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| Marigold | CENTRAL PLAINS OF SACAE Within sight of the southern border mountain range. "Two winters ago, when Mother Earth tasted the thickest of our blood and wept, the Otherworld came to us. It did not come as our escape." "... It came, as the Divine Weapons did, because there is only so much wrong the world will tolerate before it places a hilt in our hands." It's been over a week now since Dayan bared his heart and his slightly-creaky voice for that speech outside the town of Bayantset, and since you made the Kutolah able to believe that things could ever get better for them. It took a couple of days to get his people's horse-drawn yurts fully in order for travel again, and then they hit the road west, into Djute territory and towards the edge of Sacae's plains where Bern's forces are trying their push into Etruria. Since then, Roy's little caravan hasn't been the same at all. The temporary addition of a few hundred extra people to your little war-band should make things more chaotic- and it certainly makes them livelier, but if anything, the Kutolah feel stabilizing. The warriors bring their families- Sue says that's normal, until the last couple days' ride before a battle- so it almost feels like having a very armed village along. Sacaeans seem to let all their pony-like horses wander and graze freely, like Sue does hers, so Merlinus keeps fussing over them getting into his carefully-organized supplies and Fae (who adores the ponies, and to whom they quickly get acclimated) has to be sternly asked not to pick them up. There's a greater inertia to the army's passing, too. A couple days into your travel, a wyvern rider passes overhead; rather than trying to hide from Bern's prying eyes, while Shanna and Thea are still mounting up, a gang of a dozen Kutolah riders peel out with their bows to force it into higher altitudes and pepper it when it gets tired. A skirmish with a small Djute scouting party goes almost unremarked-upon, young men and women coming back with big smiles and red-tipped arrows. |
| Marigold | . . . The army's camped right next to a Warpgate on Sacae's flat plains this time; the tear in space is almost the only feature interrupting flat savannah until the dim mountains rippling the south horizon. The wagons that Merlinus so fastidiously tends are bent in a half-circle around a not-yet-lit fire, along with the Lycian and Etrurian folding tents, though the smoke-streams of a dozen small fires are scattered among the encircling low yurts. Cecilia's come personally from her duties leading Etruria's army on the Ilian front, and waves you down immediately, sitting on a couple of supply-crates-turned-benches by the wagons. She's holding the divine fire tome Forblaze in her lap, evidently going over its wear-damage with its steward Sophia. Fae in her big fluffy-dragon form is laid out on her tummy by Sophia's side, peeking at Forblaze too with one big wet teal eye. Sue and a small gaggle of other teen-to-twenty Kutolah girls, her peers, are brushing Fae's fluff with the brushes they'd use for horses while chatting and petting her; the novelty of getting acquainted with a real dragon (one imagines Igrene was torn up about that decision) has worn off, but their earnest adoration of her yam-shaped cuteness stays. You might imagine that Dayan would be above things like peeling tubers for dinner, but you'd be wrong, and Roy has eagerly joined him to get dirt under his noble fingernails yet again, fumbling with a paring knife and something that looks like a tulip bulb. They're at least strategically positioned to be able to overhear in case Cecilia launches into General Talk. Dayan's in very, very good spirits with the reunion of his tribe, but he still occasionally gives skeptical glares across the semi-circle at Karel, the old line-faced swordsman who'd given him grief outside Bayantset. Karel has no retort but a sheepish, hangdog look, lingering near Lucius's elbow as he and Clarine see to small injuries and illnesses- the Kutolah haven't had good healers of their own, so it's in high demand now. Rutger (carefully avoiding Clarine's attention) and Fir, in turn, are clinging oddly near him, and seem to be murmur-arguing about something, though it's hard to make out what. |
| Riku Asakura | It seems Riku has missed some things during his absence from the Bern offensive. He needed time after that assault on the village, and the idea of attacking something that wasn't specifically a military target weighed on his mind quite a bit. However, he walks through the warp gate to see the caravan transformed with the addition of several hundred people. It's lively, but not hectic. It feels like a village more than a group of people traveling together to stop Bern from destroying the world. Riku himself is dressed in his normal outfit. That outfit consists of a jean jacket, an orange shirt with a space agency logo, a pair of jeans, and tennis shoes. He's probably slightly out of place, but he is from the greater multiverse, so that isn't too uncommon. He wears a big smile on his face, one that appears naturally as he walks around the caravan towards his destination. His attention goes to Rutger and Fir, who seem to be whispering and arguing about something. It's rude to eavesdrop, but he can't help himself and approaches the pair, hoping to hear what maybe has them at odds today. When caught, because he's as subtle as a train, he gives them both a wave. "I couldn't help but hear you were... disagreeing about something. Is something the matter?" |
| Nobunaga | As has been the norm for a while now, Nagayoshi Mori has stayed with the Lycian army while Nobunaga excused herself, and per usual the week or so since then has seen him marching with the soldiers, leading marching songs, and telling stories and jokes and playing cards with the troops when the army has stopped for the night. No doubt his booming laugh is easy to recognize by anyone by this point, almost as much as his intimidating height and bulk. It was Nagayoshi who first called out the approaching wyvern rider, though was unable to do anything about it-- thankfully, the Kutolah were more than eager to exercise their archery. In the minor skirmishes, his role as infantry left him in the dust when experienced cavalry archers chased the Bernish off. However, by the look on his face, the Nobunaga's warrior-retainer couldn't be happier. He's currently striding amidst the Kutolah yurts, making sure everyone is settled in, his great spear resting across both shoulders and kept stable with his hands-- primarily because he's carrying half a dozen laughing Kutolah kids (three hanging off each end) while he checks in with the adults. Oda Nobunaga doesn't bother checking in with Nagayoshi. Once clear of the warpgate, she invites herself into the circled Lycian wagons for a seat. Clad in a City-worthy suit currently rather than her more militaristic outfit, Nobunaga briefly appraises Fae's current state. She lets out a laugh once she's counted all the people tied up in brushing this big fluffy potato of a dragon; then shifts her attention. "A lot's happened in such a short time," the warlord observes glancing over her shoulder, "It looks like the Kutolah are in high spirits; it's even bringing up the other soldiers." Her eyes return to Cecilia, the one who called her over, "What news from the front?" |
| Angela | "You sure you're going to be okay, Love?" Roland asks the large winged serpent he's walking with. "You might uh--startle some people." "I can't change back right now... The bad guy from the book hasn't been beaten yet." Love didn't really know Gregory but the fact that Gregory didn't turn back to normal, sleepy but otherwise totally healthy after being possessed by dark energy, means that she's pretty upset with how that all turned out. He was supposed to turn back to normal after the bad guys were beaten! That's how it's supposed to work. And the fact it didn't work out that way has made her miserable--miserable enough that she hasn't really been able to see herself as 'girl' lately which means she's stuck as a monster until she feels like she has 'saved the day' properly. Honestly, if it wasn't for Tamamo's twist of fate she'd probably be a threat to everyone instead of simply feeling vengeful right now. Coming along with them is Angela--wearing her Librarian uniform as she often does. She was intending to bring the EGO Armor over but once she understood that she wasn't likely to meet with one of Sigrun's representitives, she decided to make that a later problem. Right now, she's mostly concerned with managing Love so that she doesn't go berserk from being unable to eliminate evil and the best place, she reasons, for Love to eliminate evil is in a war where incinerating a column of soldiers is expected behavior instead of an atrocity. Angela is thinking about romance and also feeling a little guilty she's even engaged in romance at all considering---well, she's now preoccupied with this silly little movie that Ace worked on that she'll probably not learn the ending of until way after the fact and the idea that it might not be a happily ever after is kind of nagging at her. What, she's going to have to wait that long and maybe they all die tragically? She can't stand that. Roland makes sure to call ahead to warn people about Love but his frequent magical girl adventures with her has made her feel a little partial to the Abnormality. "...Is it just me or is this a much bigger group than when we last worked with them?" Roland mumbles. "The power of friendship means you get allies to gang up on the bad guys with." Love explains patiently. "Well fortunately this isn't too far from the Warpgate." Angela says and as they step through, her gaze immediately turns towards Lucius, staring at him, as Love 'wows' faintly and takes it all in. |
