The pirate was impressed with the suited blue tunic he was given to wear. He felt handsome and clean, though he couldn't help but think of how little armor it had. There was no need for it, but he usually felt more comfortable wearing clothes for protection, not for looks. It mattered little, as this night was intended for show and entertainment. It was a side to protecting the king he would have to get used to, and he quickly did as he marveled in awe at the structure of the theatre. He had never been to a play before, not quite sure what their meaning was. To entertain? The only form of entertainment he knew was women and fighting. Perhaps the world was changing faster than he liked.

As he ordered a whiskey from the servants, he took a seat in his area and grinned. Regardless of what he thought of it all, it was still very exciting. Everyone in one large space, all together in peace. Would be the perfect place for an ambush, but these days, almost every place in society made him think one would break out. When his drink arrived, he happily drank and noted the people around him. Sitting to one side of him was Calypso, and she looked even better than he did in her gown.

"You look lovely, Calypso," he told her in a friendly manner. He knew she wasn't interested in men, he was just truthful and bold to whomever he spoke to. "Nice to have a night out, eh? This will be my first play, what about you? Surely a beautiful thing as yourself has experienced such luxuries before?"

When Dalious first spoke to her, Calypso was off in her own world. Rather than looking to the stage or people below, her orange eyes had traveled to the rafters up above, all the way to a distant corner that was nothing special, and certainly had nothing in it. Yet all the same she continued to stare, right up until the pirate got her attention.

She jumped in her seat, eyebrows raising as she looked back and forth before looking at Dalious with newly green eyes but the same strange smile she always wore. Listening with her head slightly cocked to the side, her dress shimmered like liquid silver, material soft and shifting with each movement.

Eventually, she shook her head, smiling a little more. "Nope...~ This is my first time going to one too...~ Well, at least from what I can remember~"

The idea seemed to amuse her, and she silently giggled to herself. Her gaze drifted away, finally looking to the stage and at the curtain, as if she expected it to open at any moment. Instead, it remained stubbornly closed.

"I am excited for this...~ I'm very curious to see how they work...~"

"Well, if plays are any good, someone will get their head chopped off surely," he replied. "Even jousting men get stabbed through the throat. People lose fingers in proper duels. And of course, the arena is the arena. To entertain is to shed blood, and so it will always be. We might even see someone get split in two, who knows!" He held his walking cane between his legs as he waved over another drink. "Still, best to be cautious even here. Would be the perfect place to trap the king, be on your guard." As he spoke he scanned the theatre for the ins and outs, noting the walls were easily climbable for him. His leg still ached a bit, but with his constant stretching and exercise, it was quickly coming back to normal. "If you sense anything during the play, do let me know."

"Noted...~" Calypso's usual inflection almost seemed to undermine the idea that she was taking the situation seriously, but that was simply the way Calypso was. Her eyes continued to drift around, and she jerked when the lights were suddenly dimmed and put out by servants spread throughout the Theater.

"Oh, it's starting~" She quickly shushed herself with the quieting of the crowd, silence falling over like an invisible, massive blanket. On the stage a single, circular light appeared in the middle of the stage, and the curtains were swept aside in oiled quiet, exposing the stage behind them.

There were several people, but just two sat at a table in the light; everyone else was in shadows. She supposed it was supposed to be some sort of inn, though the decorations were purposefully bare; only a few tables and chairs, bars with stools, and glasses and mugs spread around.

The two in the light were men, and one of them was rather nondescript with brown attire, a beard, and the taller of the mugs. On the other hand the other male was decidedly unique: he was tall and pale, with long dark hair that went down past his shoulders. He was dressed in finer clothes, whites and greys missed together in coat, pants, and shirt.

The other was the one speaking, and he began almost as soon as the light appeared.

"Iaim, this is madness. You can't expect to win against the God Kings! They have power beyond anything we can dream of! If they catch you, they'll Remake you, change what you are-"

"I care not!" The other brought down his cup heavily, but it seemed more accident than purposeful; he immediately followed it up with a heavy cough, turning his head to the side as his hair shook with each escape, before he looked back to the other man once again. "Enough is enough. They have ruled us for too long, these tyrants; we all suffer across all of the Lands. We are not the only ones who are unsatisfied! They may have power, but there are eight of them. There are thousands of us; tens of thousands! They cannot hope to Remake us all."

"But who would be willing to risk their soul for this?! They face a fate worth than death!"

"No, my friend. The fate worse than death is our lives now."

The light suddenly dimmed, disappearing before it reappeared elsewhere. Though it had only been dark for just a moment, the inn scene had been rearrange, the two who had been talking were gone, and now there were three men focused on.

One was quite short with auburn hair pulled back; clearly, he was meant to be a dwarf, one who wore a big blue coat. Next to him was a man with a white wig of short, messy hair; the man seemed nervous, tapping his fingers often against his mug, often biting at his nails.

And then the third man, who was the most handsome of the lot so far, sat there calmly, almost serenely. His hair was silver, so much that it was like the metal itself grew from his head in the long locks. His eyes were strange, from what Calypso could tell; gold and silver glinting together. He dressed roughly, but with a certain sense of style: a black jacket with the pants, a white tunic beneath.

The dwarf was the one who spoke: "You're crazy, Kuraihi. Setting fire to a crib, to God King Ridat's kid? How are you still alive?"

"Luck." The silver haired man spoke softly, almost disinterestedly.

"It's getting closer each time." The white-haired man said, with a nervous laugh afterwards. "They're getting closer to catching him. It's only a matter of time."

"As I said, luck."

"Be that as it may..." The dwarf paused to take a sip from his drink. "Maybe he's causing things to happen. Rumors of a Rebellion forming, getting ready to fight back. Maybe you two should join."

"Mmm..." The silver haired man leaned back. "Maybe we should, Strahan. Luke?"

The white-haired man stopped biting at his fingers to hold both hands up and away from himself. "It's whatever you say, Kuraihi, just... can you be careful this time? Especially since you're involving me?"

