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Owner	Pose
Marigold	EDESSA, ILIA'S CAPITAL      On a bustling street, not too far from the Castle.      Roy and his compatriots had finally passed through the warpgate link Flamel excavated from the late General Murdoch's mind. It conveniently lands new arrivals near Edessa's outlying fields, shielded by snowy-boughed pine trees from prying eyes.      The day is bright and cloudless, the inch-deep snow of the last night has just halfway slushed, and the ocean breeze stings in the nose only a little.      Edessa is a seaside city, built by fertile (if still cold-scoured) farmland and a sheltered inlet port. The coast is naturally where its buildings are richest and densest; coming in from the inland side, as you are, naturally grades through dirt roads and sparse clay-sealed-masonry homes; past city walls with disinterested guardsmen; into cobbled streets and two-story wooden buildings with peaked roofs. Near the center, it's still less grand than Etruria's capital was, but not by much.      It's a far, far cry from the tiny hardscrabble farming villages you've seen from Ilia so far.      As the city gets denser, so too does the occupation. It starts with just a couple of pegasus knights soaring overhead, or a Bernish spearman in half-dress haggling over cabbage with a farmer. Signs of it intensify through three red-clad soldiers cornering an alleged pickpocket in an alleyway, to a bar where windows reveal most of the clientele are suspiciously military-aged blonde men, to crimson-flagged masts jutting up over rooftops from the distant harbor.      Too many to feel comfortable picking a fight with. But they don't challenge you if you don't challenge them.      The place that Echidna indicated isn't far from the shadow of the great castle- an icicle-crusted structure overlooking the port from its cliff, it has its own smaller encircling wall to keep you out. Castle Edessa is tall and severe, looking truly ancient for the bleached smoothness of its barely-still-gray stones.      But you're not going up there, and down here, it's still warm and lively.      This street has become an impromptu plaza by some strange logic, at the expense of through-traffic, like a clogging vein. Not that the locals mind. About ten feet of the fifteen-foot-wide cobble street are penned with stalls on either side. The chatter of shoppers- a mix of roughspun farmers and finer-clad tradesmen- is a background hum to the cries of overeager hawkers and the occasional yells of giddy children.      Most of the merchants and goods are local; some aren't. The obscure Warpgate you took likely wasn't the only one Edessa has. Standing out from the beet-preserves and the quality boots and the silken clothes are Multiversal entrepreneurs selling imported chocolate bars, someone arguing about the relative value of handguns versus tomes, and a bedraggled lady with pink-dyed hair repeatedly trying to explain the value of a solar-powered Playbrick game handheld to skeptical shoppers.
Marigold	"Ah, my associates!" Merlinus, the jovial seneschal of the army, shouts while muscling his way through the crowd. "I thought you'd never come! Here, here. They were about to tear down your stalls, haha! It's all I could do to hold the space open... you know, real estate is how merchants live and die! Please, please, get yourselves set up."      Winking, he shows the way to three little wooden stalls for you to present your own goods, between his eclectic patisserie (genuine Etrurian-style pastries! nearly sold out!) and Echidna's stall for military surplus- pardon, for fine logging axes and whetstones. She glances over and grins, adjusting a wrapped package on her back that can only be Armads. No sense in getting caught off guard twice.      Roy presently hides his face behind a pulled-up scarf and is stacking crates in the back of his seneschal's stall. Across the street, Fae is similarly-disguised to hide her inhuman features, hawking handmade glassware with Igrene and Sophia- although Fae's already shattered one pretty-looking glass vase, and might do it again.      Next to them, Shanna, Thea, and Chad are posing as rural farmers in drab clothing, selling vegetable preserves and salted meat. Chad's ruining the illusion, a little, by hanging back behind the counter and staring iron-eyed at every mildly unusual figure in the crowd.      https://youtu.be/R-P05FMnFMM
Flamel Parsons	How does Flamel Parsons look, uh, normal? Well-- that's a really, really good question:     - He's got those heart sunglasses Tamamo gave him ages ago.     - He's tie-dyed a knockoff Sapient Heuristics promo shirt.     - He put some kind of jeans jacket over that.     - He's draped his body with a variety of dangly necklaces and belt-loop decorations involving plastic beads, chunks of broken tools that the caravan had lying around, and shinier fragments of the broken spy-plane that got crashed a while back.     - He got a temporary tattoo of one of the Watch's various highly-postable humanitarian fronts, but not one of the important ones. So it looks like he's stealing valor about a big event many years ago.     And importantly:     - Every few minutes his hands subtly move to prevent his hair from returning to its natural perfectly well-kept government-agent state, and he jams the ends of his shoes into the dust and dirt to prevent their encroaching polishedness and cleanness.     He's actually stuck with the gang this whole time, having a stall where he sells herbal mixtures of "dream fluffs" that impart positive mental force, and various handmade charms designed to "cleanse your negative energy", as well as assortments of ancient small psitanium trinkets like arrowheads (from a "genuine indian burial ground -- no, they didn't bury their *dead* there, obviously, they buried their arrowheads!") It's actually a bit of a problem that he's struggling to make sure they stay under noticable levels of function, because his psychic abilities seep into them and inundate them with real mentalist functionality. He's going to depend on the fact that this is totally absurd crank shit from another world.     A machine with a spinning radar dish hidden behind his little stall whirls constantly. He's looking for Lugh's psychic signature. Constantly.
Nobunaga	"My friend!" As soon as the reliable seneschal calls out, a short black-haired woman throws her arms upward in an effort to be seen in the crowd of much taller individuals. The huge guy behind her is someone none of the contingent has met before, nor is the even shorter girl; all three are clad as Japanese merchants though; pale blue haori with darker blue hems, held fast by thin white obi. The man wears big puffy white pants tied in just above the calves, winding down into white tabi and sandals; while the two ladies compliment the haori top with skirt-like hakama, white socks, and woodblock geta.     It's the colossus of a man with red hair who forges a path through the crowd; it's only once she's closer that the taller of the two women can be easily identified as none other than Oda Nobunaga; even her face looks a little different, though that might just be the little round pince-nez perched on her nose breaking up her appearance, "You really came through for us, thank you!" Excited and cheerful, Nobunaga grasps for Merlinius' hand to shake gratefully, "I know you had to fight tooth and nail to save us some space. I'll make it up to you later, ok?"     Raising a hand, she gestures over her shoulder, "Mori, Chacha, let's set up!"     The stall they claim is soon furnished with an old and reliable white tablecloth; it's seen better days but has plenty of life left in it. Spread out across it; small collections of matching teacups. These ones, white with ornate blue painted peafowl; those ones, black with red inlays of Kanji for Honor, Duty, Discipline, and Humility; another, marbled white and black cups which rely on the mixture of base colors alone to render their appeal. Similar sets for warming and sharing sake; and of course, a handful of quality teapots.     And little, fragrant satchels of green tea and herbs, all portioned to brew the perfect cuppa to enjoy with such affordable fineries.     Chacha takes care of the money-handling, keeping it all in a flat-round black teapot shot through with golden cracks which has its own little legs to stand on. Nagayoshi Mori, the guy who carried all of this here, sits in the back taking a break and occasionally unpacking new goods; and Nobunaga does all of the shouting and selling and arranging of merchandise; "Authentic ceramic tea and cups from the wondrous land of Nippon! Feel for yourself the delicate sophistication of the East!"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine's ordinary attire is hardly 'plain', so she assumed 'plain for Elibe'. She's exchanged her spiked leather jacket for a pale grey tunic, forgone the usual chainmail armor, and put on the woolen leggings she's gotten used to wearing in the Ilian climate. Over it all she's wearing a darker grey cloak, its hood pulled low to obscure her eyes. Her bow's on her back, so she's trying to pass as some kind of woodsperson - not far from the truth!     As for 'stuff you'd like to sell', it didn't take her long to settle on her choice of dried fruits and nuts gathered from the many worlds. As an organization dedicated to esoteric wildlife management and general outdoorsmanship, the MCRD has access to the most advanced gorp technology in the multiverse, drawing seeds and fruits from plants undreamt of in the realms of Elibe. Without time to compose specific mixes, she's just got bags of bulk ingredients, hoping to sell by the ounce or pound. Some are as familiar as macadamia, others have names even Madeleine herself struggles to pronounce.     On the way into the city, Madeleine's thoughts are distant. She's still pondering what she read on Maltet's page and her subsequent conversation with Thea, though she hasn't brought the weapon with her - simply being an otherworlder will invite enough scrutiny, and it's much harder to pass off Maltet as an ordinary spear than Armads or Durandal as a normal axe or sword.     Setting up shop next to Echidna, Madeleine arrays the bags in what she hopes is an appealing spread, the more colorful and exotic offerings nearer the front. Then she sidles up to Echidna herself to asks, "How's business?"
Audrey Basque	"Right! Right, so, you understand-- the implication my paper is circling around is precisely that. How could a person's fate be the same, whether you divine it from Elibe, from that accursed broken galaxy, or from the Hidden Continent? Oh certainly the delivery and messaging changes, but your *location* is circumstantial," Audrey drones on to Roland, as they approach.     "Which of course does not mean your location is *irrelevant*, it most certainly affects the reading's clarity, and sometimes the nature of the reading, but were I, or another skilled fate seer, to look at your future, I could do so from here, despite you not being native. Now this raises a lot of fundamental questions..." And on...     "... the nature of fate, magic, and stars..." And on...     "... an underlying metaphysical connection between skies, between different versions of the same star..." And on...     When Audrey comes into view, she's wearing the plainest clothes she could possibly find on short notice; blue jeans, brown boots, a dark blue blouse that's miraculously not frilly.     And a backpack, presumably 'of stuff to sell'.     She's all smiles.     She's also on a diet of painkillers and coffee, and that only does so much for her poor shoulders.     There's the slightest thing off with her steps, in that her feet lack a certain impact. Something about her gravity's just a bit floatier than it should be, which is totally deliberate on her part.     The approach to the castle, then diverting to a plaza, does make Audrey quiet down a bit, on account of the fact her rambling is absolutely on the possibly-crazy or at least fancy end of the spectrum, but also there's always time to finish her lecture to Roland later.     The stalls attract her attention, and Audrey actually nudges to Roland to stop by the PLAYBRICK STALL because she's curious. There's a non-zero chance she walks away from it with a new Playbrick. "Ah, my associates!"     Reaching Merlinus means being conscripted to sell things. In retrospect, that was SOMEWHAT expected. Out of her bag she produces... fabrics. A lot of fabrics, ranging from cheap to fancy, including a few sheets of dark blue fabric as starry as the night sky-- and good enough observers can even see the stars moving. That one, she'd be less inclined to let go cheaply, unlike the rest.     She's not much of a haggler; actually, short of the starry fabric, she'd really let anything go for peanuts, especially to those who look like they need it. She'll know to ask more of the fancy noble-types, though.     She'll take a break to say hello to Echidna once the initial setup is gone. "Mhm, mhm~. Axes, I see? How's is it going so far?"     She doesn't ask out loud 'why are we here'.     But she's curious alright.
