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Marigold	BERN'S NORTHERN BORDER      A ways southwest of where Bulgar once stood.      The aftermath of the Bernish offensive's collapse, against Etruria, was as long and messy as could be hoped for. Iðunn covered the troops' retreat for a while, then vanished herself; Brunnya withdrew them east, with Etruria in pursuit across the frozen river and the Kutolah harrying them from ahead, until Etruria dared to stretch no further.      However many minutes or hours you stayed, however much of your own blood you put on the scales, it isn't possible to shift the balance that Etruria's losses were worse.      But Brunnya's Djute allies mistrust her now that she couldn't protect all their homelands, you might hear; and the lull of days that follows reveals that Bern doesn't have the means to push that far again.      . . .      Borders, in an un-industrialized world, don't really look the same. They're clean when a river or a mountain defines them, or when someone saw fit to build a wall, but sometimes they're just the place where Sacaean grassland, strangely abruptly, gives way to Bernish pines. No-one's here at a guardpost; no-one's waiting to check your passport. The first Bernish village might still be fifteen miles away.      The Warpgate that you're given directions to lets you out facing those familiar grasslands; and then you have to turn your back to them, to walk the short ways to Roy's camp.      Bern is beautiful, even in early-mid Spring. It's unfair. The same mountains that catch the clouds and make Sacae dry ensure the ground here stays just slightly wet; enough enticement for brave wildflowers to gamble that this frost was the last one, and show their faces among the hardy moss and evergreens. And the ground rumples gently south from the mountains here, feeling 'old' where Sacae's Mother Earth seemed ever-young.      Four little wagons under Merlinus's care come into view through the somewhat-sparse trees ahead, following the footprints from the Warpgate. A smaller number (too small to only be the depletion of casualties, thank goodness) of Dayan's riders are along with a wearied-happy air, but they haven't brought their yurts; this must be the last day of their journey, seeing Roy off only so far.
Marigold	It's not quite time for dinner yet, but people are settling in and unpacking after the day's travel. Guinivere and Melady are discussing something off by the wagon-semicircle's end, as the latter strokes her wyvern's scarred neck anxiously; one can only imagine this is bittersweet for them.      Raigh at the far end seems to be in a downcast bad mood. Fae is trying and failing to convince him to accept comfort and love from the stuffed animal that Petra gave her; Lugh, sporting a new and very unofficial Psychonauts badge like a little village-silhouette on his sash, keeps an arm's distance and quiet companionship, like he knows his brother tends to like.      Lucius is cheerier, trying to keep the old swordsman Karel relaxed by smiling on from the sidelines as he coaches Roy on swinging a wooden sword (not a real one right now, he presumably insisted)]. By Rutger and Lucius's elbow, Dayan with a bandaged hand is stubbornly-jovially insisting on something or other, which probably has to do with why he's the only one who still seems freshly-wounded.      Cecilia, nearer the semicircle's bow-middle, has taken a break from her map-scrawlings and worldly discussions with the young Lycian noble-lady Lilina and Sue (still with the bow Mulagir in her lap) to murmur some words to Larum, your spymaster-de-facto, who leans limply on Echidna's shoulder. It's probably about Douglas's passing; Larum and Cecilia both were close.      "Oh!! It's our heroes again!" Dayan's the first to break the quieter conversations, slapping his knee (with his bad hand, wincing and regretting it), standing up, and trying to edge-amble his way awkwardly around the other social circles. "I was worried you wouldn't make it back before we had to go. I'm afraid we ran through most of the drink, but..." "I wouldn't ask more of you, but you don't 'have' to go, Dayan," Cecilia looks up to prod him gently. "Of course I do! I've got responsibilities to my tribesmen again, thanks to them." "Mmmm..." "And any farther on this mucky dirt and our horses will sink in to their chests and vanish!" "It's pretty normal dirt, Dayan."      It's hard to spot, but Cecilia might just have a new scar to join the one on her face from Zephiel; a burn where the heated metal of her armor might have touched her neck. But she's up and moving fine.
Riku Asakura	Riku is through the gate just like the rest of the Elites today.  He's in his normal get-up, which is a jean jacket, an orange shirt with a space logo on it, jeans, and a pair of tennis shoes.  He's also wearing a smile, though there is a hint of worry behind it.  This is a big move, crossing into Bern and putting the attackers on the defensive for once.   It also means that things will likely get more dangerous here on out.  It's normal to be worried, right?  He doesn't let the worry do anything but be a glint in his eyes, though.  Instead, he walks up to Dayan and Cecilia.  He waves when Dayan calls out to them, greeting them both with a wide smile.   "Hey Dayan, hey Cecilia.  How are things holding up after the assault from Bern?" he asks, trying to get the feel of the situation from the two of them.  "It was... a close one, I think.  But I'm not the one in touch with the local forces..." he admits, just feeling that the battle was a costly one.  One that nobody should want to fight again.   He also notices Lord Roy practicing his swordsmanship.  He waves over to the trio and walks over towards Lucius.  "So a little practice before the real run?" he asks Lucius.
Nobunaga	Being that the Oda army was not comprised of cavalry (and what mobility they had was squished by dragons), it was largely by range of their weapons that they were able to harass the Bernish retreat from Etruria's border. Eventually even that ran out and the nobbu soldiers began milling about the battlefield, assessing losses and checking for survivors; Bernish prisoners or allies to shuffle off to the doctors via a hastily assembled Nobbumbulance (two Nobbu carrying a gurney with a rotating red light on top of the leader's hat, with both of them making siren noises as they run).     In the middle of that battlefield, at the end of the fighting, Oda Nobunaga's form burst into flame and then seared away, flittering off as ashes and embers until the slightly shorter 'normal' Nobunaga remained to direct her diminutive soldiers. It wasn't until sometime in the second day that she had departed, though as before she left her retainer Nagayoshi Mori to oversee the aftermath in her stead. . . .     "...and Tokugawa says, 'This isn't *my* horse.' Not two heartbeats later up the hill I hear Takeda shouting 'It was *you*!'" Nagayoshi Mori belts out that booming laugh of his, free hand slapping the armor over his knee, the other balancing a dish of rice wine while he shares another anecdote with the soldiers of Lycia near his campfire.     Nobunaga passes behind him then, tilting her head back to add in passing, "We didn't even know he was there!" which surprises Mori, then gets him laughing even harder.     She weaves through the camp a bit until she can give Dayan's shoulder a light punch, "Thanks for the delivery in that fight, old wolf. Glad to know you haven't lost your fangs." Already having noted the fresh bandages, though, she props a hand on her hip, "But don't tell me you're too stubborn to let the doctors look you over." Instead Nobunaga's glancing towards Lucius.
