Scene #9570: The Princess...and the Promises

Owner	Pose
Sarracenia	Those entering the nearest warpgate to the Sundew Kingdom will find themselves at a four-way crossroads in this colorful and cartoonish land. The closest kingdoms have signs pointing their way: Mushroom, Koopa, Sarrasa, and a smaller sign pointing down a smaller but still stone-paved road leading into a forest with trees that could rival many skyscrapers. The tallest and largest ones reach nearly 50 stories. Awaiting those that exit the warpgate and head toward the Sundew Kingdom is a few extravagant bus-sized wooden airship. It is decorated with the flags of the Sundew Kingdom, large silver mallet on a red field sticking up from behind a golden shield with a curling frond on the front and a pair of white wings sticking off its sides, all contained within a thin green circle and set on a red background. The flags are flying beneath a black shroud of sheer material, probably meant to signify the country is in mourning. Flying over the city shows that most businesses and every tower along the city's defensive walls is flying similar flags. The statue of the kingdom's founding queen that sits in the middle of the has been adorned as well. The castle is a somewhat unusual design. There is a large main building with four towers at its four edges, but there are also large walls encircling a central area with towers that rise steadily along both directions to a final taller tower at the back of the area. It is not hard to imagine that that is probably Sarra's tower. Visible from the air busses is the royal garden within that central area. A sprawling garden formed of a rainbow of flower colors with fruit trees of various types closer to the walls. The bus lands at the front of the castle, where twin tapestries similar to the flags and covered with similar sheer material have been put in place on either side of the large double door that is the main entrance to the castle itself. Those arriving are given the opportunity to leave coats with doormen and maids both human and piranha plant provide those attending with a single spiral of a dried sundew plant, which is supposed to be pinned in the hair, or to a lapel if one prefers. They are then guided through the entrance hall of the castle (also adorned with tapestries), past the throne room and out to the great garden. The main pathway from the throne room has had seating prepared, along with plenty more flowers on stands. Many of the seats are filled already with a collection of humans, toads, piranha plants, and even a few of the mantis people who also call this land home. The first row of seats has been reserved for the honored guests who helped in the book world. Sarracenia is seated there as well, in the first seat on the left. And for some reason...many butterflies have landed on her. A few squirrels and birds are gathered as well, some on her shoulders, some sitting on the seat beside her, and one or two atop her head. The princess herself is dressed in a rather poofy and extravagant dress though it is all black, as are her gloves and shoes. She even has a small sheer veil of mourning over her face. There is a massive portrait of Gregory that is sitting on a raised stage in front of a water fountain. Gregory himself is in...a glass box? It looks like some kind of preservation contraption, probably purchased somewhere in Grand Dorado. The faithful butler has been dressed and made up to look as good as possible. Those who are familiar with the story might think of snow white, for the setup is very reminiscent of that. Sarra is just staring at Gregory, petting a bunny that has hopped into her lap. Her one good eye remains on her late butler even when people might walk in front of her or greet her.
Riku Asakura	Riku arrives from the warp gate wearing a three-piece black suit. A suit he has saved for special occasions, such as funerals. It has a black tie with a white dress shirt and a jacket that is also black. Black dress pants and black dress shoes adorn the mourning outfit. He makes his way onto the flying bus, and normally would be wowing at the sights from above, no matter how many times he's ridden in on it before, but today is different. He's somber instead of all smiles and bursting with nervous energy. Today, he knows why he's here, and it's a sad affair. When the bus lands, he walks out and towards the castle to be shown the way to the memorial. He gets the piece of dried sundew and attaches it to his lapel, smiling politely at the staff who have to work on this day of mourning for one of their own. He's escorted to the great garden, where the picture of Gregory is on display, as well as the glass box containing the former butler. He also spots Sarracenia and walks up to her, giving her a comforting smile, but his eyes say it all. He's sad for her and for Gregory's passing. "I'm sorry," he says, because it's all he can say. What goes unsaid is '...that I couldn't save him.' This has Riku more messed up than anything. It wasn't supposed to go down like this. It was supposed to be a reunion, not a funeral. Riku moves on to where he's supposed to sit and sits in his seat. He looks ahead, face readable by anyone who bothers to look at him. He's taken this hard. His own tears might be spent, but it's still a huge loss to have failed to save someone. No matter who they are.
Storm Investigators	"Is it really appropriate for us to be here? I mean... We barely knew the deceased." "We were present for his final moments. Somewhat. Questions might be raised if we didn't show up." "I.. I suppose." Although Marcus is looking as anxious and withdrawn as ever even with Greta standing nearby, the pair are nonetheless dressed as appropriate for a funerary proceeding. Rather than their usual blues and browns, they're both dressed in more formal black coats and long skirts with white blouses. Marcus has even put her usual cap and bookcase away for once, and they both arrive just a little early in time for the airship heading to the castle. Despite Greta's reasoning, however, it's still rather awkward for both of them to see just how much of the kingdom had been prepared for this matter. How much did either of them actually know Sarracenia or Gregory? Not much, and they'd certainly never heard of a butler getting this sort of treatment after death. The gravity of the whole situation still weighs down on them, them, especially on Marcus as she sees all those tapestries and the way the interior of the castle and the garden are decorated. "He must have had many friends... How unfortunate." "It's possible. A butler can be a more approachable face than royalty. Whatever the case is, let's offer our condolences." Instead of beelining to their seats, the pair of investigators join Riku in greeting Sarracenia, dried flowers in Marcus' hair and Greta's lapel. Once Riku offers his sympathies, Greta gives him a light pat on the back in passing before ushering Marcus forward. "I.. Um. My deepest sympathies, Princess. King. Queen. This wasn't.. Um. I am very sorry." "Our condolences. Do remember to take the time you need to recover from this loss." Although Greta's expression is about as stoic and unreadable as ever, Marcus' is suitably downcast for a funeral even if it isn't quite as pronounced as Riku's. There's also a heaping of nerves, of course, since her head is also swirling with general concerns about somehow offending Sarracenia or her parents, and she only really takes a moment to breathe once she's safely seated with Greta.
Petra Soroka	At thirty years old, this might be the first time that Princess Sarracenia Sundew has seriously grappled with death. The realization hits Petra as she listlessly leans against the railing of the airship bus that carries them from the warpgate, watching the black cloth veil on the mast overhead. She's been around death, of course, but none of the ones at Lobotomy Corporation seemed to deeply affect her, and why would they? Petra's never exactly shed any tears for people dying that she barely knows either. The first time she really felt it herself was in the Maw where Jay was, watching his recording. Someone who died years before, abstractly for her sake, suddenly made real too late by a message she was never supposed to hear. Years later, then, she was already behind the curve when it finally happened to her: twenty, when Cinder died, practically ancient compared to the freshly eighteen Eidolon Squadron. Thirty.... The airship transport, she remembers distantly, can only be because of her own complaints about there not being any, when she came here with Audrey before. She remembers berating Sarracenia for making Audrey walk through the jungle defenseless so that she could try to suspension-bridge her brain, and the disappointed look on the princess's face when Petra was there to cockblock her. That's another ghost, though a different kind. Audrey might have turned out to be an irredeemable creep, but every stretch of 'time' is stained with the colors of the people that were there for it, and any ending retroactively infuses it with the hue of loss. Petra twists around, looking away from the airship to lean over the railing. She lights a cigarette, takes one drag, and then drops it, watching as it sails towards the world below, and cutting it in half with a precise dart of Silver just before it hits the canopy. Petra's suit is work clothes, not mourning clothes, but the black blends right in. She considers not taking the plant clipping at all, but eventually obliges and tucks it into the breast pocket of her suit. She might not like Sarracenia, but it's sort of crass to not do that at a funeral. The idea of a 'country in mourning' over a butler is an idle fascination as she makes her way to the garden, for a name that it's nearly certain that none of the civilians had heard before. And yet, there they are, sitting in rows of chairs. Are these nameless people staff of the castle? Personal friends and family to Gregory? Hired seat fillers, paid for by Sarracenia's parents to make this whole thing not feel deeply pathetic? Gregory was a man who gave up his entire life for the sake of a princess with no sense of decorum or dignity, an equivalent funeral would be burying him in their backyard like a dead fish. Better that it's not, though. Petra doesn't sit in the honored guest chairs, because, like, this is a royal-ish funeral for the Sundew family, and she's not a friend to Sarracenia, Gregory, or the kingdom. She does linger outside the blocks of seats nearby, though, sitting on the rim of a big stone planter full of flowers and vines, smoking another cigarette. A tiny floating fan made of Silver blows the smoke politely away from the gathering. She's near enough to briefly say a "Sorry," in Sarracenia's direction, and continue to wonder why she's here.