Petra Soroka	<J-IC-Scene> (NPC) Echidna says, (relatively) keeping her voice down, "Hey. Meet up with us in about an hour. Plain clothes, and..." <J-IC-Scene> (NPC) Echidna says, "... bring some stuff you'd like to sell." <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "Normal stuff for Ilia or offworld stuff?" <J-IC-Scene> (NPC) Echidna says, "Offworld stuff is fine."     What an oddly difficult request for Petra to solve. Petra is, essentially, solely responsible for the provisioning of two entire city-like communities, in Hydrochoeria and the Library; the former is fueled by a wide array of machinery and robotics that Petra herself purchases and constructs, and the latter is propped up by her and Angela's contracts with the Concord and buoyed by trade deals with Trideag. This means, in a strict sense, Petra has a lot of wealth that is frequently moving around under her (or more accurately Heyalexa's) watch, but somehow when she tries to think of things she'd *sell*, there's suprisingly little excess.     In the end, though, 'surprisingly little' is a matter of percentage rather than availability. Like, she still has a whole-ass castle, still filled with her various pillages of Quicknest and wherever else. All she has to do to find an appropriate quantity of saleables is to wander into a mostly unused room and mash E to pick up a bunch of silver dishware and candle holders and stuff.     This doesn't turn out to have been the best selection of saleable goods she could've made, when she arrives.     Petra is, as Echidna requested, toned down from her usual slutty wear. She's gone shopping again, with an off-wite linen shirt laced up in the front with brown fingerless gloves, with traveling pants and boots secured by belts that hold a cute little pouch for her to store her compact mirror in. Wrapped around her neck and draped off her shoulders is a green cloak, bunched up into a shawl that piles up to her chin around her collarbone. Upon seeing how much more metropolitan Edessa is compared to most of the rest of Elibe, this all turns out to have basically been pointless, but... it makes her happy anyways.     The general run-downness of her outfit makes her collection of 'moderately pricy silver dinnerware' instantly suspicious, though. She's well-enough disguised as a local of the world that saying that she got it from a flying island that used to be populated by furries probably won't fly, even if someone else here maybe could've pulled that trick off. Worse, she's *blonde*, not blue-or-green-haired, and in this area of the world under this particular occupation, a 'blonde girl fleeing north with valuables from a castle hidden under her cloak' kind of points to one particular origin story. "Ah, my associates!"     "H-hiiii..." The time to walk through the city allows Petra to come to this conclusion before even seeing the army, priming her to be nervous right from the start. "Real estate, mhm."     So, Petra ends up sliding to the back of Marlin's stall to join Roy in the physical labor. Surreptitiously dumping her pile of silver off to the side and nudging it behind some crates with her boots, she (maybe a little humiliatingly) ducks over to help Roy by lifting the other side of a larger crate, helping him get it to the top of the stack.     Voice low, she says aside to him, "So, like, dungeons, right? It's gotta be?"
Odette Raskins	Odette's good at looking normal! She's still fairly nervous seeing so many Bernish soldiers hovering about Edessa while she's just walking right by them, but she's supposed to be here. She's here to sell things, after all, and that means she just needs to keep a brave face and broad smile on! Less attention, the better. She arrives dressed about as plainly as ever, too, with a light white jacket over a yellow sleeveless top and green skirt. Even her Company-issued boots and glasses have been exchanged for some older-looking work boots and standard glasses, although she's still lugging around her trusty carrying case along with a big gray duffel bag. Her left eye is still covered with a patch, though, and her hands are conveniently covered in thick work gloves to hide the bandaging on the left arm. What does help is seeing other stalls of Multiversal merchants, full of wares to be hawked and plenty of cover to not stick out too much just for being here. Hearing Merlinus, Odette raises her left hand in a quick wave before hup-hup walking over his way. "Ah, sorry for the wait! It took a bit getting through with all this.. Er. The merchandise for today." When it's time to bring out the sellable stuff Echidna directed everyone to bring, the reason for the gray duffel bag becomes clear. Odette opens it up on one side of a stall, revealing a whole bunch of useful-but-random junk that might as well have come out of a hardware store: Foldable crowbars, pocket fire extinguishers, tiny welding torches, regular-size welding masks, screwdrivers, wire cutters, bottles of glue, and several 2x4s that aren't actually 2 inches thick nor 4 inches wide. "Tools for sale! High tech and straight from the manufacturers, so the quality is guaranteed and consistent!" She boasts, making some rather broad assumptions about how little any of those things have actually been used before. She's not too sure how much to charge for any of these, either, but she'll figure something out if anyone actually asks about it. For the time being, she's trying not to draw attention to Roy's crew, of course, although Odette does cast a few curious glances towards Fae, Igrene, and Sophia's glassware stall. "Do you need any of those fixed? It might not be as good as it was, but it'll be... Uh. Unique!" She offers, waving one of the little welding tools like she might actually know how to use it properly.
Angela	Roland is feeling a little uneasy about Audrey today. Well, maybe he's a little uneasy about his understanding of kids. He only ever really studied up with books and talked to his wife about it. Maybe this is the gap between preparation and learning and actual experience. Maybe it's normal for the magic aristocracy kids to want to engage in arena death battles? It isn't the first time, of course, but generally Roland made sure to do the actual killing so she didn't have to but she kept coming back. Nobody made her. And unlike himself, she actually has things to lose. And to him, unfortunately, Audrey's basically still a kid even if she's started all this fighting way after he did. Maybe it's because she's so sheltered, he thinks, from some bizarre aristocratic Nest for magic users and then she dives right into the muck right here. Maybe she should've started somewhere a little less horrifying, like a Nest, where it's 'generally safe'. Experienced something like that before the roaming cannibal gangs? He sighs. Dying sucks too, honestly, even when he knows he'll be brought back, the sensation of having your head exploded by someone is just ... But he let it happen. OF course he did. It's not like he's fond of driving two young not-quite-yet lovers apart forever. It's the thing he is least fond of doing. But his soul was already as black as the void. But at least he knows why he didn't kill Angela yet. That's something, he supposes. A learning experience. He communicates with Audrey to encourage her to keep talking about astrology, but he's a little unnerved by how well she's doing. Did she want Lilian Rook to kill her or something? She seemed so despairing before that, but this feels...manic. "Maybe you should talk to that Matilda character? She's a diviner right? That's similar stuff?" He's dressed himself up as a food merchant. He's pulled his hair back and wrapped it in a do-rag and is wearing a plain white shirt and slacks and boots for long walking. There's an apron that says ''Grade 1 Cook!'' hanging around his neck. On his back he has strapped a wooden circular container that is no doubt holding all sorts of meat bun items and sandwiches. He wasn't told that he had to actually SELL THINGS so he figures they can be used for lunch later. Maybe Lugh will be hungry if they rescue him fast enough. ''Playbrick Stall'' There is a one hundred percent chance Audrey is going to walk away with a Playbrick. Roland approaches the stall and says, "Hey I'll try it out. How much." And he'll fork over the money and hand said playbrick over to Audrey. He doesn't even think about the fact that Audrey has infinite money and Roland decidedly does not. But... God, he's pathetic, he thinks. ''They were about to tear down your stalls, haha!'' "You're a lifesaver, man." Roland slots into the role with ease. "As thanks--" As he preps his stall he opens it up and offers Merlinus a meatbun. "My treat, since you saved my business." ''Flamel.'' Roland stares at Flamel. Okay, he thinks, we're all gonna die. Again. It's fine. He's getting used to it. Being stabbed to death is normal, it practiaclly happened to him all the time before he worked for the Library. He waves a hand over to Petra. "Want any, boss?" He holds up the carrying case so Petra can have her pick.
Petra Soroka	"Want any, boss?"     "Probably don't call me that here," Petra says to the suspiciously servant-dressed man, something that she becomes aware of immediately in the back of her mind. For a moment, she's lost in thought about the allure of the image of 'a runaway noblewoman hiding her identity among common merchants', and then she goes pale at the realization that she's Clarine-moding inside her head.     "... Yeah, I'll take one. One sec, though."     Looking out onto the street to check if any Bernish soldiers are immediately nearby, Petra slips across the backs of the Lycian stalls to (quietly) storm towards Audrey. Hopefully mostly obscured from street view, Petra backhands her across the face without any announcement, and then hisses under her breath with a glare. "Fuck you. I know what you are."     With a huff and a flap of her cloak, she heel-turns away from Audrey and back to Roland, plucking a meat bun out of his case and biting into it to hide her mouth. "Thanks, Roland."
Audrey Basque	"Maybe you should talk to that Matilda character? She's a diviner right? That's similar stuff?"     "Yes! I'd meant to, among a few others. While it's not entirely relevant to the heart of the thesis, it's still invaluable data points. Integrating the testimonies and results of other seers, especially those who employ non-magical means but still reach the same results..."     Roland no she'll never stop talking. "Hey I'll try it out. How much."     "!"     Audrey is enriched by this gift.     "Well you're generous today. Remind me to get you something. Ah, but what do you like... I truly *should* not be trusted to shop for weapons for you, I wouldn't know a good gun apart from a bad one."     She will figure something out.     "My most heartfelt thanks, Sir Roland," she also adds, twirling on a foot to half-bow to him. Not all the way. Her back wouldn't let her, despite her best effort to push through with a smile. "Fuck you. I know what you are."     Petra backhands Audrey!     Her smile doesn't break, and she brings a hand up to rub her cheek, managing a look right back into Petra's eyes.     She hadn't been able to in weeks.     "I think I missed that," she says of the slap, which certainly is something she'd... missed? What a word.     It's neither right nor wrong.     "Well, hi to you too, Petra."     It'd all but slipped her mind, really, although by her reckoning this one could be for anything, and not exclusively for what transpired the night prior.     But if it was...     Yeah, that'd make a lot of sense.     She gestures at the meat bun, curious. "How're the woods treating you? Is it the retreat you'd hoped it'd be?"