Odette Raskins	"So this is what Bern looks like out here... It's nice. IT's really nice." Odette comments with an impressed little whistle as she shuffles on towards Roy's camp. She had felt a wave of relief hit her at not running into any Bernish patrols or checkpoints, but there's still a lingering feeling of anxiety as she remembers that she's still in what might as well be an entire enemy nation. The camp is a welcome sight, of course, as are all the familiar faces. Spotting Raigh, Fae, and Lugh with the former in a visible mood, the EMT strides right on over with all the confidence of... Wait, confidence? Despite that anxiety in the back of her head, she actually seems to be walking with a slightly springier step than usual while approaching the two. "Hello, Fae! Hey, Raigh! Hi, Lugh! Oh, that's a cute doll you've got there... What's its name?" She pipes in cheerily, stumbling only a little on the way before catching herself a moment later. A ltitle shuffle of her right foot to make sure she didn't mess something up there, and then she stands right back up straight with an inquisitive look at Riagh in particular. She spots Lucius, Rutger, and Dayan further over when she does that, too, and Karel and Roy in the middle of that coaching session. She raises her hand in a broad wave, then  squints a little when she notices the bandaged hand. She's not rushing over to them quite yet, though, but she's already rifling through her carrying case  for some fresh medical supplies and painkiller. "Hello, Father Lucius! Mister Karel! Hi, Roy! Miss Rutger, and Mister... Dayan! What happened to...?" She gestures at her own hand to indicate Dayan's, dearly hoping nobody noticed that little pause to remember his name.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	While the ethereal-timeless beauty of Sacae's vastness speaks to Madeleine in a way she cannot name, the 'older', weathered hills of Bern speak to her in a way she *can*. Instead of beelining for the camp she scurries off into the woods and finally arrives at the wagons with a field-dressed deer over her shoulders. "Forage won't be much problem here, and it may be feasible to avoid villages entirely if you don't need to barter for food," she comments as she heaves the game off her shoulders wherever food's to be prepared.     Land like this is often home to critters of the fearsome ilk too, and she rattles off stories of earthly cryptids to Dayan, Odette, and anyone else in earshot as she watches Roy's practice. Creatures of the northwoods - sasquatch, hodag, goat-man and the hippopotamus-like swamp whatsit - dance amidst tall-tales of lumberjacking as her eyes sparkle in the setting sun's light.     "'Course, the days of these creatures are coming to an end in many places," she adds, voice growing wistful. "Worlds're different now, or will be soon. There's not always room for mysteries like those anymore." She leaves it at that, aware that waxing poetic about returns to ancient days probably won't play well to this crowd! Not when the king of Bern is on about a more-or-less similar deal.     "Dayan," she says, pivoting after an awkward moment of thinking about Zephiel. "You're heading back to that town on the coast with your riders, right? Where-" she half-nods in Karel's direction "-he was staying. They'll need someone to stand for them."
Desire Stars	Oh!! It's our heroes again!     "If that's how you feel," Ace says smugly on the approach, with his usual affected aloofness. He and Neon both are wearing their DGP activewear. "You could repay me with the best of what's left. Oh, and by naming the brightest star in the sky after me." Of course, Dayan is experienced enough to know it's all bluster, and can be especially sure that it is, given the mirthful twinkle in Ace's eye.     "Heroism isn't cheap, you know."     Neon rolls her eyes and scoffs good-naturedly. "I'm glad that we could help," she says. "We didn't do it alone. You know? I think... maybe the most important thing that I've learned being here is how people can pull together even when things seem hopeless. Fighting for 'next year' when even 'tomorrow' doesn't seem possible is scary. But it's less scary together."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel's been sticking with the group, not breaking off elsewhere. He's 'slumming' it, because his soul is empty enough that he has the opposite of Adjustment Disorder! He's like an adjustophile, and also, frankly, he sometimes lives in horrible cabins as a hobby, so there's no reason not to just constantly show up. Which meant handcrafting Lugh's new badges, including and especially the genuine, real Psychonaut Badge. Which is, he clarifies at some point, technically more of a counselor endorsement for an internship if Lugh wanted to go get one at the Motherlobe; regardless, this is the highest honor he is actually able to bestow and the last guy who got it was ten years old when he saved three agents, the first head of the Psychonauts, and the world, by punching a megalomaniac's psychic death-tank apart with telekinesis, so.     You know. It DOES mean something.     Flamel's strumming as always, and hanging out with folks in the the middle. Mercifully, he has stopped playing one of his Counselor Songs, where the chorus was just, "We do it different on the west coast!" Repeated seemingly ad nauseum between some less comprehensible things about New York or Chicago. He's mostly near where the map-writing was, the spy staying somewhere in the vicinity of, of course, the spymaster. With a light telepathy, he shares and sympathizes with a bit of the grief, having invested a little himself into Douglas. Now that the Great General is dead, all those promises... Well, he still has to make them mean something, right?     ...     "It really doesn't feel like an evil empire's landscape! Just sort of feels like some central european spots." He chatters idly about Bern. The guitar doesn't go aside when Riku and others start filtering in. "I can't give you much of an espionage or geopolitics perspective on how folks are doing, so I'll roughly translate." Flamel says in an easygoing tone. "You ever gotten punched solidly in the face by someone tough, and then just," Twang. "*Slugged* the guy off his feet for the trouble? That's how people are doing, I hear. They gave us a shiner, but you should really see the other guy, you know?"     Nobunaga gets the usual bright, cheerful wave. "Seems like he's got a mouth full of the things when it's time, not to mention his people! Seems these days like Sacae never stops impressing me."     A thumbs-up to Odette gently tries to encourage her to get some support for Raigh. Flamel couldn't get that kid to open up before, but never hurts to try a little! As for Madeleine, Flamel leans in and offers his own input on the cryptids, and certainly not contrarian by any means. For example, the Hideous Hulking Lungfish of Lake Oblongata (recently reclassified from a UPE to just a regular paranormal entity after filing for a license to hulk and receiving essential psychological care, social support, and medical asssistance for self-image issues; now just the Lake Oblongata Monster).     "I hear," He rambles to Ace. "That generally you have to wait for at least several hundred years for any star naming to go through. But, I'm sure they'll get to it! You know *I'm* grateful for pulling me out of the fire there, I was in a bit deep. Things were steady, but I *do* have to admit they were definitely trending towards me dying without some help!"
