exactly an uncomfortable position for her to be in, and her old guy sympathy meter has fully returned to Lucius so she's compelled to be sttentive to him.     "Yeah, I mean, last time the world was full of magic and all, it wasn't *great* for humanity. Not that I wouldn't want to see it, but it's probably to her benefit more than ours... and also if it's still 'decaying' after a thousand years, then the scale going in reverse probably isn't too fast either." "The orphan crusher, Lady Angela?"     "Goof ass machine." Petra's resentment for the orphan crusher grew considerably over the course of ten thousand years of using it with Angela. It's maybe the one fixture of Lobotomy Corporation that she's unreservedly glad is gone. "I used to throw bottles and trash and stuff into it to see what'd happen." "I see. So it is possible even in cases like this."     Petra's eyes widen at the page in Angela's hand. "Huh-- is it because it's, like, a storied weapon? You can't use your EGO on any old rock, right? Is there a narrative requirement...?"
Petra Soroka	> BURGER     Petra tries to provide some collaborative insight on the plan in Edessa, but the moment that Roy brings that burger near her, it's like all capacity for rational thought is wiped out of her brain. Her pupils constrict and a shiver wracks her whole body, fixated on it to the exclusion of everything else, with the scent of barely warm meat overpowering everything, from the smoke of the fire, other people's voices, even her own sense of presentation and composure washed away in an iron-tinged haze. Unconsciously, she shifts onto her hands and knees to move a tiny bit closer to it.     "N-no, it's really okay, it's," Petra swallows hard, voice slightly hoarse. She tries to press her lips together and mumble to keep drool from spilling out while coming across as normal as she can. "*So* easy for me to get a burger. It's harder for you." "Give me that."     The one command that overrides all others, even in a near-delirious haze: Petra staggers to her feet, putting a little distance between herself and Roy, and only then processes what Lilian's actually asking for. She angles her body into Lilian's grip with the effortlessness of being puppeted, sliding into position as guided weightlessly like Lilian's shadow.     Petra's ritual of mindfully breathing the air around herself in order to attune her mind to the environment is, naturally, incomparably effective here. A focusing breathing exercise has never so clearly made an impact on a swordsman's stance until now. Lilian's hand on her waist can mold her like clay, cementing muscle memory a thousand times over. "Mm, mhm."
Nobunaga	> "You led with offering to teach me how to *behead people*! That creates a-- that's-- d-don't do that!"     Closing her eyes, Nobunaga lifts her shoulders in a shrug with her stew bowl balanced on one hand, "It was only one time and I haven't brought that part up since. Every time it's been mentioned after that, it's always one of you squeamish types hemming and hawing about how terrible I am. As if you forgot what 'Demon King' and 'Warlord' really mean."     Returning her meal to her lap, she glances sidelong at Audrey, "Seriously. I recognize that the time of my first life was a particularly savage era of war. What I've long considered 'normal' no longer is; and honestly that's a good thing. My approach is changing. I've been able to adapt and grow. Can you?"
Audrey Basque	"Where I'm from, perhaps somewhat more than one in one thousand nobles, counting youth, know anything about warfare. Those of us who take up that responsibility just have to be that much more disciplined to make up for it."     "I--"     Cecilia and Roy already had it figured out anyway.     It's not a secret.     She thinks about the wording, looking at Cecilia and Roy, after a brief glance at Lilian. "I do appreciate your insight. It's something I need to be better at. Shifting my thinking, like that. From 'what works for me' to... well, not that. 'The logistics of moving an army' weren't something I'd ever thought I'd need to know much about."     As for warpgates and their safety...     "Where I work-- well, one of the places I work at. There's a band of... bandits, you'd call them bandits. They keep trying to take control of the warpgate. They're not very good at it, but it's always a *bit* stressful to go through it. But I have to admit, of the hundreds of gates I've crossed, that's the only one that's been like that." CONTEMPT BEAMS.     Audrey couldn't possibly hope to separate herself from Echidna no matter how hard she tried, so she just sits completely straight. This isn't anything! Why would this be anything? It's lemonade! She's got-- her cloak is full of them? Hell, she even has... "*So* easy for me to get a burger. It's harder for you."     "Do you want one?" Audrey finally manages to speak to Petra. Today, at least. Outside the context of Library work and such.     "I have a bunch. I wasn't sure who'd want one."     It really is easy to get a burger. "My approach is changing. I've been able to adapt and grow. Can you?"     "All I'm saying is, more people might pick you up on that if your pitch wasn't... that." Oh god she's trying to tell Japan's most famous warlord how to warlord. Being in Echidna's grasp doesn't seem like such a concern anymore.     "Anyway. I'm adapting. It's going... fine."     Super fine. Stellar even.