| Madeleine Cadrasteia | Madeleine's spent this last leg of the journey with Roy's army, scouting and fighting when she's needed and loitering around Karel whenever she's not. Previously she was enchanted by the eerily-empty Sacaean landscape, but now she's fixed on the one thing that can compete in her mind with that flickering sense of nothingness: a kindred spirit. Wherever he goes, she can find him. Sometimes he picks out a hiding-spot from Lucius and she's there *first*, leaning nonchalantly like she doesn't know exactly what she's doing. At first it's just a casual keeping of company, a knowing glance here and there from her star-studded eyes. Then she tries talking about herself, in broad strokes about past ill-judged commitments. "There's darkness in my heart too, y'know. And it's like, what am I supposed to do with that, right? I tried embracing it, and that just kept me in the *worst* kinds of company. Tried running away, too. Putting up a little 'gone fishing' sign and hiding from everybody. But now I'm not so sure that was really ever gonna work either." She shrugs. "Even a few months ago I wasn't sure about my place in this war. I wanted Roy to win, of course, but wasn't really committed. Can't let my blade be swayed again, and all that. Said some stupid shit about not giving it all we got, nearly got pitched in the ocean for it. Still wasn't what got me really on board with all this. You know what did it?" "This Angela lady, you might see her around but she usually sends some of her 'people'. She can read the truth hidden under the skin of a person, or an object. When we got our hands on the Frost Spear she gave it a good look, shared what she learned with me." A pause, to think as much as for dramatic effect. Madeleine cranes her neck, scanning with sight and hearing for any eavesdroppers before continuing. "Don't tell this to the Ilians, or at least not that you heard it from me. But their founding hero, Barigan? He felt something like what you and I do. Like he wasn't 'built right', wasn't even as much a person as Bramimond. But the Pegasus Knights still swear by his honor to this day. There's really no telling how we'll be remembered, not when all we can see is the view from the inside." She chews her lip in thought. "...I guess what I'm getting at is, we can't just throw ourselves away for having made a few mistakes, even big ones. Our commitment still matters - and saying it doesn't, or committing to holding back, is just committing to making a waste of our potential. Roy *needs* us. We can't fuck this one up, not for us and not for him." |
| Odette Raskins | With so many new people coming along with the army, Odette's got plenty to do to make sure everyone can keep up and stay healthy. Between her regular checkups on the warriors and their families, though, she still manages to find time to reminisce a little just watching them and Roy's caravan interacting. She marvels at their handling of the wyvern riders, but she still fusses over those returning from that encounter as well as those coming back from the skirmish to make sure they're not hiding any injuries from her medical HUD. Although she's sorely tempted to just sleep once they make camp, Odtete's energy drinks haven't worn off enough to allow her to even attempt doing that. As expected, she's joining Karel, Lucius, and Clarine with the Kutolah to check on their wounds while dressed in her Elibe blue and white tunic and cape combo. She's still trying not to fawn over Lucius too much, and she's even doing an okay job watching his and Clarine's techniques whenever they bring out the healing magic. She even tries taking out her own training staff to test on the smaller injuries, but she makes sure to keep her regular stock of bandages and ointments nearby so nobody's stuck waiting too long. She's keeping an ear open for when Cecilia wants to begin the General Talk, too. "We're getting closer and closer... B-but it doesn't really feel like it, huh? The energy here's so... Like. It's so much brighter than it was for a while now, you know?" |
| Petra Soroka | Petra had been sort of dubious about adding the Kutolah from Bayantset to the army, for several reasons. Uneasiness about dragging people back into a fight that they'd already run away from, and come to terms with the end of by living alongside the Djute, was one, for sure. But it was much less impactful than the mindset that's always shadowed Petra's decisionmaking in Elibe, which she's sometimes been aware of and other times not: Roy's army is unique and comprehensible because of being made up of named individuals that Petra has seen arcs for, and therefore can count them with a person-value of '1' when thinking about the war. Cecilia's troops appear sometimes as quest objectives, and then they vanish somewhere else and become statistics, only morally relevant through Cecilia herself. Petra does not care about Dayan nearly as much, and so to have a band of Kutolah attached to the army feels both morally nonsensical-- does it, really, *feel* like it makes sense that increasing the size of the army by five to ten increases the fighting capabilities by an equal amount?-- and morally uncomfortable-- they will die, and Petra won't know their names, and so they can only die as 'replacements' for any of the people she knows dying. The atmosphere alleviates this somewhat when she arrives. The gravity, the literal and metaphorical warmth, the emotional stability of being in a group of hundreds rather than cowering on the wide-open savannah, takes the place of 'people' in her mind. She can rationalize this, because even if she can never see a difference in the density of the Kutolah looking out from the central fire, deaths will disproportionately affect that sense of stability and collective determination, and so they make sense to Petra. Petra wonders if the reason that she's imagining all of these people dead and attempting to justify it to herself when they've only just joined up with the army is because today marks a year since Cinder's death. "I can't change back right now... The bad guy from the book hasn't been beaten yet." "Well, once Sundew's got a plan, you'll be first in line on the side of the heroes," Petra distractedly responds to Love when passing through the warpgate. Defaulting back on the Lobotomy Corporation Abnormality management guidelines to interact with Love might be Petra's own version of staying in serpent form. This is a healing place to just exist in, though. Unless there's an ambush, or a betrayal, then today's visit shouldn't be all that much more than a social call. Petra scratches Fae's neck along her path towards the campfire, clears her throat, and gives her a clumsy little "Au-a-uuaa! Hi, Fae. You're really getting spoiled, huh?" Even though she wants to be pushy about the guy who obviously has Lore with Lucius, this feels like a situation where she's more of a voyeur than a gossip, so she just shoots glances in their direction while settling down near Cecilia. She didn't even think he'd come along! He just got shamed by *seeing* Lucius so severely that he left the village to join the army! What's up with that! Then to Cecilia, "So Sigrun's being normal now, right? Thanks to Lilian. It's gotta just be a matter of time up in Ilia if you're coordinating with her, right?" |
| Flamel Parsons | "From the front door," "To the drugstore." "From the drugstore," "To the bakery." "From the loading dock," "To the chimes of the city clock," "They are bound to make their play for me!" "But I will rise!" "'Cause I got guys!" "I got guys," "Guys on every corner!" Flamel's got a song to play, seemingly every stretch of this campaign now, whenever camp is pitched and often when it isn't. Strumming that guitar irregularly, he makes a modest but generally positive aural nuisance of himself whenever things slow down. The road trip became more of a caravan, and now the caravan has become more of a migration. He stops to tune a moment, already sitting on one of the supply-benches. "...Inertia! That's a good word for what this is." He rambles as he approaches Cecilia. "It's not something I'm used to. You know? I've always worked on the fringes or in some shadows. Being here in the thick of it, the center of the push, it's so *new*. There's such an energy! Etrurian forces, Sacaean nomads, Lycian soldiers, Fibernian rebels, maybe Ilian mercenaries -- it's starting to feel like the world is converging the way it needs to. What a moment! I hope history doesn't record me at all, since I can tell the camera's rolling here." Families. Mercenary businesses. Political movements. Personal grudges. Dearly-held idealistic dreams. No one thing is making this happen, but no one thing could stop it. Surely. Feeling a surge of energy he hasn't felt since the big disaster at the Motherlobe, he strums more energetically. "With your tabloid stars," "And your unmarked cars," "And your special forces," "And your inside sources," "And your radar fields," "And your riot shields," "And heavy horses..." "I'm coming to swat - you - down - like - flies!" "'Cause I got guys!" "Guys on every corner!" His energy fades off a bit, and he continues strumming idly at the ad-hoc meeting-camp among the wagons. "So," He says. "*Please* tell me you think we have the momentum to punch through back into Bern, because if *this* isn't enough for it, I really don't know what will do it, and kicking it into higher acceleration... It's definitely past even *my* considerable regime-change skills, you know." |
| Flamel Parsons | Nobunaga notes the general positive mental health, and Flamel's the one to call out much more eagerly about it. "I'm feeling it pretty hard myself! Not to be the cliche telepath in the room, but isn't that energy just *tangible*? It feels like we really, finally, have our footing. Personally, I'm just glad they're picking up that energy too. They definitely needed it." Flamel looks to Dayan, fondly... He almost fumbles his guitar into the dirt when he sees Love's serpent form. Ahh--! No, okay, she's coherent. He remembers, clearly, a day when this was a sign of disaster... "Hey, need any help with your thoughts there?" He offers, in a friendly way. "Just let me know if the heart gets heavy!" Of course, Madeleine's comment on the darkness in the heart gets a few easygoing nods. "The way to deal with darkness is to rearrange the lighting, generally." He says. "Glad you're committed, obviously, however you got there! But," He strums a few chords. "Think about how people deal with darkness in the real world. They don't bring in permanent lights, or just live in the dark privately. They wire things up with lights that can respond to needs, and they set up windows to let in natural light, and things like that. Psychonautry's not just for psychics! You can see your own heart as a place to work physically too." He says, not acknowledging the material roots of Madeleine's situation at all. Psychophysical feng-shui might not do much! "How *is* that thing with the Ilian mercenaries?" He sets his guitar aside a moment, turning to Petra -- and then to Lilian after, knowing that she's the one who's calling the shots there. "I can barely expense a rental van some days, I've got to leave the cash topic to you entirely. I'm hoping that a better payout is healing their mentality a little too!" |