Angela	It seems like one way or the other the war against Bern is heading to a close. Angela's reason for providing support is largely because she is fond of Father Lucius and because the more she helps the people of Elibe, the more her relationship with Lilian seems to improve. So she's got her reasons. And Angela still believes that at some point she will be able to support the Dame Commander directly if she just turns the right people into literature. She is visiting personally today which means that she's sticking close to Petra. She has brought a Page with her that she intends to deliver to Lilian. She thinks about how likely it is that she'll never see these people again if the war ends decisively, which bothers her a little, but even so it is a little too silly to actually imagine sabotaging the efforts of the alliance just to hang out with Lucius more. They'll probably never visit her, of course--indeed, today may be the first time she can really visit these people at all if they DO win this last offensive, maybe one last time if there's a celebration at the end of it all, though that seems a bit unlikely. Angela had a 'party' after her own war, but was it really an enjoyable time for those involved? Ugh. So her mood is ever so slightly visibly dour. left arm is a book. Her ''book''. Her right hand is holding a wrapped up piece of parchment, tied with string, with faintly glowing letters on it. ''How people can pull together evne when things seem hopeless.'' Angela sighs faintly. She didn't come here alone. With her is Roland, having fully recovered from tummyache, Gebura, and Love who is back into her humanoid form once more. "Roy...!" Love rushes out from the others once she sees him. "Roy Roy Roy Roy!" She says, like she's in a Smash Bros audience. "Thank you, Roy!! You're the best, wow is that a magical sword, are you learning how to transform too? I believe in you, Roy! I bet your transformation is really strong and cute!" Gebura, meanwhile, waves off being called a hero but is making her way to Sue who doesn't seem to be the chatty type which means she's her favorite kind of person. "How you holding up?" Gebura asks Sue, professionally considering it as part of her responsibility to check up on her wellbeing after her job essentially being to look out after her for a spell. She gives a nod to Cecilia. "We didn't miss food did we?" Roland asks, looking over to Fae and Raigh. "Oh hey Fae. Tough guy." He waves a hand over to Raigh and Fae.
Petra Soroka	It's not the Etrurian losses, or the damage inflicted on the Bernish army, or Douglas's death, or even Brunnya as the person who was right in front of Petra, that weighs most on her mind after that last battle. It's Idunn and Zephiel, as usual, instead. This sort of makes Petra a monster, because she can't really muster up any feeling in herself about the losses that Etruria or Bern took besides the people she knows personally, and even Douglas elicits a kind of downcast shrug, but it also might make her one of the only people who can do anything about ending the war when it comes to the final confrontation with the two of them, which makes her indispensible. Petra is aware of both of these facts, and happy about neither.     Now that they're in Bern itself-- and what a thing to think about after an entire year of this-- there's never any guarantee that their time in Elibe will be safe. Still, after the victory of the last fight, it seems so unlikely that they'll be ambushed today that Petra sees no reason to turn down Angela's request to come in person. It leaves Petra a little paler and a little slower, as if her abstract 'life energy' is being drained to support Angela's, and occasionally she surreptitiously plucks a crow feather that's sprouted out of her skin.     Petra's adapted to the coming of spring early and immediately, having spent nearly every day in the past week lounging outside in the sun like a spoiled cat, so she's already faintly tanned for the warmer weather. The choice of tank top makes the occasional feather from corrosion really stick out, which is something she didn't consider before leaving the house, but whatever. It's probably endearing to Fae and Love.     And speaking of the former, Petra sees her fussing with Wildfire at Raigh. And Fae might be especially emotionally adept as a child, but if Raigh's in such a state that Fae's attempting to comfort him, it *really* can't be good, so Petra has to approach this in a way that doesn't make Raigh feel any 'weaker' than he surely already does.     So she ruffles Fae's hair from behind, acting like she's just coming over to say hi to Fae, and making conversation with Raigh as a peer. "Hey Fae! Hey Wildfire, too. Were you helping Fae out with something, Raigh?" "Of course I do! I've got responsibilities to my tribesmen again, thanks to them."     Petra looks up at Dayan, kind of noncomprehending the dissonance she feels between his words and his tone, but tentatively matching the latter. He's drinking, which means probably being cheerful, so Petra sounds as non-hostile as she can when she says, "Well, who knows for how long! Responsibilities only last if the whole world's not wiped out by Idunn."
Lilian Rook	After the grueling ordeal of the battle for the capital, which she herself inspired the Kutolah to join, Lilian would feel ridiculous for not seeing the aftermath. Though, it isn't as if she didn't intend to anyways; the couple of days that'd followed had been the best opportunity she had to decompress in ages.     Lilian arrives slightly later than usual, required for a certain amount of unusual see-off. With the steadily warming weather, and the departure from Sacae's wide open plains, she has finally switched from her fur-lined cloak back to the soft green-and-grey one she began this campaign with, though besides a pair of belts, the rest of her outfit is barely any different than what she'd just worn camping in the Colarados, unchanged after she holds up a palm and breathes out deeply to check for fog.     Though oddly worn out, Lilian looks plenty relieved when she sees Dayan in good spirits, saying plenty about the state of his people on its own. After hovering in the vicinity of Guinivere and Melady for a time, she eventually decides that intruding on a conversation about their homeland is something she can't imagine doing in a way that either of them would appreciate. A short look around tells her that the other options aren't a lot better, though; she hasn't the least clue how to approach Raigh, especially if Fae of all people isn't having any effect, and Karel just makes her uncomfortable; something she isn't able to fully hide even though she tries.     She passes by the two Bernish women with an awkward smile and nod, throws Roy a "Looking at you know, you've certainly improved quite a bit. Of course I'd hope you would, given all this fighting, but it's more than I expected.", circles unnecessarily wide around Karel by three feet, and gravitates to Cecilia and Lilina out of being the path of least resistance. She regrets it the minute she sees Larum and Echidna.     'I'm afraid we ran through most of the drink, but...'     Glad for the opportunity to say something else, Lilian thinks about this for a second, and recalls a recent conversation about alcohol. 'I wanna see too so it's fine.' 'Yeah! Nika wants to see too!' 'I'm not a zoo exhibit!'     "That's fine. If I drink any more this week, it'll form a bad habit." Lilian says, grimly narrow-eyed. "I'm glad you were able to enjoy it. You deserve to."     'It was... a close one, I think. But I'm not the one in touch with the local forces...'     Lilian sighs out a whole lot of tense reminiscence all at once. "Unbearably close. I was hoping the rest of you would have killed Brunnya in half that time." she says. "You were completely invaluable, Asakura. Thank you very much for your contributions."     'So this is what Bern looks like out here... It's nice.'     'It really doesn't feel like an evil empire's landscape!'     "Infuriatingly so." Lilian quietly moans. "Empires don't become evil because someone built them on a haunted wood or a poisonous volcano. They spoil like bad medicine once they've been too well-off for too long. It's easy to imagine why it was the first and last frontline before."     'Heroism isn't cheap, you know.'     Lilian snorts "Gold digger." It's somewhat good-natured.