Angela	Ever since EVIL HAS WON, Love has been stuck in her winged serpent form. Fortunately, she hasn't been lasering anyone who doesn't deserve a bit of lasering (or anyone, yet) but she is inherently a sort of person who has to have sympathy for those who have been transformed into monsters of the week by the dark kingdom and it's hard to get more Dark Kingdomy than The Darkmancer and a Dark Fairy Queen. By the properties of magical girl, she has to properly atone! By lasering evil! Oh she wants to laser evil so bad right now. But sometimes even a magical girl knows that you can't just go out and fight evil immediately, you have to propery mourn your losses and so she has come to pay respects to someone she doesn't really know but probably didn't deserve to be turned into a monster and then die. Since she's stuck as a serpent monster thing, her formal wear is a bow tie that is tapped to the upper portion of her serpent body, under her chin. With her is someone who is new to some people here! The Knight of Justice, also known as the Knight of Despair on her bad days, is a nearly ten foot tall woman with long blue hair with starlight shimmering within her strands. She wears a long black and dark blue constellation patterned gown with the symbol of a spade underneath her collar. She is very pale--paler than Angela, frankly--with the right side of her face covered in black goopy shadow that forms into a singular horn. a black teardrop is under her left eye and a small tiara rests on the the other side of her head. No doubt, she is here to support Sarracenia. Angela didn't think it would be very appropriate for herself to come but has sent a letter of condolences. Of the two that came today, Justice is the one that can take a moment to stop by, carefully avoiding bumping into a small woodland creature, to say, "My apologies for your loss. I pray justice is found for him." Love is quiet beyond faint squeaking warbling noises. At some point she collects a small squirrel in her hands and doesn't immediately try to eat it. It's bad folks. They make their way to Petra, Justice deftly despite her size and Love accidentally knocking a chair over with her tail on the way over which gets her eyes to tear up as she has failed to protect love and justice and sort of lies down after coiling around in like a half circle around Petra. "It's not fair..." She mumbles again. Justice pats her head.
Arthur Lowell	> ==> Arthur looks at the glass box and the dead plant inside. Shoulders are a bit slumped. His face, somewhat blank. He looks exhausted, not just by long nights working tale-rot containment duty in a way that is maybe the opposite of nostalgic. But he got a black suit out of an old closet and he put it on and he's here. And he's staring down at Gregory in a glass case with a blank, tired expression. > Arthur: man "Yeah." He mutters under his breath. > Arthur: Can you do something about this grief "No." He mutters, quietly. Then he approaches Sarracenia. "Hey." He's... keeping the tone low, you know, for the circumstances. "I'm... real sorry it all turned out this way." He sort of struggles to find footing on a way to continue speaking on it. "Look, you've got your, you know, resting, and grieving, and all, to do. My sympaties. Seen more than one person bite it to talerot like that and it's never easy. But when you're ready, we gotta connect on some stuff." "All this crap about princesses and princess-power--" He shakes his head, gritting his teeth a bit. "You've got a Class, and somewhere buried in all this is an Aspect. You need to make this guy mean something, so that this Darkmancer a-- so this Darkmancer guy doesn't own his outcomes." "Get in touch. Maybe take your mind off this. Or put your mind on it in a good way, I don't know. I need to get you tutorialized, though, either way. Teach you about what 'Princess' means to... books like this, I guess. What you have to-- well, what you can do, about this story." He rubs his face a bit, and says, "Sorry. That this all happened."
Petra Soroka	"It's not fair..." Oh, right. This is why Petra's here. She pets the Queen of Hatred's neck, stroking down from the base of her skull and scratching the scales with the grain, fond and reassuring. "It's alright, Love. Nothing's fair. If it was, then heroes wouldn't need to do anything." She takes another drag on her cigarette, watching the audience rather than the coffin. "This is just how episode thirty goes sometimes."
Schneider Greco	Why'd she come here? What's there to say? Even that greedy girl would feel obscene asking for a reward, now. She wears a white dress with red flowers crawling on it, which covers her from almost knee to almost collarbone. You wouldn't realize she isn't wearing her usual nearly-naked feathers under her dark coat, until you see her from the front. "Who knew you could go without your little hat, right?" says an agent of the Manus Vindictae, to Marcus, not unkindly. Her voice is quiet. "Hmh. It looks good on you, my-lord." She walks to the front; stands by the glass box; stares at Gregory, again, for a moment or three; and says something without any air behind it, that you'd only know if you read her lips. It's nothing pretty. Just a little curse. Once seated, she gives a warm smile to Love- "good serpent. I am glad you were there with me," she says- but, since Petra's already giving Love her due love, her eyes swivel to the left to Marcus and Greta. Schneider Greco leans forward, peeking around Greta at Marcus. "It is-not your first time seeing death, my-lord?" Gentle, like you'd speak to a younger sister almost. Greta is gracefully ignored.
Sarracenia	As the various members of the rescue party filter in, Sarra finally looks up at least a little from Gregory. Riku's apology gains no smile from her, but she does reach to give his hand a squeeze. Marcus and Greta's comments earn a quiet "...thank you..." from Sarra. Petra's apology is almost lost in the din of quiet conversation, but Sarra turns her head as she hears it, looks Petra over, then turns back. Sarra is unfamiliar with Justice, but She nods at the apology before turning in her seat to see Love. She offers a small wave and at least attempts a smile for the serpent. Arthur's words draw Sarra a bit more out of her trance. "...a Class...?" she says quietly. She listens to Arthur, her one eye gazing up at him for part of it before wandering back to Gregory. "...thank you, Arthur. I will contact you as soon as I feel ready." she says, reaching to touch his hand much as she did Riku's. A few minutes later, most everyone who is able to make it has made it. Sarra gets up from her seat slowly, carefully placing the bunny in the seat next to her and leaving the other animals wherever they are, be it on her or in a chair. She then moves up onto the stage. She gazes at Gregory's portrait for a few moments, then walks past his glass casket with a hand running sadly along the top of it before approaching the podium off to the other side of Gregory's coffin. She moves to stand behind it, then stands there for a few moments staring at the top of the podium. There is a speech there, written down so she doesn't have to think about remembering it. But, as she looks at it she can even read it thanks to the blurriness in her eye from tears. "I...um..." she stammers, then coughs lightly and her shoulders start to shake. The king and queen rise and move to join her. The queen, an elegant woman around Sarra's height with slightly darker copper hair, slips her arms around Sarra's shoulders and the king, a beast of a man taller than Sarra and built like a bull, takes her small hand in his. They too are clad in black. The queen takes over speaking for now. "Welcome friends. It is good to see so many of you here today, despite the circumstances. Thank you all for coming. I know it means much to my daughter to see that her faithful butler had touched so many lives. Even those she considers adversaries answered the call to action, and her gratitude for their efforts cannot be overstated despite what happened." The queen looks toward the group sitting on the front row. "Let it be known that she places no blame on the heroes for what happened. You all did all that you could, facing unknown circumstances and powers to try and save someone that mattered more to the princess than perhaps anyone else in her life despite whatever opinions you had of her. This is true heroism in her eyes, for..."