"We'll see."

The curtains suddenly shut, and a voice spoke, magically magnified:

"The Rebellion began quietly enough, the idea of a few brave people, inspired by one brave, Gifted individual. Men and women would leave their homes, their lives to come together under one banner, demanding the blood of the God Kings."

"Well, no one has died yet," Dalious muttered, staring forward as he spoke. "I'm sure someone will lose a head soon, at the very least a limb!"

The play continued from there at a quick pace. It detailed the beginning of the Rebellion, and the initial responses of the God Kings; those few that were shown were nearly monster-like in appearance, and larger than life. In particular, Ridat Mazami, the God King of Fire, had the longest scene, and the actor who played him stepped onto stage truly wreathed in flame.

The play then proceeded quickly into the first battle, which took place within the Land of Water. On stage men and women fought and died on both sides, the battle hitting a fever pitch quickly-

And then the acted leader of the Rebellion moved to the center of the stage, waving a flag with the continent of Aatroia itself on it-

"FOR THE REBELLION! FOR AATROIA! FOR ALL FREE PEOPLE!"

Even as he brought the flag down to the ground, everyone around him turned on him. Suddenly, something strange happened; a piece of the stage dropped suddenly in a flash of purple and black, revealing the actor who played Kuraihi, standing there with a spear in hand-

And in a flash he had lunged forwards, and with a few quickly blows stabbed down those who attacked Iaim.

Quickly, Calypso leaned over to Dalious. "What was that~? What happened~?"

The pirate's enjoyment escalated as the battles raged on, from the fire god to the rebellion battle. He found himself deeply interested now, so much so that he even waved away the next servant with drinks just to continue his focus on the play. It was a staged reenactment of their past, and Dalious found himself wishing he were actually there fighting with them.

"I'm not entirely sure," he spoke quietly to Calypso. "The spearman is Kuraihi, the gifted one who set fire to the God King's crib. He is protecting the leader of the Rebellion. It was not so much luck that has kept him alive, but great skill as well. He reminds me of...me." He took a second to look around at the audience, trying to see if Cyril was enjoying the play from where he was, though he could not get a good view of the king. "Perhaps one day, our story too, will be in a play. Here's to hoping they get our good looks right!"

While the play began to reach a peak of rising action, outside crowds parted for the one Sentinel not in attendance. Remy could hear the murmur of the crowds within the theatre even from down the road, and she could tell that when she got in there no one was going to be happy with it. Always one to make a scene - it was almost like she couldn’t avoid it at this point of her life.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit…”

The Commander was glad, certainly, that she had rejected the Kyoran attire gifted to her. It wasn’t out of disrespect, or ignorance, but rather necessity. She wouldn’t have felt right in all those layers. Mobility was key as a soldier, especially one of her potency and caliber and… really, running across the fucking city would have been a pain. That being said, she wasn’t underdressed as she made way for the theatre, her decorated coat draped over her arm and her tie knotted tight and waistcoast freshly washed. Even her boots were polished, laced neatly over her tight slacks.

She wasn’t excited for whatever shit she was going to get for being late, but it was secondary in her mind. Instead, the Second Commander found her head flooded in discomforting and annoying thoughts that didn’t seem to want to go away. The burning of the rune on her wrist on the run reminded her of why she was late, and the thought brought an iron, bitter taste to her tongue. Stupid kid…

"FOR THE REBELLION! FOR AATROIA! FOR ALL FREE PEOPLE!"

The dimly lit theatre brightened as the Bellamy soldier entered, but only for a moment before she unceremoniously let it thunk loudly shut behind her. Whatever. Performers won’t care if they’re any good. Without missing a beat, Remy continued her ascent through the theatre, pulling a silver pocket watch out of her waistcoat pocket and flicking it open. Reaching the same hand forward as she reached the curtained off private balcony, she snapped the object shut and breezed right in, hugging the right wall as she waltzed to where she wanted to be.

Without a care, she moved past whoever she needed, settling into an empty seat beside the Prince and tucking away her watch. Against her better judgement, she didn’t heave the world’s largest sigh of relief, only sinking in her seat as the play went on and rubbing a gloved pair of fingers against the bridge of her nose.

Shit.

The actors might not have reacted to the sound of the door closing, but plenty of others did. The tremor passed through the crowd, shocked and appaled that someone would dare to enter a performance after it had begun, especially one so anticipated...

And Cyril, who took a quick once over of his group to see who had been missing, simply shut his eyes.

By the time Remy arrived, Cyril had opened his eyes and the play had progressed beyond the battle, to the moment when Iaim Ciua and Kuraihi Linea joined forces. As Remy took her seat, the Governer huffed off to the side, before muttering something to one of her guards.

Meanwhile, Cyril calmly murmured without looking over, "Everything alright?"

"Peachy." Remy hissed back, lowering her arm.

As soon as she felt settled, she shifted, sitting up a bit more in her seat and adjusted her blade at her side so that it would rest more comfortably at her hip. Things were certainly not peachy, but Remy was always an open book when it came to being pissed off. Not that she cared enough to hide it, but right now she was exceptionally uncomfortable, leg bouncing as she sat there, arms now crossed over her chest.

"Didn't miss much of this circlejerk history lesson, did I?"

"Not much. Take care." Cyril didn't warn her beyond that, even as the Governer tried settling down over on his other side. "The Gifted haven't formed yet. What happened?"

Pushing out another breath through her teeth, Remy sunk down again at the warning with a scowl on her face. She (thankfully) bit back whatever (vulgar) remark she had in response.

"I'm babysitting some depressed teenager who refused to come to the show and made me late. I'm angry."

Below, the scene shifted to deep within one of the Rebellion's camps. As Iaim, Kuraihi, Luke, and Strahan strolled through the came, from stage left a small boy with purple clothes and hair trotted into view, with his head down.

"I see. These things happen. Don't beat yourself up for it."