Marigold	"Forage won't be much problem here..."      "So this is what Bern looks like out here... It's nice."      "It is nice," says Guinivere softly, as Odette and Lilian pass her by, and Melady nods with approval at Madeleine's catch. "I wish I could say I were glad to be back in my homeland, but..."      But.      "'Bern is a land won with blood'," Melady recites to Lilian sans eye contact, with the cachet of a well-worn slogan her mouth has new discomfort for. "It's green now because it was ashes a thousand years ago, I hear." Her hand pat-pats her wyvern's scarred neck, comfortingly, while her princess looks away.      "I wonder if we're doomed again, then. If wealth and beauty corrupt; and corruption destroys; and destruction clears the way for tomorrow's wealth and beauty. Like you said, the dragons had their first home and last holdout here, too. So... you know..."      "Please don't talk that way," Guinevere says.      "Of course. Sorry, my lady."      "Hey Dayan, hey Cecilia. How are things holding up..."      "What happened to...?"      "Oh, marvelously!" says Dayan, waving his bandaged hand.      "He lost a finger," Cecilia corrects. "Other than that... I'm alive. Etruria hasn't fallen. And I'm certain Clarine will be delighted to know Etruria is considering her brother Klein to command Douglas's armies, for the interim." Larum, by her shoulder, slightly winces.      She nods towards the mapscribbling she's been doing on the table: further elaboration can hold for just a moment.      "But don't tell me you're too stubborn to let the doctors look you over..."      "No, no! What's the point if it doesn't scar a little?" Dayan tries to insist brightly. "The finger isn't getting any more gone!"      "Well, who knows for how long! Responsibilities only last if the whole world's not wiped out by Idunn."      Dayan is taken aback, blink-blinks, and then tentatively decides to take Petra's words as a joke with a half-hearted laugh. "Well, a man my age could be relieved of all his worldly weights any number of ways!" he answers while leaning on a wagon's corner, before winding down a little: "... Is something the matter, young lady? I don't know that to be your usual humor." He hardly knows her at all, but that still seems strange!      "Dayan. You're heading back to that town on the coast with your riders, right?"      "Oh, no! No, I hope not," he says with a more jovial lift. "That was the sad retreat of a beaten people- er, no offense meant," he says to a young Kutolah woman side-eyeing him across the way.      "Ahem." A little moving-along gesture. "The Djute aren't as eager to keep fighting for Bern, I hear, after Bern brought Etrurian troops onto their soil and had them take their lumps. Without other Sacaeans to trade arrows with us, we can keep pressing Brunnya from the east; make sure she can't spare the troops and wagons to make a swing at Etruria like that again."
Marigold	"You could repay me with the best of what's left. Oh, and by naming the brightest star in the sky after me."      "Hah! If you're certain." Dayan unhooks a funny little gourd from his belt and foists it towards Ace, but-- "You can't," Sue calls over from where she's sitting. "Oh, he can handle it!" "The stars. They won't know if you name them." "Oh! Hah! Well still, I'll enter talks with Father Sky about it, and we'll see if he can pass the message along," Dayan jokes. Somehow his granddaughter doesn't roll her eyes.      The drink is a little like masala chai and a little like yogurt-y vodka and a little like getting hit in the mouth.      "But it's less scary together."      "It's been nice," Sue says, while studying the divine bow in her lap a little further. She glances up to meet Neon's eyes, for a moment, before glancing back down. "I have more friends than I thought."      "How you holding up?"      "Good," she says to Gebura, a moment later. "Little Red is good too. Are you?" A pause. "... I don't think I want to wield Mulagir," she adds, as if that were directly following-on from her wellbeing and not a non sequitur.      "Oh, that's a cute doll you've got there... What's its name?"      "Not a doll!" Fae insists, looking over at Odette and Petra from her attempts to push the stuffed animal gently on Raigh. "It's Wilfiy... Wildfire!" The consonants are a little outside her native dialect, it sounds like, but she's had practice, and she nods eagerly at Petra as if the name needed backing-up, hugging the plushie to her chest.      "Yeah. She... wanted to play with me, for some reason," Raigh simmers to Petra, crossing his arms while leaning back and half looking away. "But I'm no good at that kind of thing, you know. You're a lot better at it. And I've... been slacking on my studies too much, anyway. That's pretty clear." Oh.      Raigh rolls his eyes at Roland calling him 'tough guy', while Fae waves perkily. "No, food's later. You didn't miss a thing."      "So a little practice before the real run?"      "The real run?" Lucius looks a little baffled by Riku's words. "Lord Roy's unfortunately gotten himself in plenty of fighting already. I hope we won't have to ask much more of him, but... it is better safe than sorry, isn't it?"      He finds time from his silent cheering-on of Karel to wave amiably at Angela, once more.
Marigold	"Roy Roy Roy Roy! Thank you, Roy!!"      "Oh!!" Roy gets startled out of his sword practice. Karel isn't even holding a stick- just holding his hand as if there were an imaginary sword there- but the old swordsman casually gestures as if he were poking Roy in the vulnerable chest, anyway.      "Ack. I'm-- sorry."      "No, don't be. Take a break."      "Oh. Uh, Love! You're-- skin-ly again. That means you're feeling better, doesn't it? Since you were all frustrated before?" He can't quite match Love's effusive attitude without feeling self-consciously childish, but it does inspire him to bounce on his heels a little!      "Looking at you know, you've certainly improved quite a bit."      "Ah, well..." He crosses the wooden sword behind his back, almost bashfully. She's correct, of course, but-- "I don't feel it. But if you say so, I guess I have to believe you, Dame Commander." "The more one grows, the more one becomes conscious of one's mistakes. That's all. To master something is to always feel like an idiot," Karel smiles lightly. "I'm not sure I could survive mastering anything, then..."
Riku Asakura	'But it's less scary together.' "Yeah.  What you said, Neon!" Riku says, remembering her help during the battle.  "It was your help that got us to the finish line during the battle.  With Idunn's shadows gripping me, I didn't know if I was going to be able to launch the old fort..." he says, humbly.  It's true, though! 'They gave us a shiner, but you should really see the other guy, you know?' To Flamel, he looks at him like a space alien for a moment.  Which is odd because Riku deals with a space alien on the regular.  He nods slowly, deciding that it was the safer play.  But the idea that a war is compared to a fight between two people rubs him the wrong way.  No matter how well the analogy fits.   'Roy...!' "Hahaha.  It looks like you've got a fan, Lord Roy.  You did save her! So I guess that would have a lot to do with it." He says, good-naturedly, to Roy.  "She's never going to give up on you becoming a magical boy, I think." 'Angela' "Ms. Angela, you're out of the Library?" he doesn't know! 'Unbearably close.' "Yeah, that's what I thought.  I wouldn't want to do it again because who knows how things would go down a second time..." He says with a relieved expression.  Obviously, that won't happen! 'You were completely invaluable, Asakura. Thank you very much for your contributions.' "You're welcome, Ms. Rook.  I think we all had a part to play in that battle, but it makes me happy that you think my part helped a lot.  So thank you for your words.  As Ms. Neon said, we've got to work together, and the big stuff seems less scary." He says with a smile to Lilian.   '...it is better safe than sorry, isn't it?' "Yeah, it is.  Sorry, was the question weird?  It just feels like we're about to step into the den of a dangerous creature, and I'm feeling a little nervous about the next part of the campaign.  So... sorry." He says to Lucius.  "How about you?  How are you holding up after all the fighting?"