| Lilian Rook | Travelling with an army, even a small one, is a far cry from the strangely intimate, even 'almost sacred' camaraderie that Lilian is used to sharing on the Elibean trail, but once she's had some time to adjust, she decides that she doesn't dislike it. In the first place, it's closer in form to what she always imagined as 'the campaign trail'. Even if it's very different than that first night around the campfire with Roy's tiny little band, the experience evokes a certain kind of private romance that she'd name 'childish' if forced to speak it out loud, which means that she can only treasure it deeply. Aside from that, the morale boost is well-timed, and Lilian believes that it's more than about time that Roy get used to the idea that he is leading a military campaign and not just his gaggle of retainers. Otherwise, it'd been heavily her own doing that the Kutolah had decided to believe in the Lycian League, and while keeping them nearby may invoke a certain degree of performance anxiety, Lilian is nothing if not eager to reinforce their good impression by performing. At spaced-out intervals, especially where the warband travels back through known territory, Lilian makes sure to casually ask for a handful of riders and horses to bring back the supplies she's already arranged for. When their doorstep is darkened by Bern's flying scouts, she makes a show of driving them off with flashy magic. Though she spends most of her time with the presumed 'leadership cadre' of the band, Lilian does so in order to contrast it with her rounds through the Kutolah convoy, taking routine census of any injuries, low supplies, or damage to yurts, from their associated families. Now sitting down around a fire again feels like a special treat; especially when it gets her out of a Laplace laboratory or Trídéag office. Dayan is someone Lilian feels fondly about, and needs little justification for it beyond the fact that he actually responded to her encouragement and changed somewhat as a person. Karel is someone she doesn't quite know what to think about, so she's firmly chosen to be in the vicinity of the former while staring a lot at the latter. 'Sword Demon' has been spinning around in her head all week, and her curiosity about what Lucius said has barely abated at all; so it's relieving to see that Rutger and Fir must be experiencing something similar. She's still not going to touch dirty vegetables though. Not because she's afraid of either dirt or vegetables (she does like gardening), but because Lilian refuses to be exposed for having no idea what to do with them. 'So Sigrun's being normal now, right? Thanks to Lilian. It's gotta just be a matter of time up in Ilia if you're coordinating with her, right?' "We're in negotiations, but continue to praise me all you like." Lilian says, glad for a topic to focus on. "Between Cecilia's army, the Kutolah resistance, and the Pegasus Knights, it seems we'll finally have amassed a very credible push at Bern's doorstep." Sitting around in her travelling clothes instead of her armour (the same ones from the road to Ostia, actually), talking strategy again almost doesn't seem to suit her anymore; which is obviously ridiculous notion. "It only took about twelve different desperate struggles and last-minute reversals to come out ahead, at enough critical tipping points to matter." |
| Lilian Rook | 'Not to be the cliche telepath in the room, but isn't that energy just *tangible*? It feels like we really, finally, have our footing' "That's because we do. Just like I said we would." Lilian says, snootily tossing her hair on purpose. "These sorts of things only run on miracles in the stories that get told afterwards. When you have to live through them, the only thing that does it is tireless, relentless forward motion. 'Heroically giving your all' is something that only pays out after doing it so many times in a row that you get sick of it." Despite what she's actually saying, Lilian smiles when she looks fondly in the war-camp's sprawling direction. "If everyone betrays you, then deal with every traitor. If everywhere is under siege at once, break them one by one until none are left. You needn't look for a way to turn it all around; as long as you haven't lost, you can still win. I recall spouting off these sorts of things a hundred different times along the way; so I admit a little bit of satisfaction at seeing you come to comprehend why." 'How *is* that thing with the Ilian mercenaries?' Lilian shrugs, and tries to look like she thinks nothing of it. She is actually super proud of it and glowing under praise. "I'd actually been preparing a contingency fund for an outcome exactly like this. After all, the Ilians were never against working with us; they were only against breaking their collective code. Being prepared to pay the famous mercenaries the very instant their deeply unpopular contractor slips up is just common sense, really. Why do you think I was doing all that accounting ever since the village?" 'We're getting closer and closer... B-but it doesn't really feel like it, huh? The energy here's so... Like. It's so much brighter than it was for a while now, you know?' "That's exactly how it should feel." Lilian says to Odette. "The climactic moment should only fill you with anxiety if you aren't prepared for it. If you've done everything you can, that 'brightness' should emerge on its own. What you're feeling is the anticipation of seeing all your efforts bear fruit." |
| Angela | ''A clumsy little Au-a-uuaa'' "...Ah, Au-aa-uuuaa." Angela attempts in an attempt to lend a hand, but she seems to be misjudging the length of the aas and uuaas a bit. ''You'll be the first in line on the side of the heroes.'' "Aww thanks, Petra. You always know how to cheer me up." Love says. Angela's still a bit sore at Flamel for, essentially, being around when her attempt at 'relaxing day fishing' went wrong, but only enough to let out a soft 'hah' when Flamel drops his guitar. ''Hey, need any help with your thoughts there?'' Love assumes Flamel means with, like, dialogue rather than with psychic adventures so she thinks real hard and says, "Why do good people die sometimes and bad people live on and everything just gets worse for everyone?" to him. "Is it because there aren't enough magical girls in the multiverse? Back home in the Kingdom of Happiness, we sort of had the opposite problem." Roland grimaces and gives Flamel an apologetic look but provides no backup. This is this and that is that and all that. 5r"Speaking of those negotiations, Dame Commander, may I count on you to inform me when our first delivery is to go through? It will be more difficult for me to stay in consistent contact with Sigrun or her people." |
| Desire Stars | 'Heroically giving your all' is something that only pays out after doing it so many times in a row that you get sick of it. Ace arrives stylishly late with a latte in hand. "I can't help but notice that expression. It doesn't look very 'sick of it," he says. Rather than his DGP activewear, he appears to have just come off of the set, costume and all. It doesn't look as out-of-place as his usual outfits, though certainly more contemporary than standard Elibean fare. A double-breasted officer's coat in rich navy blue is held to his waist with a crimson sash, where a cavalry saber is also tucked in. A battered black kepi with a green band rests atop his head at a jaunty angle. Worn brown trousers are tucked into black leather riding boots. "Not that I disapprove." "Yo, kid," he says to Riku, lifting a hand in greeting and giving him an upnod. "Got something for me to sign? I've done pictures, books, merch. Even a holy relic once," he says with an insufferable smirk and a finger-gun in Roy's direction. From there, he approaches Cecilia. "This brings back some memories," he says, taking in the camp. "Happy and otherwise. We spoke a little about ripples, on the way here." He takes another sip of his latte. "What else is on your mind?" |
| Flamel Parsons | Lilian gets a bit of an astounded look from Flamel. "*Huh*! You managed to turn a severe psychic disadvantage state into an advantage state using *purely physical* means! That's really impressive. I really wonder how that works, in astral-mechanical terms. Reminds me of 'neurosurgery' or things like that!" Love's question gets a long ponder. His hand clasps up near his chin and he thinks on it, rotating a while. How do you justify that? How does one see the world in a bright way, in the face of that? His head emits a soft grinding sound as stone literally rotates inside. Roland's sympathy might be wasted. In a sense, Flamel is used to this sort of thing... from camp counseling! "Because things happen without any clear reason at all, mostly randomly," He says, eventually, with several light nods to emphasize his words. "But it's up to 'heroes' and the 'heroism' they do, to make sure that things happen for reasons instead. Clear causes and clear effects that the mind can understand and digest are good, and unclear causes and effects are evil because they hurt the mind; heroes are people who can use power to make those connections. For example, if someone dies, you can use power to make it so that their death motivated something good later, and that's a connection to create a 'why'! Or, if a bad person lived and things got worse, you can use power to fight them and make things better, to disconnect a fact that shouldn't be true." He puts his palms together, once, brightly smiling, and says, "So, a 'hero' is someone who can use power to take a world of random things happening for no reason, and make it into a world of things that make sense and happen for a good reason. Does that answer the question?" |