Sarracenia	The queen stops and looks to Sarra as Sarra raises a hand and places it on her mother's. Sarra takes over, her voice shaky. "...th-this is...true heroism. Giving of yourselves for someone one who does not deserve it or one you hardly know. E-even if the outcome was not the one we wanted...the effort means more to me than I can express." Her expression hardens and her hands clench into fists. "It will bring some solace when the Darkmancer is eventually brought to justice." The queen slides a hand down Sarra's arm to give her hand a squeeze, and Sarra looks between both her parents before moving off the stage with them. The king picks up a black felt box from the podium before following. The royal family then approaches the heroes and Sarra looks to her father. He opens the box, which seems to contain medals. Small silver hammers with the green sundew frond wrapped around them. "Please, if you would all stand." she says as she picks one up. She then moves to place each one around one of the gathered heroes' necks. "Riku. you have embodied the aspects of a true hero ever since I first met you. This one tragedy does not mean you are not a hero. Any blame falls on me and on the Darkmancer. Thank you for answering the call." "Marcus. Your earnestness was a blessing throughout this, and the information you gleaned was invaluable. Thank you for answering the call." "Greta. Your cool head and calm demeanor offered stability throughout. Thank you for answering the call." "Arthur. Though our encounters with each other have been few and far between, you have been steadfast and kind at every opportunity. Without your powers, we might not have found Gregory at all. Thank you for answering the call." "Lady Schneider. You hardly know me or Gregory, yet you came to our aid when called. You honored my wishes regarding courses of action even when they were troublesome. Thank you for answering the call." A few of the attendees are seated elsewhere, and after putting a medal on those in the front row, Sarra moves to the planter where Petra, Love, and Justice are gathered. "Love. Your bright take on life and your passion for love are two things I value greatly. I am quite fond of you and have never regretted having you by my side in an adventure. Thank you for answering the call." Sarra places the medal around Love's neck if at all possible, and then gives the serpent a little appreciative kiss on the snout. "Petra..." The name is said with no small amount of mixed emotions. "...you...answered. That is not something I expected. It is a credit to Gregory that even you were willing to venture here for him. Thank you for answering the call." Once all the medals are distributed, Sarra returns to the podium. "Gregory was an amazing butler, and more than that an amazing person. He was my guiding light through much of my life. It will...tr-truly be difficult to find a way to exist without him. He is in this preservation contraption because I do not like to give up. We are still dealing with a storybook, and there is an ever so slight chance that he might be returned to us by the end." She looks out at Love with a slight smile, but then back to the crowd. "However...that is a very small chance. Even I can only hold out hope for so long." The princess wipes at her eyes. "If...anyone else would like to say anything on Gregory's behalf, I now welcome you to do so. After everyone who wishes to has done so, we will retire to the royal dining hall where a feast in his honor will be held."
Schneider Greco	"Thank you, my-la-dy Princess," she'd said while standing up, and, well, she's never let being called 'Lady Schneider' pass her by unremarked-upon before, but now doesn't seem the time to do her usual smiling humility. It seems cruel to make Sarracenia thank them for giving her back a dead body. That's what Schneider's thinking, back in her seat, as she holds the little medal in her hand and strokes over it with her thumb. A feast. It's a strange feeling, to not be sure whether she'll want to eat.
Riku Asakura	Riku nods to Sarracenia. Despite everything, he tries to uphold his ideas, and the hand squeezes at least helps him somewhat come to terms with things when they don't go his way. In this case, it became the death of the person they were trying to save. It's hard. It's so hard to face Sarracenia right now after all of this, but the fact that she does not shoulder any blame for him is a huge relief to his soul. Riku also notices the other arrivals. Petra was one he wasn't expecting, but happy that she at least made time to mourn for the butler. Arthur is inspirational to the young hero, always knowing what to do or what to say, whereas he could only appologize. He feels worst for Love, who seems to be in the same boat he is in. Schneider being here doesn't get the usual fear response he feels about her. Maybe he's feeling a touch under the weather? He isn't surprised to see Marcus and Greta here; they seem the type to come to this sort of thing and know what to say. When the services start, Riku keeps his gaze low despite the people talking. His breath hitches when Sara first fails to be able to say anything, and the Queen steps in for her. He thought she was already brave enough for being here, but speaking for her beloved friend's services had to be rough. However, his eyes return to her when she speaks again for her friend. He stands, and he weathers the words Sarracenia says for him. A true hero, telling him that this doesn't reflect on him. It's all he does to not either walk out in tears or shout that it's not true. He nods to her and accepts the medal. This wasn't for him, today, this was for Sarracenia. He would be a bad friend and 'hero' if he allowed himself to give in to these emotions. He manages a sad smile, but can't keep it up for long. Thankfully, there are others getting medals. 'If...anyone else would like to say anything on Gregory's behalf, I now welcome you to do so.' Riku looks down at the medal and then his shoes. He doesn't have anything to say. Just incredible sadness and insurmountable guilt.
Angela	''This is just how episode thirty goes sometimes.'' Love sticks out her tongue like a snake briefly, which worries the squirrel a little honestly. "Yeah..." Her body does lose some tension at the strokes and scritches as if she were an actual snek, though, and she seems soothed, if still--you know--still not too fond of experiencing the episode 30s of one's life. You can acknowledge the narrative importance of the episode 30s without really enjoying them when they hit. ''I am glad you were there with me.'' She likes being called a good serpent! She opens her mouth to try and give her a silly little snake smile. "I'm glad you were there too, Schneider..." "Oh?" Justice murmurs. "Is this the Schneider you've been telling me about?" The tall woman looks over Schneider. "Yeah, we're friends..." Love tells Justice. They had an adventure together wherein they seemed to get along. That's friendship in her book. She isn't surprised that Marcus isn't wearing a hat. Sometimes girls don't need to wear hats. It's been known to happen, even if it is bit strange. Her hand returns the wave, though she's not really in a waving mood, so she keeps it polite but brief. It's not fair, she thinks, she has to do something to make it ''fair''. Sarracenia doesn't need to blame Love for Love to feel like she's to blame. She runs through the day over and over again and she could have been faster. She could have caught the Dark Fairy by surprise. So on and so on. ''..Or one you hardly know.'' But they KNEW Gregory, didn't they? They maybe didn't know him as like a personal companion or a dear friend, but they knew of him and they knew how hard he worked and how he was relied upon and how he was the one person who chose to be someone Sarracenia could rely on through thick and thin. That paints a picture as clearly as any backstory. ''It will bring some solace when the Darkmancer is eventually brought to justice.'' The Knight of Justice nods approvingly because The Knight of Justice is pretty keyed in on all things justicey. When called to stand, Love can't really quite bring herself to do it (and she's also a giant snake) so Justice collects it on her behalf but doesn't put it around her neck just yet. Justice knows Love well enough that she's only going to want to look at the medal once she obliterates the people responsible for Gregory's death, but she moves so smoothly that it's easy to miss her true purpose. The snout kiss, Justice and Love allow without comment. "I'm sorry..." Love mumbles her way. It might be a surprise she doesn't throw some sort of tantrum over it, but then again--she technically is a Queen herself. She has been through 'The Ceremony' before. Love sort of wants to and doesn't want to say something on Gregory's behalf. She ultimately elects to say it to herself rather than go up in front of a podium. It feels a bit akin to showing off after she already messed up. But she makes sure to listen to his coworkers and what his local friends have to say. Maybe they did sort of know Gregory but they weren't his friends or confidants. Love isn't feeling very hungry, but Justice is already planning on coaxing Love to eat a real meal. She'll shove the spoon in her mouth if she has to.