Lilian Rook	'Mm, mhm.'     More importantly, Lilian is teaching Petra what a stupid, ignorant, presumptuous little idiot she is about swords, and that topic just can't wait if she expects her to exist around so many noble knights and sympathetic heroes for any longer.     "Memorize this posture. It should be easy to fall into, because it's the point of least tension and strain. You're flat on your feet. Your weight is pointing downwards, directly over and in line with your lead foot" Lilian lightly kicks the back of Petra's right foot with her toe; once, and it scrapes forward a centimeter, then twice, and it doesn't move at all. "You shouldn't be coiled up like a spring before you even touch it. This stability is where you have the furthest 'runway' to generate torque from."     Her language is imprecise; a metaphor that she's just expecting an amateur to understand, but Petra's utterly pliant obedience makes it easy to soak up the meaning. Beneath the spoken layer, Petra can feel what she means; like Lilian's focus is so singularly on that sword which isn't hers that her intent is actually palpable as secondhand sensory information. Something like a very faint sort of psychic 'heat', this close to her, brings piecemeal thoughts to Petra's mind; the sense of her entire body rocking forward, without resistance, dozens of individual muscles firing in sequence to propel a 'wave' of force down through the bottoms of her feet. The ground somehow tingles through her shoes, hyperawareness of the terrain leaking through as if they were soaked with water.     "Thumb inside the hilt, nearly against your body. Let it rest; don't push. Grip it like you're holding hands. Not so loose it can slip, but loose enough that your wrist can turn and absorb its momentum." Lilian continues on, laying her fingers over Petra's, guiding them to the hilt of the morphmetal sword, and placing them into exacting position. Her left hand squeezes Petra's around the upper fifth of the scabbard, without her saying anything different.      "Angle the scabbard like you're aiming it at something. Turn your shoulder to aim at the same target. Imagine the invisible line extending before you. Use your left thumb to angle the scabbard outwards, so you can use the horizontal mobility of your shoulder and elbow. Prop it up; don't clench your wrist to pull it from above. It should rest on your thumb, not hang from your fingers. You're not winding back a baseball bat; your body is a loaded gun."     Then, "Breathe." Lilian say, as if there were somehow an alternative. She has to be so close to Petra to hold her posture steady that she can feel her follow her own advice against her back. An exact model of the exact depth of breath, gathering oxygen and energy in her solar plexus. "On three, pull back lightly with your left hand, and sharply with your right. Three to one balance. At the same time, breathe all of it out; use your chest and not your throat to exhale. Push with your left toe from the shoulder down, and your right leg from the waist down. Lean into it. Three, two . . ."
Lilian Rook	She doesn't even have to say one; the exact moment is like a flashbang lighting up behind Petra's eyes. The sheer intensity of crystallized focus she can feel from Lilian, secondhand psychic, feels like it jolts her body into it; like an electric shock. The force emptying her lungs from below is as if it's propelling the sword out of the sheath. The backwards motion of the scabbard is like a slide recoiling, the throat clearing the point just before it leaves her side. The speed insisted upon makes it impossible for her to really decide where the blade is going to go at all; the natural articulation of her arm does that for her, one point of least tension after the other, almost drawing the arc; up to and across her eye level, swung back down and across to her other hip, stopping at the height of her ankle; all on its own. Like the whole motion were inevitable. Almost mathematical. The 'swoosh' of air is absent; the tone is like the shivering rim of a wine glass. She doesn't feel the air.     Lilian doesn't tell her not to lock her arm at the end, but her intent is fully readable from psychic smoke at that point. The momentum of the sword in her hand rocks her wrist back, then forth again, without any real strain. "Chase it." Lilian says, pulling Petra's fingers around the hilt only lightly, in the direction of the recoil, and following her motion makes it feel as if the blade almost bounces right back up into the centerline of Petra's vision, as if in the moon's gravity instead of Earth's. She pulls Petra's left hand from the scabbard at the same time, up to catch the hilt; not 'grab' or 'grip', but 'catch'; the sense of distinction feels important; and now a perfect line of silver divide's Petra's vision diagonally in half.     The slight vibration of edge clearing sheath still tingles on her fingertips. Having stepped forward with her left foot already is an afterthought; it's the most natural thing in the world to do, in order not to fall, derived from the first principles of every other motion.     "Pommel down to your waist. You should almost be wearing it on your other side. Your following grip should melt into your center of gravity. Support it equally in both hands; pull down with the following thumb and up with your lead fingers." She doesn't seem to have even noticed that she's stopped using 'left' and 'right' as distinctions. The cloud of mental signals doesn't contain them. There is only the intense sensory impression of the weight of the blade, juxtaposed against lines of hard and soft, tensed and relaxed, heavy and light, which are incidentally a human body.     Lilian doesn't have to describe anything else at all. It feels so intuitive already. A twitch of her hands would bring a third of the blade down into someone's neck. Reaching out as if to grasp something would instantly propel the point into it instead. The edge divides the world into just two halves, and gesturing towards either would strike aside anything on that whole side of her body. It feels, somehow, more 'neutral', in some way than just standing at rest.