| Marigold | Karel isn't sure what to make of Madeleine for a while. He's guarded in one way when he suspects she might want him to teach her something; he's guarded in a different way when he realizes someone who looks three decades his junior just sees him as a kindred spirit. His lips wobble upwards, sympathetically, when she mentions almost being pitched in the ocean, but... "Madeleine," he says after glancing around the wagon's corner, making sure Lucius out there can't quite hear (though he doesn't especially mind if others do). He's got tired eyes and uneasy lips and reticence finally overwhelmed. "That's not like what I feel at all." "I murdered children just to test a sword. Infants, in their cribs. I got a pretty idea in my head, about destiny and rights, and it made me a... pathetic, bloodsoaked animal." He breathes, shoulders slouched forward. "So I'm done. I'm done with lifting a sword for pretty ideas. Maybe..." His eyes slide over by Flamel, with a little uneasy nod. "Maybe Father Lucius is right, and I can still grow. But I haven't grown whatever part of you lets you tell Lord Roy's pretty idea apart from Zephiel's, yet. Alright?" Fae twitches an ear-feather at Petra's greeting, then looks over, then very carefully raises her head so as not to bonk one of the Kutolah girls combing her, but gives away her wiggly excitement at Petra (and Love!) with a squirminess of her tail and a sparkling of her eyes. "Auauuaa!! Uu--aohh --aa-- ---- --iiuuu aa?" (Hi)!! (??) (?yellow) (??) (?friend) (also)? Unaided by hearing-range-expanding magic or technology, there's a hard cap to how much a human can learn to speak-or-understand the Elibean dragons' language. But with hard work Petra can pick out a few words that happen to intersect enough, and approximate a couple herself, and that's enough to absolutely delight Fae. And to figure out that she's probably neologizing Petra as 'that blonde' in dragon-ish. Fae glows, then condenses back into her small human form, leaving Sue to nearly topple over after she was leaning on her side, and hustles over. "Fae, be careful...!" Sophia calls out. "Fae's sorry!!" "Ah... I'm alright. What's that?" She means Love. A murmur goes through the Kutolah, and several of them lower their voices to gossip anxiously; but Roy's army has seen enough Multiversal strangeness to not do more than gawk for a moment. Love's reptilian form doesn't look especially like the fiery Bernish dragons, anyway, but... "Fae's not spoiled!" she insists with dignity, after running up to give Petra a tummy-height hug. "Getting hair brushed! It's *normal*. Roy and Igrene had a big talk but Fae asked really nicely so Fae gets to be big around new people! Who's Petra's big friend? Is she a dragon? Fae wants to play games." Fae doesn't take much notice of who else has come along, but someone else does. "Angela? It's been quite some time, hasn't it?" Lucius has been guiding Odette with patient encouragement, showing delight when she manages to coax out even one little white spark from the staves, but he pats her on the shoulder as she bandages a horseman's cut and steps away towards the warpgate. "My goodness, you look..." He struggles for words for a moment, looking her up and down. "Stately. Less burdened, maybe. Has it been going well for you?" |
| Marigold | In Lucius's temporary absence from their (and peripherally, Karel's) vicinity, Rutger and Fir look at each other adversarially when Riku comes up on them. ". . . It's nothing." "Rutger doesn't want me to ask Karel-" "I said it's nothing." "-training, even though Karel's my-" "And you're trying to-" "You should ask Karel about hearing the spirits!" ". . . I shouldn't trouble him." "Well if he's not going to fight for us he should answer questions!" "He isn't my priest." "Sacaeans don't have priests! Well, kind of, but..." ". . ." Rutger crosses her arms, 'you see what I have to deal with' style, and looks off to the side. "Don't you cross your arms like that." "Like what." "Sigrun has never been normal in her liiife," Cecilia mutters to Petra, briefly in a twentysomething conversational cadence before slapping her own cheeks lightly and reassuming her Stately General Mien. "Ahem. Yes," with a nod to Lilian. "I've been informed, 'off the record', that I should expect her signing with something called the 'Commonwealth' imminently, which she expects to mean close collaboration with my forces. Goodness knows why she didn't take our offer directly; maybe she thinks she can get more money from them, or something." "Or she thinks it's- ow!- um, preferable not to spend from Etruria's war chest...?" Roy pricks his own thumb with a paring knife, and winces. "Careful there. Or she wants to establish new working relations, or... who knows what's rattling in her empty head." "She seems fairly smart to me..." Another soft sigh. She sets the ragged pages of Forblaze aside into Sophia's lap and draws a different sheaf out of her bag, drawing a somewhat crudely scribbled map of present forces for Nobunaga's benefit. "Elibe's mountain ranges divide things up into three fronts. There's Galle and I in the Ilian north; Douglas against Brunnya here, in the Sacaean center; and Perceval with your Lord Hector against Zephiel's direct command, in the Lycian south." "The northern front is the sparsest. I'm ashamed to say I have the easiest job. The Dame Commander's suggestion that we cut Galle off from retreating south aligns with our own strategy," she says, smiling slightly at the idea. "Galle himself and some of his wyvern knights will likely slip through, but with Sigrun's aid, we can likely cut off the ground forces." |
| Marigold | "Apart from pushing further into Lycia, and maintaining a stalemate against Etruria at the Sacaean border..." Roy winces at the mention of his homeland losing ground. Cecilia shakes her head uneasily, straightening the papers. "Bern's been quiet. I don't like it. We don't have much information on how they're moving their forces behind the lines, and they've been harassing us with dragons, but likely fewer than they could be." "If I were them, I'd try to press through on the central front to threaten Etruria's capital and then pull south to encircle Ostia from behind. But I'm not them. Perhaps they mean to win by sitting on Iðunn for a decade; we can't afford to wait around for them to attack. I'm lending more of my forces to Douglas in anticipation of you attacking Brunnya's forces from behind; if Douglas can push them back into retreat across the plains, the Kutolah can make it a bloody one. It's likely the Djute have Mulagir, the divine Gale Bow, so if you could seize that too..." There aren't actually bags under her eyes, but you could almost imagine there are. It's easy to imagine why she pines for the simpler days she was spending as a fighter by Roy's side, earlier in the war. Ace prompts her to look up from her papers, almost a little startled. She blink-blinks the fatigue away, then smiles, uneasy and a bit vulnerable. "... I still don't know how to think about 'after the war'. Part of me feels like I'm counting my chickens before they hatch, to assume that humanity will survive," she admits with her voice softened. "And part of me feels like there's no point assuming otherwise. Maybe Saint Elimine felt the same way, once. Or maybe this is just a foible of 'Saint Cecilia', ahaha..." |
| Riku Asakura | Riku's head swims as the two continue to go at it about the topic of Karel. He looks to each person, and sighs when it comes to crossing her arms 'like that'. Riku scratches the side of his head and laughs a little uncomfortably. "I think you should talk to Karel at least. It won't hurt anything, and I am sure he has time to spare for anyone who wants to listen to the spirits. It's important to listen to them if you have the opportunity to. Anyway, I'm off topic... but on the other hand, if you really don't want to, nobody should push you into it either. I just don't think you should let an opportunity slip by you. Okay?" Riku has no idea who Karel is, other than the not-priest of the locals. 'Yo, kid,' Riku turns to face Ace, glad to be out of the consequences of sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. He smiles at Ace and pulls out his wallet, and grabs a blank business card. He keeps these around whenever he meets someone famous in the Multiverse, which seems to happen more often than not, and he can get their autograph. "Here, and thanks for the autograph!" |
| Nobunaga | Cecilia gets right down to business; that suits Nobunaga just fine, though she fondly follows Fae's antics as the young dragon transforms and rushes off to meet with-- Love? She squints a bit at the feathered snake. Well, alright then. Her attention shifts back to Cecilia directly. One leg crosses over the other, her foot bouncing lightly as she digests the strategic situation with the occasional nod or 'mm' of understanding. "Cutting off Brunnya in the center was a thought I had as well," Nobunaga speaks up only when Cecilia is done talking, "This breaks the Northern force's supply line completely, eliminates or severely mangles one of Bern's largest armies, and stands a good chance of removing one of Zephiel's more competent generals from the board." Her eyes drift skyward, "There is a chance that Galle may try to reinforce, so it'll be beneficial to have a plan for that just in case. I think it's unlikely, but the probability isn't zero. At most I'd only expect wyvern riders to make it in time if he does try it. His goal would probably be to extract Brunnya and retreat." She goes quiet for a moment, raising one hand to rub at her chin while her eyes stay on the sky. "... I don't recall if I've faced off against her before. What sort of leader is Brunnya? Aggressive? Cautious? Does she lead from the front, or send commands from the back?" |