Angela	It IS endearing to Love! Yeah! Angela, of course, frets about it in her quiet way. Just a little longer, she tells herself. With each victory it'll get easier. She stays close to Petra, intent on leaving the burden on her as light as she can. "Oh! That's good. Yeah, thanks Fae. Hope you haven't been giving Igrene too much trouble--" "Roland. I shouldn't stray far from Petra. Can you give this to Lilian?" Angela asks, handing him the parchment. "She doesn't need to accept it, but I thought it could help. It's a page from me that should help keep her from tiring out." Roland says, "Oh, uh, sure. See you all in a minute." Roland adds as he makes his way towards Lilian. "Hey Director--" He says. He didn't know Lilian as Dame Commander first so he's one of her only Librarians that uses her local title. "--Angela wanted me to give this to you. Said she thought it might help be a trump card should it come to it, it sounded like?" He offers the page to her. ''Are you?'' Gebura rubs at her neck. It always feels a little weird when she's asked over like this. "Yeah, all things considered that could've gone a lot worse. Glad we didn't screw it up, even if it still sucked incredibly." ''I don't think I want to wield Mulagir.'' "Why not?" Gebura asks. "I won't tell you you gotta or anything, but you're the best archer here aren't you?" She doesn't get the feeling it's because of the target that's ended up on her back because of it. "Normally I'm the type to say 'tough shit, you get the job you're needed for, not the one you want,' but it's not like you hesitated in the moment." She looks at the bow accusingly like she is half blaming it like it's been rude to Sue or something. ''That means you're feeling better, doesn't it?'' Since Roy has been MURDERED, Love seizes the opportunity to leap forward and give him a BIG HUG. "Yeah! I feel a lot better, and thanks to you it doesn't even hurt anymore!" She beams at Roy. "Thanks for being my friend, Roy, even when we didn't know each other that long. I will always believe in you, okay?" Sometimes Love seems like a child and sometimes Love feels like someone designed to talk to children and assure them that everything will be okay. "Don't worry, lots of people survive feeling like an idiot, you'll be able to do it too." Love promises Roy. "Because you won't ever be alone." She bobs her head excitedly.
Nobunaga	> "What's the point if it doesn't scar a little?"     Nobunaga lets out a good-natured laugh, loud and genuine, "You've got a lot in common with a certain guy I know!"     Across the camp, Nagayoshi glances up, his mouth currently full of stew fixin's. All he can manage is a confused, muffled sound before he goes back to eating and hanging out with the troops.     The warlord, meanwhile, props her hands on her hips, "Well you know what you're doing and I'm not the type to fuss over others too much. Just glad you made it through, as rough as it was, old wolf." When Dayan reveals his plan to harass Brunnya and keep her from reinforcing Bern directly, she laughs again, "Good! Never let 'em have a moment's peace."     Nobunaga tilts her head back, looking skyward between the plumes of campfire smoke, "It's a tough and treacherous road ahead of us, but we got this far. There's no turning back now."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine watches Karel and Roy for a minute, until she gets a possibly dangerous idea in her head. She scoots closer to Father Lucius, lowering her voice to be a little less-overhearable. "Father Lucius," she begins, "is there such a thing as 'too far gone'? Morally, I mean. Like, if Zephiel somehow made it out of this alive, and lost his wealth and power and weapons and everything, and started over in some village someplace, growing corn and lending his neighbors a hand, would he ever again deserve peace or rest or comfort?"     She shifts, uncomfortably, and looks anywhere except at Karel. "Is it possible to stop causing harm, and still not deserve to be treated like a person anymore?" An awkward pause. "I like to think it isn't, but I've met some people who disagree. About... themselves. Is that a position that deserves to be validated?"
Flamel Parsons	Flamel shakes his head at both Lilian and Melady. "Huh, what? No way! Wealth and beauty don't corrupt at all! Corruption comes from having a large amount of power, but not having the power that solves the problem you want to solve. Taking bribes because you have materials but not money, coercing people because you have money but not social power, emotionally abusing people in your life because you have social power but not materials... all of the classics of corruption come from that principle, you know! If you have wealth and beauty but you mostly deal with problems that are solved with wealth and beauty, then there's just no problem at all." His smile is bright, optimistic, beaming. "We just need to discover what kind of things the new Bernish leadership will need in a hundred years, and make sure that someone's around to support them!"     "...Assuming we get through this next part!" Flamel says, then laughs sheepishly. "No guarantee, after all. But hopefully, after we're done winning Bern with blood, it'll spend a lot less time ash and a lot more time green."     "Hang on, someone's talking about something I want to explain things about." He zones out, briefly, eyes darting around and failing to pick up Madeleine's conversation. His Mansplain Radar is pinging but he can't find a direction!
Petra Soroka	"If wealth and beauty corrupt; and corruption destroys; and destruction clears the way for tomorrow's wealth and beauty."     This line of thinking draws Petra's attention into the conversation, scooting closer to be in conversational range. Petra is, by default, a strong proponent of the beauty that arises after destruction, and it's been a struggle this entire campaign to find some reason to not believe Zephiel's doctrine. The topic in the radio from a few days ago comes to mind, and so in order to practice her more optimistic thinking, Petra attempts to formulate her thoughts out loud.     "How corrupt is it all though, really? Like, if Zephiel was right, and all of humanity on this world was corrupt, then not only would we definitely be wiped out, but we'd deserve it too. But it seems more like... that his description of the war as a crucible or a trial or whatever was actually pretty accurate. Every time we take some big loss, it's been because of corruption or betrayal or whatever, but since we've survived all of it, that means the corruption's been exposed, right?"     She counts on her fingers. "Like, the Mines of Death are shut down. Whatever his face was in Aquelia's dead. The Ilian mercenaries who are able to be hired on to do evil shit are reducing their reliance on that whole economic paradigm. The Bernish court's gonna be irrevocably changed and maybe destroyed-- sorry. Even Douglas who didn't want to do anything wrong but ended up working with Bern died-- sorry again. It just seems like, as a 'trial of corruption', humanity's kind of coming out on top on average." "... Is something the matter, young lady?"     "Oh, no, I wasn't joking. I--" Petra opens her mouth and hangs on the thought for a few seconds, trying to determine how honest she should be. Dayan goes on to explain how the Kutolah will still be contributing to the war effort, but Cecilia's gentle nudging to encourage him to stay with the army sticks in her head.     "I guess you just seemed to excited about having gotten back into your groove and, you know, gotten your pride back enough to go back to leading your people, that I was suddenly kind of struck by how concrete of a thing responsibility actually is. Like, I don't know. I feel like it's something that only compounds infinitely until your emotions don't matter, when everyone's lives are at stake. Like, as if, doing anything besides the most perfectly efficient choice to ensure that the Kutolah survive past Idunn means that you're resigning yourself to only be taking responsibility up until that point?"     Petra frowns. Putting her thoughts into words only made her feel more troubled and uncertain rather than less. "Sorry. I don't mean to be saying what you should or shouldn't be doing. I just feel like, commitment and responsibility mean a lot right now."