Lilian Rook	"The weight you're feeling on your lead finger, where the hilt feels like it'll swing around and slap your hand if you let go with the following hand; focus on that completely, lift your thumb, and very slowly, release your grip. Turn your lead hand up and flat. Just trust the blade. It won't tumble out of your grip because it can't." Lilian whispers, almost religiously. Following her instructions, vaguely like an act of faith for her tone, causes the sword to lurch forward, teeter in the direction of the ground, and rock back again, until it rests exactly level at where the guard and blade meet; a fulcrum that feels as obvious as her own wrist, now; one she can still feel as Lilian murmurs "And back down . . .", pressing Petra's left hand gently back down on the pommel, and returning it to a forty-five degree angle.     The distinction of 'lower and upper half' between hilt and blade is gone; the lingering impression is that Petra's grip is the exact center of the blade. Her proprioception extends throughout the entire weapon through her fingers. Without a distinct purpose to any given part, there is only an edge, a point, and its weight; the heart of the sword is where her human hands touch it. Lilian slowly retracts her hands from Petra's. She leans back a little ways, lips moving further from her ear, but still not far. "Do you get it? This thing is more delicate than a razor. More surgical than a scalpel. A soldier would think of gathering up power and swinging it. A swordsman knows that every cut is like an incantation you utter with each part of your body."
Angela	''Goof ass machine.'' Angela breaks character to mutter, "Oh we need more 'negative emotion levels, what's a positive emotion, I've never had that." She is not exactly fond of the orphan crusher either. She looks over to Petra to add, "Hm... I haven't considered a solely narrative-focused experiment. I should try that. Theoretically so long as it leaves an impression along the collective unconciousness, even if that ripple is small--but that is just theory. And in this case, there are spiritual remnants within the weapons. It is akin to drawing a page from a ''Book'." She leaves the capital letter in to further express her meaning. ''Yo, what? Lemme have a look at those.'' Angela stares at Madeleine in shock that she'd just be so up front about it, but ultimately she acquiesces. Her concerns about privacy don't extend to Maltet, at least not yet. She notices Odette's look. She in fact turns to look right at Odette and just looks at her. She's learned from life that many an individual will freeze up just upon being acknowledged. Odette isn't horrified, perhaps, but Angela is already assuming Odette is judging her. Them's the breaks sometimes!
Marigold	"... it's, *so* easy for me to get a burger."      "Oh, ah, um, alright," Roy says, hesitantly withdrawing the burger half from Petra's face. The poor boy is visibly unnerved by her pinprick-pupilled refusal. "Good... luck?" "Yours's got cooties on it," Merlinus comments a moment later. He'd had his back turned. "... Huh?" "Hah! Don't worry about it, Lord Roy."      "... but it's also kind of... Locked down?"      "Statistically I'm sure most worlds are... peaceful, sure."      "... a lot of worlds are really good at brushing it under the rug."      Roy chews on that, slumped forward, and then finally looks up. "So, it's more that tension builds and builds until there's no release for it *but* violence. And so, on average, there's not much violence happening at once." He chews a moment longer, then sighs. "... So, like Elibe."      'of course, he was too large a man to ever ride a pegasus. Like Galle, I suppose.'      "That sounds kind of mean. When you say it that way."      Lucius blinks his eyes clear. "Was it? I apologize. I... don't believe I understand."      The text Angela extracts is as worn and fragmentary as the spear itself. But still, it's a story. --to be self-pitying when the world is on fire. Bramimond doesn't even have a soul. But even if it sounds silly, I mean it. There's always been something missing inside me. I wasn't built quite-- --be brave if you don't feel pain. Easy to be a saint if you have no desires. Everyone else has this burning purpose and I just have 'might as well'. I'll be their rock. That's easy. But if saving humanity doesn't fix me, will anything? ... No, I can't be thinking like that. Flowers grow after a-- But it isn't fair. -- people who got to be people for free. Bramimond's the only one who didn't take it for granted. What they were selling--      ... To hear the rest, you would've had to have been born a thousand years ago.