Storm Investigators	"Who knew you could go without your little hat, right?" "A-a-ah? Oh, Madame Nine-er. Madam Schneider? Briefly befuddled by the unexpected compliment, Marcus glances in the wrong direction briefly before turning to Schneider with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Oh! Thank you? I..." She starts, then glances around again in both uncertainty on how else to actually respond to her properly, and to try and gauge Greta's reaction to her talking to Schneider. Greta, for her part, doesn't seem to notice at all. Her expression remains as indifferent as it does, and she too opts for conveniently keeping herself out of that. The only indication that she notices Schneider and Marcus speaking at all is a brief moment when she closes her eyes, exhales lightly, and tilts her head forward once in the slightest of nods. "Your dress is... Also nice? Fitting, since I've read that white is appropriate for these... Ah. Proceedings. And you're keeping warm, y.. Yes?" "It is-not your first time seeing death, my-lord?" Taking Greta's silence and subtle-ish gesture as approval to continue, Marcus turns back to Schneider with a slow shake of her head. "No... Not like this, but somewhat often back home. Not every week, but... More than once a month? The workers that lived around the orphanage did not always..." She speaks quietly, pausing briefly like she's trying to find some gentler language for Schneider's sake. "Make it through the night. Or when the others got sick, we... Um. Some of us were luckier than others." Taking a short breath to compose herself after recalling some of those memories, Marcus looks back up at Schneider while fidgeting a little in her seat. "Have you seen this often, Madam Schneider? Death, or funerals like this?" When Sarracenia starts to move, Marcus looks up and over while Greta continues facing forward as she had the whole time. Even though neither of them knew her much prior to all of this, it's still obvious to them that she's not taking things particularly well, and Marcus' face turns to a sympathetic frown while Greta exhales softly with a slight nod towards her after the queen has to take speaking duties for that moment. What surprises them both a little more, then, is hearing Sarracenia speaking up afterwards. The frown on Marcus' face turns a little more guilty as she remembers why she and Greta had gotten involved in the first place, and the ever-calm expression on Greta's face remains as it does. She doesn't even raise an eyebrow about bringing the Darkmancer to justice, although she does make a mental note of it. "Marcus ..." "O.. Oh, Princess. I wish there was more we could have done with the-Th... That we could have gotten more, and perhaps changed..." Caught off guard even though she had already seen and heard Sarracenia doing the same for Riku earlier, Marcus' nerves combine with her guilt over the whole situation into making her just start blurting things out without knowing where to finish those thoughts. She does step up on her toes a bit, at least, so that Sarracenia doesn't have to reach down as much. "Greta ..." "I did what was expected of me, but I still must offer apologies for our efforts not being enough." Greta replies to Sarracenia plainly as ever, tilting her head forward slightly in an indirect approval of Marcus' own movements. Neither of them know what to say when Sarracenia asks for parting words, either, but not for a lack of trying on Marcus' part. She tries to pull something out of her head that she could try and convince Greta to say, but lands on nothing. She does, however, make a mental note to maybe try and work on that a little later. Greta, meanwhile, has no qualms about not saying a thing. She's fully okay with listening in on all of this without drawing attention towards herself and Marcus, medals notwithstanding.
Petra Soroka	"Even those she considers adversaries answered the call to action, and her gratitude for their efforts cannot be overstated despite what happened." Dissociatively, the longer the queen's speech goes on, the more Petra's perspective fades from her own body. She sees herself, continually an 'adversary' to Sarracenia despite being a Concord Partner, despite undoing her aging, despite being here, loitering off to the side of a funeral she's not welcome at and smoking a cigarette like she thinks she's so fucking cool. When did she get so mopey about everything? God. It's infuriating, actually. The Petra of a couple years ago would've pointed out all of Sarracenia's hypocrisies and berate her for acting more like she lost a handicap than a person. The Petra of a couple years before that would've been passively peer pressured into showing up despite being awkward and weird about the whole idea, feigning the emotions she assumed people expected at funerals. A few years before that, Petra would never have showed up at all. But it's this one that's here, the one that has her stupid head full of thoughts and feelings about death and loss and the responsibilities of one person to another and thinks she's so fucking cool with her cigarette and her enigmatic moody posture even though she doesn't even smoke that often anymore, who still can't bring herself to feel much sympathy at all for Sarracenia or the crowd. How long will it be until Sarracenia's back to normal again after this? A day, or a week, maybe? Is that normal? Is Petra back to normal? Isn't this enough of a darkest hour, the episode thirty that leads to not seeing each other as enemies anymore, or will it not matter at all? "Petra... ...you...answered." Petra barely suppresses a sudden laugh, sharply inhaling a lungful of smoke that makes her double over and start wheezing with the effort of not collapsing into a coughing fit. She hides her head behind Love's, practically holding her entire weight up by propping herself up on Love's side, shuddering and making muffled choking noises. A full minute later, she emerges with her face bright red and smudgy tears at the corners of her eyes, still residually coughing out smoke. Damnation by faint praise, but it is a credit to Gregory that she came. Try as she might, Petra's slowly lost the ability to wish death on people just for not doing anything wrong. Of course she's not going to get up at the podium and say anything, though. Obviously not. This isn't the place, and she's not really welcome to do that whatever Sarracenia says. It's enough that she's here. She straightens up, patting Love on the side of the head. If it wasn't for Love, there's no way she'd stick around for the banquet, but making sure that Love eats and gets comfort is just one of her obligations.