"I'm not beating myself up over anything." Remy grumbled, digging around her jacket pocket for her flask and uncapping it, taking a long guzzle.

Her eyes remained down below just like Cyril, scanning the crowds and the stage. In a way, it wasn't like she was watching the play - instead, she was watching for anything out of the ordinary. Instinct, mostly, to always be watching for danger, especially around the Barcean prince.

She pulled her flask from her lips and tucked it away after a decent guzzle.

"Everything is fucking bullshit right now. We shouldn't be here at some play. We should be preparing for shit to start hitting the fan. Everything's got me on edge right now."

"Oh, does the play not interest you?" The Governor spoke calmly, her voice almost sweet, and Cyril knew that very suddenly the situation became twice as dangerous. Before Remy could respond the Prince leaned back over towards the Governor, and spoke quickly.

"No, that isn't the case at all, Governor. Something unexpected has come up. Please forgive me."

"Something unexpected! I see." Pursing her lips, the Governor settled back, and Cyril glanced over to Remy.

"This is something we have to do."

Down below, the purple boy, who seemed no older that thirteen or fourteen, passed by the larger group. Only Kuraihi stopped originally, looking back as the boy stood in front of a set of targets for archery, with only his blade.

The boy drew and swung. Though nothing seemed to happen at first, the targets suddenly burst into purple flame, rapidly crumbling. It was then the rest of the group stopped, while the actor playing Kuraihi turned towards the boy more thoroughly.

Biting her tongue - quite literally - Remy seemed to almost growl under her breath, though it might have just been some sort of froggy sigh. Radiating a palpitable, malicious sort of aura, she stared down the Governor with a fire boiling in her veins. Quickly, she looked away, rubbing at her nose again. Finally, she focused on the play enough to take in the sight of a familiar purple head.

Cute. She pushed another breath out, and once more took a drink from her flask.

"Do we?" Her voice lowered into a mutter now, one only he could really hear, but obviously one not rationally serious. "I'm not opposed to starting a political crisis..."

"I'm not, Remy."

Down below, Kuraihi crouched in front of the boy. "What's your name, kid?"

"Joachim Raizen."

"Interesting."

Tipping her flask to her mouth again, Remy lowered it with a sour look. Empty? Oh, this is just getting better and better and better.

Resisting the urge to crush the thing, she tucked it away instead. She remained silent, now watching the stage again for a longer period of time. Though she seemed sated, her leg was still bouncing and her one hand was gripping the arm rest of her chair in a vice. She fidgeted, and fidgeted some more, restlessness slowly creeping up her spine.

"We'll talk about it after." Remy finally said under her breath, the feeling around her becoming less noticeably angered.

The Prince nodded a little, before looking down to the play as Kuraihi Linea and Joachim Raizen shook hands.

Still, Remy watched, and still her leg bounced. If she weren't wearing gloves, she was sure she would have dug ruts into the cherrywood armrest of her chair - but she didn't. Instead, she spoke again.

"I think I'm getting attached."

"Attached?"

"Attached. Like... emotionally."

"... Oh."

"Not like - that! Of course!"

Remy rubbed her cheek, the other rested on her fist.

"I don't know. I hate this shitty little kid for causing me so much trouble, but... I dunno. I kind'a see me in her sometimes. It's gross. Makes me wanna vom'. Kind'a considering murder."

"No Remy."

"It's annoying! I don't just... I mean... I don't just feel like that. And then one day, I see this stupid bitch crying alone in her room, begging me to leave her behind, and I...."

Making a face, she slowly sunk in her seat again.

"... Care. Eugh!"

He reached over, gently patting her shoulder.

"I take it as a good sign."

"I'm too young for kids. Especially teenage brats. I got at least three more years before Cecilia starts asking me when I'm getting married, I think."

"Never too young for friends."

"Don't need any friends except you, baby."

"I respectfully disagree."

"I disrespect your opinion, as always."

Beaming at him, Remy settled in before catching something out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head to the seat next to her sharply, she noticed Kaishu sitting there, dressed in Kyoran robes, all shaded in the colors of dusk. Even her hair was all washed and pulled up. Instead of looking at Remy, she was silently watching the play. Slowly, the Commander leaned away, closer to Cyril as she felt a cold shiver roll up her spine, giving him a look that clearly read: kill me.

At first the Prince blinked, not sure of what was going on. He glanced around, before looking over to the other side of Remy-

He almost started laughing. Almost.

Thuraya was known for at least one thing, and that was her bottomless stomach. While she had a lot on her mind, the most prominent thought was that of food... As far as what had happened after Cyril's big sis was murdered in front of the lot of them, Thuraya was making a conscious effort to forget it all. From seeing people's limbs be torn off and more people dying, and the seemingly endless crying- Not that Thuraya ever cried. Hah! The thought caused the crowd around her to give her an odd glance as she let out an audible laugh over the noise of the people around her, and quickly, emerald eyes fell from the stalls to the floor- if only for a moment.

Her main thoughts were with Yihira. She'd planned to head back to Seryosa's side after the battles were won, but it seemed that her life of combat was just that. Right now, was the only break she felt she'd really get. Food and a play, what more could you ask for? Well, Thuraya had a few suggestions; like... food and an arena battle to watch. But she was sure the play would be... alright..?

Eyes scanned the stalls a bit more and she basically started throwing her money at some of the vendors there. It all smelled delicious. Some was proper food, other bits was complete junk. She'd loaded up as much as she could, which managed to fill both of her arms as much as they could carry, as well as a few bags strapped to her tail. The bottomless stomach would be filled tonight!

She didn't realize quite how much she'd gotten until she was trying to make her way upstairs with it all though... Alone... Lips turned downward into a slight pout as she made it to the half-way point of her ascent to the balcony where the others were seated. She just hoped she wasn't going too high as she went up the last set of stairs she needed to. If she'd missed them, she'd have more to worry about than missing the play. She might be dead... be it from carrying too much, or the hunger setting in for food that she could smell but not eat without both hands.