Marigold	"The Divine Weapons are as strong as they are because of the spirits that imbue them, correct?"      Sophia shakes her head, uncertainly. "Maybe... it's the other way around...?"      "You're a better man than I, Lucius."      The priest looks distantly warm. "I'm not sure of that. But I hope that God will give you all the time you need to blossom, Roland."      "I don't mind telling you."      Lucius scrunches his shoulders in and looks away. "Angela. If you'd... like to discuss your painful past with me, I'd be honored to." (Do they even have a word for 'sin'?) "But not now, please."      He's already thinking about orphans getting crushed a little too much.      "I-I would've really been in trouble if not for you, Father Lucius!"      Oh no. Now Odette might almost make him cry. He shyly looks aside, covering half his face with a palm-out hand. "I'm... so relieved that I could help someone, Odette." He does his best not to make the 'someone' sound heavy. "Much as it hurts me to see you wounded, I'm glad you're not maimed."      When she sits by him, Lucius takes her good hand and squeezes it protectively tight.      "I don't think Lugh is dead. I trained him."      "Before I go," Cecilia says, with an apologetic look to Lucius...      "Flamel. Place yourself in Lugh's shoes, with the survival training you've given him. He's under watch by military officers who will turn on him when they discover his ruse, and he has a twin they'll soon discover was never missing. If he's overtly suspicious, he knows his twin will suffer in his place."      "You're the only one who can tell us. What, exactly, should he do? He's a smart boy, so I've got a hunch that's what he's been doing."      "I-I haven't been saved often enough to tally it up yet."      "You haven't, huh. You the strong, capable type? Or just fresh meat?" Echidna says, with a little pat-pat on Audrey's far shoulder with her back-crossing arm, before knocking some of the lemonade back. God, it's hard to tell if she's laying it on thick on purpose or if she's just like this passively.      "Been fighting all my life," is her first response to Audrey's question. Then, more seriously: "About half a decade, since my village burned down. Before anybody was fighting Bern. How about you?"      "I'll show you a much better one."      "Oho? Well, you can teach an old dog new games if he's bored enough," Merlinus jests to Lilian. "Catch me when Marcus is telling me about him sailing to the Isle of Valor for the fifteenth time, and I'll take you up on it! Hahaha."      "Speaking as a samurai, it's not drawn until..."      "Besides, are you going to start staring at her sword all the time and monitoring it for when it gets jostled even slightly out of its usual rest?"      "Come on!" Clarine pouts, grumpy about being ganged up on by older women. Her beflanneled arms cross around her healing staff. "If I'm around someone with a sword, of course I'm going to pay attention if it's drawn even a little bit. Even a little twitch could be all the warning I get that I'm in danger! Maybe you swords-- swordspeople see it differently, but I'm not like that!"      Rutger has quietly decided to stop processing words now. She does watch Lilian's demonstration on Petra very attentively, though.      ". . . Art," she eventually says. "Never heard it in words before. Thanks," even though it wasn't for her benefit.      "Rutger! You're not even listening to me!"      ". . ."
Marigold	". . . So you shouldn't feel guilty about worrying about her."      Things are much more peaceful over on the other side of camp, where Shanna and Thea look at each other and smile sheepishly, defused.      "You're right, Neon. Juno asked me to look out for Shanna, so... I guess I felt like all my 'care' had to be saved up for her." "Huh? She did?" "Well, not in so many words, but..." "So she didn't!" "She sort of asked me to! ... Thank you, though. I mean it." "Yeah! I've always looked forward to her meeting Dieck. And now I can look forward to her meeting you, too!"
