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Owner	Pose
Marigold	NORTHEASTERN BERN      En route to the Shrine of Seals.      Faced with the sobering reality that you will have to confront the Demon Dragon of yore before this war is through, and that she was hardly fazed by an arrow from the divine bow Mulagir, it only makes sense to seek out the Binding Blade that supposedly subdued her a thousand years ago.      In that, you've had incredible luck right from the start. Princess Guinivere fled Bern with the 'Fire Emblem', the gem needed to complete and take that legendary sword, just to deny it to her brother King Zephiel at the start of all this. And by right of Bernish station or improbable past adventures, several members of the Lycian army have the rare knowledge of exactly where that Shrine is.      Of course, Zephiel knows too.      You were asked to join the army's travel yesterday morning, for fear that there might not be any further Warpgates en route to the shrine, and that Zephiel might have posted heavy resistance to guard it (or that the shrine's spirit, sometimes spoken of as 'Bramimond', might not give up the Binding Blade easily). So far, though, Bern has been eerily empty of soldiers- maybe because you've been stretching your supplies to stay away from villages thus far, and maybe because you've ensured they're overextended into Ilia, Lycia, and Sacae.      So after a full day's travel, and a night's rest in a canvas tent or your own accommodations, and another half-day's travel skirting a village and climbing a forested mountainside through shaded secret paths, you come to a beautiful hidden hollow where sunlight dapples through the oak leaves, and...      . . . "It's gone," says Melady, returning on her wyvern from scouting ahead for soldiers. "I'm sorry, 'it's gone'?" Roy blinks. "Shrine's gone." "What? Do we have the wrong place?" "You'll see in a minute. It's just gone."      . . .      Oh. It's actually gone.      Something like a three-hundred-foot radius in the center of a mountain meadow has been pulverized down through bedrock. It looks like a meteor hit it; and then all the rubble from the meteor filled back in the hole as a heap of boulders and gravel; and then the rubble and mangled trees were blowtorched until, cooling from lava, the gray stones stuck together like a pile of half-melted crayons. Even Riku might need days if he wanted to dig through it with his hands looking for a sword.
Marigold	NORTHEASTERN BERN      Actually en route to a Bernish village to buy wheelbarrows, pickaxes, rope, and food.      "You know, I'm honestly quite excited we have a reason to go into town. Mingling with the common folk was always the highlight of my month, when I was in stuffier environments," Guinivere says, looking quite pleased at having exchanged her royal red robes for exaggeratedly plain linens. (She still looks glamorous.)      "My lady, aren't you even a little distressed? The--" Melady, her knight, looks around with unnecessary anxiety as if anyone might be eavesdropping a half-mile from the rural settlement, before hushing- "--the Binding Blade could be destroyed under all that rubble, for all we know. And the sight of that devastation alone..." "Oh, of course. I'm petrified!" Guinivere laughs. "But you've got to try to look on the bright side, Melady." "If I may be so bold, I don't believe optimism is in a bodyguard's job description." "Oh, don't I know it."      Only Merlinus, the army's de facto quartermaster; Roy, for reasons of insistence; and the members of the army who can plausibly 'seem Bernish'- that being Princess Guinivere, Melady the wyvern-rider sans wyvern, Rutger the swordswoman, and-- somehow Clarine? Isn't she Etrurian?-- are heading into town with a single horse-drawn wagon, along a tree-shaded winding-down-a-mountainside path that eventually intersects with a dirt road.      You all, of course, are invited along regardless of your strangeness; partly because the others' apparent normalcy can probably excuse you as Otherworld visitors, partly to expediently hush up anyone who tries to somehow send an alert, and partly because you'll know best what to procure to help you with an exhausting excavation-and-possibly-repair project.      "Get your shopping lists ready," Merlinus prompts. "Won't know what we've got until we get there, but you should start thinking now."
Riku Asakura	Riku arrives with his normal outfit.  That is the jean jacket, orange shirt with the space logo on it, jeans, and a pair of sneakers.  He's got his greebles on his hips, ready to transform, and is ready for a few-day excursion with the caravan.  A few days isn't going to bother Riku in the slightest! When word got back that the temple was gone, Riku was one of the first to check out what that meant.  When the site of the former temple was revealed, Riku just stared with dread awestruckness.  "I can't imagine what could have caused such destruction..." he says, still struck by the sight. "I could start digging around, but this could take a while to sift through even with my size..." On the way to pick up supplies... Guinivere's upbeat attitude is infectious. Riku was smiling the whole way down the mountain and towards the dirt road.  Riku walks along the riders, looking down the trail and occasionally into the sky.  The countryside was beautiful, and if not for the fact that the temple was a smoking crater, you wouldn't think they had any worries.   "I like your attitude, Lady Guinivere.  Looking on the bright side of things is a skill not everyone has.  I'm glad you have it at least!" he says, upbeat and with a shopping list in his pocket.  Thankfully, no video game consoles are being sold here that could distract him from his purchases.  Pickaxes, shovels, rope, buckets, and wheelbarrows to help cart away dirt.   "Still, I wonder what caused that crater."
Nobunaga	> "Shrine's gone."     The foreign warlord Oda Nobunaga could hardly believe what she was hearing from Melady, though the truth of it sank in as quickly as it took to actually reach and behold the extant of the blasted wasteland that was once the Shrine that the whole group had been searching for. Once the initial shock starts to wear off, Nobunaga lets out a low, appreciative whistle while adjusting her hat.     "I wasn't expecting half-measures, but this is one impressive way to make sure the enemy keeps their hands off of something."     She crouches to run her hand over the half-melted rubble, marveling at how solid it is. The thought doesn't escape her; *was* this even a preventative measure, or could it have happened when the Demon Dragon emerged? Less an act of retribution and more a footprint of her presence? . . . .     Approaching the village, Nobunaga has completely changed; once again into that merchant's outfit as she had used previously in Ilia and even briefly in Sacae. Behind her, similarly dressed more as an attendant and worker than a warrior, Nagayoshi Mori totes a wooden box with straps as if it were a backpack. It's largely empty this time, meant to carry goods back to the worksite. > "Get your shopping lists ready."     "Already done!" the warlord proudly proclaims, holding up a rolled-up scroll, "Any supplier of farm goods should have what I want in the amounts I'll need for the--" She pauses before saying 'Nobbu', and after a moment references the little soldier familiars as, "...My little helpers."
Lilian Rook	You know what? Lilian has never felt nearly so good about camping out on a military operation. Maybe it's just because it feels much more secure camping with like sixty other people in the countryside instead of those rare nights of shared watch way out in no-man's land with two to five others at best, or maybe it's because this stage represents the end of the campaign trail and the lasting peace in sight, or maybe it's because she's fresh off her honeymoon and god will she not shut up about it if anyone takes the bait and asks.     And the bait is there, because she's gone without gloves for the first time in Elibe since the first peace talks, just so her wedding ring is 'incidentally' visible. Truly, she is so over the moon about everything right now that fighting a hundred dragons at once feels doable. Or god forbid, even talking to annoying women.     Beautiful country, shady forest, and even rugged mountainsides, all get her adventurous spirit going as well; just like the first few days in Lycia had. Lilian can still remember the irrepressible sense of proud motivation, or perhaps even belonging, she felt by that campfire on that night. It all gets her in a slightly sappy mood, and so she spends a great deal of the trip telling various members of the League how much she appreciates them, and waxing nostalgic about their (mostly very harrowing) memories together, between comm-calls with Tamamo at every long rest, which accomplish the impossible of cutting partway into her daily self-training time. She's in such a good mood, in fact, that--!     'It's gone,'     "What?" Lilian blinks at the mood, pleasantly doe-eyed about the whole thing.     'Shrine's gone.'     "Beg pardon? It's gone where?"     . . . . . . . .     "Oh well fuck you too Zephiel. That's hardly very fair now is it?"     Lilian could almost have a tantrum. But today, she can manage. After all, the Binding Blade is definitely still there. If it could just be taken back out, there wouldn't be any point to destroying the Shrine at all! Stay positive Lilian!     'Mingling with the common folk was always the highlight of my month, when I was in stuffier environments'     "I know what you mean, but I think it's always sort of hit and miss." Lilian casually opines down the road. "It's not something I'd like doing more than a few times a month, or else they start getting too familiar, but it's refreshing to see what they're up to, you know? Like checking on a plant you know perfectly well you just watered yesterday. It's green." she says, without explaining what that means, simply intuiting somehow someone will understand it. "It's just that you always run the risk of someone being a snob or a brat or a malcontent, which spoils your day. So, in moderation." Hey did you forget the part where she said 'commoners' Lilian?     '--the Binding Blade could be destroyed under all that rubble, for all we know.'     "Actually, I doubt it." Lilian says to Melady. No sigh, no grimace, not even folded arms. "If it were something you could just melt down or break in half, it'd be a hundred times simpler to do that then this. Most likely, they weren't even able to retrieve it at all. There'd be no reason to go through so much effort if they could just pick it up and walk away with it. That'd keep it safer from us than burying it."
Lilian Rook	'Get your shopping lists ready,'     "Oh I'll need an entirely new set of clothes." says Lilian, meaning several different complete outfits that can be interchanged piecemeal. "This is the last national border we'll be crossing, so perhaps I should splurge a little on Bernish fashion? Sacae was so conservative and subdued." Thinking for a minute, Lilian taps off on her fingers quickly, then concludes, ". . . plenty of water, salt, and protein for the excavation. It doesn't have to be portable. Silver if they have it. And-- oh I should see if they have any of the compounds I can use for alkahest. That'd make this much easier."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Upon arriving and hearing the task at hand, Madeleine has a question. "Huh," she begins, "Bramimond guards the Binding Blade? But they weren't its wielder. What happened to the tome Apocalypse?"     In the Bernish woodland, Madeleine is full of energy and vigor. At the sight of the (former?) Shrine of Seals, her expression droops. This was the work of dragons, surely. "We're gonna need a *crane*," she mutters.     En route to the village, she isn't much help. Still gobsmacked by the sheer distruction of the place, and no expert in excavations, she struggles to consider what material of use could be procured from a Bernish village. "I bet the locals could tell us a little more of what happened, if asking wouldn't be too suspicious," she suggests.     When the team reaches the nearest town, Maddie immediately splits off from the group, vanishing down an alleyway. A flicker of shadow on a distant roof-top, the sensation of being watched from afar; these are what the locals will know of her. She roams a perimeter around Guinivere and the rest, watching for anyone leaving town in a hurry or other attempts to spread word of the Elites beyond this town's borders. She's not sure what she'll *do* if she finds someone looking to skip town with a message, but she'll start by catching up with them.