Petra Soroka	"It's Wilfiy... Wildfire!"     "Mhm, mhm, that's right." The plushie doesn't look like a 'Wildfire' at all. It's a long-necked dinosaur, with weird mushroom growths like frills on its neck. The Wildfire name, naturally, came from Cinder. "But I'm no good at that kind of thing, you know. You're a lot better at it."     "Well, maybe she wanted a specific kind of game that you would be good at. She did come over to you, after all." Petra leans against the side of a wagon, arms folded to her chest. The private little corner of this far edge of the wagon circle is a perfect environment for weighty teenage conversations, the kind that happens under bleachers or at sleepovers, and Petra tries to attune herself to that particular mood.     "It's that sort of thing, right? Since everything keeps escalating so much, it's like, you'll always feel a little *too* behind, even when you're getting better, because everything keeps getting more insane. Like, last battle, that was a thousand fucking dragons. That's literally way too much."     Petra half-sits, settling down on the edge of the wagon. "What's studying dark magic actually like? Run me through the recent stuff. I understand, like, the very basics, but walk me through it like you're teaching me."
Odette Raskins	"Earth had... Has? So many cool-sounding things. I used to only hear a little about these sorts of things back home, but I never thought they'd really exist somewhere I could go." Odette comments to Madeleine and Flamel, wondering aloud about the cryptids while wracking her brain for cryptids at home. "We had a few, but most of them turned out to just be mutated fish, gas hallucinations... Um. Mostly gas hallucinations." "He lost a finger," Odette's expression goes deadpan as she stares right at Dayan's hand after Cecilia explains and Dayan tries to play it off as less serious than it is. "Even if it's gone, it's still important to take proper care of the rest of your hand. You don't want the rest of your hand going, too, right?" She not-really-asks Dayan, actually taking on a scolding tone for what might very well be the first time anyone (here) has heard. "And if that happens, then protecting everyone else'll be even harder. Please, let one of us check it out, okay?" Even though she's saying please, Odette's actually looking really insistent about it. "It's Wilfiy... Wildfire!" "Wildfire? Oh, that's a good name for that, mhm!" Odette nods in approval as she follows Fae's gaze over to Petra, holding in a quiet giggle after putting two and two together. The fact that it looks like a dinosaur rather than a dragon doesn't seem to confuse her much at all, either. Seeing Raigh's moody face earlier and hearing about Fae's insistence on playing with him makes things clearer, too, and Odette strokes her chin lightly before giving Flamel a knowing nod and turning to Raigh again. "You know, there's been studies that showed periods of rest are way better for learning things than trying to cram it in all at once, even if it's to catch up. Maybe it'll be easier after a little break to decompress?" She suggests with hopeful glances between Raigh and Fae, snapping her fingers a moment later. "Some of the doctors back home even found reading their textbooks out loud or explaining it to regular people instead of med students helped them learn it better, too." She adds, nodding towards Fae and Petra knowingly. "It really has been getting more insane, that's for sure. Dragons, dragons, stuff coming out of the trees, more dragons... Maybe this could help you get to a big breakthrough that'll get you out of that funk-feeling."
Lilian Rook	'Bern is a land won with blood'     Lilian pauses as she tries to go by. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Her sigh isn't about that fact, though.     'It's green now because it was ashes a thousand years ago, I hear.'     'If wealth and beauty corrupt; and corruption destroys; and destruction clears the way for tomorrow's wealth and beauty.'     "You're asking me something I have no answer for." Lilian says, and then pauses to reflect on how seldom she says that, staring into the middle distance. Sure, there are numerous times, often, where she offers theories, conjecture, personal opinion, or even just thinks things through out loud, but the way she closes her eyes and slowly shakes her head after too long of thinking about it means that she doesn't even have those. "A thousand years is such a long time. On average, humans seldom exceed a hundred."     'Please don't talk that way.'     'Of course. Sorry, my lady.'     Now she has to look. She places her gaze between the two women instead of making eye contact with either. "There are hopeful things I think of sometimes, but I don't know how much I believe any of them. I've not even seen thirty years of human history, never mind a hundred or a thousand. All I can say is that people who inherit beauty that was once ashes tend to turn it to ashes again when they forget what's inconvenient and start feeling pride in their predecessors rather than pity." She tries to leave it there, and then makes an uncomfortable expression as another memory intrudes. "If we believe the old man, then all of humanity on Elibe did so before Bern. The heroes are heroes and the mines of death are somethng unrelated."     'Without other Sacaeans to trade arrows with us, we can keep pressing Brunnya from the east'     "Then let's hope you can find other Sacaeans to fire arrows in the same direction." says Lilian. "Tell them how the Otherworld put a hilt in your hands." Remembering that makes her smile, just a bit.     '... I don't think I want to wield Mulagir'     "I doubt its original wielder did either."     'I hope we won't have to ask much more of him, but... it is better safe than sorry, isn't it?'     'I'm not sure I could survive mastering anything, then...'     It's easier to maintain a positive attitude near Lucius; even if it means being somewhat near Karel too. Lilian stops to contemplate the possibility that Roy makes her feel that way too; a tiny little bit. "It's also just better to do something than nothing. In lieu of anything else, I've always found that swinging a sword helps clear my head; so long as no one is on the other end." Of course, Lilian is painfully aware of the process in between where Roy is and where she is. It makes her smile a little more earnest and a tiny bit smug.     "I'm afraid it's inescapable." she says. "I felt the same way about drawing, music, even learning to read if you were go back enough years. If you learn to look back and see how far you've grown, knowing what to work on next becomes surprisingly soothing." Her eyes rove down to his chest. "He isn't even holding anything, but you still reacted when he 'stabbed' you. You didn't have those sorts of instincts before."     'You're welcome, Ms. Rook. I think we all had a part to play in that battle, but it makes me happy that you think my part helped a lot.'     "Of course, of course." Lilian says, airily. "So even though mine was the most important, there's no harm in saying so." She's . . . probably joking.