Desire Stars	Ace Ukiyo looks out from the balcony of a high rise. Tokyo spreads in towering panorama before him, cast in the bright afternoon sun. As pedestrians, cyclists, cars and buses alike move like blood cells through the city's arteries down below, his DGP-issued Spider-Phone buzzes with a notification. <J-IC-Scene> Echidna says, (relatively) keeping her voice down, "Hey. Meet up with us in about an hour. Plain clothes, and..." <J-IC-Scene> Echidna says, "... bring some stuff you'd like to sell." <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "Normal stuff for Ilia or offworld stuff?" <J-IC-Scene> Echidna says, "Offworld stuff is fine."     Far away from Tokyo, out of sight of anyone, there floats a temple; an inverted black pyramid, trimmed with gold, flanked by hovering ivory columns. Overlooking a vast desert, the Desire Temple looks all the more otherworldly for its place above the vast, arid emptiness, floating over a golden sea of dunes and below a cloudless blue sky.     The inside, much larger than the outside, has a number of facilities--but the one with Neon Kurama in it is the lounge, because it's better than being at home even when it's empty. Reclined on one of the plush red couches circularly arranged in the center of the lounge, she perks up when her phone buzzes, and smiles at the sound of a familiar voice. ---     Neon arrives in a goldenrod funnel neck coat with a striking chevron pattern, cinched at the waist with a brown leather belt sporting a fashionably big hoop buckle. Ace wears an outfit that similarly him-core, adjusted for the cool climate; tailored slacks and dress shirt in black, with a white leather wide-lapel waistcoat and a red paisley ascot tied jauntily about the neck for a splash of color.     Ace has paid a couple of locals to pull a pair of bellman carts, though he isn't enough of a dick to underpay them or overload the carts with his merchandise.     Neon has her own, similar cart, from which hang several racks worth of presently-protectively-bagged clothes and upon which rest a few boxes of assorted stuffed animals and toys which her mother will be very upset to learn are missing.     Ace, as it happens, is selling "Otherworld antiques, art, and fine wines. Luxury goods at affordable prices." Once his stall is set up, he generously tips the two helpers. There are paintings, sculptures, vases, and other curios that any appraiser can tell are no mere reproductions, from a variety of Earth cultures across an incredibly broad timeframe, and Ace can recount the story of each one. "This is a green diorite carving of the Aztec moon goddess, Coyolxauhqui, probably made during the reign of king Ahuizotl, about five hundred and twenty years ago, give or take. After a fight with her brother, she and her siblings became the moon and the stars in the night sky to comfort their mother."     "Hey, good eye. This is a fresco of Saint Ladislaus of Hungary, recovered from the ruins of a bombed-out church. Twelfth century, so, somewhere in the neighborhood of eight or nine hundred years ago. He and his brother fought against invaders from the steppes; he was loved for his virtue even before he was a king. Everybody loves a hero, right?"     Neon, meanwhile is selling "Otherworld fashions for every season! Toys and stuffed animals for the kids!" Yes, Fae can have one. "This is called a lavalier," she says. "Great for accessorizing with long, flowing clothes. Oh! Well, that's funny, this shirt is also called that, because of the little tie here. You can pair this with a blazer and trousers, kind of like this, for a professional look."     "I think these trousers would really complement your hair, and they're nice and wide, so they breathe well in the warmer seasons, too..."
Lilian Rook	<J-IC-Scene> (NPC) Echidna says, "Look, just don't look super rich or crazy, alright? I can't be--" <J-IC-Scene> (NPC) Echidna says offmic, "Sorry buddy, no refunds. ... Uh-huh. Well what did you *think* I had?" <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook breathes in like she's just been told to 'not look gay'. "Okay."     Life is a constant series of trials and tribulations for poor, innocent, rich and crazy girls.     Fortunately, Lilian has access to an older woman who used to be normal. In her household, no less! The amount of hurry she ended up being in means that when Lilian was asked to 'start somewhere', the best she was able to do was to put the wide-brimmed garden had she'd just taken off right back on again, but that idea ended up being more attainable than flogging fine jewelry anyways; it was Lilian's first idea, of course, but once she's actually in the market, she mutters a little "Guh. Thank you Cecilia." to herself once she remembers that she doesn't know the first thing about making or describing jewelry.     And so Lilian Rook ends up standing behind a quaint little wooden stall wearing an absolutely normal-style gardening hat with a cute kelly green ribbon, along with a slightly fashionable cream ruffle-sleeve top and olive-and-cedar woolen weather capelet, a brass-buckled designer women's belt from the sixties, a caramel-coloured swing skirt from the thirties layered on white linen, and sturdy leather gloves that are suspiciously well-fitted. With her hairpin incidentally fully concealed under a Hat Object, and having applied enough foundation to cover her scar, it could almost be considered a radical transformation, if it didn't sort of pale in comparison to the change in her attitude.     Once Lilian has found her place, laid out bags and trays and organized pouches of what she could responsibly not bother the garden staff with taking, and then set out dozens upon dozens of small to medium-sized potted babies, her usual businesslike confidence transfigures before one's eyes into something that could be considered 'shy enthusiasm' about it all.     Her acting is truly superb indeed, explaining ten million different types of obscure flower language terms and obscure medicinal purposes for plants that certainly don't grow here-- some of which only appear in textbooks about alchemy-- with the air of a reclusive homebody girl of some moderately wealthy family, hesitant around strangers and relieved to talk about the plants instead of herself. She'd win an award for her nervous glancing around, looking like she's waiting for some other shoe to drop. The old pelisse coat folded over her chair is a nice touch.     "Miss Echidna . . ." Lilian says, now naturalized to looking around so much that it doesn't look suspicious anymore. "I'm glad to see you here. And thank you for your help!" she adds, adding a little half-bow in a hurry, as if forgotten. "It sounded like there was something you needed before? Oh--!" She hurries a little ways to Merlinus, handing him a tiny bag sealed with a very pretty knot, saying something about "--cold weather--" before rushing back.
Flamel Parsons	<Okay, he thinks, we're all gonna die. Again. It's fine.>     "Don't worry!" Flamel pipes up to Roland when he passes by. "This is a common type of guy I know a lot of!" An inexplicable exchange for the average viewer. Interestingly, despite the fact that he just grabbed a surface thought Roland was actively thinking and near-saying, it looks like he got *nothing* from anything deeper, including nearer sentiments about pre-Library work. If Roland was looking for any confirmation that Flamel can only read his active internal narration and has no access to his history, there's a good moment.     ...shy enthusiasm...     Besides that, he's kind of struggling with seeing Lilian behave the way she is. He's trying to figure out if he should internalize this as a facet of her being, it's just that good. Briefly, the Parsons Institute attempts a test on his Lilian-tulpa, and finds that he can't imagine her successfully doing this outside of Elibe -- this might be the only place on the superplanet that could truly ask her to behave this way and get her to do so with something resembling ease.     ...a loud slapping noise...     He jumps in place, startled out of his staring and looking around in confusion, nearly knocking over a display of fancy purple crystals. Usually people slapping each other comes with surges of emotion, but he didn't catch any! For a while, he tries figuring out who just slapped someone somewhere with either zero emotional content or some psychic immunity, but eventually he settles on figuring that it was just something someone was doing somewhere with no feeling at all.
Angela	''Well you're generous today.'' "Ahh, I always wanted to give a gift like that. But I like cooking, so if you've got some stainless pans or something nice like that, I'd be thrilled." "Ah, sure thing, ma'am." Roland says, shifting to customer service voice as fluidly as water. He winces as Petra just backhands Audrey and almost picks a fight before remembering that would be very stupid and he isn't that hopped up on his own bullshit. He eases back down but he can't quite obscure his uneasy, "Uh, yeah, sure thing. Did I miss--actually maybe I don't want to know." Audrey is still smiling. Maybe dying broke her? God, he needs to stop thinking about this it's depressing him. "She might hit you again if you react to a backhand like that." He points out. "Sometimes it's better to oversell the hit you get, 'specially if you earned it." When Lilian arrives he gives her a small nod because well he didn't fight her so he's not particularly bothered by her presence. And more importantly, he's kind of marveling at her acting. He'd whistle in appreciation at how well she's selling it, but well--that wouldn't really fit HIS character. ''Don't worry!'' "Hello to you, fellow common guy." Roland quips. "Wait did you just--" He actually has no belief at all that Flamel, having upon read his entire backstory and life narration, wouldn't react exactly the same way as he just did. "It's not a good vacation home." He settles on.
Odette Raskins	Among the familiar faces, Flamel's is one of the first to get Odette's attention. She's torn on whether or not to greet him specifically, too, since she still remembers vividly how torn up he was about Lugh, and she also remembers that Bern's soldiers are still right around here. Luckily, he's brought enough weird-looking stuff that she's able to stop right on by to check that out! "Dream fluffs..." Better yet, it's something that sounds like it might actually help with her sleeping problems! Thanks to the power of makeup, the bags under her eyes are better hidden today than they were the last time she was around. "Do you take scrip? Or just credits?" She half-jokes to Flamel to stall a little, expecting the latter while keeping herself open to being pleasantly surprised. When it looks like there's no soldiers looking their way, however, she lowers her voice and turns back to him with a subdued, yet still concerned look. "... You holding up okay, Mister Flamel?" That slapping noise from places unknown gets the medic to jump in place, too, already ducking a bit towards Flamel's stall like she's ready to take cover from something. "What was...? Er." She's about to call out to see if anyone needs help with that, but drawing attention to whatever that was or anyone here is the last thing she wants to do. She settles for just looking around past Flamel instead of turning in the vague direction of that sound. Lilian's complete transformation, meanwhile, is one that'll eventually catch Odette off guard. As she takes a moment to wander around some more, the medic comes across her stall of all those little plants, marveling at the various flowers and herbs that she doesn't remember ever seeing in her own books. Not recognizing Lilian when she's there, either, Odette holds a hand up to try and get her attention when it looks like there's a lull in that glancing around without actually waving it or making a loud noise. She knows exactly what it's like to be nervous in new places, after all, and she's not going to be the one to accidentally scare someone off from a stall. "Hello, miss! Ah, when you're free, do you have anything for stress relief or sleep deprivation? The less common, the better."
Petra Soroka	"I think I missed that,"     Petra flinches back from Audrey, grimacing with disgust. She scrubs the hand that slapped Audrey off with her cloak, glaring at her with piercing, unflinching revulsion that increases with each second that she takes in Audrey's demeanor. Her hand drops to the pouch on her belt, like it's a sword, but she doesn't move to unclasp it.     "I know what you are," She repeats, lip curled in disgust. "And I know what gross little revelations you've been having, and I know what you're hoping to get your greasy little hands on, and I'm not going to let your sick freak mania slide by like it's an improvement just because you're *smiling*. No matter what anyone else thinks."     "You're not safe from me, Basque. So keep away from Lilian."     When she tries to scoff, it comes out more as a growl. To anyone else, it'd seem like an absolutely disproportionate level of anger, but the ghoulishly grinning effigy of a tourist that Audrey's become today is the enemy that Petra ideologically must most strongly devote herself to defeat: one that resembles Petra, from several years ago. The turnaround in her mood, the insistence to stay at the Library, the way she clung to Petra like Lilian said... Petra mumbles again to herself, while finally successfully tearing herself away from escalating any further with Audrey. "Gross...." "Miss Echidna . . ."     "Lilian!" And then nothing could be more of a change in her demeanor from that to spotting Lilian at the market stall. The delicate 'awe' that wipes out her scowl stuns her in place for a minute, adoring in a way that doesn't really break the disguise but sure does put a particular spin on it.     Petra proceeds to step around to the front of the stall and pull out a pouch of her own gold, hands-shakily counting out coins to purchase a little plant from Lilian.
Flamel Parsons	"... You holding up okay, Mister Flamel?"     "I keep on my routines." Flamel says brightly to Odette. She knows the nature of the stuff haunting him. "I'll be better soon, but I'm not horrible right now." He offers her one of the Dream Fluffs packages. Normally they'd be stamped out by one of Otto Mentalis' machines, but the ones he has here are wrapped in paper, twisted in twine -- and then gathered into a plastic baggie like farmer's-market cookies. "Try out my personal favorite flavor! 'Everything Will Be Okay Soon, After This Next Part'. It's a big hit." He beams brightly, with that perpetual friendly expression.