When she made it to the balcony, she sighed in relief of the fact she didn't have to sit on the stairs eating all alone... Not that she needed to share.. but maybe... just maybe she could make a friend..?

She looked around for a seat, and noticed one that wasn't too far from where she was currently standing. A couple "Pardon me"s sounded as her tail hooked onto clothes and seats as she tried to quietly pass, as to not interrupt the play for anyone, but the dream of for once not being an obnoxious distraction slipped from between her fingers once more... As did a lot of her food. Tail hooked on seat, she took a step too far without unhooking herself and down she went...

A soft whine sounded as she hit the floor of the balcony with a squeak of voice and a crash of bought goods. Her eyes welled up slightly as she watched pieces of fruit roll away from her, hand outstretched for an apple, just missing it in her grasp, and forced to watch as it rolled to the wall, hitting against it she pushed herself up and turned to look behind herself. The bag strapped to her tail was near empty... the bags in her arms scattered across the floor. Quickly she gathered it all and shoved it all back into the bags. She'd managed to find a place that had cooked skewers; that was the delectable she'd taken... Blew on one lightly and picked at it a bit, making sure it was clean enough to eat; not that she would've minded a bit of dirt, and plopped herself in the free seat she'd seen. Legs forced toward the person next to her, since her tail needed to sit off the other side.

Eyes shifted to who that someone she was sitting next to. Christopher, if she recalled correctly... Hadn't talked to him, really. But the sight of him was enough to trigger a scene in her mind of what she'd rather forget... "Uhh..." she started, taking a piece of the meat from the skewer into her mouth. She chewed for a moment, swallowed, and held the skewer over to him, in case he'd like a bite. "So, one arm... That's not very handy... is it..?" she smirked a bit, stifling a small laugh, eyes shifting to the bags again.

The horror of the Kyorans in the balcony was obvious, and almost overwhelming. Servants who had realized too late that Thuraya was walking into a disaster winced and recoiled, and the guards dressed in orange nearly stepped forwards, perhaps to drag her out. A sudden wave from the Governor a few seats down sent them back to their places, but the King was already covering his face with both of his hands for a brief moment.

Meanwhile, Christopher was adjusting to someone new in his space. The near fall and spilled food had been enough to draw his attention for a brief moment, but the noise wasn't quite enough to pull him out of the static in his own head as barely watched the play below. He was only vaguely following the events as battles went by and the Rebellion grew. In that moment, what he supposed was a giant (it was hard to tell, as the man who played him was in sort of contraption that mimicked the larger body) had come to the rebellion with a thin man with grey-white hair who wore bandages around the lower half of his face. The giant was the one who spoke, his voice booming:
"I am Eoa, one of the last giants. And this is my friend, Veneno. We come because Chrysanta has finally turned to war, and life suffers because of it."

And then, suddenly, there were legs pushing against his, forcing his to the side. At first he didn't say anything, simply flinching and adjusting, arm shifting from the armrest. And then the scorpionfolk who sat down next to him spoke. The voice was barely enough to pierce through the fog in his mind, caused by the dull ache where his arm wasn't.

He looked over, his brows furrowed, as if not certain she was actually talked to him. Furthermore he looked down to the skewer held out to him, upper lips rising slightly in a classically confused expression. Shrugging it off, he brought his arm up reach for the skewer.

And then he paused, registering what she said. For a moment, he was silent, and then he snatched the skewer, saying, "Knew there was a reason why I didn't give you a bloody hand earlier," before tearing into the meat with his teeth.

Well then! We'd see if she shared any more of her goods with him, now wouldn't we! Though she knew his response was likely warranted. The more she thought about what she'd said to him, the more she felt bad for it, though how else was she supposed to open conversation..? "Oh, hi, I'm Thuraya! Nice to meet you!"? Well... probably would've been a better option, now she thought of it. Her eyes stared for a moment moving down to the play for only a moment, uninterested for the most part.

She pulled out another skewer from a bag, "You can have that one..." her tone held an apology in it. Her eyes locked on the meat as she took a bite of her own and let out a soft sigh. She chewed silently, expression changing to one of bliss as she let the flavours swirl around her mouth before swallowing. She tried to turn her legs away from him, but ultimately failed as her tail hit against the back of her chair. "You know some days I'd rather one less limb to a spare-" she cut herself off, eyes widening as she looked back to Christopher again, before quickly away. "I-I mean, uh... I-.. Damnit.. Hah; let's uh.. start over. Hi, I'm Thuraya, nice to meet you." she knew it was too late for that one, now...

Christopher could only blink a few times as Thuraya continued to speak. Indeed, it seemed like she was digging herself into a deeper and deeper hole. And he thought he was bad at speaking to others; he legitimately didn't know what to say to her at first, and so he instead just slowly looked back down to the play below. As he watched the actor playing the dwarf stepped around, holding his hand forwards to shake Veneno's hand-

The reaction was quick, happening as soon as the dwarf got close. The other actor stepped back, flinging both hands out to the side; suddenly butterflies (where from Christopher was sure) appeared, fluttering to create a wall. Quickly, the giant moved a little forwards, as if to protect the man-

"Oh, no, no, please don't. He doesn't like to be touched by people."

Christopher glanced back over to Thuraya, and then sighed, finishing tearing away the last of the meat from the skewer, holding it down afterwards. "Christopher. Nice to meet you outside of, you know. Constant battle. We picked you up in Gurata, right?"

Thuraya's eyes shifted as the butterflies appeared. Like a crow on shiny, the Scorpionfolk woman seemed in awe for a moment, though turned back to Christopher as he spoke.

"Yes, that's right." Her tone seemed a bit sad saying that, mind wandered to Seryosa; wondering how she was... And then to their current mission. Lips turned to a slight scowl and she tore into the meat a little more violently as she thought of Yihira again. Missing home was one thing, but now her mind was filled with thoughts of revenge. Her petty hatred for the man who'd bested her in the arena and made her come all this way had faded in favour of a new emotion she hadn't felt in quite some time, if she had at all.