Skipper	There's one more person setting out with the party. Skipper's pestered Odette (among others) looking for ways to get more experience, good causes to throw their weight behind, or just simply ways to jump into Sector Zero's ongoing events headfirst. Supporting the Lycian League seemed like it'd be all three, really. So they just tag along with Odette when she shows up. Skipper has their hood up on first arrival, and goes to find something useful to do on first arrival, muttering something about "Idle paws". If left to their own devices they go to set up a mini-forge and start trying to fix up whatever metal equipment is lying around, or following a short distance behind on foot, as appropriate. It's not until a few hours pass or someone questions the party's addition of a strange, short blacksmith that Skipper finally introduces themself. "Hi, I'm Skipper Whiskersmith, I wanted to see if I could help? I hope that's alright?" The genuine, anxious way the question is phrased implies that Skipper absolutely would turn around and make the miles-long trek back to the nearest warpgate on foot if someone says no. "I can fix things up? I can also fight, though it looks like you're kind of full up on people who can do that..." They also have a small fit the moment it becomes clear that the party has multiple for-real royals (including some of the elites, should they happen to mention their status). "Oh my gosh I am so sorry please forgive me I didn't realize," they say, bowing deeply and trying to back away. "I didn't mean to intrude, I'll just stay at the back..." This takes a little bit of effort to convince Skipper that they're not in fact... ... Well, 'guilty of breathing the same air' isn't quite the exact way to describe it. It's more like a deep-seated belief that the nobility is Just Better than common-as-dirt Skipper Whiskersmith and that rubbing elbows with someone that much higher in status than you is like declaring that the sky is not blue. It's just Not Done. Even if this is gotten across they're still a little skittish about the whole thing and insist on using whatever full titles are presented to them. --- > "It's gone," "The... whole thing? They stare at the absence of shrine, and then go and actually walk around the destroyed area as if convinced that maybe it's just hiding somewhere. --- There's another small fit when they're brought along as part of the away team. Well, they did ask to get involved, so it's fine, right? > "Get your shopping lists ready." "Oh, sure? I have some money, if we need some..." they heft up their coin purse. "And I can... try to find some more repairs for ongoing supplies - I mean, repairs for ongoing- supplies for ongoing repairs..." > Mingling with the common folk was always the highlight of my month, when I was in stuffier environments "We're... really not anything special, though..."
Desire Stars	You'll see in a minute. It's just gone.     "Interesting," says Ace, with a little smile.     "That's your response? The only way it could be worse is if there was some kind of ambush waiting," Neon bemoans.     "Exactly," answers Ace. "Why *isn't* there one? Zephiel has had no problem with numbers before." If it were something you could just melt down or break in half, it'd be a hundred times simpler to do that then this.     Ace nods and points at Lilian in agreement. "This kind of slash-and-burn strategy is something you either do when you're on the back foot, or when you've weighed a loss now against a bigger victory later. Given that this is *in* Bern," he continues, "I'd imagine he's conceded this and he's using the time it'd take us to get it back to fortify his position."     "...so, that saying about Bern being won with blood..." Neon frowns.     "This is where all wars of this kind lead." Get your shopping lists ready.     "No need," says Ace to Merlinus, holding up the Powered Builder buckle and waggling it. "At least not as far as equipment's concerned. But I might pick up some extra provisions. I don't think anyone expected hard labor on top of marching, and we have harder work ahead of us besides."     "How are we on... you know, fun stuff? Spirits, and sweets, and that kind of thing?" Neon asks Merlinus. "You never know when you might need them." She's survived her share of ambushes to know, at this point.
Skipper	> "How are we on... you know, fun stuff? Spirits, and sweets, and that kind of thing?" "... Oh, uh, if you need..." Eager to make inroads, Skipper opens their pack and selects a candied-strawberry-on-a-stick, which they attempt to press into Neon's hand. (It's really good.) "I've got enough to share?" they ask hopefully.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel stands over rubble, scratching his head. For a moment, he starts amassing some telekinetic hands, picking rock out of the ground, shoving it aside. Pulling, clawing, eventually one of those translucent hands yanks back, a phantasmal fingernail gleaming red, and Flamel winces in pain.     "We're gonna need a *lot*...     Getting into town, he sticks near Guinivere, picking up on her surface thoughts to keep an eye on what things are looking like here. Can Flamel Parsons "seem Bernish"? He's not a master of disguise, but as a spy, he knows how to keep his head low. By keeping it high, that is, by looking like a traveller from somewhere else in Bern. One who gets a different type of sun and whose version of the blue-that-means-black hair is actually black, and whose cloak happens to be just slightly more concealing than usual. Hey, if those strange dragonoids can do it, so can he! He won't be shown up by an even-more-non-person thing like that!     But he definitely will still need tools too. "I'll handle memory wipes!" He says, encouragingly. "But this is a *great* excuse to get a feel for local brains. I've seen how most of the Bernish army think, but the citizenry are another matter. Guinivere, you'll help guide, right? I'm not going to know exactly where I'm going around here, and I think you know Bern's Collective Unconscious more than I do."     He plans to do a LOT of telepathy here. Not just memory-wipes, lots of scanning minds, navigating mindscapes, and learning, ahead of the group, what disasterous social faux pas to avoid. Alongside that... He needs to get a feel for how people think of Zephiel. What they think of the Demon Dragon at his side, if they know her. And any good hints about how to navigate the pain of the actual regime change part of things.     What they think of Guinivere will be important. He doesn't burden her with that kind of pressure right now, though. Lord knows she needs to get a chance to enjoy this.
Desire Stars	I've got enough to share?     Neon smiles warmly at Skipper, not having expected to have been *given* something. She accepts it. "Thanks," she says with a slightly embarrassed laugh. "That's very sweet of you. I meant more for everyone else, but if you have it covered, then I'm glad. You know... I'm sure I haven't seen you before. What's your name?"
Petra Soroka	The grim reality of the inevitable confrontation with Iðunn and Zephiel and the ultimate culmination of the war effort in Elibe were heavy on Petra's mind a week or two ago, but Lilian's wedding is still much too fresh on her mind to be thinking about that when it's still offscreen in her mind. A *day and a half* of travel with Lilian, and among friends, even through Bern, feels like a little honeymoon treat for Petra, which is a sentiment that would get her evaporated instantly by divine retribution if spoken out loud.     Even without that particular aspect, her mood is too high and the company is too pleasant to not blabber about the positive feelings of the last little while during the march. The cheer can be shared in a very literal way with the other members of the army, too-- in the form of catering leftovers, packed into coolers inside her mirror, that frankly there wasn't any way they would be eaten otherwise. It's barely a notable blip from a 'supply chain' point of view, but a nicer than usual meal for a couple dozen people is just the opportunity Petra needs to get a captive audience for more enthusing.     She works it out of her system eventually, but not until Fae is squeezed and praised and fawned over for how *adorable* her dress was and how she's so glad the timing worked out so she could come and--     Petra's sleeping accommodations are simple. The march doesn't even necessitate anything different from her usual, except that she had to pack food rather than stopping by a store. To Fae's delight, the way that Petra sleeps, is by summoning the beauty of Ash, pacing around until she finds a comfortable spot with a good view of the sky, and then tucking its legs underneath itself and curling up like a deer. "Shrine's gone."     "What? Why?" Petra blinks up at Melady, innocently confused.     At the site where the Shrine was, Petra has unloaded a truly unreasonable amount of nonsense and garbage from her mirror. After taking out a fourth diesel engine-- has Petra literally ever used *diesel* for anything?-- Qetra got exasperated and simply upended the rest out of the mirror, leaving a pile of everything from lipstick and water bottles, to metal scrap and a singular cinder block, the latter of which Petra holds up frustratedly while glaring at the melted-over Shrine.     "God. Why don't I pack, like, hundreds of pounds of explosives everywhere I go? Imagine if I ever packed what I *needed*. When I get home, I'm gonna call Dr. Eggman and ask who his bombs guy is." . . .     The Beauty of Ash is strong, of course, and can chip away at the stone relatively easily, but despite the accusations of its similarity to a dog, it's kind of horrible at digging. Bladed limb-tips without hands or feet aren't effective at moving any amount of material, regardless of how much power the mech can actually output-- it'd be fantastic at pulling a wagon loaded up with rubble, but fairly worthless at digging itself.     Petra has a thought about how to solve this in a roundabout way. She won't say it out loud, and she won't allow it to happen.
Petra Soroka	Petra kind of looks Bernish, anyways. Shaggy blonde hair, in burnt red, brown, gold, and black, with a scabbard on her hip that's filled with Silver, she certainly doesn't look like she'd be a part of any *other* military. She understands Guinivere's anticipation more than she thought she would, despite this being enemy territory-- Petra's interest, as always, is in 'the civilization comprised of people', rather than the maneuvering of war and politics, and so heading into town to talk with *anyone* eases some distress about waging war in Bern that she didn't recognize until now.     Not that talking with civilians will make her feel more comfortable about waging war on the nation, probably. It's just worse not to know any faces at all.     "Fuck. God. We'll need a ton of water, yeah. I've still got a lot of jerky, but... fuck, I don't even know how you *use* a pickaxe properly. I wish we had a-- wait, I could totally *make* a jackhammer!"     Petra presses her hands together in front of her mouth, diligently running through the mental checklist of things she has in her mirror. "Okay. I can... what's the rubber situation like here? Is it bad? I could also use, instead, uh... copper, and hiring someone to make a drill bit."
Odette Raskins	Odette had arrived expecting to be in it for the long haul, carrying not one but two whole bags full of medical supplies. The carrying case would contain her battle supplies, but her trusty old duffel bag would be the one she was expecting to use along the way before things really kicked off. Regrouping with Roy's army and traveling on the way to the Shrine of Seals turned out to be pretty okay, but she's still got her guard up even while pointing at various people to try and help Skipper connect names with faces. "That's Princess Guinivere over there, Melady over there, Prince Roy over... Wait. Is he a prince? Um. Merlinus way over there, Rutger and Clarine near there..." She's learned better than to expect the best even though she's not a bodyguard like Melady, especially in light of everything else that's happened the moment she let her guard down. What she wasn't expecting, though, was for the Shrine to just be... "Gone like... Was it on an island?" "Oh. Like. Um. Wh. Gone like that." What Odette really wasn't expecting out of all this was having to do any digging or mining, or having to buy supplies for such. "Let's hope it's just buried and not broken. It'd be a big downer to do all that digging just to find nothing, so...!" Odette tries to keep her spirits raised as she glances between Melady and Guinevere, although the possibility is still enough to keep the anxiety pretty visible on her face. "Y-yes, what Riku said. If we keep looking on the bright side, we'll have more energy to clear up the landslide! And-" She nods quickly at Lilian next, a thoughtful look crossing her face after a few more seconds. "Breaking it, or even just chucking it into the ocean... There's gotta be something protecting it here if they didn't do something like that." She does deflate a little, though, at being reminded about the crater and wondering what caused  it in the first place. If nothing else, Odette's got a decent idea on what to actually buy for this sudden excavation job. She's even partially dressed for the part just heading into the village, leaving her jacket in the wagon and only keeping a working tank top and the white cape on to look the part of a laborer. It definitely helps that she's got gloves on ahead of time, built up muscle from hauling bodies around, and she's even got scarring on her arms from prior wounds and an amputation to boot! "A new set of clothes sure would be nice... Several sets, yeah. Some hard hats, lanterns, and oil for protection and visibility. Planks and lumber, so we can keep our footing and the area stable while we're working. I've got medical supplies for if anyone gets cut up, but extra oxygen tanks in case..." Odette pauses, then clears her throat. "Right, that's not a thing here yet. Um. Maybe some helmet. I doubt they've got hard hats, either."