Nobunaga	> "Mister Flamel?"     > "Lilian!"         > "Miss Echidna . . ." Have these people *never* done something undercover?     The annoyance in her thoughts isn't carried on Nobunaga's face. What she does do, though, is speak up when Odette asks Lilian about plants, "Hooh~? Trouble sleeping? I have some teas which might help you out." Gesturing downward, she sweeps her hand over the little display of fragrant herbal satchets she'd set out, "Come, come, take a look for yourself! Soothing and relaxing teas have been a beloved part of my culture for centuries."
Flamel Parsons	Have these people *never* done something undercover?     <If it helps, statistically they're up against people who haven't ever caught an undercover spy!> Flamel's voice pops into Nobunaga's head, just rambling away in reply to what ought to be private sentiment. <I'd love to get everyone a lot of training and discipline on short notice, but ironically, being at ease is going to fly further under the radar than short but scary training! You'd be surprised how valuable a lack of guardedness is for not getting noticed.>     Flamel himself isn't even making eye contact with Nobunaga, but the way he gestures as he telepathically speaks has a way that could be interpreted as a friendly, conversational tone. Definitely understanding Nobu's worries, but doing his best to present the bright side of things.
Audrey Basque	"Did I miss--actually maybe I don't want to know."     Had Roland not heard Lilian in the arena?     "Maybe I'll tell you later, unless she wants to," Audrey responds matter-of-factly, just loud enough for Roland to hear (and maybe Petra, inevitably, by proximity). "She might hit you again if you react to a backhand like that."     "That's fine. If it makes her feel better, she can have the other cheek too. I'm rather quite done pretending, Roland."     Not broken. Just honest. "You're not safe from me, Basque. So keep away from Lilian."     "Gross. She's getting married, Petra. For once you have me completely wrong." Her tone lowers, for privacy. "You can keep her."     Audrey's body language is so... unexistent. There's none of her anxious tics, flinches at threats, and her eyes don't follow Petra's movements at all.     But speaking of the hero...     "That being said, allow me a hello." "Miss Echidna . . ."     Audrey wanders on over to Lilian's stall, eyeing the plants and recognizing only a handful of them.     "Well hello!"     It's exactly as she said!     Her approach is TOO friendly, like the threat of a sudden hug that, mercifully, never manifests. Instead Audrey places an arm over her stomach and bends forward ever slightly, her free hand rising to wave after the fact.     "I need something for pain. One of my shoulders is absolutely *killing* me, you see?" It's not hostility. It's such an honest and forthright tone. It's unlike how Audrey's ever spoken to her before. And her smile is wide and truthful, eye contact and all.
Lilian Rook	'Sometimes it's better to oversell the hit you get, 'specially if you earned it.'     "Oh my goodness." Lilian looks at Roland with eyes wide and her fingers partially hiding her gasp-parted lips. "You . . . actually do have a girlfriend? Don't you?"     'Hello, miss!'     Convulsions of dark astal origin wash over Lilian. She halfway jumps out of her skin.     'Ah, when you're free, do you have anything for stress relief or sleep deprivation? The less common, the better.'     Lilian turns back to see Odette at her counter, and feels negative percent less startled and confused. Surely that long, silent stare, and her stiff body posture, are worry and nerves, not desperately trying to figure out what the bit is here. "Ah. Um. Quite a few things! Improving health is . . . one of the things that plants are best at!" Okay so she's going along with it. "I assume you've already tried different kinds of herbal teas and the like, right? The biggest reason you probably aren't sleeping is actually the air quality in your home. All kinds of pollutants can build up in invisible quantities inside over time, and worsen your breathing, blood flow, and metabolism, and you won't even realize!"     She tips her head down enough to obscure just her eyes, but neither her barely tamped-down smile nor her slightly red face, as she scans back and forth across her neat little rows, then lands on a pair of surprisingly small pots, with flat leaves and little to no stems involved; one's leaves are upwards-pointed, twisty and straped, and the other's has leaves more like a fern, with striking bright red edges. "Either of these will absorb and filter toxic substances out of an indoors space over a while-- they're actually some of the absolute best at it, and, they don't take much space, and they tolerate low light and little water-- and the important thing is that when you need more, you can propagate them straight from leaf cuttings! You don't need to buy more seeds!"     Halfway through sliding them to Odette, Lilian suddenly stops to protect them with her hands. "But please ask someone skilled before you try doing that on your own, okay? Just because they're hardy doesn't mean they're invincible. If you can't be kind to plants, you don't deserve to get good sleep. Um, hypothetically I mean-- sorry." Wincing a little, she hastens to add "I have chamomile and lavender if you want something everyone knows about, though."     'Lilian!'     "Wha-?!" Lilian startles at half the intensity as before. 'Petra?!' is practically written on her face, and so the returning redness spells out 'Duh. Why is that a surprise?' She leans slightly forward, engaging a passive protective hover over her stall. "Shall I get you anything in particular? I'd appreciate it if you pointed one out, and then told me where you plan to keep it. I don't want to sell anything that won't be able to thrive in its new home." she says, in that 'fussing at Petra to act normal' way that s semi-typical to her. "I mean it." sounds practically the same as usual. Her anxiety towards how ambiguous Petra's plant-related intent is seems so genuine it's scary. Wow!
Angela	''That's fine. If it makes her feel better, she can have the other cheek too.'' Roland did hear that stuff, at least some of it, he couldn't give it a hundred percent of his attention while in close with Xion after all. But he's not really sure what that had to do with this. He says, "Um. Listen it's your life and all but I don't think it's, uh, being good for you." ''Well hello!'' "Might've knocked her noggin a bit too hard." He murmurs, half to Lilian and half to nobody. ''You . . . actually do have a girlfriend? Don't you?'' Roland flinches like Lilian got close to doing some real critical damage there. "Y-you thought I was making that up?" Actually, he supposes, that it makes sense, with a story like he gave her. "Well you're right, she's the one who taught me that one." This is one hundred percent to Lilian. And, well, plenty of people are right there. His face is turning bright red from embarrassment. For Flamel, he starts thinking about the song that never ends it goes round and round my friends some people started singing it not knowing what it was and we continue singing it forever just because. And he keeps that running on loop in his head so he can also stop thinking about everything else that's going on here. Yep, he's just a merchant. That's him.
Nobunaga	> Flamel's mental communications     There's a brief moment where Nobunaga tenses visibly when 'spoken' to. Half a second later, she relaxes back into what she was doing with a sort of mental 'oh right' sigh. The psychic guy, of course. Don't poke around in here too much. You might not like what you find.     It's a fair warning. She's made no secret to how brutal of a warlord she was in her first life, and someone like Flamel might unearth something truly traumatizing if they're careless. She is, at least, not going out of her way to bring such memories to the forefront. Rather the front of her mind is largely overtaken by her fondness for ceramics and teacups and admiring how Mori/Oni Musashi (the names switch periodically) isn't making an ass out of himself.
Marigold	"Oh, no! No apologies, friend- it's the people who'll be apologizing to you with their wallets!" Merlinus is his usual jovial self, but as he turns back to Roy, his expression drops to serious and they trade meaningful glances.      There's some kind of operation going on here, clearly. But until they can find a minute to apprise you of it, there's nothing to do but blend in and soak up the city's chatter. The milling crowds of customers are pryingly skeptical, equal parts dismissive and self-conscious of outside goods, a little obnoxiously hagglesome, but all in all not the worst to deal with.      Occasionally, there are off-duty Bernish soldiers among them. Just play it cool.      "Oh, hey, thanks," says the bedraggled Playbrick lady, palming it off on Roland and almost forgetting to charge. "Uh, a hundred credits, or fifty of the local gold. How's that sound?" Playbricks are pretty cheap, and import only marks it up somewhat.      "It sounded like there was something you needed before?"      "Aren't you a sweetheart today?" Echidna says to Lilian, smiling while chewing on something- maybe jerky. She flashes a little smile at Maddie and Audrey, too. "I'm fine. It was some guy complaining that an axe was 'weighted wrong'. I told him he got to handle it before he bought it, so, y'know."      . . . These axes are clearly just weapons being passed off as tools.      "Do you need any of those fixed?"      "Oh, thank goodness," Igrene says to Odette, and pushes a whole box of shards across the stall's table at her. Leaning in to confide: "Fae's actually really down about that one. She helps us blow the glass, you know... so if you could fix it..."      Fae has, however, been successfully distracted by munching on some street-food pastries and having Sophia pet her head. Her tears are currently dried.
Marigold	In time, the reviews are in:      FLAMEL'S CHARMS: **      "Negative energies? You mean, dark magic...?"      "Sorry, what's an 'NDN'? Is it like an NDA?"      "Oh, but I do like the purple..."      "Young man, how much for the weathervane in the back?"      NOBUNAGA'S CERAMICS: ***      "The 'east'... you mean Bern?"      "Don't be a fool, Judd. Their 'Nippon' is clearly like Sacae."      "Oh, my. But I do like those perfuming herbs..."      "Tch. Those aren't perfume, they use them for *drinking*."      MADELEINE'S TRAIL MIX: ****      "Oh, my. Now what are these? 'Pecans' and 'apricots'..."      "It's pronounced 'peckin'." "'Peak-anne'." "'Peckahn', surely."      "Look, this one's *clearly* moldy, surely I can have the bag for a discount?"      "No it's not. You're trying to get one over on her, aren't ya?"      ODETTE'S TOOLS: **      "Bit clunky for a firestarter, isn't it? Mmm. I'll give you five gold pieces."      "What an odd mask. 'Welding'... is it for ritual purposes, then?"      "Atie! No!! Put the glue down!! Oh, no, your hair...!"      "Hm. Why do you need that foam-squirter just for putting out a fire?"      ROLAND'S BUNS: ?????      "Sir, are you *sure* those aren't for sale? How much to take them off your hands?"      "Please, mister, I'm starving. One gold's enough, isn't it...?"      "Renalt, you are *not* about to starve. Young man, charge him fifteen."      "Hey!! It's cruel to tease us with those, is all I'm saying...!"      NEON AND ACE'S LUXURIES: *****      "Oh, goodness! Well, it's a funny-looking moon to be made out of *her*, eh? Still, the craftsmanship..."      "Fought against invaders... hah. Now careful what kinda stories you tell around our men in red, young man."      "My, what taxidermies the young lady has. Are there really beasts this... round and boneless?"      "Oh, I do love that little bow. It's a bit like the Knights' parade armor, don't you think...?"      (Fae is absolutely delighted by her new teddy bear, but she's so tiny that she almost falls over while carrying it...)      LILIAN'S HOUSEPLANTS: ****      "Goodness, they look so *delicate*. Would they really thrive here? I suppose if one keeps them indoors..."      "The way you talk about them, they're almost like little pets, aren't they? I'd never thought of a plant like that."      "Mom! That one looks so soft and squishy! Can I...?"      "I don't know, Lieka. It *is* a little expensive..."      AUDREY'S TEXTILES: ****      "My goodness. Now look at that one, with the shimmery stars... I've never seen magic fabric before."      "Hah! Don't be too impressed! It's probably just trickery, like those screens and lights they had."      "Now, if you'd consider knocking half off-- hey!! Thief!!"