She tore into another piece of meat, then another, and another, until it'd been cleared. She dropped the skewer stick into the bag she'd pulled it from, not realizing how long she'd been lost in thought, a foul look on her face, furrowed brow and scrunched nose, emerald eyes glaring daggers into the distance. She hadn't quite noticed her tail lift either, but when she did notice all this, her tail dropped quickly and she looked to the male at her side. "Heh... hehah..! P-pretty butterflies, right?"

For a moment, Christopher thought he was looking at another woman who was going to try and kill him. The look on her face shifted rapidly, going from embarrassment to awe to sadness and finally anger, and that very dangerous looking tail began to rise. His eyes quickly went from her face up to the stinger, and he slowly started to lean back, sinking into his chair as best as he could.

'You gotta be fucking kidding me...'

Thankfully it ended quickly, and without him being stabbed in the eye or some other crippling wound. He slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding between his teeth, he looked forwards and down as she spoke again. The butterflies had begun to disperse rapidly, fluttering out over the crowd and higher up into the air, and he gave a nod. "Sure, that's fair enough. It was a neat trick."

The look on his face was one she was used to seeing around herself. One of fear. His body language spoke loud enough that no words really had to be said, but when he seemed to relax, she took that as her chance to apologize once more, the only way she really knew how...

She forced a smile back onto her lips and took back any thought of not sharing with him. She slid one of the bags over with her foot, in front of herself and closer to him. She motioned down to it and nodded. "It may not all be the cleanest, but.. help yourself. I got more than enough for-" she looked to the other bags and smiled a bit more awkwardly, "For everyone here... to be honest. haha!"

He blinked a few more extra times as she moved, pushing the back over. Once more he glanced down to it, then back up to her, and with a shrug he reached down to pick up the bag, sitting it down in his lap so that he could start rummaging through it. "Hey, if you're hungry, you're hungry. Ain't no shame in it. We've all got our vices."

Finding something else he wanted took a little while, but he didn't want to set it down without taking anything out. He understood the gesture fully, and wanted to make sure he didn't slight it in return. After a little while he settled on another skewer and an apple, setting the latter to the side so that he could focus on the former after placing the bag back down. "You able to follow the shit going on, or nah?"

Her eyes half watched him select the items he wanted, and shifted back to the play below when he spoke. She watched for a moment, before shaking her head. "Not at all." she admitted. Of course, she'd shown up late, then managed to be distracted since she sat down; the only thing grabbing her attention being the butterflies.

"Never really been one for watchin' stuff like this." she stated, reaching into a bag and pulling out the first thing her hand touched; an orange. Of course. Something she had to work for. She held back from sighing as she dug her thumb nail into it and started peeling it. "More one to watch people fight. Though... Lately I could use a break from all that..."

Down below, the scene was going through another rapid shifts. It was a feat of skill, both physically and magically; moving to change the props within the dark took both the efforts of stage hands and mages who stood out of sight, the same mages her raised and lowered the lights, even as the actors moved in between the moving objects to take their places. Christopher supposed, in a way, it was all impressive enough; it just wasn't his cup of tea, like it wasn't hers.

Though he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to watch pit fights, all the same.

"I get what you mean." He gave a little grunt with a shake of his head. "We got two months, but I don't think it was enough. Certainly doesn't feel like enough. Shit's hit the fan all over again; seems like all we did almost meant nothing. Fucking sucks." His hand drifted over as he spoke, two fingers tugging at the tied sleeve, adjusting it some.

Eyes shifted over as his hand moved. Guilt for her initial greeting toward him creeping back, though she hoped not to grab his attention too much, as she bowed her head, hiding her face slightly, behind silvery strands, and kept her face toward the play. Fingers pried open the orange pieces after she'd gotten the skin off, and popped a wedge into her mouth. It was juicy.. which was nice. But it didn't do much for her mood.

She couldn't tell anymore if she was bored, tired, hungry, angry, embarrassed or all of the above plus some more... Likely all of it, but she fought the feelings with another piece of the orange being bitten into. "It wasn't for nothing. We accomplished a lot, even though it doesn't seem like it right now." she turned her head toward him then, and gave the best grin she could, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And once we take care of business here, this time... Things will be better! You'll see." it was a poor attempt to make him feel better. Her grin was beyond fake, and her tone was uncertain, but at least she was trying.

At first he didn't look over to her, even when she touched his shoulder. He at least didn't flinch, instead just remaining fixed on that point of space. He wasn't looking down at the shifting play, but rather just a little above it, where there wasn't anything at all.

And then he shifted, blinking a little as he pulled himself out of his thoughts, hand dropping as he glanced over. For a moment he was quiet, expressionless, and then he gave a sort of smirking smile, nodding as he did so. "Yeah, you're probably right. Can't just give up and die now, can we. Come too far for that. May as well finish the job."

Though her tone and grin may as well have been glass, he smiled all the same.

Expression changed again, though only if he were really paying attention. If a smile could be more fake, it wouldn't be recognizable as a smile anymore. Hand slipped off his shoulder and she peeled another wedge of the orange off and popped it into her mouth, turning her head away again. Head bowed as she let her eyes wander toward the stage again, hair shielding her from anyone's prying eyes and while she looked in the direction, her focus wasn't on the play, that much was certain. She looked past the actors, past the props, backdrops and even the stage itself.

Can't just give up and die. No, they couldn't. She couldn't, anyway. She had things to do still, and while she knew, deep in the back of her mind somewhere that being full of rage and thoughts of revenge wasn't the way to go about any of this. She'd end up dead... or worse.

Free hand clenched into a fist, the other threatened to squeeze the remaining pieces of the orange into juice but just shook slightly instead. That was, until she popped the last few pieces into her mouth and let the hand fall to her leg and clench as well. "Oh, I'll finish the job, alright..." she said in reply, her tone hushed.