Angela	Thankfully, Roland's hangover didn't last a full week and honestly he's almost eager to get back into it. They're out to find a special blade that explicitely should be helpful for defeating the Demon Dragon he helpfully had a stomachache the last time she was around. Roland still has a healthy fear of ancient ressurected supernaturally powerful dragons in the same way he has a healthy fear of souped up vampires. And also he has an even healthier fear of accidentally fighting too hard and getting people suspicious of him. Fortunately, he has EGO to help and--more relevantly for today--he can still take on the mantle of MERCHANT CHEF ROLAND once more. And this time he doesn't even have to prep meat buns in advance because 'wanting to buy food' is not just a fake objective for his cover, but a real cover because they still need to eat! And if Riku is going to spend days digging while a giant, by gosh, they're gonna need a lot of it. Love, of course, is still Love and still fundamentally unable to be anything but either a winged snake or a magical girl and she is sticking close to Roy who has earned her everlasting loyalty by ensuring she got healed from a dragon slaying arrow. ''Shrine's gone.'' Love looks towards the giant hole. "...Is...is that allowed?" She asks, eyes wide. "That's gotta be against the rules... Roy I think King Zephiel is cheating..." AND SO While Love is just pestering Roy the whole time, asking questions like 'What is his favorite food?' and 'What's the Binding Blade look like?' and 'Why's it called the Binding Blade?' and 'How meltable is the Binding Blade?' with wide-eyed wonder, Roland decides to stay close to Petra, though he does doubletake at the walking mouse. "I'm guessing Love can probably help with the digging with her laser..." He murmurs. "I'm gonna see what kind of stuff I can scrounge around to make quick snacks for everyone--want to see what we can scrounge around for and see what we can do with it? We want something filling, lots of energy in a quick to eat meal."
Flamel Parsons	"Still, I wonder what caused that crater."     "I get the feeling..." Flamel rambles, casting the frame of reference to a silly, caricaturized version of Idunn standing next to a silly, caricaturized version of Zephiel, speaking with each other:     "Idunn! Do you *like* this temple?"     "I don't feel anything at all."     "I see. So that means I should annihilate this wretched structure?     "You should do anything you're going to do."     "As you ask. I'll order one thousand violent dragon smashings."     Flamel peeks his head up from behind the mental-image puppet-show he was putting on for a moment there. "Or, at least, that's what *I* think it was probably like." He says. "You know, approximately."
Lilian Rook	'Hi, I'm Skipper Whiskersmith, I wanted to see if I could help?'     "Oh. I was meaning to ask this whole time." Lilian says, as if she'd only just noticed Skipper, or perhaps was entertaining the idea that she was hallucinating them. "You're not from Quicknest or anything are you?"     'I can fix things up? I can also fight, though it looks like you're kind of full up on people who can do that...'     "No such thing as full-up in war. I'm certain plenty of people have some kit that's been banged up though." Lilian fondly pats Night Mist sheathed at her waist. "I'll be fine."     Honestly, if Lilian is mistaken (really deserving quote marks by now) for royalty , that's fine. She feels like it!     'I'd imagine he's conceded this and he's using the time it'd take us to get it back to fortify his position.'     "Most likely. He's been aggressive to the point of arrogant this entire time so far; this is the first time Bern has started to take stiff losses and face considerable resistance. It's about time he begin weighing his options."     'I don't think anyone expected hard labor on top of marching, and we have harder work ahead of us besides.'     Lilian puts her hands on her hips and tilts back her chin with a coincidentally Ace-like smirk. "I'm in top shape today. I could dig this thing up myself." Then she thinks better of it. If only just. "I'll have to make a circuit around the butchers though. The huntsmen won't have hit a windfall yet, at this time of year. And I could use the time to practice!"     'God. Why don't I pack, like, hundreds of pounds of explosives everywhere I go?'     "For the same reason you don't leave your Halloween candy where you can get to it easily. The temptation eventually gets the better of you, and you've used it up when you didn't even really want it." Lilian says, nodding as if she is being agreed with on her piece of sage wisdom.     'Okay. I can... what's the rubber situation like here? Is it bad?'     Lilian opens her mouth, closes it, thinks a little harder, and then politely says, "I don't even know if they have rubber trees?"
Nobunaga	> The Parsons Zephiel-Idunn Puppet Show     "You know? That's pretty plausible," Nobunaga admits, as much as it harm her personal investment in making things fiery and dramatic. The idea of the Demon Dragon erupting from confinement in a blast of flame like a volcano, dashed by the fact that the King is constantly trying to impress the unimpressible and so that's just more likely. Even if it's boring.
Petra Soroka	"Oh I'll need an entirely new set of clothes."     "Oh. Because of getting sweaty..." Petra trails off, thinking about that. She does have several changes of clothes, mostly consisting of graphic t-shirts with increasingly profane comedy, but the other Elites aren't exactly lining up with full hiking kits and wardrobe changes. She's pretty sure she's only ever seen Riku in one outfit ever. And imagining the state of hygiene among Elites after a day or two of hard physical labor... "... Was there a river nearby?" "You're not from Quicknest or anything are you?"     Petra notices this sentence, because it's Lilian saying it and usually when someone says 'Quicknest' it means something about her. When following where her attention is directed, she turns and sees Skipper and recoils with a yelp of shock, like a human in a Tom and Jerry cartoon. "Wah-?! Oh my god. Wait, holy shit, are you here to kill me? Oh my god I'd be so dead if you were." "Some hard hats, lanterns, and oil for protection and visibility. Planks and lumber, so we can keep our footing and the area stable while we're working."     "Wow. You're like a proper little Victorian orphan, aren't you?" Petra says, somehow approvingly. "You're practically built for the mines. But-- I mean, we probably won't want *tunnels*, since Geed's kind of our biggest asset here. He's too big. We want a pit."
Lilian Rook	'... Was there a river nearby?'     "If you fetch the water then I'll show you my special hot bath trick." says Lilian.     'since Geed's kind of our biggest asset here.'     She snorts. Biggest.
Odette Raskins	"You're like a proper little Victorian orphan, aren't you?" "Victorian?" Odette gives Petra the curiously confused two blink stare, then laughs bashufully a moment later. "Oh! I used to live on a mining colony, so I picked up a bit about preparing for this kind of stuff. Good point about not needing the tunnels. If we're just digging stuff out of the crater... Yeah, that'll help us conserve supplies for getting more footholds and ramps set up. And between the big lifters like Geed and the Beauty of Ash?" She pauses, in case she's off the mark there. "... And Mister Ace's Builder work, we'll have plenty of energy for the more careful digging once something gets uncovered!" Brimming with confidence, Odette glances at her bag once as she remembers what else she has in there. "And if we put together some charges, then that could even... wait. No. No charges. Never mind."
Marigold	Praise for Lady Guinivere puffs her up in a uhuhuing-behind-her-hand way that could thoroughly ruin her commoner disguise. She's not terribly good at this. "Why, thank you! Sir Riku, wasn't it? See, someone can appreciate me, Melady."      "If it were something you could just melt down or break in half..."      "I'd imagine he's conceded this..."      Melady rolls Lilian and Ace's words around in her head uneasily, but then finally nods. "I suppose so. The other divine weapons have all been surprisingly brittle... but maybe the seal on the Binding Blade protects it, too. If it could've been destroyed less dramatically, it would've been."      Love is just pestering Roy the whole time... "Ah, um, my favorite food's... roasted caramel nuts, I think? Can sweets count?" "I've never seen the Binding Blade. I'm not sure anyone living has... well, maybe Iðunn." "I sure hope it isn't meltable..."      "Bramimond guards the Binding Blade? But they weren't its wielder. What happened to the tome Apocalypse?"      "Who knows?" Merlinus winks at Madeleine, while steering the horses. "Maybe they've still got it. Maybe it's all used-up. I don't think you'll get Bramimond to say, whatever's left of them." "Hold on. How did you know where the Shrine was, Merlinus?" "Oh, you know, the disturbance thirty years ago... all the divine weapons used to be sealed, until we gave Bramimond a talking-to. How do you think Hector got Armads' curse and all?" "So it's your fault that Mulagir was used against Etruria, and that Galle had Maltet to stab Roy with." "Hold on now, young lady! I-it's not as if I can see the future! And think where we'd be without them, too!"      "How are we on... you know, fun stuff? Spirits, and sweets, and that kind of thing?"      "Rather depleted, I'm afraid," Merlinus says with a shake of his head and heavy gravity. "Dayan's celebrations went through a good bit! We've got a little liquor left, but see if you can't find some honey or sugar for me? I'm a fine baker when I get the chance."      "Guinivere, you'll help guide, right?"      "Oh, of course! I may not know the hearts of my people as well as I'd like, but I still know them better than most."      "I didn't mean to intrude, I'll just stay at the back..."      "Hm? Ah, no, whatever for...?" Guinivere says, a little aghast at Skipper's retreating. It's as if she thinks they're stepping away because there's something wrong with her.      "It's not something I'd like doing more than a few times a month..."      "We're... really not anything special, though..."      Eventually Skipper seems to return to her, and she makes a 'pah' gesture at them and (less emphatically!) at Lilian. "Oh, no. No, I don't know about anywhere else, but being at a Bernish court is dreadful! The people who were born into their stations are bad, and the people who climbed to them are half the time worse, and all the maneuvering and the dinners and the confinement... oh, it used to be only when someone didn't know who I am that they wouldn't treat me with those sickly-sweet kid gloves." "I hope I didn't, Lady Guinivere." "Oh, of course you're different, Melady. That's why I like you!"
Marigold	Her arm goes around Melady's shoulders, but... "Hm? Oh, Lilian, is that the ring I've been hearing about?" Of course it's the ring, but this is an excuse to admire it. Her eyes are practically sparkling, and mid-walk she leans off Melady so much to gawk that it almost chokes her. "I got just a little from Igrene. Don't tell me, it's that lady you talked about once or twice...?"      "Wait, really?" Clarine pipes up, from her previously serenly-high-and-mighty position on her little horse at the rear. "To her? How did you get them to make you a ring for that? If, if it's two women? That's... you can't... wouldn't your houses forbid it?"      "Well, now, we must keep an open mind, Clarine. The Otherworld can be very daring. I wouldn't be surprised if their houses were... or even if they had some magic to account for... oh, but how was the ceremony!"      Melady looks approximately ready to die. The farming village's outskirts coming into view is a relief.