Calvin Nash	EARLIER r Calvin leans back in his chair and pushes out a sigh. One arm is crooked around the back of the chair, the other hangs low at his side. This day was going to come whether he was ready for it or not. Loa: There's no more time to tarry. "I'm workin'. Got this space to myself for the afternoon. Might as well use it while there ain't no distractions." He leans forward in his seat and attempts to pour himself into the same task he's been at for over an hour now. Shotshell cartridges stand in neat rows on one side of the table. 'Pellets' made of ground precious stones are separated into orderly little piles on the other, while a powder horn rests at the back. A mounted magnifying glass allows him to focus on engraving the metal rims of the cartridges with a magically-infused needle, carefully turning it over. Calvin's COMP buzzes again. A new message. Loa: You can reserve time in the workshop to replenish your ammunition most anytime. Loa: It wouldn't do to be late to a funerary rite. Calvin sets his jaw, but ultimately relents and checks the message on the COMP. "Yep." With a grunt, he begins digitizing his supplies. Once the powder horn, the last of it all, is stored away in virtual space, he rises and leaves the communal workshop, striding through Ossabaw's lively dirt streets, eyes forward. The COMP buzzes. Chernobog: Loa, myself, Cerberus, Pabilsag before us... Chernobog: Are you so unprepared to face death, surrounded by it as you are? Calvin clenches his jaw, nostrils flared, fist tensed. Then he remembers who he's speaking to; nothing can intimidate or anger Chernobog; he simply is, and will be, even if the thing calling itself Chernobog is destroyed and sent back to the formless sea of myth and emotion. A steadying sigh. "When I was little, Eugene was the strongest man in the whole world to me. Now I'm grown, and he gets littler every year. Farther away from us every year." Chernobog: I see. Chernobog: You, too, want to appease and to bargain. "What's the matter with that?" Calvin asks defensively, stomping up the stairs of his front porch harder than he needs to. The door slams behind him. "'Sit so much to ask for people that give so much, had so much taken away, get a little longer to sit in the sun?" Chernobog: Of course not. Calvin pauses, staring at his COMP rather than at the black clothes on his bed. Chernobog: Even the Lobjo will one day dry up. Chernobog: Next to that, or to the mountains which overlook it, your lives are pathetically short. Chernobog: Be it the Wends, or Lilian Rook's people, or your own, you mortals have your names for me because I come for you all, in time. Calvin scoffs, unbuttoning his uniform's shirt, shedding it and tossing it into a wooden hamper. Chernobog: Don't take the wrong meaning. Chernobog: If your kind didn't fight so tenaciously to cling to life, I would find you much less interesting. Chernobog: Why preserve the servant's life? You've made your dislike of the princess fairly obvious. Sitting on the bed, Calvin pulls his work boots off, setting them neatly on the ground, just past the foot of the bed. "That don't mean I want her family to die." Chernobog: You believe that your appeasement to me wasn't sufficient to save him. Calvin fumes. "You tryin' to make me feel like shit? 'Cause it's workin'." Chernobog: You chose to contract with me. Chernobog: I only wish for you to understand that my sword falls sooner than mortal minds may imagine.
Calvin Nash	Chernobog: It is easier not to swing, than to halt in the midst of one. Chernobog: In other words, he was mine the moment that curse befell him. Calvin sits on the bed in silence for a long moment, hands resting between his legs, leaned over. "You're sayin' there wasn't nothin' I coulda done." Chernobog: Not to mock you, or to belittle your struggle, but to ensure you understand. "One day I might agree with you. But not today." "Thanks anyway." Chernobog: Of course.
Calvin Nash	NOW Calvin arrives at the funeral in black; a blazer, a snap-button shirt with dark gray buttons, a simple belt and dress shoes. No hat today, his blonde hair brushed back neatly--and his COMP is absent, too, most noticeable when he reaches out for a handshake, taking Sarracenia's in both of his following his disembark from the air bus. "Sarra," he says in greeting. "I'm so sorry. There's anything I can do so there's less for you to worry 'bout right now, you let me know." He's less awkward about it than Petra, having been to more funerals than he'd like, but it never gets easier, especially when it's someone you didn't really know. Inside, he feels much the same way. Why is he here? He doesn't feel comfortable enough to introduce himself to her parents--he barely feels welcome here. So he ends up near Petra, Love and Justice. It's not fair... "It ain't." He doesn't have more to say on it than that. He takes a seat towards the back, not particularly feeling like an honored guest. E-even if the outcome was not the one we wanted...the effort means more to me than I can express. Calvin's hands clasp together in his lap anxiously. It's a sentiment he doesn't know that he feels worthy of. If...anyone else would like to say anything on Gregory's behalf, I now welcome you to do so. His grip is tighter, his gaze further down. What could he say, that hasn't already been felt by someone with a closer connection? But someone has to. If she asked a question like that, and it got silence, it'd be deafening. It'd drown out the whole proceedings until she, or someone else tried to move past it--even then, it'd stay in the memory, like an ache that flares up whenever an old wound is irritated. He can't let that happen. Calvin stands up. He marches solemnly down the aisle and takes a spot at the podium, murmuring a confirmation towards Sarracenia to ensure she doesn't mind, gently placing a hand on her shoulder and nodding before he says his piece. Clearing his throat, "There's givin', and then there's givin' yourself. One's a pretty thought." Calvin swallows anxiously, but steels himself, fingers drumming at the edges of the podium. "But anybody can give. Not just anybody can give themselves to somebody or somethin'." "It takes patience. It takes love. And it takes faith. 'Cause you don't never know whether it's gonna pay off. Sometimes people don't know that they don't know that. They get discouraged. Or pissed off. And then they don't wanna do it no more." He shakes his head, then hangs over the podium, searching for words. After a few seconds that feel agonizing to him, he manages, "...The people that know there ain't no guarantee, and decide to do it anyway? They're damned hard to come by. And they're missed when they're gone. Anybody that thinks that ain't true, or that it don't count for nothin' can take a look outside." "Thank you," he finishes, not sure what else to say, before he steps down and heads back to his seat.
Arthur Lowell	> Arthur: Receive medal He looks just psychologically desolate when it goes around his neck. There's a little popup, a little system indicator, when he gets a medal, because of course there is. Of course there is. \< >/ Achievement Unlocked! \_/ 20¤ - Castle Crushed «___» Complete act 2 of the Storybook He looks disgusted at his own UI, for once. He is thinking about the last time a girl invited him to solve a problem in a book, which turned out to be subject to severe talerot, and how she, too, only knew him to be kind. For several moments that are simultaneously so short they pass in the blink of an eye, and so long that they feel like an eternity, Arthur Lowell feels so sick he considers teleporting out of here to try to not make more of a scene than that would be. Anyone looking at his face can read that in an instant. > Arthur: Want to say anything? He can't even bear looking her in the eye when she asks for people to speak. Only the agonizing silence when others refuse to manages to get him to stand up and approach the podium. Pale as death and teeth gritted. "Hh-- hey. I didn't know Gregory. Only know Sarra a little." He mutters, barely audible with whatever sound-system they have. "We need to make it mean something. That's our job. Gregory's job was to keep her helped in the small ways. To write a lot of story material. It's our job to make it all mean what it should. Edit, make connections, narrate. For her, and for him, and for us." He puts one palm across an eye to rub it for a second, unsteadily. "He lived for her, and died for a story. So. We have to make it one that says something. Has meaning." He grips the podium for a minute. "The girl who taught me to investigate this type of book always... said that she didn't mind her own death, as long as it was beautiful. As long as people looked at her dying, and thought it was this amazing artistry, a culmination of things to wrench their heart and drive them forward in the world. And I don't think she was right, but, I think Gregory would rather the last moments he had be used to push Sarra forward. Everyone forward, I guess. I get the impression he was helpful that way." He squeezes the podium harder now. "So take how, how shitty you feel right now, and wrap it in whatever it takes to hold it with your bare hands. Use it to cut through what comes next with the kind of grace that's a half-decent tribute. Don't look away just because there's maybes and possiblies about a happy ending. Turn it into real meaning even if it meant pain, or meant loss, or it didn't mean anything at all." His explanation sort of trails off. "...Or something." He mutters, as he steps away from the podium. > Arthur: Finally start grieving M-- "Shut it." He whispers tensely once he's back in his seat. He can't wait for a decent meal, but he also can't bear the idea of eating much more right now.