Christopher himself admitted that he was a bit of an idiot, and a bit of an ass. Sometimes he was blind too, unaware of what was going on around him until it was in his face. But, when he was actually watching something, he had a sharpness to him. Perhaps the most surprising part of it was that he was able to understand how another person was feeling when it mattered. Probably had something to do with his mother.

So he winced slightly as she looked away, realizing that he had set her on a path that no one should go down. A path he knew well enough himself, had been feeling for awhile. A path that he was grateful that she had taken him off of, if even for a moment, so he certainly didn't want to put her on it in his stead.

He reached over, gently tapping her shoulder in a brief motion, one that wasn't hurried but short all the same. "Oi. Stay with me here. None of that."

The tap on her shoulder made her quickly turn her head back toward him. Silvery strands parting to reveal one of those brilliant green orbs staring through, over at him. It wasn't filled with anger, like one might think it would be. Despite her fists clenching ever tighter with each moment, with the scowl across her face, with her entire body tensed and posture slouched forward slightly. Her eye caught his and she paused. Mind registered what he'd said.

"No." Her tone was eerily calm, but her breath caught slightly, eyes threatening to well up. "I-I'll rip his heart out..."

"Sure we will. But he isn't here right now, is he? There's point focusing on it right now. Use the time to take a little bit of a break." His hand slowly lowered. "Tomorrow we'll go on the search again, and soon enough we'll find him. But right now let's take a break. We'll get him soon enough. No need to rush."

He looked up, gaze sort of drifting towards the ceiling. "If we rush, then we lose. That's what he wants us to do. Whether it feels like it or not, we're the ones at the advantage here, not him. That's why he's trying to offset us. And if we let him, it all comes to nothing."

The threat became reality when he started speaking. Eyes welled but didn't dare to let a single tear fall. Not now. She didn't even blink, fearing it might cause the stream to start, instead, she just kept her eyes locked on him for a moment longer. Lips parted as though she were about to say something but instead, looked away, back to the bags of food. Her escape. "Oh..." Her tone hadn't changed from it's calm state, but she pulled out a small box from one of them and lifted the lid off. "Almost forgot about these."

Fingers went in, and she lifted out a small, bite-sized.. something, that looked like bread. She held the box over toward Christopher in case he decided he'd like one, the smell of warm bread, melted cheese and light spices wafting from it as it moved over. "Glad I got them... they're even better than they smell."

He slowly looked back over to her, quiet for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and closed it. Another moment was spent thinking, before he just gave a slight shake of his head and a weary smile.

"Sure thing. Thanks."

And so he reached over taking a piece for himself.

The play continued on as down below the scene shifted. The Rebellion had moved, this time to the northern realms, all the way to the Land of Ice. The process was described and shown to be grueling; the entire march involved several brief skirmishes as the gathering forces of the God Rulers attempted to surround them even as they pressed on.

When they finally reached the Land of Ice, the stage changed drastically. Chunks of ice began to appear as some sort of nature mage, hidden out of sight, dropped the temperature on the stage in certain places to below freezing; other mages had the difficult task of keeping the places that the actors would be performing in at a more reasonable temperature, and making sure none of the cold flooded out into the audience. It was a difficult feat of magic that could have gone wrong in so many different ways, from the ice simply melting to a snap freeze suddenly filling the entire Theater, and yet none of that happened, the ice growing higher and higher and twisting around, but never past the stage.

Marco was in awe and wonder at the magical display before them. He was interested in the play, gaining knowledge like this wasn’t a daily event. In fact, it has been ages since he had a proper sit down in a library. Rather… it felt like ages. The war, that Divine damned war, was still a nightmare in the young man’s mind. The sights, sounds, smells… None of it left him for long. He still remembers retching at the sight of the grave titan that rose up and devoured the Queen. Even with his talents, he felt useless. Helpless.

Bright eyes shined brighter as he traced the weaves of magic through the air. It took only a small dip into his mana pool, but he could see how much effort was put into the display. Frankly, it made him curious. He could only begin to imagine the feats he could accomplish with that kind of magic. However, as he touched his magic, something inside snapped. He felt a heavy jerk in his navel and a flood of tears began to pour down his face. Flashes of memories came crashing, wave after wave. He saw Kori’s broken body again, the scene of the two armies clashing, the details on the man’s face who assault his barrier like a savage… Even Thuraya’s expression at the realization that something went wrong, right before the arrival of that unholy abomination.

He was shivering, muttering spells to himself as he sat in his chair. The play, the party, everyone faded from view. He wrapped his arms around himself. A magical veil appeared around him, draping over his shoulders, as he continued to spout minor protection spells one after another. White runes appeared in his flesh to lock the spells in place. His pupils contracted to specks among fields of white.

‘I need to be protected. Help!’
‘I am so scared, I am so scared.’
‘I am lost, I am weak.’
‘I don’t want to die! I don’t deserve to die!’
‘Help, help, help, help!!’

His mind cried out as he was brought back to the day that started it all. Marco was tied to the support beam of a seaside shack, his father finding whatever stable grounding was left. The howls of demons and angered spirits alike ripped through the air. Loud cracking, either the wooden frame of the shack or the lightning across the sky, surrounded him. Marco was deafened by his own screams. He thrashed in his seat as he fought to free himself and save his father, when he couldn’t before. He didn’t change over the years he studied with his master Az’Cer. He was still a small boy, pretended to hold strength he didn’t understand.

His cries became audible as a small sound, like a wounded animal. He didn’t want to interrupt the play, however, this was a matter beyond his prowess alone.

For a moment Marco was alone in the middle of the Sentinels, rapidly losing control; and then someone heard and saw what was happening, and immediately acted with the decisiveness that only she could have. And so Diane slipped from her seat and around the rest, reaching out to grab Marco by the shoulder.

"Come with me."