Marigold	Like much of Bern, it's an unfairly beautiful place.      Freshly-sowed fields showing rich dirt and tender sprouts give way to two-story houses made of white plaster and sturdy timber, with peaked roofs and wooden shingles. Even a rural village like this has cobbled streets, small-paned glass windows, a rustic stone bridge over a little stream... it's nearly as beautiful as the big cities in Etruria were. Only a clocktower or an ornate church are missing, to gild the lily.      Your arrival is taken as something of an oddity by the locals, especially given the obvious Otherworlders among you, but not something to make a chiliastic fuss about. The men tend to wear leggings and tunics with sometimes-jackets over them; the women, long dresses of a colorful but sturdy fabric with an apron-like accessory overtop. Pale freckled skin and reddish-brown hair are common, with blonde taking second place.      Behind one of the larger buildings, a couple of saddled wyverns are being kept almost like horses, but there's no sign around of the knights who would ride them. Perhaps they're being put up indoors. Only a little cautiously, the people come to within six or seven feet to raise a friendly economical clamor. "Hey, hey! Staves, have you got a healing staff to part with, merchants? Syman's wore out, he'll give you thirty-" "Pickled carrots, left over from the winter? Care for some? It's a reasonable--" "Oh, your horses look dead tired, mister. Put 'em up for you? Full feed and water, it's..." "Oy, mom, look! It's one of those creatures from the rifts they was tellin' you about..." "Settle, Cuonrat. It's wearin' clothes, that's a person. Don't be rude."      "Hey, hey! I've got good coin here, right from Sacae," Merlinus calls out over them, while rummaging out a bag and producing a glint of gold. "Half of one to whoever shows us the blacksmith, and half to who gets us to the general store, you hear? Everybody else, pipe down before I change my mind!"      Passing through the town square, where a big gnarled oak interrupts the cobblestones and children play around a middle-aged man plucking a lute (Guinivere is nearly captivated), Merlinus pulls his wagon up by the blacksmith's. At the counter in there is a burly silver-haired man with robust arms; across the way, at the general store with meats and herbs drying from the ceiling, a young man with a head-wrapped scrap of linen for an eyepatch and a hand wrapped the same way looks to be keeping the counter.      Rutger is immediately eyeing the latter suspiciously, as Merlinus comes up to inquire about goods in that jovial way he does.
Riku Asakura	Riku notices the ring on Lilian's finger and her general good mood.  The wedding and honeymoon must have gone well.  "I know I said it over the radio, but congratulations again, Mrs. Rook!" Riku says with a large smile and bright eyes.  He looks towards Lady Guinivere, who has taken his positivity very well.  Though at Melady's detriment. He gives Melady an apologetic expression. "Yeah, Riku is my name!  Although I don't have any titles, 'Riku' is fine.  And you're welcome.  I'm just glad someone can be upbeat with all this work we're about to do," he says with an expression of soon-to-be working hard.   He notices Skipper and calls out to them, "Hey Skipper, don't be shy.  We're all friends here, right?  Though I wonder how you heard about the Bernish trip?  Have you found anyone to help train you yet?  I hope you do, because we could always use more heroes, yeah?" '...since Geed's kind of our biggest asset here. He's too big. We want a pit.' "Oh, thank you, Petra.  I'll do what I can to help, though I'm wondering if anything is left of the binding blade..." In town, Riku is looking at all of the people.  It's definitely not modern with all the different clothes they wear, and not in modern fashion.  Still, he's got a list, and it looks like Merlinus is handling the pickaxes and shovels from the blacksmith.   So Riku looks around for a General Goods store so they can stock up on other things.  Rope is important as well as buckets.  Where do you get a wheelbarrow, though?  At home, you'd just find a store that sold gardening supplies, but here..?
Angela	Love hasn't heard of married magical girls before. And Lilian always said she wasn't a dark magical girl either. Does that mean Lilian ... is like that magical queen lady who gives the quests to the magical girl? That can't be, she still goes on adventures herself. Maybe she should ask Tamamo for advice on this. "Of course sweets can count." Love says, imagining a pudding universe where they have to count because that's all you get. Roland of course makes his way over to the general store and starts picking out meats and inquires after the herbs to try and get a good combination he can cook and dice up to partial out to everyone. "We're gonna need a lot, we've a busy day so I'd like enough to keep everyone filled up for the day." Roland says. Love stares at Lilian for a little while. The concept of time progressing is still a little strange to the Abnormality and she looks down at her hands for a moment, looking vaguely uncomfortable and complicated. "Roy..." Love says quietly, keeping her voice low. "Change is pretty scary huh...? I know it's normal, but..." She is briefly further distracted by the sight of skipper. She stares, openmouthed for a while, but after some discussion shakes her head and clears away ''those'' thoughts. "I mean, I'm always gonna be someone who goes around fighting evil, but other people might want to I don't know settle down and...move on?"
Skipper	> "You're not from Quicknest or anything are you?" > "Wah-?! Oh my god. Wait, holy shit, are you here to kill me? Oh my god I'd be so dead if you were." Skipper looks even more lost. "I haven't heard of Quicknest before, and I'm definitely not here to kill anyone...?" They do reek of 'platformer mascot' DNA though, so maybe that's something Petra should keep in mind for the future. >"Rather depleted, I'm afraid," Skipper isn't here to kill (or poison) anyone, but they do hand out snacks, though! They've got a lot (more of their pack is filled up with food and snacks than it is with equipment), all of it homemade. In addition to the candied fruits on sticks, there's grilled mushroom slices, seedcakes, some sort of acorn-based snack waffles, cucumber sandwiches... ... the scale's way off. The mushroom slices look like they were carved off of a mushroom as big as someone's head, and the seeds in the seedcake are chopped up bits of what must be fist-sized seeds. It's all rustic fare (maybe even relatively rustic for this world), undeniably homemade for better or worse, with a philosophy of spices being 'less is more' to a fault, but it's also all really good honest food - the sort of food you'd be glad to have on a long trip or during a protracted battle to lift your spirits when things get rough. > "Hey Skipper, don't be shy." > "Have you found anyone to help train you yet?" "Oh!" Someone familiar helps bring them out of their shell a little more. "Hey! Might have found a few people for training, need to follow up on that..." > "Oh, it used to be only when someone didn't know who I am that they wouldn't treat me with those sickly-sweet kid gloves." "Well... I can try?" suggests Skipper, looking like they have mixed feelings about the whole thing. "So... um..." What do nobles like to talk about? Skipper calls upon the knowledge gained from their sample size of one, and then instinctually discards it. Most nobles *can't* be like him, can they? Besides, the one in front of Skipper wants to be treated like not-a-noble, allegedly. So something more commonly common. "Ssssnails?" Skipper tries. "They're pretty great, aren't they? Do you have a favorite color or shell pattern?" > "Oy, mom, look! It's one of those creatures from the rifts they was tellin' you about..." > "Settle, Cuonrat. It's wearin' clothes, that's a person. Don't be rude." Skipper anticipated having some strange looks, but being called an 'it' feels like that adds a new column to the misgendering tally marks. Their hood quietly goes back on. They're a little more confident at the blacksmith, hopping out to start looking at the wares. This isn't like 'your friend who doesn't look like they know a lot about cars, but in fact knows a lot about cars, bamboozles the unscrupulous used car salesman by knowing a lot about cars', but Skipper does know enough to look for quality and what's needed for repairs. "Hi, this and this and this over here..." Skipper's coins have a floating island on one side and a mink head on the other, but gold is gold, right?
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine briefly considers sabotaging the wyvern's tack in some way, but thinks better of it. Satisfied with her rounds of the town, she reconvenes with the larger group, falling into line out of nowhere. She follows Riku and Roland into the general store, lending a critical eye to the supplies on offer. Although more an expert in effectively using provisions than in procuring them, she has to do her own supply runs from time to time and that means knowing how to tell good rope from bad, and so forth. When Roland eyes the foodstuffs on offer, Madeleine chimes in on which of the options will keep better on the trail.     Of particular interest to the huntress is the selection of herbs. Where there's hours of hard work there'll be injuries or strain, and anything to help Odette's supplies stretch longer is worth taking with. It's better to be safe than sorry, and if something's not medicinal it'll probably be good in the cook-pot, so she makes sure to encourage the purchase of a full spread of assorted leaves, flowers, and seeds.     Once the goods to purchase are selected she leaves the haggling to someone else and loiters outside. She just so happens to be facing in the direction of the wyvern stable, to spot anyone coming or going from there. Word'll spread inevitablly that Otherworlders paid this place a visit and spent some coin, but she doesn't want the knights in town to learn more than that much.
Flamel Parsons	Flamel settles in on the approach to town, content in knowing that there's, frankly, enough travel that he's not going to ping a radar. Without strong military presence here, he doesn't have to worry about mental traps from trained Bernish soldiers either. So, with some good pep in his step, he just follows along, making agreeable if not terribly sensible smalltalk with the economic options and trailing Merlinus by a good deal.     A hand shifts onto Guinivere's shoulder. <If you've got the spare help to give, it'll be a lot.> He telepathically shares with her. <Just help me get the lay of the land. We need to know what things are like between Bern's people and its leadership.> There's a tug on her mind, and Flamel zones out. She'll start to get a sense for local mindscapes, functioning as a powerful psychic guide as Flamel casts his brain between the inhabitants here. He's not searching out the riders, or casting suspicions on the blacksmiths and general goods store owner, but instead aiming a scan in all directions, a radar that looks for information passively as his physical form zones out a bit and the astral form drifts between the beautiful village's inhabitants.     <Follow your intuition here.> He assures her. <No matter what the circumstances are, the culture of a place is always shared more than anyone ever thinks could be true. So you know what to look for, better than I do.>     Doesn't mean he's not looking. Not that citizenry know war intel especially well, but it'd be nice to pick up what he can, and nicer to find anything useful in the mental war on Zephiel himself.
Nobunaga	Once the people of the town start to loosen up and approach with offers or requests, Nobunaga nods once towards Mori, "Get to it, you know what we need." He just nods and steps away from her, raising his hand as he does so; approaching the blacksmith. There's an awkward moment where he has to lean down a bit to address the man with proper eye contact.     "We got familiars doin' excavation up the mountain. You got digging tools for small hands? Trowels, mattocks, that sort? I'll take 'em." He puts on a smile, though given his eyes and his sharp triangular teeth it looks a lot more intense than he probably means, "Prospecting resources. For the war effort."     Nobunaga meanwhile has once again gravitated towards someone selling foodstuffs; "Pickled carrots? Don't mind if I do! It's not this realm's coin, but the gold is good if you'll accept it--" It's another of those Oda-clan koban, like what she used to buy salted shark in Sacae; distinct with the radiant sunburst emblem on one side and the Emperor's chrysanthemum seal on the other.     "I saw some wyverns on our way into town;" Nobunaga seizes on Madeleine's observation to casually ask, "Some of your folk came home?" A fair guess, given the war, that any village's sons and daughters would be pulled away to serve the army in some way or another. She doesn't know how or even if Bern's military gives out leave to its troops, but she also looks obviously foreign enough that wouldn't be unusual.