Marigold	A scruffily-dressed boy, not too unlike Chad really, has tried to brazenly snatch the star-patterned cloth right off Audrey's table. The burly man who was haggling over it grabs the other end; it snaps taut and rips, and the urchin thief falls to the ground holding a ragged half of it, stunned. "Get him!! What are you all standing around for?!"      Chad starts to close in with a taut expression, but it's not clear exactly what he's planning. The rest of the army's a little too distant to intervene.      Roy nods at Petra after raising an eyebrow at Bin Of Silverware. "Dungeons," he commiserates, with a little nod. "At least, if Lugh's still alive..." As soon as Merlinus sells his last pastry, he flips a sign to CLOSED, apologizes to the remaining customers, and steps back behind the stalls where his lowered voice can reach everyone. "Merlinus, would you?" "My pleasure."      "... We've done our research on acts against the kindly troops here," he explains, trying to look nonchalant while leaning on the back of Lilian's stand as if he were talking about the weather. "Poisoning the pegasus feed; burning down a warehouse, nicking a bit of gold... terrible things, surely."      His voice lowers a little more, and he tilts his head back at the castle. "Half of them happened on the last week of a month. Lady Juno's locked up in there so Bern can extort her husband- not that that's been going well, hah- but people say she's still got a hand in things. The timing would fit, if she's smuggling out monthly messages..."      "We're looking for Juno's messenger. If we're going to save Lugh, they'd be the only one who knows how to sneak in. This is as close as we can get to staking out the castle. Sophia had a good feeling about today, and it's the last day that'd fit the pattern. So..."      "So keep your eyes peeled for anyone weird coming from that direction," Echidna chips in, leaning back further in her chair and twisting around. "Whatever tools you got to catch somebody sneaky, set 'em. And they, uh, probably won't be too happy to be nabbed. Just remember, however bad they holler, it's for their own good, m'kay?" She winks.
Petra Soroka	"That being said, allow me a hello."     When Petra's excited bouncing towards Lilian's stall is followed by a dark presence creeping behind her, she freezes and a chill runs down her spine. Rigid-backed, without turning around, Petra hisses back towards Audrey heated enough that her words should burn against her lips.     "I *won't*, actually, Basque. Don't fucking forget, I'm not just your boss, I'm your better, and I swear to *god* when we're off this world I'll cut the delusion that you should be allowed to do *anything* near Lilian out of you before it fucking *metastasizes*."     A drop of Silver rolls down Petra's clenched fist, detatching to fall to the ground. The tiny puddle springs upwards into a spike, a two inch flesh-tearing nail that psychically slides underfoot when Audrey tries to take any more steps towards Lilian after Petra. "Shall I get you anything in particular?"     "Hiii!" Petra's instant sunny disposition and implicit tilde is so different from Audrey that she might as well just have changed animation styles. She bends over to very seriously examine the plants on the table, holding back the cowl neck of her cloak so that it doesn't brush against the plants or block her vision.     "I'm not... looking for anything with a 'practical' use or anything, like herbs or medicine. But a lot of people in the neighborhood where I typically live," She lies so smoothly that it's hard to actually tell *where* she's referring to. "Work together to make a community garden, but I don't really have any skills in doing that myself. And, um... since it's the hobby of someone important to me, I wanna learn enough to show that I'm interested in hearing about it too."     "The climate changes pretty quickly, but I can make sure that it's safe from any extreme weather, even though maybe it'd have to endure a warm and dry day right after a cold and rainy one. But since my goal's to learn..." Petra puts altogether way too much thought into this, given that this is Lilian and she could hypothetically just talk to her in a normal context about this. But, to Petra, this is maybe the most 'normal' context there is-- that is, after their talks about masks and facets, the things that Petra and Lilian are embodying in the environment that they're embodying it, it would actually be *weirder* in her opinion to leave Ilia and then text Lilian about houseplants afterwards.     She points at a succulent, wobbling her finger around because she's not sure about particular species. "... Something that's 'brave', but responsive, that I can't be mistaken about treating it poorly, but won't mind traveling with me, as long as I'm careful with it. Is there something like that?"
Angela	''Roland's buns...'' "Oh no, they're for sale." Roland says, about to hand it over for one gold. And then says, "Oh, uh, fifteen? Sure." He wasn't planning on selling the sandwiches but his Cooking Papa dreams are coming to reality here and it's also helping him keep his mind off of some stuff. If Fae comes by, he'll sneak her and Sophia meatbuns for free even though she's already, clearly, having eaten. "They're pretty heavily seasoned though, just to warn you." Roland prefers food with heavy to medium levels of seasoning and just doesn't like lightly seasnoed food. He doesn't want to be cruel to these people, he's caving so easily... At least this does wonders for his faith in his own cooking. ''Get him!! What are you all standing around for?!'' Roland hesitates, getting involved in THAT scene is probably not a great idea but.. He makes his way towards urchin thief and says, "Hey hey--you look like you could use a sandwich, how about you take one and tell me what you think?" He asks, trying to nonchalantly prove an obstacle to capturing a thief. Sorry, Audrey, but he's got Backstreet roots and he got you a Playbrick today.
Nobunaga	> Nobunaga's Ceramics...     Nobunaga is keen to leave the discussion of tea and teacups to the young Chacha, who is all-too eager to chime in about tea blends and how to use them. For what looks like a fourteen year old, when it comes to such noble frivolty, she's quite well-learned, and indulges any questions about the rituals of the Tea Ceremony practiced by Japanese aristocrats with her own cute charm. She chats at length about life in Sengoku-era Japan and how much safer it feels here in Ilya, how she's heard about Sacae and wouldn't mind going there someday, and other things.     This frees Nobunaga herself to lurk near the back of the stall with Mori under the assumption that she's checking inventory or looking for something-- when it really just puts her close enough to listen to Merlinius and Roy dropping details about their recon endeavors. The last week of the month would coincide with singular, monthly messages sneaking out. > "We're looking for Juno's messenger."     "And then?" Nobunaga asks without looking up, her voice equally low, "Catch them? Wouldn't it be better to follow them and link up with the others?" > "Hey!! Thief!!"     That's enough to jolt Nobunaga back upright, shooting a look over her shoulder in a whirl of straight black hair. Nagayoshi similarly stands up, his lip curled downward just a touch.     "Check on that."     "Yeah--" Nagayoshi Mori steps around the stall counter, easily visible towering above the crowd as he approaches the scene of the crime taking place. He doesn't have his armor or his weapon. He's just... a big dude with a scarily intense face, "Oi, oi, what's goin' on here?" Could it be a distraction?     Nobunaga isn't looking that way anymore. With a Professional Goon dispatched, she's keeping her eyes on the opposite end of the market street for anyone trying to stay out of sight while All Eyes Are (presumably) Diverted.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine's ears catch the sound of tearing fabric, her eyes catch on the sparkling cloth at Audrey's stall, but she's too far to act - instead she simply watches for whatever Chad's got up his sleeve.     "So keep your eyes peeled for anyone weird coming from that direction. Whatever tools you got to catch somebody sneaky, set 'em."     Madeleine nods sharply. She knows sneaky, and she knows how she'd deal with a crowded street - avoid it entirely. "I'll make sure they stay down on the street level."     The huntress shimmies up a drainpipe in an alley, counting on the bustling streetgoers to keep each others' eyes firmly down. Once she's up top she stays low to the roofs as she gets to work. Leaving the castle toward the rest of the city means going in that direction, so...     In a few minutes she's satisfied with her work. Shingles loosened, a couple drainpipe nails undone, all the necessary or even convenient spots for a free-runner covertly sabotaged along roughly a hundred yards of rooftop. If this messenger's an amateur, they'll put their feet right where Madeleine wants them to and suffer a noisy fall. If they're a professional they'll spot the traps, realize they're being expected, and hopefully try the street instead.     Finally, she slides down a back wall and slips out into the street again. "All set," she says to Echidna. "If they're up top, we'll hear of it." She's not as good at reading people as she is with terrain, but she knows how people move when they don't want to be seen, and keeps her eyes peeled for anything of the sort.
Petra Soroka	"Merlinus, would you?" "My pleasure."     As if she's been derelict in her duties, Merlinus's stall closing jolts Petra into motion to hurry behind and join him and Roy. She's not really sure if anyone needs or wants her to do this, but Petra immediately engages closing tasks, counting out the coins that Merlinus's sales received to make sure that everything's in order. "Lady Juno's locked up in there so Bern can extort her husband- not that that's been going well, hah- but people say she's still got a hand in things."     "Women can do anything." Petra nods. She's honed the skill of counting while talking without getting distracted, from several long millennia of juggling the Lobotomy Corporation facility along with Angela, so just because she's operating at normal time doesn't mean she can't do a mere two tasks at once.     "Is there something going *in* monthly that would line up with something coming out? Supplies for the prisoners, weapons for the guards, even something like traipsing her around to show the people that she's alive? If it's someone specific going in and out, that she's able to repeatedly use, then we could narrow it down like that."     Petra's tongue absentmindedly sticks out of her mouth while she finishes neatly separating and stacking the denominations of coins into an easily verifiable system of organization. "Also, like, she's anti-Bern, sure, but does that mean she'd be pro-us? Or are we thinking we'll have to *use* the messenger rather than, collaborate with him? They're a little touchy about contracts and different kinds of invasions here, and we are an *army* currently in the capital." "So keep your eyes peeled for anyone weird coming from that direction,"     This, Petra can do, actually with the same method she used to bar Audrey's approach towards Lilian, albeit less sharp. She takes out her little Silver bottle, tipping it over so that the weighty liquid metal dribbles out onto the cobblestones. Flowing through the gaps between bricks, the morphmetal spreads across the street subtly in a fractal tree, separating into droplets that zip through cracks in stones to nestle in wait for passersby. Like tiny sensory mines, someone walking by would alert Petra by stepping on them even if they were trying to stick to the alleyways or hide behind other market stalls, and if someone suspicious (she'll just have to rely on other people for that) does, then they'll spring up into chains that bind their ankle in place.     She doesn't really care about the thief, though. That guy can steal whatever he wants from Audrey.