Schneider Greco	Schneider's eyes turn upwards to look at Greta's face, for a moment- an unspoken prodding, followed by an unspoken 'well, I won't make things hard on you'- before sliding back down, past her, to Marcus. "The orphanage... mmmh. I had-not realized, my-lord, that you'd had such a hard life. And the abbesses, they cared for the sick? How strange . . ." In Schneider's experience, the lowly and the poor get little love or care. The nobler the carer professes to be, the truer this is. Gregory, in that, was strange. Her thumb rubs the medal again, fidgeting with it in the absence of her guns. She's still got them on her, of course, but for once, she doesn't feel like having them toyetically drawn. "Have you seen this often, Madam Schneider?" "I don't go to many funerals," she admits. "One a year, or may-be two..." When she sees death, it's while the bodies are warm. But she doesn't say that. Rather: "One gets used, my-lord Marcus, to people dying. It is on-ly an event. One... does not get used to them being gone." "Children lose many teeth. The tongue, I think, it is... al-ways sur-prised, to find the hole." "Is this the Schneider you've been telling me about?" "Oh, she has been talking about me?" A small, earnest smile. Schneider looks across to Love and Justice; bows from the waist and lifts the corner of her jacket, the closest she can get to a sitting curtsey; and then gives Love a little wink. "I'm flattered, my-la-dy." "We are friends," she affirms, although her voice stays respectfully quiet for the speeches. To Justice: "And you, you are close with me bona spaghetta too? A sis-ter, per-haps...?"
Sarracenia	When the podium is opened for all, it is quiet for a long moment. Nobody is in a rush to get to the podium. 'Thank you, my-la-dy Princess,' Sarra nods at the thank you and gives Schneider's hand a squeeze. 'Riku looks down at the medal and then his shoes. He doesn't have anything to say. Just incredible sadness and insurmountable guilt.' Sarra gives Riku's hands another squeeze. "We will find the Darkmancer." she says. 'I'm sorry...' Sarra raises an eyebrow as Justice takes the medal, but doesn't protest. She nods lightly as Love apologizes and reaches to give Love some headpats. 'O.. Oh, Princess. I wish there was more we could have done with the-Th... That we could have gotten more, and perhaps changed...' 'I did what was expected of me, but I still must offer apologies for our efforts not being enough.' Sarra shakes her head lightly at both. "As I said, I do not blame the team for what happened. There is a much more appropriate person to blame, and he shall get what he deserves." 'Petra barely suppresses a sudden laugh' Sarra blinks in surprise as Petra is suddenly choking. She watches wide-eyed until Petra recovers enough to take the medal. "Smoking is a horrible habit, you know." she says before moving on. 'Hh-- hey. I didn't know Gregory. Only know Sarra a little...' Arthur makes what is to Sarra a very good speech. She agrees that they need to make it mean something, to honor Gregory, and to move forward with him in mind and what he would have wanted. PREVIOUSLY Calvin takes Sarra's hand, and that snaps her to reality faster than anything. She blinks in surprise, then looks up slowly and confused. It isn't because she wouldn't let them but...people do not take her hand. When medals are being given out, Sarra approaches Calvin. "Mister Calvin. I suspect that I am not your favorite person. And yet, you came. And you have been kind and supportive throughout. Thank you for answering the call." NOW Calvin approaches the podium. Sarra nods lightly in approval. She has tears rolling down her cheeks again by the time he is finished. After the heroes have gone, one of the piranha plant maids steps forward. She steps meekly up onto the stage and turns to face those gathered. "Mister Gregory...was always an inspiration. He somehow did all of his duties without ever complaining. When we needed help or guidance he was always willing. His patience was legendary, and over our years of service he was somehow able to see the good in...um...people even when most of us could not. And he was able to curb the bad when needed. Much like our princess, he never gave up hope." She steps down and one of the airship captains steps up. "Gregory wasn't military. He didn't have combat training and never seemed to use power-ups. But, he was never afraid to join us on our deployments, acting as liaison between us and the princess when needed and helping with moving ammo or power-up crates when deployed. His bravery and dedication were to be commended. He will be missed." After that, a human woman steps up. "Mister Gregory was always so kind and proper when he came to my shop to buy whatever essential ice cream the princess was craving that day when she didn't come down herself. Which was usually Rainbow Bob-omb." The crowd all chuckle softly. "He never seemed to lament his position. And he often treated the neighborhood children to an ice cream while he was there." After that, several more servant staff and shopkeepers come forward to say similar things. Once they are done, Sarra moves back to the podium. She is smiling by now. One of those sad but appreciative smiles. "Thank you all...it means so much to me that Gregory is remembered like this."
Sarracenia	The king and queen are now at the back of the seating area, and once Sarra has spoken they beckon the crowd. "This way, everyone. The staff have worked very hard on their very best meals to commemorate their friend. Let it not go to waste." the king says, and then lead the way to the dining hall. Sarra, still at the podium, calls out to the heroes. "Everyone who was part of the rescue team, please come with me. This will take only a moment." She guides them instead to her tower at the back of the garden. Once inside the ground floor, she turns to them. There are still tears in her eyes, but as she speaks there is an obvious burning rage behind them. "I do not consider the operation over until the Darkmancer is captured and brought to justice. I will understand if some of you do not wish to continue, so I thought this would be a good time to settle payments and solidify favors. Though, I think the few that chose a favor over a payment were not able to attend today." Sarra moves to hand each person a credit stick. "I have had the funds transferred to these. I did not think you all would appreciate a chest full of gold coins. Please take them. If needed, consider them an advanced payment. My question to you all is...are you with me until we find and punish the Darkmancer? As Arthur said, we cannot let Gregory's sacrifice mean nothing. And who knows how many more books that...that..." Sarra struggles for a word that -wouldn't- be unprincessly to say and seems to fail. "...might employ after this. He cannot be allowed to do such things to anyone else."
Riku Asakura	'We will find the Darkmancer.' That gets his attention; he looks up and squeezes her hand back. They might not have saved Gregory, but they can at least avenge him. He nods to her, once. His features don't brighten, but they at least become less sad and slightly more hardened. He's ready to take the Darkmancer to justice for his crimes. Especially ones so petty. 'We need to make it mean something.' To Arthur's words, he finds himself nodding. They have to make the sacrifice he made mean something. '...The people that know there ain't no guarantee, and decide to do it anyway? They're damned hard to come by. And they're missed when they're gone.' This digs into Riku's brain. He wants to be the kind of person Gregory was. To have people miss him when he's gone, to have that sort of love and compassion to risk everything for others. Right now, all he wants to be is anywhere else, but... He's realizing that being here is being the kind of person he wants to be. Silently, he thanks Calvin for his words and wisdom. It made him see something important. He walks with Sarra to the room to speak about their reward. He doesn't feel as if he deserves anything, but again, he realizes this is as much for her as it is for him. He takes the credit stick and pockets it after staring at it for a long time. "I'm not stopping now, not until we deal with the Darkomancer. He can't be allowed to do this to anyone else ever again." his hands scrunch into fists. "So I'm with you, Sarracenia. Until the end of this."