Angela	Angela looks down at the text. She runs her hand across the pages with a sort of gentleness she struggles to show to people. As Petra is pulled towards Lilian, Angela inevitably follows along. The longer she sticks close, the longer she can be outside of that Library. And she's getting better at sticking with Petra. Of course, she has to wait for the lesson. She watches it for a spell. And Angela, of course, doesn't get much out of swordsmanship or lessons about swordsmanship. But she quirks her head thoughtfully at the Dame Commander as if she's studying all the same. It probably isn't swordsmanship though, it couldn't be, Angela has expressed that while she would like to learn how to defend herself, she holds no love for such focus and mastery of battle. She wouldn't be able to understand without slamming a page into her body and even then-- But she still watches. "You're going all out, Dame Commander." Angela says. And then xtends the pages to Lilian, offering her the opportunity to take a read of it. "Unfortunately, it seems that the damage is severe, but I feel ... the gist of the story is still present." She then turns her head, curling her hand closed in front of her as if image training. Probably not for swords though.
Audrey Basque	"You haven't, huh. You the strong, capable type? Or just fresh meat?"     "... somewhere inbetween, I suppose."     Audrey has to stop to count.     A few times by Petra...     A few by White...     A few by Roland...     A few and a more notable one by Kukuru...     Echidna the one time...     Odette and Natsuki once...     Lala...     ... ah.     "I... perhaps underestimated, actually. I may owe a few people lemonades after all. Some more than one."     Audrey's gaze lowers to the floor.     She's not even sure how to reply to Echidna's follow-up statement. Not by lying, that's for sure.     "... seven months?"     Echidna can feel Audrey deflate in her grip.     She's not doing this for her village that was burned, or to save people, or even any good reason at all. She started for the stupidest most petty and empty reason and-- now what?     "I'm sorry. For your village. I hope I'll be able to help you all prevent that from happening to others', at least." "Memorize this posture."     The noblest of knights is showing another noble knight how to stand, and move, and *be*, all the while a gallant knight has her arm around Audrey.     This is the most danger she's ever been in.     Audrey's attention shifts to Petra and Lilian, and there's more to her senses than just her eyes and ears. This is a nice, calm little isolated spot of the world, without too much background noise. It isn't enough that Audrey should see and hear this lesson, she needs to feel the subtlest shifts that Lilian's body (and Petra's, sure) cause on the spacetime curve. She explained it to Petra, before-- it's not just about sensing the ripples that things cause. It's about being the sheet that curves under everything else's weight and movement. Like being pressed on by every little shift.     Of course there's a world of difference between practicing the sense in controlled environments and then using it near...     Feet scraping against the ground-- hands moving along the scabbard, tenseness building, until the swing and...     Audrey yelps semi-quietly, closing that sense off in a hurry and jolting her attention back to Echidna as urgently as she can possibly manage.     Looking just a bit flustered.     "I-- ah. Have you eaten? I do have more of those burgers. I don't think you were there, actually, have you ever even tried one?"     It's an easy fix if not.     Anything to recenter herself.
Flamel Parsons	"What, exactly, should he do? He's a smart boy, so I've got a hunch that's what he's been doing."     "Well, it's definitely no clairvoyance, but if I was going to imagine what Lugh's doing..." Flamel says, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers to his temples... Behind him, a cartoonish version of Lugh, a near-identical mirrored version of Raigh, and several Bernish soldiers, plus Sigrun...     "He wouldn't do this if he didn't have an idea of how to get a message to Raigh as he approaches. He knew Raigh for years before the boy vanished -- there's *something* they share, something they can do. So on the way in, he does it -- something he can disguise as a magical mistake. Dark magic isn't well-known, so maybe..." The cartoonish Lugh misfires some magic into the air, then sheepishly does a sort of eto bleh gesture at his fellow guards. Strange symbols in the sky... "He pretends something went wrong with his 'dark magic', and uses that to hide a hidden signal to Raigh, a signal that Lugh is approaching. Anything that they used to share. Maybe Raigh realizes he should look into how Lugh got captured, and realizes that he should hide."     Over in the castle, the cartoonish mirror-Lugh scampers under a table while other Bernish soldiers rush to Lugh from the other side and carry him somewhere else... "From there, Lugh will try to find any kind of moment of privacy, so that Raigh, hidden, can locate him. They'll exchange information. An 'intelligence sync'." Between cartoonishly dense waves of Bernish soldiers, Raigh sneaks into the room with Lugh and they flood it with speech bubbles.     "Lugh will do his best to make connections with Raigh. I've taught him a lot about calling up old connections and repairing them, and I think that's what he'll focus on. From there, Raigh and Lugh will figure out which one of them is best to work on Lugh's plan -- he'll learn about the prisoners, and he'll expect me to be on my way to help him. So one of them will be going to the prisoners..." One rushes off to the cellar. "...And one will be going to 'get to work', and deal with the consequences of things, and try to make sure nobody who saw him around the castle is ever in earshot of Sigrun when she's talking about this. Sync intelligence, but make sure the enemy can't sync theirs."     Both cartoonish Lugh/Raighs blink, at the top of the castle and below. "One will be working on the prisoners, one on getting into an advantageous position -- but with Lugh obviously working in our interests, and Lugh being able to tell him about what happened with Niime, I think he'll have two bodies and one workable ID to work with. He probably knows more stealth than Raigh at this point, but Raigh will know how to sneak in that environment. It's fragile... But it's a lot to work with."     A heroic cartoon of Roy and many fellow Lycian League members rush from the side, as both Lugh/Raighs start kicking the castle down from inside. "And he'll be waiting for us to get to work on our end. We'd better not let him down."