Desire Stars	Gold digger.     Ace catches the gourd with a smirk shot Lilian's way. But when it comes time to enjoy, he lifts it with both hands to Dayan in thanks and offers a toast, his eyes locked on Dayan's. The Understanding translates it as, "<To health, success, and happiness.>" He tips it backwards, evidently expecting the taste, or at least something like it, in advance of having it.     "That takes me back," he fondly remarks. "And that's just the best of what's left, huh. Dayan, you might just have good taste." Rather than toss it back, he steps closer and offers it with both hands. I have more friends than I thought.     "I'm really glad," Neon enthuses with an almost beatific smile. "If, at the end of all this, people grew closer... if people found new friends, and rebuilt old friendships, and stepped, maybe a little more outside of themselves--you know... I think I could be happy with what we've done, instead of just relieved."     She takes a breath of Bernish air. "It's nice, isn't it? Not just realizing that you're not alone, but that you actually kind of like the people there with you. Even if it's a long time before we can see each other again... I won't forget the people I've met here. I hope you feel the same way, Sue."     Ace's eyes flick towards Neon, not without warmth, but not quite with happiness. Concern... over what? He gives a little wave to Dayan, managing a smile for his sake as he moves to check in on some others around the camp. "I'll have something worthwhile sent your way, just in case the talks with Father Sky fall through. It wouldn't do to leave my fans without a memento." I wonder if we're doomed again, then. If wealth and beauty corrupt; and corruption destroys; and destruction clears the way for tomorrow's wealth and beauty.     "Sure." The answer is short and simple on purpose, to evoke thought as to why, before he bothers to elaborate.     "That's the way of almost everything else in the world. A forest grows, until it grows so large that one lightning strike can decimate it. But the ashes pave the way for the new forest--and some of those trees, or the seeds from some faraway forest, blown on the wind, still live on to regrow. Even in the farthest worlds out there, and beyond them," he says, gesturing towards the sky, "Where the stars are so distant that there aren't any living things nearby to see them or to name them, there are those same cycles. Motion, growth, decay, and stillness."     "Sometimes, you're lucky," he muses. "You're born into the forest when you can enjoy the breeze and the shade, and you die before the lightning returns it to the earth. Sometimes you aren't. You're born in time to see the fire, or into the ashes. That has a tremendous effect on a person, to be born in a time like that. But it doesn't have to define them."     "I've been betrayed in times of plenty and I've loved in times of poverty. Fighting by your side has been pretty lucrative for me, I won't lie," he smiles. "But to say that I don't also want to settle that question--of whether we're doomed to be the *reason* for the fires that burn our forests down--that *would* be a lie."
Lilian Rook	'Hey Director--'     Lilian looks to Roland, takes on an expectant expression, looks down to the page in his hands, and says "Hm? What am I supposed to do with this?" Of course, she is being Handed Something, which means that taking it is a reflex somewhere only slightly less automatic than swallowing the water you just put in your mouth.     'Normally I'm the type to say 'tough shit, you get the job you're needed for, not the one you want,' but it's not like you hesitated in the moment.'     "Tough shit. You get the job you're needed for, not the one you want." says Lilian. She nods as stoically as can be, then cracks up a second later.     'Father Lucius, is there such a thing as 'too far gone'? Morally, I mean.'     Lilian wasn't asked, and she wasn't interested, but hearing Zephiel being spoken of-- no, hearing those specific words in that specific order, makes her hold her breath uncomfortably stiff and shallowly. "Morality isn't real. Show me on the person where the morals are and I'll show you a series of actions they thought were a good idea at the moment."     "And deserving is even less real. People forgive you or they don't. You're allowed to have something or you aren't. You can live with yourself or you can't. Everything else is make-believe bullshit."     'Huh, what? No way! Wealth and beauty don't corrupt at all! Corruption comes from having a large amount of power, but not having the power that solves the problem you want to solve.'     Lilian narrows her eyes at Flamel, and unfortunately for them both, thinks very hard about what he has to say for once. She's still holding her cheek when she says, ". . . Like Sundew? Or Shaynore. Or Mesmer Junior."     'But it seems more like... that his description of the war as a crucible or a trial or whatever was actually pretty accurate.'     "I'd be sorely tempted to agree," Lilian says, much less airily sarcastic than would be comfortable. "If it weren't for the fact that he's already decided that all of humanity shouldn't pass it. If everyone's guilty and and the accuser isn't concerned with evidence, there's hardly any point to a trial; nor a crucible, if your goal is to vapourize everything in it." She forces the air out of her chest so she can look more thoughtful than she feels. "But it's sort of uncanny all the same, isn't it? That it's 'scouring' the world clean again anyways."     'Like, as if, doing anything besides the most perfectly efficient choice to ensure that the Kutolah survive past Idunn means that you're resigning yourself to only be taking responsibility up until that point?'     "The funny thing about that is that the more you chase perfect, the worse you get at it." Haha. Funny. It's humorous and strange. Definitely not debilitatingly upsetting. "Every human being alive, inclusive, is worse at predicting choices than they think. If you don't vary up what you're basing your choices on then you turn insane and stupid."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Morality isn't real. Show me on the person where the morals are and I'll show you a series of actions they thought were a good idea at the moment."     Madeleine hms. "That's true, but we're not just fighting Bern out of self-interest. Even a stance as pragmatic as 'Roy or Cecilia have a better vision for the fate of Elibe than Zephiel' still supposes that the value judgement can be made, that some fates are better or worse to impose on people."     "And deserving is even less real. People forgive you or they don't. You're allowed to have something or you aren't. You can live with yourself or you can't. Everything else is make-believe bullshit."     The huntress holds a finger to the side of her chin, pondering Lilian's argument. "No, yeah, that's interesting," she says. "So what someone feels about themselves has no real bearing on how they should or will be treated? That does make sense - since when was anyone a perfect judge of their own character, after all?"
Angela	''Hm? What am I supposed to do with this?'' "Um." Roland says, looking back to Angela for a moment. "Usually I just sort of... think about using it and grip it hard and then it activates..." "It's a page from me." Angela looks over. "I've imbued it with my... ability to endure long periods of activity without rest." Angela explains. "Gebura mentioned you were concerned about revealing too much of your hand to Bern. So I thought I could add a small trait to your arsenal, now that the war seems to be reaching a critical point." "Page tends to 'poof' when you use it successfully." Roland adds. He thinks about engaging the philosophy and morality of it all but he sometimes a guy just wants to be a goofy guy and not worry about the morality of war so he's fine with leaving that to the professionals. He just hopes everyone else he kills he doesn't have to KNOW first, but something tells him that's not the sort of luck a guy like him gets to have.
Marigold	Karel moves to stow the wooden sword that Roy dropped, but Madeleine's question arrests him, even with his back turned. He knows Lucius's answer already. He wants to hear it again.      Lucius straightens up his sitting posture, meanwhile, and folds his hands in his lap as his face grows serious. "Well... what you're asking, Madeleine," he says slowly, "is whether anyone can deserve to suffer, even though that suffering is pointless."      His delicate hands squeeze each other, with no familiar staff or tome to hold, as his eyes roam the sky. "The answer is no. I believe, Madeleine, that... pain was put in this world only to teach us things. Usually, it teaches that we should help one-another. But everyone 'deserves' to be embraced by God. The past has no weight on that."      "If... one feels, they can't trust themselves, because of their actions in the past..." Karel now can't resist glancing back, from the corner of his eye. Lucius pretends not to notice, and smiles aside at Lilian instead, who's saying something similar from a very different worldivew. "... then perhaps they're right, for now; but that's only a reason to grow, and not a reason to suffer."      "The Bernish court's gonna be irrevocably changed and maybe destroyed-- sorry."      "No, no, it's quite alright," says Guinivere, covering her lips with half her hand. "Can you imagine?" What does she mean by that?      Melady hesitates at her lady's reaction; then scrunches her lips. "Certainly, we're cleaning up the world. But I hope it needn't be this dramatic every time." "Oh, not very corrupt, I think," Guinivere gives as her answer, orthogonally. "But what 'corruption' there is in Elibe, I'm afraid my brother was born in its heart. That's why he can't see that most of the world is... mostly good. I'd like to hope that kernel of bad isn't fated to coalesce right where it can do the most damage."      But Melady's lips are still pursed as she strokes down her wyvern, Triffin's, spine and listens to Ace with a loose but rapt attentiveness. They haven't spoken much, properly, before. He seems to be a good fit. "... I can't say I don't envy the breeze and the shade, over this. Maybe I'd be married to that idiot by now, but I'd take that blow willingly," she jokes.      "But... it seems worse. If we aren't at fault, and there's just no reason at all. Ahhh..." Rubbing her face, with a glance in Lilian's diection: "Being pitied sounds nice, about now, but I wish it could come a little sooner."