Odette Raskins	"I'll be better soon, but I'm not horrible right now." "That's... Good! It'll... Things'll be better soon, I'm sure of it." Odette tries to reassure him with a somewhat awkward smile, the worry still somewhat evident on her face. How could she not be? "Heck, maybe I'll even be back on mine sooner rather than later after..." She trails off while taking the little baggie of Dream Fluffs, instead repeating the name of the flavor after Flamel and then giggling lightly at how specific yet appropriate it sounds for their given situation. It's still a tired-sounding one, but it's a gut giggle. She hasn't had one of those in a while. "One more push, and the.. Work project'll be done, and everyone's going to be okay. Hehe... Thank you!" "I have some teas which might help you out." "Oh? Yeah, it's been a little rough lately. I saw this really nasty accident at work, so.. You know how that goes." Odette replies to Nobunaga with a light chuckle, inwardly pleased with that impromptu shift towards seeing the accident rather than tying herself to any particular injuries that might involve the eyepatch or heavy gloves she's wearing. "Might have to try some of these teas, then... Do you have anything that's really strong? I mean, not strong like caffeine-strong, but... Better at knocking someone out than chamomile or lavender?" She chuckles again, but in a way that strongly hints that she's tried those two in particular already. Lilian negative percent less startled and confused Oh no. Did she accidentally end up startling the lady at the counter despite her efforts? Keeping her hands safely visible around her braid and carrying case, Odette chuckles politely and nods at the talk of teas and conventional methods. "Mhm. Teas, warm milk, white noise, head scrapers, extra blankets... I haven't thought about air quality, though. That's a new one..." She scrunches her face thoughtfully, once again remembering just how stark the difference in air quality is here compared to the air back home and on the stations. "A-and harder to control. So these plants-" She follows the knowledgeable stranger's facing to the twisted and red plants, glancing between them curiously before looking back up at her. "-can fix the air in there? Oh, that's neat... W-well, I'll still make sure to give them enough water, and I could probably pick some good lights from hydroponics. And then..." "Um, hypothetically I mean-- sorry." Already plotting a little on what to do with the plants, Odette's right hand goes to her pocket, and then she blinks slowly at how protective definitely-not-Lilian sounds about the plants. She blinks slowly at first, then breaks into another quiet gut-giggle seconds later. "I-it's okay! No, I'm glad that.. Ah. I'm buying this from someone that really cares a lot about these plants. Don't worry, I'll be extra careful with these, get the right kinds of lights, measure out the water, and ask some experts before I even think about growing more from cuttings." What a pleasant plant-seller. With her mind somewhat at ease, Odette fishes out a small bundle of cards to sort through. "You don't happen to take Company scrip, do you? I've got cred-" "Lilian!" "Wha-?!" Odette's gaze goes to the side towards Petra blankly, then back at Lilian. What're the odds that Petra knows a second Lilian? As she's about to comment on that, however, the medic starts piecing things together, and then she realizes she's been making a massive mistake this whole time. It's a fortunate one, though, since it means there's even less of a risk of anyone getting caught by the soldiers if even someone as observant as herself got fooled.
Odette Raskins	"C... Credits. Er. Thanks, miss!" Odette finally gets out, purposely looking off in the opposite direction of Lilian and Petra for a moment before finally remembering to actually pay for her stuff. She's not going to blow anyone's cover if she can help it! "She helps us blow the glass, you know... so if you could fix it..." Odette's confidence far outpaces her skill in repairing glassware, but that's not about to stop her from giving it a shot. "Of course. These aren't anywhere near strong enough to shape and blow glass from a stand still, but for reattaching pieces..." Would the tiny welding tools actually be good for that? she's really only seen it done in passing to flat panes, but she's not about to give up without at least giving it a try. Hearing that Fae's down about breaking things (even if she is distracted right now) gives the medic plenty of motivation to get one of her welding masks on for a live demonstration! Also, because her ratings weren't great, and she needs to at least try to earn a third star for her wares. What better way to do that than fixing something broken on the spot? She's got the mask on for proper eye and face protection, at least, although her actual skill with getting any of the glassware pieces back together is sorely lacking if they're not easily identifiable on where they should be going. She also takes some time to demonstrate the usefulness of the miniature fire extinguishers, too, by lighting up a 2x4 and then spraying it down with all that foam. "You don't even need to run back to the well for this, and it works on oil fires without blowing your kitchen up!" With a bit of extra gold in her pockets, Odette eventually joins the crew in listening to Merlinus' report about the goings on in Edessa. Still wary of the chance of getting caught by anyone eavesdropping soldiers, Odette keeps her eye peeled for anyone coming their way that she doesn't recognize before finally lowering her voice to address that. "Do we know what they might look like? Or just..." Echidna clarifies about who they need to catch, and Odette starts to catch on finally. She makes a point of not looking directly in the indicated direction for too long, of course, but she's definitely focusing more in that direction while she makes a little show of browsing the stalls and doing her own little demonstrations. She's not sure who to look out for, but she's gotten something of an idea based on what she's seen in this area already: Rather than looking for soldiers or urchins, she's paying particular attention towards anyone well-dressed that isn't just browsing the stalls or walking along the main roads. "If my hunch is right... The person we're looking for might be cleaner, right? Even if they're sneaking around, if they're reporting to nobility, m... Maybe they'll be fresher looking."
Desire Stars	Haggling is nostalgic for Ace and, perhaps surprisingly to those who know her, something that Neon seems to have a good bit of experience with. They each handle hagglesome clients in their way; Neon's easygoing, gregarious manner belies a shrewd head for business. Ace is never taken by surprise no matter how outrageous the initial offer, always ready to keep up eye contact and deflect with a joke or support his price with and interesting story. They both do a good job of keeping things affordable, yet just pricy enough to believably be luxury goods. My, what taxidermies the young lady has. Are there really beasts this... round and boneless?     "Oh, no! Well, there are jellyfish, I guess, but I don't know anyone that would want to cuddle one of those," Neon laughs. "No, these are cutesy depictions of the real thing. Kids love having soft stuff to hug on," she says, slyly nodding towards Fae and her giant teddy bear. "Like a little friend! And," she adds, "They're great for helping them get to sleep. If you've got a kid at home," she smiles, "Something like this is a big help for keeping them from getting up and running for mom and dad in the middle of the night." Still, the craftsmanship...     "Cultures from that part of the world and time period placed a lot of importance on sculptures and pottery. They wanted their gods to look their best. You know, the Aztec word that gets *translated* as 'god' is 'teotl,'" Ace says, leaning on the counter of his stall. "But," he continues, with a glimmer in his eyes, "The meaning is more like 'mysterious' or 'unexplained.' Or even 'energy in motion.' Kind of like the concept of 'mana,' if you've ever heard of that. They're as much forces of nature as they are persons. You can see how Coyolxauhqui here looks similar to a human, but just slightly different; the fangs here, the ears there? That similar-but-different, mysterious kind of quality is a running theme in depictions of the Aztec pantheon. I've got a page from a manuscript here depicting Quetzalcoatl--the god of life--and Mictlantecuhtli--the god of death."      The page is framed to protect it from the elements, though Ace still gestures to each figure in turn, rather than put his finger on the glass. "Decidedly non-human features, but at the same time, symbols of office in the crook and scepter, the regalia. I've always thought that duality, that theme, was really interesting." Get him!! What are you all standing around for?!      The temptation to answer 'I don't know, that's scary' tugs at Ace's mind, enough to draw a smug smile that he then must immediately answer for. "Looks like the ceramics lady's got it covered. Maybe I should have paid those guys to stick around, huh?"      "Oh, gosh," Neon frets. "I'd know that sound anywhere. That's such a shame... miss," says Neon, trying not to let on that she's met Audrey before, "Sir," she says, including the potential customer the young thief snatched the garment from, "Please don't worry about that, okay? I'm happy to cover the cost. When something like that happens, people should come together, right?"
Lilian Rook	'Aren't you a sweetheart today?'     "Wh--" Lilian cuts off, coughing close-mouthed. At first wide-eyed, she falls to squinting after several seconds, and then clears her throat. "Isn't that the idea?" she says, huffily.     Lilian has spent the last half hour espousing the noble virtues of beautiful little green and growing things to well-meaning ignorants (her private term) and actively haggling with-- only people she likes, actually. She appears to have an uncanny sense of 'character' for who is going to be a good plant-parent and simply can't stomach the price tag, and around those times her Mercantile Skill Rating takes a sharp -8 penalty, for mysterious and unknowable reasons. Knowing that she was headed to Ilia in the first place, she has plenty of evergreens, monocots, and succulents, in overlapping circles, as cold-tolerant tutorial plants; fortunately, she happened to have a lot of these reaching maturity recently for None Of Your Business.     When she has a few minutes, Lilian slips off to the playbrick table, furtively hands the lady a few coins, and quietly points to a game, rather than a system. It goes into a specific slot in her bag when few enough people are looking.     '... Something that's 'brave', but responsive, that I can't be mistaken about treating it poorly, but won't mind traveling with me, as long as I'm careful with it. Is there something like that?'     That catchines Lilian more by surprise than Audrey trying to approach her at all after all that does. One makes her linger warily, but the other converts her unexpected semi-stunlock into a kind of active engagement; after frowning and blinking and moving her weight from side to side for a little bit, Lilian takes a deep breath, squishes her cheeks with curled-up hands, and allows herself to lapse into thought.     "Well . . . Most plants that can tolerate lots of variance like that are actually the kinds that are 'easygoing'. They grow slowly, but repair themselves slowly; they live a long time, but take a long time to flower. You won't notice instantly if they're unhappy, but being unhappy for a while won't lastingly hurt them either. If it's for a community garden, I'd recommend a matting variety, but if you're going to travel . . . a houseleek or . . . no--" Her wandering finger lands on a plant that is so bright green that it's almost daisy yellow att the same time, with a short upright stalk but almost cartoonishly round and chubby leaves, as if doodled by a third-grader.
Lilian Rook	"This little critter. Confusum-- ah, mexican stonecrop. They can handle intense heat and well-below freezing temperatures as long as they don't have to endure one or the other for a long stretch. They like lots and lots of sun, but they can be patient and wait out some amount of shade. But 'responsiveness' is your big want, right?" Lilian goes on without confirmation, 'acting' out being excited to talk about it.     "If you're overwatering, the leaves will turn translucent and squishy, but if you're underwatering, they'll get floppy and wrinkly; you can actually measure how much water it has by feeling them; when they're really firm, it's perfect. And they'll turn red in too much heat, or dark green in too little light. They barely need fresh nutrients either, and you'll be able to tell once the lowest leaves yellow early, so then you can just switch to a new pot. Once you know all the signs, they always show you what's wrong long before the harm is too much."     "This little one will still hang in there and bounce back even if it loses all its leaves, as long as the green stalk can soak up lots of sun. The dangerous thing is overwatering it; you want to soak the soil all the way through every week or so, definitely never before it's fully dried out, but even then, it can grow new roots if you trim the rotting ones. Basically, this little one is never going to give up, so long as you don't. But-- be nice to it." Lilian finally finishes out, exchanging the coins without haggling. "Because if you are, it'll grow these bright yellow star-shaped flowers, and you'll want to see them."     'Poisoning the pegasus feed; burning down a warehouse, nicking a bit of gold... terrible things, surely.'     Oh right. This was a whole. Tactical thing. Lilian perks up like she'd just caught herself falling asleep before Teacher did. She checks out Odette with a couple of baby dracaena without even thinking now, letting her off the hook in her carefully controlled scramble to get back on topic.     'So keep your eyes peeled for anyone weird coming from that direction'     "Ah. You weren't able to contact them." Lilian says, with just a hint of disappointment. "Well, things being a tiny bit more complicated than before isn't the end of the world. For Lugh's sake." she sighs. "Even if that's the only time they can receive orders, if we've realized it as outsiders, the garrison commander will have noticed that timing as well, if he's reasonably competent. We may not have many opportunities after this."