Petra Soroka	"How do you think Hector got Armads' curse and all?"     "Wait, you went all over the entire continent back then, too?" Petra has forgotten how relatively close the Shrine is to Ostia, because it's been a while! "Why'd you pick up *Armads*, then! That's literally the worst one!" "Oh, no. No, I don't know about anywhere else, but being at a Bernish court is dreadful!"     "Right, right! The worst kind of person to be surrounded by is the *boring* kind." Petra thinks it's soooo important to vocally agree with Guinivere every time she has an in for doing so, which is for entirely different reasons than the nobles at court agreeing with her.     Fingers splayed against her chest, with juuust enough of an eyes-closed smug expression while walking alongside the horses, "Not that I grew up in a court or anything, but I get it. Basically everything started for me because I refused to get made hollowed out and one-dimensionally boring like that." "Oh, Lilian, is that the ring I've been hearing about?"     But then, a much more important topic appears! Petra practically *jumps* over to include herself in this conversation, with the fatigue of the past day and a half's march melting away such that she's energetically bouncing on the balls of her feet while following along.     "Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah! It's so pretty right?! Oh, oh-- Lilian! Is it okay if I show Lady Guinivere pictures off my phone? The professional ones aren't printed yet, so-- look, look!" "That's... you can't... wouldn't your houses forbid it?"     This is also a perfect opportunity to make Clarine weirder. Again smugly, though that might just be where Petra lands when she's between 'happy' and 'proud', Petra scoffs and waves her hand.     "As if. Lilian's practically the head of her house now! And, she's way too popular even if anyone else wanted to complain-- anyone who would want to say no would simply be crushed before they could say anything."     Then into the village, and--     Really, it's just like everywhere else on Elibe. Beautiful, vivid in a way that makes colors seem brighter and the air fresher, full of people who are friendly within their means and interested in their personal little lives, and not at all anything to judge or demean. Normally, it'd be a little hypocritical for Petra to agree with Guinivere's effusive praise for the 'common' people, given the tone she tends to spit 'normal' with, but if 'normal' was always this...     "... Tactile..." Petra murmurs out loud, contextless, as the crowd of merchants fuss around with their hawking before Merlinius wrangles them.     With the blacksmith, Petra really only needs two things, but even with some gold leftover from the varied commerce across the continent, she might not have enough of her own. Firstly, she asks about copper, smelted but unshaped otherwise; and secondly, she needs... it's basic enough to describe the qualities of a four-sided chisel, and the size needed, even if 'drill bit' isn't something that would make sense here.
Odette Raskins	"I'm a fine baker when I get the chance." Of all things, that sticks with Odette. It's not until after buying some supplies that she finally gets back to that thought, though, stopping by Merlinus with a light nudge to his shoulder and trying to grab Roland's attention as well. "Mister Merlinus! Mister Roland!" She calls out, but tries to get them to huddle up before whispering all conspiratorial-like. "After this war's over... Do you want to make something for everyone to celebrate? Something big." She's already got a glint in her eyes that'll make it really hard to convince her not to go through with whatever plan she's cooking up in her head. "A giant cake, or... No. A huge cinnamon bun? Or a big pineapple roll..." In the Bernish village, Odette feels both at ease and somewhat unnerved seeing so many people with somewhat similar hair and complexions to hers. It's relieving to see regular people going about their lives, sure, and being able to blend in even slightly easier does take some of the pressure off, but what if someone recognizes her? Or mistakes her for someone else? Even worse, what if one of the saddled wyverns recognizes her, or one of their mounts that happened to spot her once before? Bundling her cape a little more tightly around her face, Odette shuffles on towards the merchants trying to get her to buy their wares. It's Merlinus that saves the day with the power of money, though, and Odette just takes a mental note of where the pickled carrot seller is before scurrying to follow the wagon. "Good thinking... Oh, we can get plenty of digging stuff here. We might even be able to get some extra backup... Supplies if we can get a good deal on the tools." She comments to Merlinus, trying to be subtle about restocking on weaponry as well. "I think I heard someone asking about healing staves on the way into town, too. Do we have enough of those?" She's feeling a little anxious about leaving her training staff in the wagon, but it's probably better she's not holding it right now. She's trying to look like a laborer in this town, not a healer! At the blacksmith's, Odette keeps her head on straight and doesn't let the man at the counter distract her immediately so she can peruse the equipment with Skipper. She's checking out the helmets, shovels, and pickaxes in particular, even going as far as checking the heft of the pickaxes and shovels to figure out which one feels more natural to her. "This one's a little too thin if something drops on us. Maybe this one? Oh, that price difference..." "This could work for cleaning up once we get the big stuff moved. And... Oh, I didn't know this part could bend like that. Neat!" Once she's satisfied with her selections, she heads over to the counter, lets herself get distracted by the burly man for a moment, then clears her throat before trying to sound as authoritative as she can. "Hello, sir! We're looking to get a whole bunch of these to dig our stuff out of a landlside, so... How many do you have in stock? And... Do you do any group discounts?"
Desire Stars	Pickled carrots, left over from the winter? Care for some?     Ace waits for Merlinus to put a damper on the clamor of commerce before he subtly flags the person selling pickled carrots down with a little nod and sustained eye contact. "Caravans move on their stomachs," he says. "I'll buy what you've got, and there's a little extra in it for you if you can point me towards where I can get some more food that keeps well on long journeys. Preferably a lot of it."      Neon sticks closer to Merlinus, since she presumes the general store is going to have either honey or sugar. It's easy to presume which of the storefronts is the general store. She bounds up to the young man keeping the counter with a bright smile. "Hi! Do you have any sugar or honey? And... if you do, how much would you be willing to part with?" It's a question she's learned to ask as a distinct one from 'how much do you have.' "I'm in the market for spirits or liquor, too, if you happen to have any... There might be a few long nights ahead of us," she frowns.
Petra Soroka	"Oh, thank you, Petra."     "Huh?" Petra looks baffled for a moment at Riku, unsure of what she could have possibly said to warrant thanks. In her mind, she carefully backtracks, and pieces together that Riku interpreted what she said as BIG (modifier of ASSET) rather than BIG (modifier of GEED). "Oh. Okay." "I'll do what I can to help, though I'm wondering if anything is left of the binding blade..."     "You don't need to worry your pretty little head about it," Petra reassures him. "You just need to think about digging. That's a lot of hard work already, okay?" "I haven't heard of Quicknest before, and I'm definitely not here to kill anyone...?"     "Well, anyone in this army, at least. There's a whole other army!" Petra just *senses* that 'plucky rustic furry protagonist' energy that Aidan had off of Skipper, though. She'll keep an eye on that one.     She'll absolutely take a snack first, though. Hell yeah. "Ssssnails?"     "Huh??"     Petra is *so* flabbergasted by the idea of someone walking up to Guinivere and making their conversation topic of choice *snails*, that she pivots right back around to include herself before even thinking about it. Upon a moment more thought, it kind of is such a pedestrian, dull topic, that it's almost precisely the kind of thing that Guinivere might find charming or at least pathetically endearing, and so she actually has no complaint that immediately comes to mind.     Which means, a second later, she's blurting out, "Fuck, have you heard of cone snails?"
Lilian Rook	'but maybe the seal on the Binding Blade protects it, too.'     "That, or something to do with its separation from the Fire Emblem." Lilian muses. "The other Divine Weapons don't come in multiple parts like that. If it's barely more than a fine sword without it, perhaps the way things are now doesn't eat away at it?"     'See, someone can appreciate me, Melady.'     "Oh come now. We're all appreciating you all the time." says Lilian, fondly matter-of-fact. "If you need us to say it more, we will."     'So it's your fault that Mulagir was used against Etruria, and that Galle had Maltet to stab Roy with.'     Lilian raises an eyebrow at Melady. It's a 'Hello Bernish royal guard. Do you like these rocks in this glass house?' kind of look, but she's feeling nice, so she doesn't say anything.     'I'm a fine baker when I get the chance.'     "Oh I've got to get you all to try Tamamo's baking!" Lilian nearly squeals, clapping her hands together twice and rocking on the spot. "If it's a hobby of yours, I'm certain she'd have plenty to say! Oh--! Perhaps you could trade recipes?!"     'oh, it used to be only when someone didn't know who I am that they wouldn't treat me with those sickly-sweet kid gloves'     That sobers her up, though. Just a little. It's difficult to imagine, for Lilian. Trying to figure out why takes her to a place she doesn't like, but the emotional impact mostly glances off her. "Well, I can't say it's much better in terms of social climbing. Perhaps even worse. But I come from somewhere where competence in magic, the sciences, or martial arts, is about as important as political position, so the rest is more tolerable; or at least more interesting." She breathes out slowly through her nose. "If you're the ruler of a nation, I imagine it's inevitable that people would trend towards boringly ingenuine, though. I can't claim to be nearly that important."     'Hm? Oh, Lilian, is that the ring I've been hearing about?'     And that brightens her right back up again! Lilian flashes it for examination with a model-esque faux-modest turn of her wrist. "The very same that Fae carried down the aisle, as it were~" she preens. "I owe Igrene at least a few favours for letting her come. She seemed so excited." It's a bit funny to say when she looks more excited than anything; especially the instant Guinivere asks too.     Proudly prepared for this very occasion, Lilian retrieves her schedule book for the first time in Elibe, flips it open to where her pocket album is slotted inside, skips past her Paladins badge, backup Commonwealth passport, and several identification cards, and finally arrives at a palm-sized photo of the reception. Backs to the lake, wildflowers and decorated columns partially in frame, she and Tamamo occupy all of the center, arm-in-arm and hand-in-hand.     For the fiftieth time, Lilian feels proudly self-satisfied about getting a cheeky private photographer who cares about physical media on the side. She diverges closer to Guinivere so she can get a good look, and then even makes space for Clarine, changing hands if the horse is too much distance. Lilian was going to say something intelligent, but "Look at her!" comes out instead. "I still almost can't believe it!"