Marigold	"I feel like it's something that only compounds infinitely until your emotions don't matter"      Dayan, wearing an uncomfortable smile, glances back at Roy surreptitiously. Even in the short time he's known the young lord, Petra's words make him think of them... "That's very heavy, young lady. I don't know, either," he seems to have little trouble admitting.      "I can't tell you... that that isn't a sane way to think. There was a time I might've embraced it, in the troubles when I was younger. Only, that's not a way of thinking that tends to let you grow old, is it? Right or wrong aside, I suppose I'm only still here to help you because I didn't."      "Dayan, you might just have good taste."      Ace returning his jug, carefully, warms him back up a little. "Well, it's a little late for my health, young man, but they didn't shoot off my tongue!" Just about then, Odette's hassling him- he sighs good-naturedly, and tries to unwrap the bandages on his hand. "Alright, alright. You can have a look at it, I suppose. Just don't baby me, will you? That Lucius fellow..."      Fortunately, it doesn't look too bad as far as missing fingers go. He gives a shrugging, smiling look to Nobunaga: 'what can you do'?      "I hope you feel the same way, Sue."      Sue smiles slightly, which she never does unless she really really means it. "I do," she says. "The Djute attacked, and I was alone. I made it to Thria. The Marquess of Thria was couped, and I was alone. You came..." A pause. "You stayed. It's solid ground."      "I doubt its original wielder did either."      "I won't tell you you gotta or anything, but you're the best archer here aren't you?"      "No," Sue says. "Maybe. Igrene is about as good as me." Her hands half-cover Mulagir, as if protecting it from Gebura's scrutiny. The bow's not to blame; it isn't cursed like Armads was.      ". . . She's an adult. With responsibilities. She does things. She succeeds at them. I don't. I try but I don't. Mulagir should be drawn by someone like her. That's all."
Marigold	"I'm no good at any games," Raigh tries to insist to Petra glumly, as he fishes out and then starts rummaging through a hard-bound tome of notes. "That's just not true, Raigh. You're even better at marbles than Chad, and..." "That's different. She's not old enough to play marbles. It's boring anyway." "Did you ask her?" "Mmmh..." "What's marbles? Fae wants to!" "Hmph. Alright, I'll teach you. But later." "Ya~ay!"      "What's studying dark magic actually like? Run me through the recent stuff."      Petra half-sitting above and next to him does help Raigh, because now he gets to be all teacherly. "Mmmh. 'Getting good at dark magic' and 'figuring out what it does' are really different. I was trying to sort out stuff about those shadow dragons, but... I didn't get anything useful in time."      "Figuring it out is like... ummm... okay, so I have the ritual Bern wanted me to use to heal their wounded dragons." He points at a half-finished diagram. "And, um, dark magic is about stuff *not* being there. About absences. Like... okay, is the absence of green 'red', or is it 'black'? There's a right answer, but it's hard to figure out. So you see if 'red' or 'black' makes more sense with the big picture, and if you can't puzzle it out you have to try it for real..."      The way he ends up describing it, it's a little like philosophy and a little like being an electrician and a little like Wordle. He has it hard.      "Hrk--!!" Love, surely, would never squeeze Roy hard enough to pop him like a little grape! But she can squeeze him harder than he's used to- which seems to be 'any amount at all'- and make his eyes bug out a little, rat-style. When his brain catches up enough to awkwardly pat her back with one hand, he wobbles a little smile over her shoulder.      "You're... right. Feeling stupid is pretty survivable, isn't it. You'd think I'd be more used to it by now," he halfway mumbles, with a shy glance-at and glance-away from Lilian. "Thank you for... believing in me." Roy is now five percent red. "Everyone." Ten percent!      "He isn't even holding anything, but you still reacted when he 'stabbed' you."      After escaping the hug, Roy glances down at his chest as if expecting to find blood there, and then laughs a little while holding his arm. "Well..." "That's right. Today we teach him those reflexes. In ten years, we'll get rid of them again," Karel says. "I hope I'm nowhere near a sword in ten years..."
Angela	''Hrk--!!'' Love is a strong hugger and as an Abnormality one should generally be prepared that she could hug someone to death but she isn't the Abnormality that hugs people to death, that's a whole other Abnormality! Usually when she wants to kill something, she uses lasers! But she's gotten a lot better at not accidentally hurting friends. The only risk is-- ''---make his eyes bug out a little, rat-style.'' Love feels the strange urge to unhinge her jaw and shove Roy's head in her mouth. Well, it's not really a ''strange'' urge. It's a normal urge for Love, but it's usually an urge she has for rats these days and not people like Roy. She imagines it for a moment--not to chomp down or anything, just sort of rest Roy's head in her jaws and NOT chomp, before shaking her head to clear it, wiping at her hand with her mouth. "Of course I do!" She insists. "You rescued me!" ''Tough shit. You get the job you're needed for, not the one you want.'' Gebura stares at Lilian for a moment and then snrks as well at about the same time, covering her mouth as like a year of stress rolls off of her. "Great, I get to be the good cop huh?" She grins. But she does consider Igrene. Igrene literally, essentially, has a dragon for a daughter. Does it feel cruel to her to put such a thing in her hands? Maybe not. Maybe she's another kind of perfect for that reason. But she does consider it. She's someone who is inherently a little bit suspicious of weapons, especially special ones, because in her world if you listen too much to a weapon it will take over your fate, your life, and your soul. So far Mulagir has been patient and fine but-- There's still attunement. Gebura can adapt to a lot of different EGO but sometimes someone just isn't suitable. And sometimes, like with Cinder or Nonon, someone is very suitable for the EGO they are given. She has to assume it's similar for legendary mystical ancient dragon slaying artifacts. So when Sue's hands instinctively move her hands to protect Mulagir from her gaze--that's a kind of answer. "Nah." Gebura says. "Sorry Sue. Igrene's got a lot of responsibilities, and maybe she's got a track record worth envying, but you've already shown it's gotta be you." She pauses. "Doubt those legendary heroes always felt like they were the right people either." Because she can't bring herself to mention the way Sue's hands moved so directly. "'Sides, you don't gotta be perfect. The others will watch out for your blindspots."