| Angela | ''Because things happen without any clear reason at all, mostly randomly.'' Love's expression is getting a bit blank and confused already but when Flamel brings it back to what is to Love a reinforcement of her general belief structure and modus operandi, she bobs her head. That is at least something she understoods as an unalienable truth., though it does make her feel a little bad. Maybe she didn't do a good enough job as a magical girl and that's why Gregory died. She didn't know Gregory at all or anything but he must be a good person if he was targeted by the Dark Kingdom like that. That's her opinion on the matter. Angela and Roland briefly look towards Ace, the former imagining him as being on the cover of a romance novel and the other sort of imagining him as essentially a Cinq Association Fixer respectively. It HAS been some time since Angela talked to Lucius directly, though she has paid a personal visit before--this would be the second!--but it still feels like multiple wars ago (and, in a sense, it has been). But she looks briefly uneasy at being called 'unburdened' let alone 'stately' and she worries for a moment that she's losing her edge. She isn't too worried about Love, honestly, a war is in many ways a wonderful place for her mental wellbeing unless it goes real bad for the people of Elibe, though Angela is rather confident in the momentum at this point being on Roy's contingent's side. Of course, it could snap back the other way in a moment, but it's a nice relief from the constant back foot this conflict started with. Honestly, she's felt more burdened as of late but as she thinks it over, it's probably because she's found a way to do something for Lilian in assisting in the securing of Sigrun's aid. That IS something that feels like an unburdening, really. "I came because I intend to assist the Dame Commander in securing a deal with Sigrun's people, so I am trying to express professionalism." Angela pauses before adding, "I suppose I am a bit relieved at the opportunity to lend her some aid. Thank you for saying so." She hesitates and then adds, "I am ... glad you were able to rescue Lugh and his brother. Was Roland helpful?" "I was helpful." Roland protests immediately. Angela still can't move too far from Petra but she looks to Cecilia, "They are Fixers, essentially, are they not? If there really will be those 'thousand years of peace' it makes sense that she would want to forge multiversal contacts in order to be able to continue filling her coffers after this war. A contract with the Commonwealth will assure them plenty of business I'm sure." She doesn't mention she originally contacted the Concord. ''Dragon language!'' Love's eyes are a little tough to read when in dragon form but she's getting that blank expression again though she says, "Wow! Fae can go small! I can't go small right now, what games do you want to play? ... Do you want to play rock paper scissors?" |
| Madeleine Cadrasteia | Madeleine looks Karel in the eyes as he states the extent of his crimes. She doesn't flinch or glance away. "I'm not a psychic like Flamel is," she says after a silence. "I can't show you what I've done, or help you feel its gravity. But I *can* say that if you think you'll scare me off, you're wrong." "Maybe Father Lucius is right, and I can still grow. But I haven't grown whatever part of you lets you tell Lord Roy's pretty idea apart from Zephiel's, yet. Alright?" "This ain't about pretty ideas. It's about Roy." She points a thumb over her shoulder - at a wagon, sure, but implicitly at 'everyone else here'. "I can only tell you what I know, and whether you'll get better isn't among that all. But I can say how *I* did it. They won't tell you this, but it never starts with standing up and saying 'today's the day I make a change'. Maybe for other people but not for *us*." She folds her arms. "It starts with- with seeing someone else. Maybe they're just a kid. A kid in over their head caught up in a war they never saw coming, never wanted a part in." Somehow, she's *not* talking about Roy yet. "A kid with a home that they're gonna protect or die trying. And you realize, hey, I could lend a hand. Show them a thing or two. Keep my hands clean, teach 'em how to get theirs dirty so they'll be ready when they need to." A pause to walk over next to Karel, lean back against the same wagon, look slightly up to keep eye contact. "Not gonna ask you to lift a blade for anybody's ideas again. But I am gonna say, there's a good few months left of this war in the best of cases. Roy could use some training with the blade. If you get to the point where you're ready to fight again, and he needs you to fight again, you'll know. Until then, just tell him what he's doing wrong and what he could be doing right." A pause. "With a sword, I mean." |
| Odette Raskins | "I hope history doesn't record me at all, since I can tell the camera's rolling here." "Maybe not any cameras, but once this all wraps up? There's a good chance a bunch of us are going to end up some kinds of history books down the line." Odette tries to reassure Flamel, laughing briefly before pursing her lips. An intrusive thought comes in, and then she quickly shakes it off. "But hiding from the.. Um. Anyone asking questions might not be a bad idea, either." She rubs her arm lightly a moment later at that. "I mean, if we say the wrong things and they repeat it, it could give off the wrong idea and set things back, you know? But it might be weird if we just disappear completely, too." She waffles on that, pursing her lips again after a moment. "Unless that makes us seem like mysterious heroes... Th-that'd be pretty cool, too, wouldn't it?" "That's exactly how it should feel." "That's... That's true! We've got the numbers, people are healthy, we're ready, and a lot of us even picked up some more skills that we didn't have at the start of this whole thing." She replies to Lilian with a quick nod, actualyl sounding quite proud at her assessment. "And it's all coming together here like... Hah. W-we've got this as long as we're not careless." She inhales, and then she takes off her gloves to dry her hands off on her tunic before putting them back on. Even though she's considerably less frayed-looking than she had at the start of things, that anxious energy is still nowhere close to being visibly gone yet. "I-I've still got a good stock of medicine on me, though, so we should be okay for the next big fight. And with Father Lucius' lessons, I might even be able to really start stretching those out more between restocks." > Lucius pats "Oh! Hehe. Thanks, Father Lucius. It's really starting to come together more consistently now." That's definitely a big confidence boost for the EMT, even if the sparks still aren't quite enough to replace the need for vulneraries and bandages. "N-now if I could just make them bigger..." She continues, still being careful as ever with her care of the horseman. She does, however, let out one of those quietly troubled sighs when she realizes he's gone over to check up on Angela. She's totally not jealous or anything. She's just a little distracted, that's all! The horseman can totally see her slumping for a second, too, but she snaps herself out of that just in time to narrowly avoid wrapping his arm up three more times than necessary. "Erk... Um! Y-you should be good now. Just try to take it a little easy on that side if you can. I'll be around to change the bandages tomorrow morning, but here's some just in case..." |
| Odette Raskins | > Cecilia's General Talk Time Once there's a lull in the checkups, Odette joins the group by Cecilia and Roy to listen in on the planning phase. Still possessed with a need to keep her hands busy, though, she takes a seat by Roy and holds out a free hand while the other has a little tube of probably-familiar-by-now disinfecting ointment in it. "I-I don't suppose we could actually stop Galle's retreat with the Kutolah, could we? Kind of like how they were handling wyvern rider a while ago?" Odette asks, pantomiming shooting a bow into the sky badly with just her fingers. "He's probably conditioned enough by now to not worry as much about the oxygen up there, but the wyvern's got to come down sometime. A-although then we'd have to get right in between him and Brunnya for that, and..." She casts a quick look over at where the Kutolah are gathered and watching Fae and Love, then turns back to the map. "They'd be in trouble if Galle and remaining riders decide to just dive in on them before we can catch up." "I still don't know how to think about 'after the war'." "Or maybe this is just a foible of 'Saint Cecilia', ahaha..." "It's kind of surreal, isn't it? But being uncertain isn't a bad thing, I think." Odette nods lightly towards Cecilia while rubbing her left arm, glancing at the scar around the wrist idly and then quickly looking back over at Cecilia a second later. "I-I mean, we've been fighting this whole time, so it's only natural that thinking it'll be over is... Hard to imagine, yes. But we've been doing this all so humanity can survive, so it's not too weird to think that we'll succeed? Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if the Eight Legends though this way when they..." Odette pauses briefly as she recalls how the heroes were in that vision, clears her throat once, then claps her hands together. "W-well! 'Saint Cecilia', maybe that's a place to start thinking about it. What kind of... Hmm. What kind of Elibe do you want to see once all this is over? Th-that might be a good place to start." |
| Lilian Rook | 'Speaking of those negotiations, Dame Commander, may I count on you to inform me when our first delivery is to go through?' "Mh? Of course." Liian says. "Honestly, I was surprised when you leapt in. I wasn't aware that you could run the Library like a military manufactory; or that you were the sort to comb over army logistics." 'Fae's not spoiled! Getting hair brushed! It's *normal*.' Lilian, who has no stake in this whatsoever, despite having her hair brushed by her family's maid for most of her life, impartially says, "Of course it is. It's not as if it's your choice to have more to brush." 'Sigrun has never been normal in her liiife,' "So you shouldn't be surprised that we apparently get along." Lilian says, self-effacingly, because she was actually surprised that they do. 'Goodness knows why she didn't take our offer directly; maybe she thinks she can get more money from them, or something.' "Inroads with a large economic power from outside of Elibe. Favourable history with a powerful nation that's especially well-known for its stable trade, trusted goods, and well-connected travel routes. Weaning Ilia off the tradition of being hired out by the other nations of Elibe." Lilian says, listing off on her fingers, until she adds the final possibility. "Or pride. Seeking a contract with side that 'earned your respect'. Who knows." Lilian knows exactly what reason it would be if it were her. 'The northern front is the sparsest. I'm ashamed to say I have the easiest job. The Dame Commander's suggestion that we cut Galle off from retreating south aligns with our own strategy' "I'm pleased to hear it." Lilian says, huffing very lightly. "I'd hate to be told that I'd somehow completely failed to divine your intentions just because you wanted more work." She can't help but glance in the direction of where she knows Cecilia's gnarly scar is. Even after all this time, she can't quite help but think of her as someone delicate and precarious. 'We don't have much information on how they're moving their forces behind the lines, and they've been harassing us with dragons, but likely fewer than they could be.' "If it's fewer than they could then it's because they're saving them." Lilian says, grimly. "They know that we can take out 'a' dragon, or even two at a time. It's reasonable for them to assume that doesn't extend to being surrounded by twenty at once. Even if they're still not thinking about us at all, there's hardly any chance of a miraculous reversal if Galle and Brunnya join forces behind a sufficiently dense spearhead of dragons; straight to the capital, as you've said." 'I'm lending more of my forces to Douglas in anticipation of you attacking Brunnya's forces from behind; if Douglas can push them back into retreat across the plains, the Kutolah can make it a bloody one.' "The sooner the better." Lilian sighs, unfolding her legs just to alternate. "Of course we're not going to overlook Mulagir. I refuse to go anywhere near Iðunn half-cocked with a 'good enough' on my lips." She has nothing but firm agreement with every stage of Cecilia's proposal, more-or-less as usual. |