Lilian Rook	'Was it? I apologize. I... don't believe I understand.'     "Ah, pay it no mind, Father." Lilian says, managing a delayed smile. "I figured out by saying it."     'You haven't, huh. You the strong, capable type? Or just fresh meat?'     "Even 'fresh' is perhaps giving too much credit."     'Catch me when Marcus is telling me about him sailing to the Isle of Valor for the fifteenth time, and I'll take you up on it! Hahaha.'     "Even better. I'll teach you both so you have something else to do." Lilian says, like she's being soooo detached and cool, except she's bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.     'ven a little twitch could be all the warning I get that I'm in danger! Maybe you swords-- swordspeople see it differently, but I'm not like that!'     Lilian somehow manages to find a way to raise an eyebrow 'vehemently'. "From your own allies? Us 'people of the sword' aren't quite so unstable as to warrant that, don't you think?" she says, using a hand to toss back her hair for a moment. "You're just avoiding my question. You absolutely know that half-drawn isn't drawn; you're finding an excuse to bother Rutger." Come on. She said 'sound pretty'. Though, Lilian feels a bit of pride at that, considering she taught Rutger a significant amount.     'Never heard it in words before. Thanks'     "Mm?" Lilian blinks in Rutger's direction, stops to think for a second, then looks faintly embarrassed. "I'm certain not everyone would agree. But if you have the graces of it, then there's nothing to be gained by assuming it must be something ordinary, much less ugly."     "Despite everything, you and I have the opportunity to perceive something very few others can even conceive of. Remember to cherish that, or at least marvel at it, every once in a while."
Petra Soroka	"This stability is where you have the furthest 'runway' to generate torque from."     The nature of Petra's psychic power, and thus her entire being, is one of 'boundaries'. Her mind is structured, broken down and build up from shards, in facets and cracks reaching for the solar cycle, such that the one perfect moment of the sun's alignment can refract through and illuminate the whole construct in a single color. The psychic radiation of Lilian's intimate presence blooms in absorption, greedily drank and magnified, where gripping Petra's wrist is indistinguishable from moving it herself.     The only motion that Petra really takes on her 'own' is to nod to show that she's paying attention, but even that is so minimal that it's barely visible, while Lilian can feel it as a near-electric twinge, vibrations in the spider thread and wordlessly laden with emotional intent. Besides that, her amateur swordsmanship is rewritten word by word with Lilian's speech as well as by neural impulse and muscular contraction. Like tuning a violin, each string of prepatory tension in Petra's body responds exactly as Lilian intends for it to, and builds Petra's intuitive sense of the result. "Breathe."     It might take Lilian some time to notice, but the ingrained sensation that she's acquired from a decade of practice is much more literal for Petra. Her sword is a single material from end to end, undifferentiated Silver both in the grip and all along the blade. It's both warm and soft, slipping into Petra's hand when she grips it the same way the contours of human bodies fit together, and pristinely sharp-- Petra, and Lilian, feels the entire length of the sword while it rests in the sheathe.     Flamel's theory was that the brain thinks of a sword as an extra fingernail: Petra's, as the Silver, feels like a third arm, an angular cluster of fingertips, and teeth. "Lean into it. Three, two . . ."     The process of drawing it is tactile across the entire length, too. Assembled like a Rube Goldberg machine, each part functions in motion exactly as intended, snapping back like a drawn bowstring triggered by Lilian's intent as a fuse. The sword, leaving the sheathe and splitting through the air without resistance, feels, in its tactile relationship to the world, as if it's in space, surrounded by a kinetic vacuum that shields it from physics and the simple properties of cause and effect.     Lilian hardly needs to say it out loud for Petra to act on the recoil. At this point in the dance, she can intuit the next step, catching the sword in front of her and coming to a charged, natural rest. The sword, kinestetic as it is, is a body on a tightrope, precisely balanced because there's no place else it could be. "Just trust the blade. It won't tumble out of your grip because it can't."     