Angela	Justice tenses briefly at the presence of Calvin but the 'it ain't' seems to cool her down. Love nods again. At least, Love thinks, that everybody agrees that it's not fair. Her attention is drawn from the funeral at large to Petra specifically when Petra starts crying! Crying so hard she's having trouble breathing! Oh nooo! Poor Petra! Love curls up so she can rest her head on Petra's shoulder to comfort her. Poor Petra... She's being so brave for her... Calvin's speech sounds like something that satisfies her belief structures! He even said 'it takes love!'. But she's not exactly judging speeches. She's just sort of relieved that the way she feels isn't something that she's feeling alone. He was someone who pushed Sarracenia forward. She wonders if now that there isn't a Gregory, is Sarracenia is just going to give up entirely and becoming a living decaying body just moving around. Can she be her own Gregory? ''One a year, or may-be two.'' Love hands Schneider her therapy squirrel in case it'll help, or in case Schneider's feeling a bit peckish. Either way. ''You are close with me bona spaghetta too?'' "We are sisters and teammates." Justice tells Schneider. "I came to the Multiverse because we were ... cursed, after a fashion, to harm those around us that we did not wish to harm. But thanks to Lady Tamamo, we were relieved of the curse and now live freely." ''I'm flattered, my-la-dy.'' "Woah... you feel the same way as me..." Love whispers. "I like how she talks about me, sis..." "She has a charming affect." Justice admits before looking back to Schneider, extending a hand to Schneider. "Thank you for looking after her. She has a big heart and the world is often unkind to big hearts." "My heart is invincible and crushes all evil." Love says, which isn't exactly disagreement. Love is more interested in what the locals have to say about Gregory though, turning her attention when there's a little maid flower with sharp teeth which Love thinks is charming. ''Never seemed to use power-ups.'' Love and Justice nod as if this isn't silly at all. Some people are allergic to power-ups. It's fine. Truthfully, there isn't much new that they didn't already know that they hear but it still helps fill the shape of that Gregory shaped absence. ''Favors'' "Um, we didn't actually complete the mission, so I don't think I can really ask for anything. Or accept anything. Sorry! I'd feel weird." Love bows her head. "Of course we will see to it that justice is done." Justice says, predictably. She feels it's a little ghoulish that there's even money being offered so soon after the funeral itself. "If you wish to repay me, call upon me when you are ready for the murderers to taste my starsteel."
Petra Soroka	"Smoking is a horrible habit, you know." Petra smiles humorlessly at Sarracenia, hooking the medal around her pinky rather than her neck. She takes another drag, exhaling with her face turned away. "I know. That's why I quit." "Anybody that thinks that ain't true, or that it don't count for nothin' can take a look outside." It's a very clean-feeling, heartfelt, mature-sounding speech. Petra is fascinated by it for the qualities and the context, more than the content, watching Calvin with her eyes directed steadily at the front of the gathering for the first time since arriving. The feeling's definitely not mutual, but Petra assigns a certain level of respect and trust to Calvin that places him above most of the others here today in terms of how comfortable she feels being around him right now. Emotionally, he's not in a totally different spot from her. Turning her head to track him as he filters back towards the area around her, she says, quietly with an unreadable emotion, "You're pretty good at these sorts of things, huh." "The girl who taught me to investigate this type of book always... said that she didn't mind her own death, as long as it was beautiful." "I mean, I did kind of--for a while--want to go out in a blaze and glory just to ''mean'' something to someone, but I don't want that anymore." "...But I know the Scorched Girl story." Petra flinches visibly. Whatever thought she was going to express to Calvin vaporizes when Arthur gets up to the podium, annihilated in a sudden tide of nausea and dizzying, claustrophobic pressure. Her breath stops in her chest, fingers scraping down Love's scales as her hand involuntarily twitches into a fist. Arthur slinks down from the podium, but she doesn't look in his direction. She's always saying that kind of thing, right? Cinder was too. She should be able to dredge up some support, or encouragement, or addition, or even deny it and say... something else, but.... They never had a funeral for Cinder, did they? There was a week of fighting right after it happened. She wasn't talking to Lilian, so she didn't feel up to anything at all. The Pianist hit the City, and one death among tens or hundreds of thousands, all Petra's fault in some way or another, felt pointless to even acknowledge. Angela doesn't ever want to think about her again either, she knows. A year-- plus eight days-- later, would there be any point to it? Would anyone have anything to say about her, besides Petra? The spark of life that the ignition of the Fourth Match makes in death is supposed to propel something, lead somewhere, make meaning like Arthur said, but did it? Does it, even for Petra? Will Sarracenia fucking Sundew change permanently from this? "Everyone who was part of the rescue team, please come with me." When Sarracenia calls the Elites to her, Petra has somehow ended up in a worse state than she started. It's taking all of her focus to keep herself from crying, physically clamping it down by clenching her jaw and breathing through her nose, with occasional shivering breaths slipping between her lips when her shoulders shake. She really, really wants to leave instead of doing this, but there's at least one more thing she has to do. "I have had the funds transferred to these." Petra silently, tensely shakes her head, lightly pushing the credit stick away. She doesn't trust herself to speak until swallowing several more times, because it'd be unbearable to cry in front of Sarra. "Later. Okay?"
Arthur Lowell	> ==> Arthur turns the credit stick over in his hand, but it shakes a bit. "I'm staying on." He explains. "I still need that book once the story is 'spent'. And I can't leave a case like this alone." He shakes his head a little, shivering in place slightly. "There's a certain kind of meaning that... means I should stick with it. Will stick with it." He nods a few times. "Consider the cash pre-payment on something else, whenever I can pin you down for some class-pect training. What I'm here for, is a well-read storyworld. If I can break some Darkmancer guy's nose to work out my fee-- to work things out of my system, that's bonus I'm staying for too." > Arthur: Notice Petra Petra's... conspicuous change in posture is visible. In a good world, Arthur would immediately overcome the awkwardness to approach her, offer to share a moment of kindness. He would express to her that he, himself, has left someone unmourned in a way, that he has had a connection with beautiful sacrifice go unresolved and left its inevitable ending unacknowledged. Or she'd go to him and note the same. And together, maybe, they'd commiserate or produce some sort of further ceremony themselves, to commemorate the lost to some degree. To give them more meaning and to give each more closure. However, we live in a timeline where Petra is Petra and Arthur is Arthur, and she has her reasons for not doing it and he can't bear the idea of exposing core insecurities to someone he once had an embarrassing tantrum at one time a few months ago. So nobody gets closure and there's just that lingering sense of weirdness in the air. Arthur clasps the little medal and turns it around between his fingers, before he turns away from Petra. > ==> "I gotta get some fuckin' food." He mutters, trying to shake off the mood.
Schneider Greco	Schneider reaches up- way up, as much as she can manage while sitting!- and squeezes Justice's hand. Her eyes are still sad, but her smile's sincere. "Ah... I do-not quie understand, but I shall have to thank the Lady Tamamo when I see her, yes? For bring-ing you both into my li--" Ah. she's been handed a Therapy Squirrel. Schneider knows even less what to do about this than the squirrel does. After a moment's thought- Love's feelings will be hurt if she lets it go, right?- she strokes the top of its head with her thumb and murmurs soothing noises to it. . . . This is maybe helping a little, actually. "My-la-dy Love is kind and... ah... reliable, in her con-stan-cy," Schneider says, as she rises to follow Sarracenia where the princess leads. "It has been good, to rest in the cool shade of her great heart." . . . Ah. But they're being paid, now. Schneider looks at Petra, refusing queasily and almost tearily. And at Love, refusing apologetically; and Justice, sternly; and... Is she really going to accept? She intends to keep helping Sarra, of course. But having the money now rather than later could make a difference. Schneider isn't exactly pinched for cash at the moment, but this isn't a small sum either, and if it could matter then-- "Thank you, my-la-dy Princess," she say, the words coming out before she knows what she's saying, and her stomach ties itself in a knot as she takes the credit stick. Eugh.