Lilian Rook	' How did you get them to make you a ring for that? If, if it's two women? That's... you can't...'     'I wouldn't be surprised if their houses were... or even if they had some magic to account for...'     Temporarily impervious to being frightened off by this tone, Lilian babbles on excitedly. "Oh it wasn't easy, that's for certain, but it turns out I've made a lot more friends and allies than I realized. My older brother was surprisingly happy to help, actually, for-- Well I suppose you could call it a debt of honour? And it hardly hurts that I'm responsible for practically all of the house's wealth at this point, not to mention the fastest-promoted~" Still, she isn't impervious to a little embarrassment. Going a bit pink doesn't dissuade her in the slightest.     "Well, I disclosed some things and agreed to do this and that, and it's all sorted out and everyone's more or less happy with our future plans, and goodness the ceremony somehow went perfect! When we saw the final list of friends and family we wanted I was floored! But we got the most auspicious place and managed it in time for the spring equinox and even some of her family was there and everyone loved the ceremony even though we had to modify it a little bit and oh gosh it went on until the morning and I swear we're still getting new gifts!" Lilian bounces as she walks the whole time. "Melady! Do you want to see too? Actually, the two of us are working with a Foundation for the purposes of making this sort of thing easier for others in the future!"     'I know I said it over the radio, but congratulations again, Mrs. Rook!'     'Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah! It's so pretty right?! Oh, oh-- Lilian! Is it okay if I show Lady Guinivere pictures off my phone?'     Huhuhu. Yes. This is how it should be. "As you will~" Lilian says, so imperiously it's actually sort of cute.     . . . . . . . .     Bern is so pretty that Lilian isn't even guiltily wishing she had red hair like Katrina and Alison. She still thinks about it, but doesn't feel any particular way. Her attention remains fixed on their clothing and accessories, and for the sixth time, drumming up a fashionable local ensemble.     'Everybody else, pipe down before I change my mind!'     "Oh? Do we not need anything for the horses? Not that I'm volunteering to carry any feed, mind you." Lilian conversationally babbles along the way, still in high spirits. She fingers through her own coinpurse shortly thereafter, and says "I'll have to look for a tailor and a chemist before sunset." just loud enough to be heard on purpose. "Oh a little cheap food might not go amiss, honestly."
Lilian Rook	'Ssssnails?'     'Fuck, have you heard of cone snails?'     Lilian, briefly enthralled by how weird this conversation is, says, "Well it's certainly more novel than 'the shape of humanity' or whatever." she says, now unsubtly helping herself to Skipper Snacks, because anything handed over in her direction belongs to her automatically.     'I mean, I'm always gonna be someone who goes around fighting evil, but other people might want to I don't know settle down and...move on?'     "My wife is the understanding sort." Lilian says. "She doesn't worry that there isn't room in my heart for her and the sword."     In the store, Lilian locks in on Rutger pretty quickly all the same. Wandering a little closer, she leans her head over and says, "Penalty for thieving? Or war-wounded? What are your thoughts? I'm not clear myself."
Skipper	> "Fuck, have you heard of cone snails?" "Cone snails??" Skipper wants to know about cone snails. If Petra can pull up pictures on her phone, Skipper is entranced. It also comes out, via further conversation - Skipper's snails are subject to the same off-scaling that other things in their world are, and the snails that Skipper is talking about are functionally (very slow) cats. "... So when I found another one that seemed like it belonged to someone, this one had a blue pattern that looks like what I think the ocean looks like, of course I had to bring it home, and Granny was so mad that there were snails all over the house..."
Lilian Rook	Staring at giant snails reminds Lilian of something so suddenly that she looks struck, then looks at Petra. "Oh my goodness. I still have to ask about the cats."     Now revving up to half-attentive, she tries to fill a gap. "So you're training to be a snail farmer or the like? Or, no, a baker? You've come loaded with snacks, after all. Advertising the family shop?" Please pay attention Lilian. You were just talking with Skipper about blacksmithing an hour ago.
Skipper	> "So you're training to be a snail farmer or the like? Or, no, a baker?" The concept of 'ranching' is something Skipper only recently learned about, so they take 'snail farming' literally but politely don't correct Lilian about how you can't plant snails in the ground. "Oh! Oh, no, the snacks are from my cousin, actually. She's the one who's good at baking. I'll pass on your compliments, though," they say, referring to the compliments they're sure Lilian must have said even if they don't remember hearing them. "Actually... the reason I'm out here? I'm in training to be a hero."
Angela	''After this's over...'' Roland doesn't like thinking that he's in a war right now but he does like the idea of wars being over and, really, this isn't really a war in his eyes. In most cases, wars are not about survival but about wealthy people seizing the opportunity to get more power and territory and what they use to sell you on the war is going to be a lie. This is just people deciding they don't want to be murdered by dragons. It's wearing a war's costume but presumably victory means not being dead and that's a promise that it's hard to imagine not being kept if they win. Ergo, not ''really'' a war. But he grimaces all the same because it's still damn close enough. It takes him a moment to recover but he says, "Well sure, though I'd probably prefer to have some more preparation time in that case. And I'd want to be able to make the food for pleasure rather than to keep it." He thinks of Giant Cinnamon Bun. "A giant cinnamon bun would probably fall apart, wouldn't it? I mean, not all food can just be 'made bigger' to work--" He thinks, though, that it would be nice to make a Dragon-Fae sized treat. Then he imagines Igrene staring at him with disapproval and begging Fae to not eat the whole thing because she'll be up all night and get sick. "Maybe we stick to normal sized food for the most part." He suggests to Odette. He isn't really a professional huntress like Madeleine so he nods to her suggestions and generally goes along with them, adapting his plans to what she has to say on the matter.
Lilian Rook	'Oh! Oh, no, the snacks are from my cousin, actually. She's the one who's good at baking. I'll pass on your compliments, though'     "Oh by all means." Lilian says, who didn't actually say anything out loud but assumes she must have, if she's still nibbling away.     'Actually... the reason I'm out here? I'm in training to be a hero.'     "That's a little vague isn't it?" says Lilian. She is, somehow, even in such a good mood that she doesn't have anything to say about wannabe hero types! "There are all sorts of heroes, I mean. My sister is a hero because she's an excellent doctor who travels all around the world being a miracle-worker for people in need, wherever they are. My brother is a hero because he came back from the war with the idea of giving everyone a place to call home and built a foundation to do that instead of making weapons." This is the first time Lilian has ever just openly called her older siblings heroes, and she does it as if everyone already knows this is her opinion somehow.     "Meanwhile, I got this from my master. Her policy was live steel only. She went for the eyes because I looked away in the middle of sparring, and believe me, I've never done it a second time since." Lilian says, tapping her scar. "The whole idea of a 'hero' is just sort of class of person; the training they do to get there is only because people need training to do anything well. Whether it's the sort that breaks your bones or strains your conscience is realy only a byproduct of your calling."
Petra Soroka	"Well it's certainly more novel than 'the shape of humanity' or whatever."     Petra doesn't know how to take this comment, in relation to discussing the virtues of snails. Unwisely, she decides to interpret this as 'the shape of snails is more novel than the shape of humanity', and tries to integrate this into a mental model that justifies this as something Lilian would say.     "Snails do have an interesting shape. But, they move really slowly, and they can't jump or hold things or anything. And even if shells are pretty, clothes are prettier." "Cone snails??"     "Yeah! They're, like--"     Unfortunately, there's no internet connection for Petra's phone here in a world that doesn't have internet. While she may have many pictures, possibly a concerning number of pictures, of Lilian saved to her phone, she does not have a similarly sized cone snail folder, though she does scroll for a minute through a sprawling and esoteric collection of photos she does have saved.     "They're, like, *super* venomous, if I remember right. But their shells are patterned in such a cool way, that people keep touching them. They look like, carved stones, or mosaics, or something. So tourists keep dying to them, because they don't know better."     Upon piecing together the status of snails in Skipper's world, Petra is briefly overcome with the vertigo of imagining tiny little animal people owning tinier animals as pets. Then she thinks about Kale, who is frankly a very tiny guy, imagines him owning a cat or whatever, and discovers that there's no cognitive dissonance at all there.     "Huh. That's bigger than snails are, usually. Usually, they're, uh, very small." She holds out her pinky finger, pointing to the very last joint. "... Are there wild snails? Do you take stray feral snails in?"     A second later, very likely incomprehensible to every single other person here, she mumbles, "Fuck. It's like Spongebob." "I still have to ask about the cats."     Then, she's energetic again! "Yeah, yeah! Now's the perfect time to get one!!! I looked into a buuuunch of stuff about cat care and everything, and-- like, there's cats everywhere! We-- you should get one!" "I'm in training to be a hero."     "Is it really training if you're just doing it...?" Petra wonders out loud, which sounds like it's going to be a very positive thing to say until she continues. "I mean, Lilian's a hero, and you're inhabiting the same space as her. If you, like, aren't skilled enough, and you fuck up and make everything worse, that isn't 'training' for being a hero, that's just trying and being bad at it. That's using other people's problems as a practice run for your own."
Lilian Rook	'Snails do have an interesting shape. But, they move really slowly, and they can't jump or hold things or anything. And even if shells are pretty, clothes are prettier.'     Lilian looks at Petra as if she's said something tremendously stupid. Then, very very patiently, she marches on through saying, "I meant that I've never heard of someone having strong opinions on snails, as opposed to dreary and shallow takes on anthropological pseudo-philosophy, which happens often. I'm being nice."     'Fuck. It's like Spongebob.'     "What?"     'We-- you should get one!'     This is ordinarily the sort of thing that Lilian would gracefully ignore and let Petra keep to herself, but that post-honeymoon cheer is a hell of a drug. "Oh surely it would be fine if you came with me to provide a well-researched opinion."
Skipper	Skipper nods along. Gosh! The world is so full of heroes of all types. This is such a nice, upbeat conversation! Surely there isn't something coming that'll ruin it. > "Meanwhile, I got this from my master. Her policy was live steel only. She went for the eyes because I looked away in the middle of sparring, and believe me, I've never done it a second time since." "Ah." Skipper's smile goes a little glazed, a little strained, a little automatic, as they look up at Liilan (and try not to stare at the scar) "Gosh. That's... I mean, I'm very sorry you got stabbed by someone you thought you could trust?" is what they settle on. "Whether it's the sort that breaks your bones or strains your conscience is really only a byproduct of your calling." "I... think I can pull off being a hero without either of those things? Neither one has happened so far..." "I don't have to break bones or compromise, I can be the sort of hero that's all smiles and believes in themselves, right?" Clearly not even they fully believe this statement, though. > "If you, like, aren't skilled enough, and you fuck up and make everything worse, that isn't 'training' for being a hero, that's just trying and being bad at it. That's using other people's problems as a practice run for your own." "I don't..." "... I mean I... it's not like that, there was nobody else who was trying to fix..." "I mean it's not like I *could* make things worse... Right?" Mental calculations are going on behind their eyes. "But- no, that couldn't..." Congratulations, Petra. Much like opening someone's chakra points to let their spiritual energy flow through, you have just unlocked new avenues for Skipper's anxiety to flow through. It's truly a talent.