It's hard to tell how much of Petra's ease in catching on to each manipulation of the blade's weight is because of Lilian's advice and how much is Lilian herself bleeding into Petra, but Petra learns best when blurring those lines. Her breaths are a little fast, in exact time with Lilian's, but unfalteringly even while she focuses on the movement, following through on the ritual like a priestess at the altar. "Do you get it?"     "Uh huh," Petra barely vocalizes breathing, instead tipping the sword along geometric arcs as if the lines were visible in the air, demonstrating without Lilian's active assistance. A few seconds later, she reasserts slightly more control over her consciousness to properly respond.     "Yeah. The shortest line between two points is the one with the least resistance. I get it."
Nobunaga	> "...even a little twitch could be all the warning I get that I'm in danger!"     "Come on, now," Nobunaga tilts her head back with her eyes closed, though somehow also regarding Clarine in the same motion, "Have we given you some reason to be on your guard around us? If you're facing an enemy, you should already be on your guard."     She keeps her eyes closed while just listening to Lilian instruct Petra in the act of the draw. The words are not what she would use; but the feeling is right. The relaxed position without straining the muscles or tendons, letting the bones do what they're meant to. The way the saya is directed. The building tension and, in a flick, the sudden release. She absently finds her own hand on the hilt of her katana; and chooses to just rest it there.     "Parsons said it was something like a 'strange, long fingernail' in the brain's internal body map... Heh," Those red eyes finally open, eyeing the Psychonaut though not addressing him, "To one who has achieved a competency in the blade, it *is* an extension of one's body. It's a far sillier way to describe the same thing, but the understanding is effectively the same."     "To some samurai, the sword is not only an extension of their body but also their soul," Nobunaga muses with a hum, "I understand that is more common from swordfighters under Tokugawa; it wasn't much of an idea during the Age of Blood that preceded the old Tanuki's shogunate."
Odette Raskins	Lilian spares an instant to stare at Odette's nails and look grossed-out. Thanks to job needs, Odette's nails are extraordinarily boring! They're clipped, clean, and there's not even a hint of nail polish or gel on any of them. There's a distinct possibility she's never even tried the stuff. Angela looking at Odette That gets Odette freezing up as expected, staring right back at Angela for the first few seconds just to make sure she knows what's going on. Is Angela looking behind her? No, she's definitely looking straight at Odette. The EMT blinks slowly in apparent confusion, then holds up her bread-holding hand for a single nudge of a wave while her gaze keeps shifting from side to side. Eye contact is still hard when she's intimidated, nervous, and many other reasons. "I'm... so relieved that I could help someone, Odette." "You are? Ah... F-Father?" Odette's a little confused at first hearing Lucius' response and seeing that look on his face. She actually holds her gaze on him while he's looking the other way, too, and she inhales through her nose just a bit without noticing herself doing so. It's only when he continues speaking that she finally remembers to breathe normally again. She really wants to see that face again sometime. "Y... You, too, huh?" She asks once she gets her bearings together, sounding just a little more somber as she confirms that. Even though Odette doesn't notice Lucius masking the heaviness in that 'someone', she's still good at projecting her own insecurities into what she's hearing. "W-well, you've already done... I mean, you're still doing so much." She wiggles her bandaged arm for emphasis. "This wouldn't even still be on if not for you, so... Thanks. R-really! I think you deserve to be gentler on yourself, too." As composed as she might sound at that moment, though, Odette immediately goes right back to wide-eyed, sitting stiffly, and hand-sweating profusely when Lucius takes her hand. This may not be the day where she re-learns how to relax.