Storm Investigators	"And the abbesses, they cared for the sick?" "Eh? Oh, no, no. I mean... Yes, but only the other children. They had their hands full enough with us that workers..." Marcus tries to clarify as she keeps her voice down while speaking to Schneider, visibly relaxing a little with Greta's... Not quite blessing, but not disapproval. "They warned us not to go near the workers, or we'd get sick, too. They weren't wrong about that, but..." Marcus wrings her hands against her coat briefly, then stops when she remembers that this isn't her usual coat, and she probably needs to return it in good condition. "Ignoring them didn't feel right, either. So... Um. We got sick." She manages the briefest of awkward chuckles, and then she glances around briefly, as though she's still afraid of breaking some kind of unspoken rule or of someone coming down on her for a long-ago transgression. "One gets used ... does not get used" That, meanwhile, gets Schneider a more somber nod from Marcus along with more of that anxious coat-wringing. "I hear about it all the time, and... I've heard it used to be so much worse before." She pauses, realizing that could mean both what she's seen with at work and what she's seen before work, and then sweats a little. Marcus avoids looking at Greta, who's still just keeping her gaze focused on the Sundew rooyals. "But the ones I did recognize... I'm still not, no. Even if I do not know most of them, thinking about their... The hole that's left never hurts less than the last one unless you don't know it's there at all." Biting her lip, Marcus unconsciously prods at the back of a tooth with her tongue a few times. "As I said, I do not blame the team for what happened." Even though Sarracenia tries to alleviate Marcus' concerns, she can't help but still feel guilt over what could have been. "Y.. Yes. Please, let us know if... When you decide on the next course of action. At the very least, I'd.. I want to stop anyone else from having to go through this, too." Greta, not looking surprised at finding herself volunteered for that, instead gives the princess a somber nod in turn. She's said what she needs to already, and she's not the sort to repeat herself more than needed when small gestures will do. "I think Gregory would rather the last moments he had be used to push Sarra forward" Instead, Greta listens to Arthur's talk on the podium, and she finds her mind lingering on certain parts more than others. What would 'forward' be from here in the context of the princess? Revenge? As satisfying as that might be in the short term, it wouldn't be the sort of 'forward' a presumed caretaker would want. Maybe. She doesn't know enough about Gregory to say for sure, but she's operating on the assumption that he was probably a sane person. Justice? That could be used in much the same way, just better sounding.
Storm Investigators	"There is a much more appropriate person to blame, and he shall get what he deserves." "I do not consider the operation over until the Darkmancer is captured and brought to justice." That lingers in Greta's mind even when the crowd moves onto the dining hall. Pocketing her payment discreetly, Greta closes her eyes for a moment while considering her and Marcus' continued involvement in this matter. It really is only a moment, too, before she speaks up again to answer her. "Thank you for your consideration, Princess Sarracenia. As our first mission is... Concluded, considering this as a second matter would be the cleanest way to handle things. Thank you for keeping that in mind, Princess Sarracenia." Greta looks over at Marcus, who's alternating between listening and trying not to get overwhelmed by the quality of the food and the utensils surrounding her. "As for our continued involvement. Marcus and I are investigators first and foremost, not soldiers. If you are expecting us to seek and destroy this Darkmancer for their crimes, we will have to refuse. We are not officers, and we are not soldiers." She starts, drawing a confused look from Marcus at first until she continues speaking instead of just stopping there. "However, the possibility of this book being used to cause more deaths or destabilize the region cannot be ignored. If you are looking to contract us for more investigative work to maintain the peace here, then we will consider it." Marcus, meanwhile, looks really guilty about taking the payment. She hands off her stick to Greta for safe keeping, who conveniently ignores that uncertain look from the younger investigator about being paid at all.
Calvin Nash	You're pretty good at these sorts of things, huh. Calvin likes being praised for skill. Not here; not this skill. He sighs. "Comes from experience," he admits, with a kind of tiredness that he has never displayed in her presence. Growing up in the place and time that he did, there were those funerals which were had not because of old age (though those are more common now, certainly), but because the bombs, in one way or another, hadn't yet had their fill. Early deaths from shortened lifespans, complications from injuries too set-in for then-incomplete understandings of magic or diminished medical corpus all left their mark on him. Eventually, he was too old, too much a part of the community, not to say his part when one of them passed. It's never 'easy,' even when it's someone he knew quite well. What else can he say about it, but those few words? He's quiet, following Sarracenia after being called. Later. Okay? "I'm with Petra," Calvin answers with a terse, firm swipe of his hand outwards from his chest. "I ain't gonna take no money from you right now." He thinly adds. "Right now's no good for me. You wanna pay me, pay me when the work's done. That means that sumbitch can't do this to nobody else, like you said." "'Til then, you got my help." "But." He holds up an index. "One of my partners likes to say that these things are just as much for us as for the people that's gone. You wanna talk about what's next here, that's fine. But don't you feel like you gotta. Your mama 'n 'em's here for you, as much as they are for him. You got our frequencies. What you wanna do?"
Sarracenia	'I'm not stopping now, not until we deal with the Darkomancer. He can't be allowed to do this to anyone else ever again. So I'm with you, Sarracenia. Until the end of this.' Sarra nods firmly. "Thank you, Riku." 'Um, we didn't actually complete the mission, so I don't think I can really ask for anything. Or accept anything. Sorry! I'd feel weird.' 'Of course we will see to it that justice is done. If you wish to repay me, call upon me when you are ready for the murderers to taste my starsteel.' Sarra nods lightly and smiles some. "Very well." 'Later. Okay?' Sarra isn't sure what to make of Petra's behavior. It -almost- seems like Petra is fighting crying, but...Petra wouldn't cry here would she? If at all? And Sarra doesn't know that Cinder was never given a proper funeral or that Petra never mourned properly. "...are you alright?" Sarra asks as Petra refuses the credit stick. 'I'm staying on.' Arthur has shared some details about why this situation has struck a cord with him, but Sarra makes a mental note to ask him about it when they start working on this 'princess classing'. And she smirks approvingly when he talks about breaking the darkmancer's nose. "Thank you, Arthur." 'Thank you for your consideration, Princess Sarracenia. As our first mission is... Concluded, considering this as a second matter would be the cleanest way to handle things. Thank you for keeping that in mind, Princess Sarracenia....If you are looking to contract us for more investigative work to maintain the peace here, then we will consider it.' Sarra nods in agreement. As perhaps tasteless as it was to discuss business at a funeral, Sarra did it this way because they were dealing with contracts and not volunteer work. "Agreed. And I would be happy to have you and Marcus's help. There is plenty of investigating to do. We have to go back and talk to Alina, try to track down Lila, and finally track down the Darkmancer." 'Thank you, my-la-dy Princess,' "You do not need to thank me. I will thank you for your continue support, though." Sarra says. 'I ain't gonna take no money from you right now. Right now's no good for me. You wanna pay me, pay me when the work's done. That means that sumbitch can't do this to nobody else, like you said. Til then, you god my help.' Sarra didn't really mean it as such, but she realizes this has served as a sort of hero test. Even those that have taken the credit chips did so reluctantly or at least with offers to continue. Sarra can't help smiling lightly by the end of it. 'What you wanna do?' 'I gotta get some fuckin' food.' Sarra wipes at her eyes again, her smile almost warm now. "Yes, let us get food. We can discuss these matters later. Thank you all. With you all assisting me I have no doubt we will find the Darkmancer and enact proper justice." Sarra takes a deep breath and lets it out, then wipes at her eyes again. "I suppose I will have to check if Lilian and Queen Meresankh will be willing to offer their continued support." she says as she makes her way out and toward the dining hall.
Petra Soroka	"I'm with Petra," "...are you alright?" Petra swallows with some difficulty, heart feeling like it's thudding in her throat. Every muscle in her body is insisting that she get the fuck out of here right now, but she's been misunderstood, so she has to grit her teeth and get a few more words out before very dignifiedly stalking off and avoiding the banquet. She closes her eyes and jerks her head incrementally side to side, unclear whether it's to Sarra or Calvin. "No. I'm not-- taking a moral stand. I want a favor. Later, though."}