| Lilian Rook | '... I still don't know how to think about 'after the war'.' "Ah." Lilian pauses. She folds her arms, and turns to look at Cecilia out of the corner of her eyes, away from the map. "I'd forgotten you haven't been here since the very start. Somehow it feels like . . ." She shakes her head, cutting herself off from further meaningless padding and misdirection. "Right now, the entire world is crying out together; to avenge their blood, and retaliate against wrongs that Bern has done to them. Too many people have lost someone, and too many more have known the Bernish heel for long enough to fear it. There isn't much use thinking about it." Lilian says. "They can blame the Bernish people, for their ignorance, their apathy, their thirst for conquest, or whatever else they see in them, or, they can blame an instigator; a charismatic madman who can take unto himself all of the inhumanity of war and be believed, or an ancient and unknowable malefactor who needn't be understood to be feared. Those are the only choices." |
| Petra Soroka | "Getting hair brushed! It's *normal*." Petra takes the running hug impact to the gut, wrapping her arms around Fae and softly petting her small-mode hair. "You're right, you're right. It's normal. It was really brave of you to ask for permission for being big, around all of these new people-- but you were right for that too, weren't you?" Petra punctuates her fawning over Fae by scooping her up off the ground and twirling her around before putting her back down. "Because everyone here thinks you're suuuuuuuuper cute!" The huge height difference and the constantly shifting size changes between Fae and Love, with each of their respective serpent and girl forms, has equalized into a sense of perfect height blindness in Petra. She no longer perceives girls to be different heights from each other based on their size, only on their vibes. So when she turns aside to introduce the Queen of Hatred and Fae to each other, she doesn't even register that Fae's the size of a nine year old girl and Love is several meters tall. They're the same height because they act the same. <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "Love's a very good friend. And Love, Fae's a friend of mine too, so you're already basically halfway to being friends yourselves." "And she's a kind of dragon, a different kind from you and Sophia, or Dysnomia too. Just like you, she can become small sometimes, but just for now, she's staying big, okay? So if you play, make sure it's somewhere that has space." Once the two of them are talking, Petra can just let them go at it for a little bit while she deals with the adults. She does want to keep them in her sightline, both to make sure that they're fine, and also because they're very cute, but she's a big believer in a child's ability to regulate themselves without her direct interference in getting to know each other. "Between Cecilia's army, the Kutolah resistance, and the Pegasus Knights, it seems we'll finally have amassed a very credible push at Bern's doorstep." "It feels a lot better that we've been building up inertia along the way, rather than getting whittled down." Petra agrees, kicking her legs a bit in response to Lilian's positive mood. "And all we had to deal with was... everything along the way, which we did." "Being prepared to pay the famous mercenaries the very instant their deeply unpopular contractor slips up is just common sense, really." "That's because you're a genius and everyone should be grateful for your ability to account for everything and plan and budget and convince people." Petra was given permission to praise Lilian all she wants, which, because this is in public, means praising her one percent of all she wants. |
| Petra Soroka | "I've been informed, 'off the record', that I should expect her signing with something called the 'Commonwealth' imminently, which she expects to mean close collaboration with my forces." "Well... I guess she probably figures that gives her all the benefits of your goodwill and help for fighting together, using Lilian as an intermediary, but without any of the downsides of relying on the money you're already spending for the war effort. This way, she's siphoning money from an organization that's so large that the Ilian contract is less than a rounding error, into a world that's honestly, probably, gonna have a massive percentage of its total wealth annihilated by the time that we're done with the war, and specifically into her nation, giving them the first leg up on establishing a new economy reliant on trading offworld through the warpgates rather than mercenary work. Basically, it seems like she's planning ahead to a future where Ilia is a nation on a relatively equal geopolitical standing with Etruria rather than being financially subordinate to them or Bern and thinks that creating the precedent of money flowing between Ilia and the Commonwealth now will help with that." Petra takes a deep breath after blabbering for a minute straight. "Orrrrrrrrr.... she's not thinking of anything and has a bit of a grudge. Who knows." "But I'm not them. Perhaps they mean to win by sitting on Iðunn for a decade; we can't afford to wait around for them to attack." "Yeah." Petra leans back on her palms, sitting in the dirt around the fire, and droops her head backwards to look up at the sky. "I mean, Iðunn's changing the world just by existing. Whether they're building up dragons for a big assault somewhere, or just to turtle and defend her, we kinda just have to go for it with whatever we've got." "... I still don't know how to think about 'after the war'. Part of me feels like I'm counting my chickens before they hatch, to assume that humanity will survive," "Saint Cecilia..." Petra repeats, partly because it's a little silly and partly because it's mostly true. "I'm sort of terrible at thinking about 'what comes next' in basically any circumstance. But I'm pretty sure that's wrong to do, so I'll choose to do the opposite. I think that... no matter what, people are going to have to think about what it means that the average, everyday soldiers from Bern were able to massacre Sue's people, and that the Djute could wipe out Bulgar with Bern's help, and that the Western Isles are the way they are, and I think people would be very happy to just say that it's Zephiel's fault, and they'd be setting up another one to exist sooner rather than later. But it's not like everyone can decide to hold every awful thing in war against everyone else forever, either." |
| Flamel Parsons | Flamel's got the guitar again. He tunes, tunes... A low strum, a very pleasing chord now. "It looks like the last major military forces anyone has to work with are in full use! So... The ideal approach is for our group, which can punch up-weight, to try to do a little agile overextension. Specifically.... towards Mulagir." "I've been developing a theory of my own," He explains. "That a lot of what's happening is influenced by some higher powers we need to work in line with rather than against. Not to proclaim any theological truth, but I've seen the sky work in favor of it, so I'm going to take a shot. Mulagir is one of our keys to making sure everything comes together the way it ought to." A little bit of deft hybrid picking to punctuate his words. "The more divine weapons we have on our side, the better. Even if they get, well, 'expended', it's key that before we're done with all this, we've used as many of the Divine Weapons as we can, for our side of this." "I'm probably not going to be as useful in open warfare as I would in a targeted objective-specific operation. So! Not a lot lost by my diversion to lock on to that specifically. If the Djute have it, or even know about it, Lugh and I will be sifting their minds for anything they know about it while we advance. Been tough to get at those wyvern riders... *man* I wish I hadn't crashed the invisible jet. *So* inconvenient." He sighs, strumming off-key a second. "Anyway, it'll help keep me out of the history books, which is important for a super-spy, actually." He tilts his head a bit at Odette. "I've already got enough trouble with True Psychic Tales recording half this war. We have to run all kinds of censorship filters to make sure Bern can't use the intel. But still--" A weirdly-out-of-place melodic progression for a second... "I hope when this is done, people just say all the stuff I did was Roy. And Lugh, honestly, I could go with either or both. They can blame me for the bad stuff, though. I know I've bungled it up once at least." The strum stops for a moment, when thinking on a certain ambush in a certain camp. Not too long though. Back to an upbeat posture a moment later. |
| Desire Stars | Ace signs Riku's business card with an elegant green-marble patterned fountain pen: To Riku - Look in the mirror. That's how every star's day should start. -Ace Ukiyo It's likely the Djute have Mulagir, the divine Gale Bow, so if you could seize that too... "If they do, then let's hope whoever has it is less stubborn than Galle with Maltet," Ace says. ... I still don't know how to think about 'after the war'. "Do it anyway," he asserts somewhat lackadaisically--in tone, but not with his eyes. Those are nothing but sincere. "Every day that you're alive, that there is a humanity, is a day that you can think about 'after the war.' Just because something seems like it's a million miles away doesn't make you wrong to want it." "Sometimes," he says, removing his officer's cap and smiling fondly at it (and a little sadly), "That actually makes you more right for wanting it. The world can seem sometimes like an impossibly large, heavy thing, that won't ever move out of the way no matter how many people are trapped beneath it." "It dulls your senses, being trapped under a weight like that. Makes you think that you shouldn't bother wanting things to be better. But for something that big, and that heavy, even moving a few inches could mean making things better for more people than you could have imagined. And they'll remember that it happened for a long time after you're gone." Looking up from the cap after turning it over in his hands, he looks out, then, towards the Kutolah girls and then towards Roy. "'Saint Elimine' died before any of them were ever born. Her life was a speck, against the span of Elibean history. But that name still breathes hope into their hearts, doesn't it? With the time she had, she looked at overwhelming, uncaring odds and dared to want something other than what they had in store for her." |