Lilian Rook	'Gosh. That's... I mean, I'm very sorry you got stabbed by someone you thought you could trust?'     Lilian's second "What?" carries a different note. She watches Skipper with a slowly manifesting squint, as if trying to discern where the punchline went, and then finally tries, optimistically, to find something to clarify. "Beg pardon? Did you think I was trauma dumping all of a sudden? This sort of thing is just what goes on at the highest level of training. Trust really has nothing to do with it."     'I... think I can pull off being a hero without either of those things? Neither one has happened so far...'     Lilian chews on her lip, holding her breath in thought.     'I can be the sort of hero that's all smiles and believes in themselves, right?'     "Are you taking the piss?" she finally blurts out faster than she can think. "It's not very funny."     'I mean it's not like I *could* make things worse... Right?'     Lilian presses her hand to her face, then curls her fingers to rub at her eye. "First it was the squirrel . . ." Lilian sighs, incomprehensibly. She finds her limit at 'deeply uncomfortable annoyance', and with the air of someone washing their hands of something they intend to never touch again, says "Good luck with that. Never let yourself forget that it's okay to go back to the people who'll miss you."
Petra Soroka	"I meant that I've never heard of someone having strong opinions on snails, as opposed to dreary and shallow takes on anthropological pseudo-philosophy, which happens often."     Petra blinks in confusion. Having just generated strong opinions on the anthropological pseudo-philosophy of snails out of nothing, she's deeply uncertain where that places her on this scale Lilian has just conjured into existence.     "Oh, yeah. Right. You are being nice!!!" "What?"     "It's-- an American children's television show." Petra can't summon up any memory of ever having watched it or any particular traits about it, due to being ten thousand, eight hundred, and six years off of having been a child in America. Instead, she vaguely gestures out a box shape with her hands, as if that communicates anything. "The guy in it had a pet snail." "Oh surely it would be fine if you came with me to provide a well-researched opinion."     Petra's eyes widen. In an instant, she realizes how narrow of a line she has to walk in order to not fumble this, and her mind starts racing for ways to get that promise printed, signed, and notarized, so Lilian remembers that she made it in a few days. For now, she simply must be careful, and act so, so normal.     "Y-yeah! I've been taking care of Curupira for years now, s-so, I'm a bit of an expert in pet stores too." "I mean, I'm very sorry you got stabbed by someone you thought you could trust?"     "Huh?" Petra looks over her shoulder at Skipper, then has to twist around a little bit more because they're too short to see over her shoulder. "Oh, you're gonna get eaten alive." "I don't have to break bones or compromise, I can be the sort of hero that's all smiles and believes in themselves, right?"     Petra grimaces, too visibly to hide. Her tone tangibly shifts down, reeling back from the pleasant positivity that she, somehow, was put into by talking about snails. "Oh god. What use is that? Who cares if you believe in *yourself*?? Every dumb fuck moron with no sense of morality besides their animal gut instinct believes in *themselves*. Are you kidding?" "I mean it's not like I *could* make things worse... Right?"     Petra gives Skipper a Look, before turning away to improve Lilian's mood by talking about cats again, implicitly cutting off the conversation. "Oh! Have you thought about names, or, do you think you're gonna be inspired by seeing whichever cat you decide on first?"
Marigold	Clarine scruuuunches down on her horse to get a good look at the wedding photos and Petra's phone while Guinivere leans in from the other side; Melady takes a pleasant but brief and comparatively un-perverted interest. "A debt of honor... my, that's gorgeous..." "You both wore the dresses??" "Well what else would they wear?" "I thought... you know, one of them would...!" "Oh don't be silly. It'd be 'I now pronounce you wife and wife', wouldn't it?" "Th, that's-- nnnh...! Don't say that!!" "Lady Clarine, what's gotten into you?" "Nothing! Nothing's into me! But... a woman, the head of her house..."      "Basically everything started for me because I refused to get made hollowed out..."      "My, I should've seen it sooner," says Guinivere, straightening back up and sizing up Petra with her fingers on her lips and a careful appreciation. "You do have that aura about you."      Clarine sits quietly atop her horse like a shaken can of soda for three or four seconds before blurting out, apropos of utterly nothing, "I ran away from home too you know." "Pardon me?" "Erk- n-nothing."      "Ssssnails? They're pretty great, aren't they? Do you have a favorite color or shell pattern?"      "Oh, my goodness. They come in different colors? I thought they were all- you know, brown, with the little cinnamon spiral? Melady, do snails come in other colors?" "I... I don't know, Lady Guinivere?" "Maybe it's just not a thing in our world... oh, I didn't even realize I was missing out on Otherworld snails."      "Fuck, have you heard of cone snails?" "Oh my-- Melady, they come in cones!" "I see, my lady." "No, is the snail a cone or is its shell a cone? Or is it a way you do them for eating...?" "Venomous pieces of art. I like that, really." "Oh, I want jewelry made of one-- no, no, that's terribly greedy of me. They should get to live their little lives, shouldn't they? If they don't like to be picked up then that's that."
Marigold	"I think I heard someone asking about healing staves on the way into town, too..." "Oh, you did? I think we've got more than a few spares, if they only want the ordinary kind," Merlinus remarks to Odette as he dismounts his wagon. "Clarine, would you be so kind as to sell 'em that one?" "Ah-- asking a noblewoman to sell her things just to raise coin?" "I know that's not your personal staff. It's the army's things." "Still! That's so impro... well... hm. Alright."      Ace and Nobunaga gladly get the farmer- a short old man, tanned by age past what the region usually does- to part with his two big jars of pickled carrots. "Ohh, thank y', thank y'. You might try askin' around the tavern- with the wyverns out back- if they've still got some of their dried fruits and meats; they try to ditch that after winter if there's too much left. Gets too damp to hardly keep 'em y'know."      "I saw some wyverns on our way into town. Some of your folk came home?"      "Ohh, no. No, no-one's come home but poor Mathes down at the store," the old man says, shaking his head while he sits down on what must be his home's front stoop. "The riders're too rich for our blood. Here as messengers 'r lookouts I guess. Hahahh, can't say for what."      The riders don't seem to know, either. After a while of watching, Madeleine sees the pair of knights wander out of their building, clearly half-drunk during the middle of the day. It's hard to hear what they're saying, but easy to imagine; their moods are listlessly morose, and one cheers himself up a little by leaning against the fence and beckoning his wyvern over for petting.      "Oh, sure. Got more honey than anybody ever wants," the maimed shopkeep says to Neon with a lopsided smile. "Sugar's hard to come by, but we've got a loaf or two in lately. It'll cost you, though. Got twenty gold?" Merlinus's face wrinkles at the figure- it is a gouge- but he knows he won't be getting better. "Liquor, ah... does beer count? I'm sure it's nowhere near as good as you're used to."      A... 'loaf', though? The young man leaves and comes back setting down a couple big honey-jugs and a cone of rock-hard fused sugar. Huh.      "Sure, sure," the young shopkeep tells Roland. "The pig's still pretty good even in spring, can I get you some of that? And if you season it with the..." He babbles for a little while about local herbs, but Lilian's chatting with Rutger further back.      "Penalty for thieving? Or war-wounded?"      "War," she answers under her breath. She's certain. Unfortunately, that catches the shopkeep's attention. "Sorry, ma'am? Can I help you?" ". . . Where'd you get that." "Oh, the... eye? Um, the in army. You... know how it is." "Where." "I'm sorry?" "Where'd you fight." ". . . Ma'am, please. I-- is something the matter?" Something in the flatness of her tone and the steadiness of her stare unnerves him into raising his hands placatingly, even though she isn't wearing a sword.
Marigold	The poor old blacksmith is a little befuddled by the strange requests. Petra's drill-bit idea gets a hesitating nod and a "give me four hours, alright?" (she does get it made to spec); Mori's question about 'familiars' gets a "familiar whats?" and eventually a recommendation about putting smaller wooden handles on regular-sized tools; Odette's ogling of him gets a confused squint.      "Ah, well, it's just to dig yourselves out of a landslide... tell you what. No group discount, but if you bring these back inside the week, I'll give you four-fifths your money back on each. That's a good deal with the wear you'll be putting on 'em, huh?"      Gold is gold, Skipper finds in their dealings with the blacksmith, although there's something about the coins here that bleeds into the overall atmosphere of the small town.      This is still the kind of world where the coins are precious or semi-precious metals, and they're stamped with a seal and edged with fine notches to guarantee their mixture and their weight. But the ones here are from all over: Bernish coins of course, but Lycian coins too, and Etrurian ones, and even some of now-defunct Bulgar minting.      Probably some of the foreign coin made its way here innocently. Certainly not all. Stolen blood flows in Bern's veins, whether the Bernish want it to or not. And did it buy their fine roof-shingles? Did it buy the lute that their children dance to in the square?      Roy sees a Bulgar coin in the blacksmith's palm, making change for Skipper's purchases, and he doesn't say a word, but as he turns to look out at the square's fineries anyone can see that the feeling haunts him like a ghost.      ----      And Flamel feels it, with Guinivere. Not from Roy, but in the air, in the water table. The princess nods, and takes Flamel's hand- "Of course. I'll... take you where my heart leads me. It is a Bernish heart, after all. Haha..."- and makes her way under the big oak tree, in the square, to where the children run and play in a circle to the dissipated man's plucking of a lute.      She crouches down to talk to him about his music; and soon she has the kids coming up to her, to ask her about braiding hair; and she has to shamefully tell them she doesn't know a thing because someone else does hers, and ask them to teach her, which delights them. And...      And it's happy here, and peaceful, but there is a rot under it. And the rot is spreading just a little faster than anyone can get practice in ignoring it. It's in the frightened stories that Mathes, their wounded son, tells about the 'dragons' he saw fighting in the name of Bern. It's in the gold that comes back to them from the wyvern knights staying at the tavern, not just coins but sometimes a candlestick or a locket, and they try not to think too hard about where it came from.      It's in how long this whole thing has gone on. A smash-and-grab of Bulgar, sure, they loved that; invading Lycia even, if it was spun as prosperity and glory. But when's the end to this? What's the reason for it? When are their other sons coming home? If they don't even know why this war started, how can they know when it'll end?      They love King Zephiel. He's proud like they're proud. He's strong like they're strong. He hates the middling nobles just like they do, and he does what he says he'll do, gutting corruption and bringing them glory. But there's just too many questions he won't answer. Guinivere is a minor player in their minds, but they like her; they don't know why she vanished from stories of the court, but she seems like a mascot of a gentler time. Maybe she should come back. Maybe it should come back.
Marigold	"Change is pretty scary," Roy confides in Love, with that only slightly-shy vulnerability he can often muster. "But it's scarier if everything else changes, and you don't. You know?"      He scrunches his lips a little, leaning against the outside of the blacksmith's and staring off at the square. "... If it helps, I don't feel like I'll ever be ready to change, either. Maybe we can stay the same together."