She didn't wait before her grip tightened and she dragged Marco from his seat, onto his feet and past the others. She moved so quickly that she got the two of them out in seconds, before heads could turn to try and see what was happening. When servants tried to get in their way to ask how they could assist, she simply shoved her way through with derisive hmphs and pushed out into the rounded hallways of the theater.

She took him a little farther before coming to a stop, letting his shoulder go after she gently pushed him to the wall. Looking back and forth, she nodded to herself before sharply pointing at Marco.

"Go on. Cry, do what you need to do. Someone as young as you shouldn't bottle it in. So let it go."

Out in the hallway, away from the play and everyone, Marco came to terms with everything. He was an orphan. His only family passing while he was studying. He had nothing left, even though the Prince was still alive. Hells be damned, even Thuraya could leave him in a moment’s notice. He had nothing, he was nothing.

Tears began to flow steadily as his knees buckled. He slowly slide down the wall and sat, his breath shaking heavily. Marco was silent as he continued to cry. The magical veils he wrapped around him eroded away in flakes of cerulean aura. He was never a loud child to begin with and even now he was quiet; excluding the occasional sniffle or gasp for air. He wrapped his arms around he knees and lowered his head. He wanted to be small again, like he used to during the night that he couldn’t sleep in Barcea. He didn’t want to remember those nights, but he couldn’t help but feel powerless. His emotions always got the better of him.

It took several minutes for him to relax to a calmed state. Tears stained cheeks appeared as he lifted his head. He stared at the Sentinel and shakingly spoke. “W-what should I even do now? I don’t u-understand what to do next... “ He pulled his knees closer to his chest and rested his chin on top. “I should be dead, thrice over, by now, and yet here I am,” he said more to himself than to the esteemed woman. “I have been saved, time and time again... when that same effort could have been put into saving the Queen… or, or, or someone more important.” He sighed out and closed his eyes. Despite it all, he felt a weight lifting from him. Marco left… good to open up. There were still plenty of questions that he had, many left unasked.

“What do I do next, lady Diane? How do I keep living knowing that I am useless?”

Quietly, Diane stood nearby as Marco wept. She didn't look at him, giving him a measure of privacy even as she stood nearby, but her hand remained on the boy's arm throughout. She gripped lightly, not too tightly but not too weakly, a constant presence.
When he began to speak she finally looked back over, listening quietly and carefully. Her expression remained decidedly neutral throughout, her eyes not shifting, mouth remaining a simple straight line.

When he finished she suddenly moved, her free hand coming up to smack him on top of the head once, then twice more in quick succession. Afterwards her hand lowered, and she gave a little hmph, straightening her dress and sleeves a little before she looked back down to him. Her expression had shifted, showing emotion; there was a little bit of annoyance, but there was understanding there as well.

"First you should realize that you're not useless. You're young. There's a difference. You're small and inexperienced, but you're learning. You've done the best you can with what you have. Don't be so arrogant as to shoulder the failure we all suffered!"
Briefly, her voice became higher in pitch towards the end, but quickly she stopped and looked away, pressing her hand to her mouth. Her eyes didn't close all the way, but it was close as she took a moment before she looked back, and continued, "It isn't your fault that Kori is dead. It's all our fault, and none of our fault at the same time. We fought against things that were greater than us. That we shouldn't of had to fight. The fact that the rest of us survived is a miracle."

She sighed, before shaking her head slightly. "It's alright to feel weak. To know that you have room to improve. But don't you dare think you're useless. You're only useless if you give up, and if you do then you spit on the grave of everyone who came before you. Do you understand?"

One strike shook him from his pity party, the next two just hurt like hell. His eyes began to water again, but he snapped them shut as he rocked back and forth.The young boy quickly covered his head, hissing from the pain, before looking up at Diane. “Divines be damned, that hurt!” He rubbed the top of his head, trying to feel for the bump that would surely show up eventually. Already, he could feel the rush towards the point.

Though, it did help him to listen to what truth she spoke. He did all that he could do, to ask anymore would be inhumane. The fact that he felt such guilt was not for him alone to bear. Kori showed him the same love she showed for everyone of Barcea. He relaxed his pose and took a moment to think over what she said. “I do,” he spoke simply. Subconsciously, he used the same voice as he did years ago during his training. “I am sorry, to cause a scene and to have you drag me away, Miss Diane.” He rose to his feet and dusted the seat of his robes off.

He offered her a small bow and a quick smile. “My strength has only began to show, where as I have faced greater challenges that I was prepared to face. I forgot my master’s teachings during my fear, a dishonor to him and myself.” Marco was careful to speak with respect, this was a sentinel after all, but she was also a proper lady. Even if she was only a handful of years his senior, she still carried a certain elegance and grace about her. He offered her a bow and gestured for the doorway leading back to the others. “Shall we return and enjoy the rest of the play?”

”Nevermind dishonor for a moment.” Diane gave a humph, reaching up to flick her hair back over her shoulders. ”Think for yourself for a moment, and for your own sanity and health. Accept yourself for who you are now, not what you wish you were. Accept it, but work towards that ideal. Allow yourself to stumble along the way. None of us are perfect.”

”Oh, what sound advice!” Diane’s eyes widened and she quickly turned towards the new voice, which belonged to a boy in a blue cloak. Despite the fact he seemed to be anywhere between thirteen to fifteen, he was taller than Diane, like he had shot through his growth spurt. He also had strange, dark eyes; though nothing about them seemed inhuman, they looked dead, the smile on his lips not reaching them.
”Who are you?” Diane’s voice was sharp, some instinct in her telling her not to trust the boy immediately. The way he just kept smiling, even as she bristled, only reinforced that fact. The little laugh that followed, gentle and unassuming yet false at the same time, sealed it for her.

”My apologies, my friends! My name is Alexai!” He bowed, quickly looking up afterwards. ”I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. My ears are a little sharp.” He flicked at his own, lowering both hands afterwards. ”And I heard that this little mage has been having some trouble. It’s alright, I understand. I was there too. And then I just…” His hands did a little wave, even as he tilted his head. ”Got rid of my problems. The solution is more simple than you realize.”