| Lilian Rook | 'It feels a lot better that we've been building up inertia along the way, rather than getting whittled down.' "Consider that every single time I've ever tried to impress upon anyone just how much more important than anything else it is to end the day ready to suffer it all again tomorrow, this is why." Lilian says, turning to Petra, with evident interest. The engagement level of her gaze and the pace of her co-verbal gesturing suggests a topic of particularly niche interest. "No matter what losses you cut, no matter how messy you leave things, and especially no matter how miserable and defeated you feel, you can only ever choose to build up steam or be whittled away to nothing. Every time we've been here, we've chosen. Engrave that feeling as deep as you can; it's important." 'That's because you're a genius and everyone should be grateful for your ability to account for everything and plan and budget and convince people.' Being rightfully glazed by her designated hypewoman is also important. Perhaps even more important. Lilian nods along with Petra as if this is the sagely reply to her personal philosophy. She makes the two of them look like the School of Athens by herself. 'probably, gonna have a massive percentage of its total wealth annihilated by the time that we're done with the war, and specifically into her nation, giving them the first leg up on establishing a new economy reliant on trading offworld through the warpgates rather than mercenary work.' Then when she does get an extremely intelligent reply, Lilian looks at Petra sort of dumbfounded instead. She realizes she's staring after three entire seconds, clears her throat, and starts examining her nails instead, but it's totally obvious that she was just flashbanged by the content of something Petra said, rather than its meaning or tone. There's no other way she'd look so shocked, even for just a moment, about Petra taking more or less the same stance as her on something. "There's no ambiguity in that." Lilian says to Petra, at the very end. "We already know that she intends to be the last true Wingleader. She all but said it." |
| Angela | ''--Or that you were the sort to comb over army logistics.'' "I imagine it would be easier to produce steel weapons and armor, I can't produce on an industrial scale, but if I do a little bit every day it should amount to a notable increase in combat efficacy--I'm no general, of course, if Sigrun herself hadn't mentioned the matter of 'weight', I wouldn't have thought of it." "City gear in general usually aims for maneuverability. There's the occassional brick walls, of course, but power and durability scales crazily in cost whereas tough and durability thread can help make up a lot of the gap on a budget since most people in the City have to get some skills first before they can really get better gear or mods." Roland mulls aloud. Angela doesn't seem interested in that but she does add, "It is plausible the initial design of EGO Armor was made to be familiar for people of The City so that might be why they are similar. Or perhaps it is coincidence. Either way, it is good fortune it is the sort of gear Sigrun asked for. Unfortunately, many warriors in this world are just too skilled to really get the same kind of benefit from EGO as an average City citizen would." ''One of those quietly troubled sighs'' Angela's eyes slant towards Odette and stares at her until Odette looks at her scar. ''Petra giving the lowdown on Love's situation.'' Love bobs her head up and down rapidly. It looks a little silly since her dragonform is still a little inherently ominous looking, but if the right animation department takes a crack at it they can round out the sharp edges. Nevertheless, her vibes have shifted which means her vibe-size is identical to Fae's vibe-size but, well, it probably is still good that Petra asked them to find a big area. Love isn't the best at avoiding collateral damage. |
| Lilian Rook | 'That's not like what I feel at all.' Lilian wishes she could just not hear things like these. She wishes Karel were boring, beneath notice, so that she wouldn't be jarred out of her unconscious filtering by anything he could think or feel. That conversation wasn't for her. It's doubtful it was even really for Madeleine. Now everything she could hear for the past sixty seconds is dragged screaming out of short-term memory and forcefully assembled in order. Stopping, going silent, blinking, then squeezing her eyes shut, holding her breath then slowly shaking her head, whispering to herself; none of it dims or smudges the words, nor the lurid glow of abject misery that accompanies them. Her mind grips to them out of spite. Or it must be, because she can't let herself imagine any other reason. 'it made me a... pathetic, bloodsoaked animal.' Lilian breathes in too sharply. The reflexive cough sticks in the back of her throat, and she presses her fingertips to her diaphragm. '--I didn't kill you thoroughly enough?! Even now . . . Even now, you're still doing it! You still won't just quit! You're incapable of anything else! Everyone is! This is all there is to life! Everyone forces me to keep hurting them and keep hurting them more and more and nore--' Nausea presses into the pit of her stomach. Lilian curls forward to cramp it down. Her left hand runs uneasily up and down her leg, then her fingernails dig into her skin. 'It felt good Petra. The thought of that nasty, arrogant, shit-talking brat, thinking she was better than me; that she could handle me all on her own because she's the heroine-- collapsed in that gravel pit-- the look on her face is something I'll never forget I enjoyed. The way everything about her, every shitty thing she did to me back then, all the weight of support and goodness she had, just-- ceased to matter once I finally took the sword to her.' She turns her head to cough gain, then bites down on her lip. The knuckles against her chest go white. Lilian forces the air back into her, as quietly as she can, so as not to be heard, and wills the thudding she can feel through her fingertips to subside. 'But I haven't grown whatever part of you lets you tell Lord Roy's pretty idea apart from Zephiel's, yet.' 'I wasn't born good. I can't just let myself believe that I'll get it right in the end. I have to prepare for getting it wrong instead. And the only way I can make that okay is by being too strong to flinch at all.' Lilian shuts her eyes, counts up through four and restarts the circuit, retrying the same square set until she can get through all four breathsbefore she lets go of her clothes and opens her eyes again. She sighs, and the release of reflexive tension all throughout her body makes her shake. The conversation has moved on past her by now. Madeleine is already on something else. The moment in which it all came rushing back lasted thirty seconds, and felt like forever. "You don't grow that part yourself." Lilian says, entirely too late, and even more unnecessarily. Her eyes avoid Karel's. "You get it from someone else. That's why Lucius is right." |
| Odette Raskins | "Those are the only choices." "... think about what it means that the average, everyday soldiers from ..." "It really feels like pinning it all on Zephiel or Iounn is the most... Stops the most pain, then." Odette comments after Lilian's answer to Cecilia, although she doesn't sound like she's particularly happy about coming to that conclusion. "Maybe the Bernish people could start seeing things that way, too, and that'd help keep the peace for a while, I think?" She inhales lightly on thinking further about Lilian's and Petra's comments about the soldiers and the people, then rubs her head lightly without worrying too much about it messing up her hair. "Right.... I-if they just blamed it all on someone else, would they really learn anything about not being so... All of that, yeah, and being open to someone charismatic or manipulative again? B-but then if they get the blame cast on them, they might just get angry faster than it'd take for a new war to start up if they just stayed clueless, and..." Odette slumps in place, looking just a little more brain-fried trying to figure that all out. > Flamel and the History Books "At least you've got the other invisible stuff to help keep you out of sight, right?" Odette looks over hopefully at Flamel, then gives him a blank stare when he brings up the possibility of Bern using intel from publications. "W.. Wait wait wait. Should I be more careful about that, too? I-I mean, there's probably so much stuff on people like Mister Ukiyo and Dame Commander Rook that it'd be kind of impossible to scrub any of that, but..." No, no, that's more worrying she's been trying not to do. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath to redirect her thoughts, then look at Flamel again to continue with her new train of thought. "Letting Roy take the credit for things that worked out, huh? THat's.. Oh, that's a really good idea. That'll help build him up as.. Like. A legend! O-or at least a really respected leader that people'll be more willing to listen to so... Um. So when it comes time to keep the peace, he'll have a bigger voice to do it with." "Taking the blame for the bad stuff, though... Mm. Aren't you worried someone might blame you for it and come after you later, though? Or even read about it and then put something on you that was never really your fault." She asks, deflating a bit already while stroking her chin. "But then that's sort of like blaming everything on Zephiel and Iounn to keep the peace going longer, isn't it...?" |