Audrey Basque	"I *won't*, actually, Basque. Don't fucking forget,"     Audrey's eyes dart down to the drop of silver the second it's off of Petra's clenched fist. It's intentional; it's easy to follow her gaze, and to notice she noticed. Petra knows what Audrey's been practicing, and she made her practice *with* the Silver, specifically. Despite her smile, Audrey's guard is completely up?     "The woods really haven't done you any good, huh?"     She sighs; but it's loud, exaggerated, accompanied by lifting her hands in a dismissive shrug, without looking actually frustrated. "Okay. Have it your way. I'm not interested in making a scene and getting in the way of whatever this is. You should consider that, too. This isn't some random talent show you can freely crash by attacking me." "Hey!! Thief!!"     Audrey does not seem particularly bothered. If someone is desperate enough to steal a piece of cloth, they can have it. Despite wanting to make sure if someone wanted it they were paying full price, it was mostly so she had more coins to hand Roy at the end.     Roland, and others besides who are *much* better suited to chasing someone right now, are already on it. She could use her magic, but it *isn't* subtle and it would alert everyone present right away. Audrey trails behind, and needs a moment to catch up to Roland... and she certainly doesn't have any objections to his offer.     "I can't imagine that cloth would feed you or anyone else very well. Maybe you'd prefer some coin, if you stay out of trouble otherwise?" No, it's more than that. Maybe the boy has seen some things, and he'd be useful to Roy and Merlinus.     Audrey turns to any merchants who still have their eyes on the commotion. "Please, let's go back to the stall. I'll cut you all a deal for having to see this."     She asides to Roland, on her way back: "See if he'd be willing to share anything useful about the town in exchange for being let off the hook and paid. Maybe he's seen something."     This also means working together with Neon.     "I'm sure we can reach an arrangement. I'm afraid I don't have any more of that one, it's quite rare, but I do make it myself. If you'd like to place an order and give a place of delivery, I'd be happy to accommodate you both." Keep him locked to the stall while others worry about the boy.
Flamel Parsons	You might not like what you find.     Flamel adjusts those heart-sunglasses. <It's my job and nature to never judge!> Is all he says for something like that. <But don't worry, I'm just tuned into active thinking, your broader astral structure isn't really a topic for right now.>     Flamel's a two-star today. Sad!! Well, at least being a two out of five merchant doesn't put him in anyone's significant eyeshot. The "weathervane" is perpetually a matter of no sale, sadly...     He keeps a psychic ear out on the conversation. He puts a hand on his chin, thinks about how to approach this... The messenger is going to be hiding for obvious reasons. Even a psychic has to deal with someone concealing their true nature, and a focus on deception can fool telepathy too. But something coming out of the dungeons... the psychic payload of a message like that should be heavily contaminated with the specific type of psychic energies associated with Bernish cruelty that Flamel has learned to keep an eye out for. He knows that wavelength.     <I'm gonna run my usual clairvoyance scans, and tune for any contamination I can find from the cellars. I *think* it should stay on any message coming from Juno no matter how it changes hands. Wish me luck!>     A short pulse of light behind his sunglasses is the only sign of the process starting. When he's flying under the radar, he's able to keep his big clairvoyance displays quiet, so the gentle bump of regular radar-like pings searching for that should be easy to handle. But there's lots of people involved in maintaining a cellar prison. People who deliver food, people who take trash, people who bring medicine or clothes, people who take away bodies, people who clean, give supplies...     While he can very likely detect who's been in the cellar, there's a good chance he'll need someone else crossreferencing against other data they gather.
Petra Soroka	"I'm not interested in making a scene and getting in the way of whatever this is."     Of course. It's a crack in reality jolting back into clarity, scales falling off her eyes; moving the antenna of the television and all the colors become duller, as they ought to be. The weapon that can be grasped by anyone, the only threat that Audrey can wield more easily than Petra can, is finally drawn and held to her throat. It's a duel that insists on a lack of response, that to acknowledge it at all is to 'make a scene', bloodlessly, effortlessly deadly.     And Audrey's right. Petra can't afford to escalate back, not right now, not even for Lilian's sake. She narrows her eyes and grits her teeth, enduring the nick of metaphorical blood that Audrey can draw without contest. Petra will remember this. "This little critter. Confusum-- ah, mexican stonecrop."     But also, Petra will remember this! She fumbles with her pouch pockets, first pulling out her tape recorder, hesitating before putting it away and exchanging it for a notepad and pencil. "Wait, wait, wait... okay." "Once you know all the signs, they always show you what's wrong long before the harm is too much."     More importantly than Audrey, more importantly than finding the messenger, more importantly than even the end of the world and the eradication of humanity, Petra dedicates her full focus to recording all of Lilian's advice on how to care for the plant. Her notes are neat, actually professionally organized (she took a class on that!), with the plant's name at the top along with the date, segmented areas of the page to clearly define which area of care the advice is relevant to. Like a police sketch, she squints at the specimen that Lilian points out, drawing it 'as it is now' just in case she needs an exact comparison in the future.     She's also got a series of other questions, such as 'what season should I look for it flowering during', 'does it need any particular care while flowering', 'what kind of soil should I use', documenting each one thoroughly even for a plant that's supposed to be 'easy' to take care of. Pleased, and pumped-up, Petra clenches her fists in front of her with a determined expression.     "Alright. I think I can do it. I *will* do it, actually. I'll be *so* nice to it."
Marigold	"We're looking for Juno's messenger."      "Catch them? Wouldn't it be better to follow them and link up with the others?"      "It's my hope," Merlinus conspires with Nobunaga, still leaning shadily behind the stalls, "we can convince them we're on the same side. If they're smart, it might only be a dead-drop anyway."      "Also, like, she's anti-Bern, sure, but does that mean she'd be pro-us?"      "I'd worry the same, if we didn't have Shanna and Thea with us," the old merchant nods along. "She seems the sort to have a soft spot for her younger siblings... besides, at this point, frankly 'anti-Bern' is good enough."      While Fae noisily stuffs her cheeks even rounder with one of Roland's meat-buns, the commotion around the scruffy urchin-thief clutching Audrey's starry fabric builds and builds until even her treat-induced obliviousness can't ignore it. "Mnnnh? Whaf goim omn...?"      People holding Neon's stuffed animals and Odette's mended glassware take a half-step back from the confrontation as the urchin boy struggles to his feet. Flamel can detect a hint of Castle Edessa's wine-cellars on him: not a direct association like the messenger would have, but Nobunaga might just be correct in her suspicion that he's a distraction.      "Oi, oi, what's goin' on here?"      "I'm happy to cover the cost..."      "What's goin' on is I was gonna buy that! The-- the cost??" The burly man blink-blinks at Neon, completely baffled, and holds up the scraps of the of the magical-starry fabric. "Lady, he ripped it in half! How'm I supposed to give it to my wife like this?!" He doesn't seem like a particularly awful person, but he's still fuming in the urchin's direction.      "Hey hey--you look like you could use a sandwich..."      That takes the heat off the young scruffy thief juuust enough that, in the process of backing away from an increasingly-hostile environment, he can glance to meet Roland's and Mori's eyes. He looks baffled by them, more than anything- a little apologetic, too.      More importantly, his cheeks aren't sunken in the way Roland might be used to from backstreet kids. He's poor, maybe, but does he really seem desperate enough to do something this brazen? "... S-sorry," he mutters, and then has to duck around someone else grabbing at his cloak; throwing away the ripped star-fabric, he sprints off and kicks at the counter of Igrene's glassware stall as he goes.      "Hey, wait!! Agh--" It's not as though it's her livelihood, but Igrene still lunges to try to catch at least one or two of the vases before they shatter on the cobbles. Unless someone intervenes, the field of broken glass is going to let the thief get away; Chad decides to add to the chaos by tripping the burly man when he instinctively tries to move after the thief. "Ghh-" "Ooops. Sorry mister."      The whole mess is devolving into a hooting and hollering commotion; only a couple of people are stupid enough to try and chase after the thief for sport or an idea of justice, but for the rest this is the most gripping entertainment they've had all day.
Marigold	Sophia, though, is looking elsewhere in that vaguely-focused way of hers. Flamel might pick up on it if he's keeping on his toes; Nobunaga could see a flutter of dark fabric, and not long after, one of Madeleine's loose shingles crunches along with the noise of a scrabbling almost-fall.      The source is a pair of small dark-wrapped figures who've- at the time of the crunch-scrabble- just hoisted themselves up the edge of the nearby seashore-cliffside, barely visible between two houses; grappling-hooked up to the roof, with the faster one half-carrying the slower one; and tried to leap over an adjacent street with a handful of red-clad Bernish soldiers move urgently, likely on more important business than a petty thief.      The loose shingle made sure they didn't land cleanly. The more agile one is on their belly, trying to hoist the slower one up where they half-dangle over the house's roof edge. Sharp ears might hear quiet-hissed words:      "Ack-- come on! I knew you were trouble...!!"      "Shut up and lift me!! They'll--"      Unfortunately for them, the small squad of Bernish soldiers just below them- an intersection away from you- are just starting to look up.
Riku Asakura	Riku arrives late to the get-together in enemy territory.  He expects a serious discussion over a map, but what he gets is... Chaos.  Also, it looks like a stall of people selling things.  He also catches Fae with puffed-out cheeks eating a meat bun, which is adorable.  Though he does echo her question.  "What's going on?" he asks the group, "Sorry for being late, I was held up in the City..." he says, looking around at people. He's dressed in his normal outfit.  A Jean coat over an orange shirt with what appears to be a space agency logo on it.  He wears jeans and sneakers.  He also has toy-like devices on his hips, which, to those who know, are his transformation greebles.  He looks around wide-eyed and confused at the chaos.  "Aren't we supposed to be rescuing someone?"
Flamel Parsons	Flamel identifies the probable targets, adjust those bubbly sunny heart-sunglasses, and sets off instantly (handing a crystal to someone hurriedly, declaring, 'Manufacturer's error, it's full of aliens, take it free'). That means he's nearly to the base of the building when they're making their way there. And then they slip, and catch too much attention...     Flamel, most of literally anyone else here, is probably best equipped to handle this. He rushes to get a clear shot, surging to one side behind stalls and among the more protruding facades of buildings. A sweep of two fingers along his draws out something that looks like a gleaming purple cylinder, and a half-clenched hand coming up. He promptly flicks the cylinder into the space ahead of him and jolts backwards in a clenched fist -- like he's loading a bolt-action rifle. <Someone help! On me! Someone with a QUIET thought!!> He urges -- if he can get even one person, ideally someone with one good solid memory associated with deep quiet, he'll twist the phantasmal shape against the back of their head and the "pull" the "trigger", using their brain as a much, much better silencer against detection.     Even if not, his own stealth and invisibility should limit the light and sound -- it's a matter of keeping the soldiers from yelling in surprise, which really inverts the function of a silencer doesn't it? A short batch of quick blasts, like an assassin taking down a squad of targets, should suddenly wipe short-term memory for the group of soldiers. Someone else better make contact with the messengers, who probably have the presence of mind to see the odd behaviors and know that someone's... casting spells somewhere? Or something.