Nobunaga	> "Ohh, no. No, no-one's come home but poor Mathes down at the store."     "Ahh, only the lad?" Nobunaga tilts her head back slightly, her eyes shifting to glance towards the general shopkeep while Rutger is accosting him about his injury, "That's a shame. So many young men and women march out but so few march back. That's war, I suppose, not that the men in charge care about the rest of us." She picks for herself one pickled carrot, then passes the rest of her jar to Ace since he's actually stocking provisions; she just wanted to try one. It crunches between her teeth, "--Oh, that's tasty! Thank you, sir."     Messengers or lookouts, he said. The disguised warlord keeps her gaze lingering across the town square while she cronches away on her pickled treat. Most likely, she surmises, lookouts. Watching the border, or watching the Shrine site. Could they already know the Lycian league is in the region? Red eyes narrow in thought.     "I'll be on my way, thank you again," Nobunaga quickly comes back to the present, flicking the gold koban to the old man.     When the matter turns to retrofitting normal tools with shorter handles, Nagayoshi seems quite satisfied with that. He, too, pays in Oda-clan koban, gradually filling the wooden backpack-box of his with modified picks and shovels. Standard ones meant for regular men are also stowed, though the handles stick out from under the lid like bare flagpoles. > "Familiar *whats*?"     "Some new magic nonsense," Nagayoshi doesn't hesitate; he just pivots to a casual lie, "The wizards are trying it out for this to get some extra hands diggin'. I don't know how it works or anything, I dig holes and find metal." He seems content to leave it at that.
Odette Raskins	"And I'd want to be able to make the food for pleasure rather than to keep it." Odette winds up just a little confused between Roland's grimace and his agreeing to her suggestion, but she doesn't let the former bug her too much. She was probably just seeing things, anyway, and she's confident he would let her know if something really was bothering him. With that bit of self-reassurance done, she nods slowly in agreement with him a moment later. "OH, definitely. We'd need to get a lot of ingredients together for something that size, and-mhm, mhm. Making sure it doesn't deflate or collapse under its own weight..." That's a logistical issue she hadn't really considered. Compromising by making the giant whatever extra thin would just look weird and feel lazy, but propping everything up with skewers or pieces of metal and plastic wouldn't really sit right with her. Sure, it'd be really cute to see the look on Fae's face if they could put together a cinnamon bun or pie or something scaled to her dragon size, but the stomach aches and potential health risks afterwards... "... Yeah, normal sized might be a better call." "asking a noblewoman to sell her things just to raise coin?" "Just for now! Think of it as a... Temporary deposit?" Oette replies, holding in a quiet chuckle at that exchange between Clarine and Merlinus. "Once everything's settled down, we should be able to get it all back and then some! If we want it, anyway. Buying a used staff would be cheaper, anyway, and I could probably use one of those for practice..." She's really considering it, too. Fond as she is of her training staff with all the memories built up from Lucius' lessons with it, there's still that ever-present curiosity to see what would happen with a regular staff. "That's a good deal with the wear you'll be putting on 'em, huh?" That's certainly a better deal than Odette was expecting to get even if it does come with a time limit. "Deal. Don't worry, you'll be seeing us again soon, and with plenty of merchandise to boot." She declares confidently, glancing outside for a moment before realizing Merlinus might still be busy at the general store. Perhaps against her better judgment, she actually pays out of pocket for the mining and digging tools right then and there. There's a small part of her that's reluctant to let go of that much gold at once, but she's confident enough that it'll work out. Besides, what are the odds this project really will take more than a week?
Lilian Rook	'You both wore the dresses??'     "As opposed to what, crossdressing?" Lilian says, raising an eyebrow. She's even in a good enough mood for this.     'Oh don't be silly. It'd be 'I now pronounce you wife and wife', wouldn't it?'     "Of course. What sort of crackpot would pronounce a woman a husband?"     'But... a woman, the head of her house...'     "It's satisfying, you know." says Lilian. "My father was far from a good man. My brother left because of him, and came back for me because I endured through it. Of course he left practically everything he owned to my brother, but the land was actually owned by my mother's family, he didn't have that much use for it. His widow didn't want to fill the gap after everything that'd happened, and went back to her family overseas, and my brother declined to contest me for the deed because he felt that he'd abandoned me before and I'd done nothing but help him ever since." The fact that this is all ninety percent true and only really modified for comprehension purposes makes it shocking to even hear Lilian admit to. She holds her cheek in her recollection pose, very faintly stunned herself.     "My sister is still unwed, and my brother's wife is from perfectly good standing already. My cousins were killed in all the fighting decades ago, and no one from any other branch was willing to cross me. I've been the main money-manager and handling all the trade in my brother's absence anyways, and handling disputes always falls to me, not to mention the head steward works for me as well; we all knew it, but didn't say it because it would be inconvenient for my father's image, and he was the one who held political office. So practically everything of value to be gained from absorbing our assets would mean going through me, and . . ." Lilian looks up at Clarine and smiles. "They're all quite frightened of me you know. Half of them believe I assassinated my father."     Filing away her photos again, Lilian laces her fingers and stretches out her arms, sighing in satisfaction, and drinking in the spring sunlight. "Tamamo doesn't have many relatives left either. She's famous, known far and wide for being beautiful and wise, and an incredibly talented mage and healer. Her house simply won't settle for anyone but the best, and mine can't marry me off. Anyone who wants my property or assets would have to buy me out, which they can't, or defeat me in battle, which they wouldn't even consider trying, so I more than meet the bar. Everyone tacitly knows we've been lovers for six years now anyways, so it was easier for everyone to agree so long as we took the necessary steps to promise heirs." Now she looks at Clarine just to be a little mean. She holds up a few fingers, and looks her directly in the eye. "I want three."     'You do have that aura about you.'     "She didn't always. But she does now." Lilian smiles. "Still rough around the edges, but no one could fail to find her fascinating at a proper function."     'Oh, my goodness. They come in different colors? I thought they were all- you know, brown, with the little cinnamon spiral?'     Lilian ransacks her memory. "I've seen white, yellow, and black ones in the garden. I'm certain there are more varieties than you realize. Just the other day, I learned that one of the flower beds has a type of tiny spider that looks exactly like a pink flower petal. I'd never noticed until then, even though it was always so unusually pest-free."
Lilian Rook	'They should get to live their little lives, shouldn't they?'     "Well, people pick up shells on the beaches all the time. There are countless snails living in the ocean, and nothing eats the shell after they die."     'Ah-- asking a noblewoman to sell her things just to raise coin?'     Lilian smugly raises her fingertips to her lips, not at all hiding her bratty smirk.     'Where.'     'I'm sorry?'     'Where'd you fight.'     '. . . Ma'am, please. I-- is something the matter?'     Finally, Lilian's attention is drawn away from mercantile matters and into Rutger's personal business. Looking between the both of them several times, Lilian considers taking Rutger aside to whisper a few questions, but feels sufficiently sorry (at all) for the shopkeep right now that she steps a little closer instead. "You're acting as if you've seen his face before, though I somewhat doubt that's possible. Is there something I'd appreciate knowing?" Lilian says, exactly halfway between 'hey no need to get upset' and 'I could hold him down for you y'know'.
Angela	''And she's confident he would let her know if something really was bothering him.'' That would be nice wouldn't it? But there's some things Roland just won't confide in to with most anyone, particularly regarding any revenge plans or how he killed a lot of people on behalf of the very people whose actions would end with his loved one dying, or his guilt at participating in a a Library That Kills People, though that one is actually a little easy for him to do most days because of just how much HATE he has for The City. Maybe that's why he can get along with Love so well, he had a lot of Love to give and now he's got a lot of Hate to give too. But really, the thing he can't let anybody see is just how uncomfortable he is with the very path he's chosen, how easy it feels to just sort of slip into the role of a goofy unthinking hero who just goes around doing what he's told and helping out in the multiverse and being a friend to all and everything and forgetting why he's doing any of this. It's been so long. And he's still so mad. But he kind of likes those Sephirah and Petra and-- Maybe now that the wedding is over, and he isn't holding all these feelings back anymore, it's so easy to just let them overwhelm him. He doesn't dare look over to Lilian. He doesn't let Odette know something is bothering him. Instead he nods along. "IT'd... I think ti'll be best if we just make a lot of--yeah. Yeah. It's good to be able to portion out." He sounds relieved! Maybe he was just upset about the possibility of dragon tummyaches and, let's face it, that's probably a good reason to grimace over. Yeah, everything'll be A-okay. "Pig'll be good. Lots of seasoning options and--oh ''that'' sounds fascinating...." He's probably gonna be gabbing for a while here. ''Change is pretty scary. But it's scarier if everything else changes, and you don't. You know?'' "Yeah..." Love says. At some point it's been easier to confide in Roy than just about anyone. Maybe it's because he's near that sort of Precure age bracket? She kicks at the dirt lightly with her foot. She is in some ways perfectly designed, much like a coin herself. There's heads, where she's the upfront magical girl of love who is helpful and kind and wants young girls and boys to learn lessons that encourage them to be kinder to one another and live more fulfilling lives. And then there's tails, the side of her that just needs to hurt and hurt bad people and there's always so many out in the Multiverse that she doesn't have to really feel challenged by the peaceful days of Lobotomy Corp. She's been outside of LobCorp for years now and she could be like this until the multiverse collapses into a tiny ball of energy. She knows that she should probably tell Roy that change isn't so bad and he shouldn't be afraid to change, but instead she says, "I think you're already pretty great." She offers him a pinky swear. "Let's do our best, okay Roy?" She smiles. It is nice to have someone who feels like they're in similar shoes right now.
Petra Soroka	"I thought... you know, one of them would...!"     Obviously, there is a tendency for Petra's pictures of the event to include Petra sometimes. At this wedding, where both of the wives are wearing dresses, Petra is wearing something that would pass for a suit on Elibe-- and sure, it's not white, but it *is* light grey. Coincidentally flicking to a picture that has her in it, just as Clarine is saying this, Petra's brain automatically makes a connection that she didn't consciously make before, and she silently nervously sweats until the topic's moved on. "You do have that aura about you."     Of course, when the moment passes, she's right back to preening under Guinivere's attention. The irrepressible smirk at the edge of her lips is aimed lethally in Clarine's direction without turning her head, still talking to Guinivere. "Still rough around the edges, but no one could fail to find her fascinating at a proper function."     'Fascinating' is such high praise that it alters Petra's intention from soaking up praise and teasing Clarine, to fumbling her way into being sincere again. "Ah, I-- really did work hard for it. I used to be a real horrible brat, but even back then I wanted to be better. I don't think I could've ever done it without Lilian." "No, is the snail a cone or is its shell a cone? Or is it a way you do them for eating...?"     Petra has to hand it to Skipper. Snails is *such* a good topic, actually. "Well, I don't know about the origin for sure, but I think it's because they..."     Petra makes a fist with one hand, curling her fingers around the pointer finger of her other hand. Sticking her finger as far through as it can go, she wiggles the tip of it where it pokes out of her fist, like a little snail face. Unfortunately, this looks like the approximate shape of every snail ever. "They're cone shaped, in the shell." "Oh, I want jewelry made of one-- no, no, that's terribly greedy of me."     Petra stiffens, feeling a quest popup in the back of her mind. "W-well! Sometimes they die naturally, too! And, it's not like anything has any use for the shells after, and they *are* pretty."