| Petra Soroka | "I'm no general, of course, if Sigrun herself hadn't mentioned the matter of 'weight', I wouldn't have thought of it." "Oh, big thing that seems like it'd be small, Ange-- EGO gear folds up. Compared to, like, armor-armor, even without accounting for weight, you can store EGO like ten times more compactly." Petra is also not really interested in military supply line stuff. In her era where she attempted to care about guns, there was always a wide gulf between her considering the narrative and interpersonal implications of having 'violence' distilled into its most accessible handheld manifestation, and the kinds of people who make tier lists of world war two firearm manufacturing plants. "But all of my armor is either goop or in my mirror, so what do I know." "Every time we've been here, we've chosen. Engrave that feeling as deep as you can; it's important." "Okay." As instructed, Petra closes her eyes and focuses for a full minute. There's very little difference to Petra between weakening the psychic barriers that she used to bitterly build against the world, and inviting the world's psychic milieu into herself like oxygen. Breathing slowly and deliberately, the inertia and confidence of the army is etched into the perimeter of this moment in Petra's experience of the world and inscribed as truth through Lilian's words. Still with her eyes closed, with the sedate certainty that comes from meditation, "I was sort of saying this yesterday. It's all about inertia. If you're not adding in enough force to come out at a net positive with every impact, then every effort you make fights against more and more deceleration." "We already know that she intends to be the last true Wingleader. She all but said it." Petra nods, trying to interpret Lilian's look at her and only coming up with answers that don't quite make sense. "I didn't really hear much of you talking with her. I was fishing. But it does make sense. I mean, we're actively demonstrating that the existence of the multiverse isn't something that the world can ignore after the war, since we're, like, directly interfering with the sovereignty of the nations here." |
| Marigold | "Frankly, if Galle catches wind and substantially reinforces Brunnya," Cecilia tells Nobunaga with a grim little shake of her head, "we call the whole thing off and content ourselves that they've given up Ilia to keep Sacae." "You think he could get enough wyvern knights past Sigrun to matter?" Roy says, slightly surprised. "No, probably not. But if he did..." Cecilia's lips scrunch. "Every plan has circumstances under which it no longer holds." "Ah. Right." Cecilia opens her mouth to answer Odette's question about pursuing wyvern riders; Roy perks up too, and she nods to cede the military theory question to her student. "Oh. Ah... a pegasus is faster than a wyvern, Odette, but not by much in a straight line. Neither can fly with a rider for more than a few hours. So if it's a matter of endurance, it's all about who's over friendly ground. That's who can afford to land first, get fresh mounts... the more we can cut Galle off on the ground, the harder it'll be for him to break through in the air." "Right. All that, or use lights to send word ahead and cut them off." "Um. Right. I forgot that one." "No, you did perfect!" When the question of Brunnya's character as a general comes up, Cecilia's lips press again. "I've been talking with Melady and Dayan about that. When all this started, I had a picture of her as a smart but soft noble. I've since become afraid she's sort of a madwoman, instead, though not an... exploitably bloodthirsty kind." Pages flip to refresh herself on details. "Her parents tried to arrange her for marriage to Zephiel when they were both younger. It fell through. No-one knows why. She studied Anima magic, like me, and became an officer the minute she could. Rose quickly. Rumors spread that it was because Zephiel favored her. I think the opposite is true. She's a prodigy, and she did it to impress him." "Since she made it all the way to Wyvern General without getting his hand, I don't think it worked, but who knows," Cecilia breathes, small-laughing and rubbing the back of her neck. "... Dayan tells me that early on, she challenged several Kutolah leaders to duels successively, then struck down their champions with some kind of cutting ice magic. Nothing I know matches the description. Since then, she hasn't led from the front, but she has used long-range siege magic. Surprisingly conservative with her troops, in the field. I think failure worries her more than death." "Does that answer all your questions?" Anyone familiar enough with Cecilia can probably tell why she seems slightly uncomfortable with the description. Sans the romantic interest, it reminds her of herself. She looks a little perplexed when Sophia pats her on the shoulder reassuringly, without elaboration. In that sense, 'what comes after this' is a relieving topic, if not a happy one. |
| Marigold | "They can blame the Bernish people... or, they can blame an instigator..." "Those are the only choices." "A bit grim, isn't it. But for the sake of a lasting peace, I certainly vote 'instigator'," Cecilia says. "But that's not true, is it?" Roy is the one who looks distinctly ill-at-ease, now. Dayan sets down his peeled root, and doesn't pick up another one: "Now what does that mean, boy? Didn't Zephiel start this whole thing?" "Well, yes, but..." Roy shrinks. "You've heard the story, haven't you? About how his father poisoned him nearly to death, and Zephiel had to assassinate him at his own funeral..." "No, but what about it? Lots of people have sad pasts and don't start a war." "I just mean that... he's not the first cruel king Bern was ready to accept. There is something wrong with the country, I think. Even if it's not something that can be fixed with a sword." "... But the same country made Guinivere, too. And she's sweet as a peach," Cecilia gently interjects. Roy rubs his face. "Maybe. I don't know. I'm not smart enough to think about these things." "Aww, Roy, no..." Petra bringing up the Western Isles makes Cecilia arch her back, cover her face, and groan a miserable acknowledgement. "Oh, noooo. The Mine of Death, and all that. It creeps me out just knowing- look, it was only a few Etrurian nobles working with Bern, but- ugh, how many hundreds of people had to know, were sailors or overseers or--" She squishes her own cheeks in mumbly despair. "You're right. You're right, Ace. I... ougggouughhhghgh," she says, or some noise approximately like that. "I've got to keep wanting. Even if it means I'm... going to be rooting cruelty out of Etruria for the rest of my natural life. Haha. Oh, god, if we'd had a King Desmond beating his Prince Zephiel, would we have done anything about it either? I'm never going to get to retiiiire..." "... Are you sure you can't take a longer break, General Cecilia? You seem like you need it," Roy murmurs, after flashing Ace a grateful smile. "No. I can't." Vengefully: "And do pin all your good deeds on him, Flamel. He cuts a dashing figure doesn't he." "I don't!! Don't put some kind of, of burden on--" "Oh, so I can't even raise a dashing pupil..." "No, wait...!" "Roland was very helpful. Lugh's around here somewhere; I could call him out for you?" Lucius offers to Angela. He gives her that heart-melting smile while leaning, only slightly tired, on his staff. "... Returning a favor can be healing, I understand." Cecilia's perky about answering military questions: "That 'EGO' armor matches up nicely. I can see why Sigrun would want it. There's a metal in Elibe most call 'silver', though it's not the same as the stuff for jewelry, that seems unknown in the Multiverse; it's splendid for weapons, but too heavy for any but foot-soldiers. So better armor is more needed here than arms, I'd think..." Fae kicks her legs giddily when she's spun around by Petra, and nod-nods emphatically through the praise. "Yeah!! They love Fae!" "Mmm, somewhere that has space..." "Did Love's stone break? What's wrong?" "Rock, paper...?" "Mmm, mostly tag! Sometimes catch, or hops, or hide-and-seek, or wrestle but Fae has to be really careful," she confides in Love. She's seemingly a little spooked by big winged serpent, sticking by Petra's side, but it's hard to tell that apart from 'kid meeting new person'. |
| Marigold | Fir beams real big and pumps her hands when Riku validates her. "See! He wouldn't be bothered at all!" ". . . It's not a vote." "Huh??" "Didn't ask for his advice either." "Rutger, come on!! Just ask him if the spirits can give up on somebody..." "It's a cruel thing to ask." "Well it's a cruel thing to not have answered, too!" "Karel's not an expert." "Then go ask Dayan or somebody!" ". . ." "... Come onnnn. Rutger..." Karel opens and shuts his lips a few times, looking at Madeleine in their little around-the-wagon's-corner nook. His cheek twitches. It's not at first clear what emotional impact she's had on him; only that it isn't a happy one. "You don't know me and I don't like you," he finally says, adjusting his robe and then crossing his arms uneasily. "There is no 'us'. If I believed you were like me, I'd kill you now. So if you ever want to talk to me again, Madeleine, please apologize for not leaving an old man to his shame, and then speak to me as the stranger I am." A small breath out. His eyes shut. He doesn't like feeling this way, or thinking this way, or speaking this way. ". . . If Roy asks me to teach him, I'll teach him. And then what he does with it is on his soul," Karel finally offers. "You don't grow that part yourself. You get it from someone else." Lilian's queasy words strike him differently, coaxing out a small laugh, although he keeps his uneasy posture. "Is that so," he says softly, shaking his head in its aftermath. "Then I feel a little less ashamed for using Lucius as my crutch." "Karel? What are you all talking about?" "Um. Ah. Nothing at all, Lucius." "Is that so. You look unwell--" "I, don't need any healing. Thank you very much." "Well. Odette, you seem like you're getting tired," he says, catching her at her slump and touching her shoulders from behind with steadying concern. "Even early light magic practice can be draining, and I know how dedicated you've been. Here, I'll take over for you...?" |
| Madeleine Cadrasteia | "So if you ever want to talk to me again, Madeleine, please apologize for not leaving an old man to his shame, and then speak to me as the stranger I am." Madeleine's first instinct would be to huff and say something like, "what, right now?", but her time in Elibe has come with some practice in eating her words. "I- sorry," she manages, "for getting you all wrong. I'll see what Roy says to some training, and- and I'll try to leave you alone." |