Angela	Roland is more offering this kid a sandwich as part of seeming like 'a merchant, but one that doesn't want to HEY THIEF at kids? He frowns in thought as he sees those cheeks. It could just mean he's a good thief, or hasn't NEEDED to steal for long, but he also looks ... sorry? This doesn't seem like normal thieving to him. He could use Audrey's page to keep the kid from escaping but he doesn't want the kid to be caught by whomever's after him unless, of course, the person after him is Roland. He doesn't have much evidence that this kid is connected to why they are here but they ARE here to rescue kids who are in trouble and this seems to him to be a kid that's in trouble. He'd be an ideal target for Flamel seeking someone with quiet thoughts or memories with silence. He has elemental memories of silence. Roland is accustomed with the quiet and the various tricks he has to avoid being mindread aren't happening while he is focused on a chase. There's a memory within him that's perfect and not too far from the surface of his mind (the surface of his mind is full of concern for Lugh and this other kid). Roland seems to be wearing something on his face that is obscuring his sight somewhat. He is leading an older man through a strange facility not so different in vibe from Lobotomy Corp but it is not Lobotomy Corp, at least as Flamel remembers. Instead there's loads of smoke that help for cover but smells terrible. Roland quietly sneaks up on uniformed men and eliminates them but his thoughts aren't on them. His focus is on not being seen, on dodging cameras, of being silent, of dodging the final silent with professional care. He makes his way into a chamber. He looks up and sees something CENSORED That's the end of the memory. There's a gap of hours afterwards though the impression of the trauma remains. But during this mission. Right now. "Hey wait!" Roland shouts. "Maybe I can help!" He isn't going to use the word 'We' in public like this in an undercover mission. He hops onto Igrene's counter to get some extra jumping lift to get over the glass shards. "Sorry!" He adds as he comes landing down past the debris. But as flashy as that sudden movement might have been, he ultimately vanishes into a crowd after, trying to track the boy and catch him somewhere quiet. IF he has to double back around he will but he's not giving up that easily.
Odette Raskins	With some baby dracaena in tow and safely stored away in her bags, Odette's in a prime spot to see a whole bunch of convenient distractions. She has to peek around the people near her stand of definitely-not-stolen station tools and repaired glassware from Igrene's, but she catches sight of the young thief just in time for him to kick that glassware stall. Even if it's not Igrene's livelihood, Odette still really liked her and Fae's work. She sprints through the market crowd deftly, slipping under outstretched arms and making a whole bunch of unnecessarily close calls trying to geto ver in time, and then she finally dives forward to try and save a few more of those vases. To Odette's credit, she's got good enough hand-eye coordination to save at least two of them with her hands, but any others would be purely by accident if they survive the landing across her back. "Augh... Wh-what was that for? That little jerk!" Odette doesn't sound all too happy about that, either, starting to push herself up awkwardly with her elbows while looking around from her prone position on the ground. "Everyone okay? Miss Iiiiball?" She asks, looking up and over towards Igrene and slowing down when she feels something rolling down her back. Is that a vase? Is it more broken glass? She's careful not to crunch her arms on the other broken glass, but she's already starting to hurry that up once she sees Chad chasing after the thief as well. Two and two come together, and Odette starts following after... Nobody? "Thief! G... Guards! I saw him go this way!" She calls out and starts running off in the completely wrong direction intentionally, away from where she had seen Chad and Roland heading. Hopefully, she won't have to go far to get the guards heading the wrong way.
Desire Stars	Lady, he ripped it in half! How'm I supposed to give it to my wife like this?!     "Yeah," Neon sighs. "I know. I can't really do anything about that... but, I'd be happy to pay for something else you can give her!" She's trying her best to defuse the frustration.     Unfortunately, the falling glassware forces her to act as the character she's portraying would. "Oh, no!" Neon dives and slides to catch a couple more pieces--she tries to shortsell it to let a few shatter, but her experience as a Rider has her doing better than she'd hoped, catching two instead of the one she was aiming for, inadvertently making it a little more difficult for the thief to escape.     Ace, meanwhile, whose role as a merchant is a more callous and unhelpful sort, attempts to capitalize on it. "You there, formerly with the glassware," he calls to Igrene. "You look like you could use this Shaker broom, circa 1810. Still functional. Great for cleaning up broken glass."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine hears one of the rigged roof-tiles fall and immediately slips back into the alleyway to hop and scramble up the side of a building. "Up above!" she hisses, waving for someone to follow her, "and watch your step!"     She'll have to pick her way over some of her own tricks and traps, but when she's not carefully stepping around them she can afford to move faster than before thanks to the distraction provided by the escaping thief. Where a normal human might have to chance a risky ledge-grab, Madeleine can simply jump faster and farther.     Bounding along rows of townhouses and shops, she swiftly nears the (presumed) resistance couriers. This is about as far ahead as she'd planned in her head, though, and she realizes that she doesn't really know how to approach them *socially*. 'Hi, you were almost caught and executed because of me, let's chat' probably won't cut it.     Instead she shelters against a chimney on the side away from the Bernish soldiers, hoping the messengers won't look back and notice her when they're both up on the rooftop and moving again. Instead of making the first contact with the pair, she'll appear behind them in case they try to turn back the way they came.
Lilian Rook	'She seems the sort to have a soft spot for her younger siblings... besides, at this point, frankly 'anti-Bern' is good enough.'     "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as long as they're not also my enemy." Lilian says, blasphemously altering a classic. "Having no reason to trust us isn't the same as having a reason to turn on us." It sounds like she's agreeing with Merlinus, at least.     Fortunately for her, she doesn't give a single solitary fuck about Audrey being stolen from. Lilian is actually kind of cheering for the thief, who surely couldn't have anything to do with this other thing she's talking about right now. In fact, as far as she's aware of it, she's actually kind of cheering for the boy thief, even though Igrene's glassware is a little bit sad.     'Someone help! On me! Someone with a QUIET thought!!'     Oh, that's something actually going on. Good thing Roland is helping, because Lilian's don't even make any sense. "Excuse me one moment, please!" she says, brightly enough to be heard from the street, and Lilian wiggles her way from her counter and into the back end with the cart. "Keep an eye on my stall! Or else!" she says, warning Merlinus et al. entirely sincerely that she better not see a single plant missing (in the hands of someone who hasn't heard about proper care yet!) while she negotiates her way into a place she could deniably be for a little while.     Because she can't just vanish in plain sight on a busy street. That's completely moronic. A dozen different sightlines at any given time would be accidentally positioned catch her blipping out of existence. She only does that afterwards, and in the same instant, retrieve the outerwear essentials of her travelling gear; cloak, gloves, and boots.     That way she can be just-barely anonymous when she appears in Flamel's zone of silence, braced against the wall with both feet, one hand on the roof corner, and the other grabbing the back of the slower figure's wrappings, where she can throw them up and over the edge again. It's not too difficult for her, at least; the best would be Flamel, but he's busy.     "Don't start talking when you fuck up. That makes it worse." she says, whispering herself despite the zone of silence below now. Lilian glances back at the ground level to check that the guards are actually handled by Flamel, then hauls herself up and out of their sightline too. "And doing this at the same time every month is too obvious. You're lucky we got here when we did; another month and you'd all be dead or in prison."
Marigold	Poor Igrene grabs at as many vases as she can, but the product of her ~~life's work~~ hobby of a few days largely smashes against the ground to form a caltrop field for the fleeing-accomplice. She's left holding three, and staring in silent horror, as an especially big hand-blown jar rollllls down Odette's back like an Indiana Jones boulder, towards Fae's optimistically outstretched arms...      And squishes her, like a rolling pin with dough. Fae lies on her back, arms and legs sticking straight up, while pinned under the glassware. "Fhhhh- Fanny!! (Narrowly avoiding an odd-sounding name.) "Mppphhh..."      (It's fine. It's like ten pounds.)      "You look like you could use this Shaker broom, circa 1810."      Igrene's wide, aghast eyes sloooowly track up to Ace. She struggles to reconcile his absurd sales pitch with the equally-absurd situation, visibly. When she marches five steps towards him, for a second it seems like she's going to tell him off- but no, she just snatches up the broom and... completely unnecessarily uses it like a lever to jack the glass jar up off fallen-turtle Fae.      "There. That's some good you've done me." "... Again!!"      "Aren't we supposed to be rescuing someone?"      "Never mind that!!" Merlinus fusses, practically grabbing Riku by his shoulders and spinning him around on the spot to face the roftop with the two (formerly) fleeing figures. "Over there!"      He's very businesslike for someone still wearing a flour-dusted apron. Oh, and he snagged a gaming handheld for himself; how nice.      The soldiers turn on Flamel as he approaches, and one of them starts to mouth something that probably would've been "you!! Mind your own business!", if it hadn't been psychically silenced. Instead the squad leader's lips just move; he looks baffled when he realizes he can't hear himself, and just as he's failing to ask his squad what's going on, he blanks.      Blinking and head-gripping ensue- 'why were we here, anyway?'- but if Flamel doesn't want the conspicuousness of knocking the soldiers out, somebody will still have to stop the soldiers from looking up and being reminded of the suspicious-looking edge-teetering cloaked figures anyway!      The slower figure yelps when they're- he's?- grabbed by Lilian and practically scruffed up to the rooftop. They're either too young or too underfed to have a particularly masculine figure, but their voice sounds half-familiarly boyish. The more agile one, who'd just started to kneel to haul him up, flomphs over backwards with the sudden lurch of no longer supporting his dangling weight.      Both of them startle at Lilian's sudden appearance, giving her a good look at their faces- well, at one. The nimbler one is bare-faced under a thick scarf repurposed as a hood; bright-eyed, probably in her late teens. The other is fully face-wrapped, except for a loose shock of green hair.
Marigold	"Take the money and just go!!" she says, as if Lilian's a rival thief butting in.      "Get away from me! I-- I don't know you!" he says, as if she's about to Abduct him(tm).      The end result is that the girl chucks a smallish-but-heavy sack of silverware at Lilian before snatching the boy's wrist and trying to dart away; and the boy tucks one hand inside his cloak while drawing a quick gesture, conjuring black-violet fire that the girl's wrist-jerking tugs askew. It fwooshes past Lilian and harmlessly dissipates into the air instead.      . . .      Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for you, they realize after only ten or twenty feet that they're pinned in on one side of the roof by Lilian and the other by Madeleine. Peeking over one side, the girl sees Echidna standing expectantly on the street; Roy and Merlinus are on the ground on the building's fourth side. Nowhere to go.      The girl is the first to raise her hands in surrender, dropping a knife that probably nobody saw her draw. "Ahhh, eheh... look, I've paid you off, so you can let us go, right?" "Tch. What's Juno even paying you for?" The boy says, begrudgingly raising his and letting a tome drop from inside his cloak. "For saving you! And lots of stuff!" "Yeah, yeah. Out of the frying pan..." "I knew it was too soon to make another run, but you needed out of there...!"      The longer he talks, the more familiar he sounds. If not for that pouty edge, it'd sound a lot like...