Marco wasn’t aware of the newcomer until he spoke. It seemed as if Diane wasn’t either as both of them turned to face Alexai. The young mage thought it strange that someone who looked as young as himself could speak with such confidence, granted not everyone had his master for a teacher. “Got rid of your problems?,” he asked in honest curiosity. His senses weren’t as honed as his counterpart. In fact, compared to Diane, he was a gullible child playing at forces beyond himself.

The young mage took a stop close to Alexai, a light sparking in his eyes. “What exactly do you mean by ‘You got rid of your problems?’” Strength beyond measure, to stand toe to toe with the sentinels. Despite his timid nature, Marco was still his master’s student. He still thrived for knowledge and power that was beyond him. He was blessed, or lucky depending on your views, to meet a Divine and receive a gift… but clearly it wasn’t enough. Even with the blood magics he has been practicing day after day, he still lacked the fortitude to keep his cool during an actual war.He shamed himself and his master’s teachings. Diane’s words were touching, in her own way, but the truth couldn’t be forgotten. ‘I failed you, Master Az’Cer, I failed you and more importantly, I failed myself.’ Marco’s thoughts dripped with a toxic venom of self doubt, confusion, and guilt.

"Don't listen to him Marco!" Diane stepped forwards, one hand going out to hold in front of Marco, to try and get physically between the two boys. Alexai just watched her move and then gave a small laugh, before he took his turn to speak.

"I killed them, that's what. It's much easier than you think, and much easier after the first time. And once they were dead, I was free. Free to do what I wanted, to follow who I desired. Free to learn what I needed to learn. What everyone needs to learn. And I was able to serve my master-"

"Alexai, are you debating philosophy once again?" The voice was new, coming from farther down the hallway. Diane's eyes snapped over, and she seemed ready to snarl at the newcomer just as she seemed ready to snarl at Alexai... and then she recoiled back in horror, her face going pale as one hand came up to cover her mouth.

The man who was covered in metal armor, so thoroughly it was like a second skin, grinned as he looked down at the three of them. Dressed in Kisokan orange robes that shimmered thanks to the metal threads weaved into the fabric, creating a flame-like image, a bit of purple sludge was leaking from in between the cracks of the armor, and from his mouth; something the beautiful woman who had hooked herself onto his arm dabbed at with a once-white cloth. A blade was sheathed at his side, large and curved. He continued to speak, one hand coming up to tap at the woman's hand at his elbow.

"Oh, and not with anyone either! A Sentinel and the trainee. Diane Laues and Marco Maxwell, correct. A pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance. I am Shisor Yaguar. This is Reseya. Is the King enjoying the play? I'm excited to finally meet him."

"You're a monster..." Diane said quietly, her body still recoiled away. As Alexai began to step forwards towards her, Yaguar's hand went out, gently stopping the boy from going any farther.

"To you, perhaps. I see myself as a driven and... misunderstood man, simply trying to do his best for the world. But I'm sure my appearance doesn't help with that." He laughed.
Diane began to bristle once more. "You're terrible... You Remade him, didn't you? How long has it been since you broke him for your own purposes?"

Gently, Yaguar patted the top of Alexai's head. "Oh, it's been quite a while. Almost ten years, perhaps. My perception of time is still a little off. But do not think I did him a disservice; he asked me to. He was lost, confused. He wanted a purpose. And so I gave him one. I don't expect someone as... unblemished as you to understand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must keep my meeting with the King." He stepped forwards, even as Diane moved to cut him off, and once more he laughed. "Ah, loyalty. To the throne, or to blood I wonder? Either way, it'll do you no good here. Stop me, and you die. Step out of the way, and... Well, you'll be available to fix the results, now won't you?"

Diane still stood in the way, her arms crossed as she fumed. Alexai, meanwhile, began to tap his foot against the ground, his smile seeming to twist into something sinister.

Marco could only blink at the response, seeing as it wasn’t something he would ever consider. ‘Kill my problems…?’ He didn’t have long to ponder on it, as Diane’s rapid movements caught his attention. If Marco had a full bladder, it wouldn’t be anymore. He felt himself grow cold as blood rushed from his face. He was staring at a legend, a piece of history. Not more than a few minutes ago, he was learning about the man before him during the play. He was caught speechless as Yaguar spoke with Diane and Alexai.
But, as the saying goes, when it rains it pours.

The boy made a small noise as he saw what could only be described as a monster approach. A giant of a man strolled up behind Yaguar, chuckling to himself. “Preying on women and children now, eh Yaguar? At this rate, our fight may not be worth it.” His voice sounded like rocks scraping against one another he wore a suit of plate mail.

This set of armor had a rounded helm with a pointed opening for the eyes, which curved downwards into a narrow opening up to the mouth. Attached to the top was a bird head shaped ornament piece. The shoulders were fairly rounded, narrow and fairly small in size. They were decorated with a spider-shaped, thick, metal ornament piece.

The upper arms were protected by pointed, fully covering rerebraces which sat well under the shoulderplates. The lower arms were covered by vambraces which have several masterfully crafted metal sheets, shaped like dragon scales on the outer sides. The breastplate was made from many layers of rounded metal sheets. It covered everything from the neck down and ended at the groin. The upper legs were covered by a chainmail skirt reaching down to the knee. The lower legs were protected by greaves which had metal leaves covering the outer sides.
He removed his helm, shaking free dark raven locks down to his shoulders. He gave the small folk, which everyone smaller than him was in his eyes, a wide grin. He stared with a single majestic purple eye. The other was covered by an ornate eyepatch that matched the design on his shoulders. He was handsome in his features, but it was the look of hunger that he stared at Marco with that unnerved the boy. This was certainly a creature that was not to fuck with.

“Why are we here anyway?”, the giant asked turning his gaze to Yaguar. “I highly doubt anyone here is worth the attention…” He paused to chuckle to himself as he thought of a joke. “Unless you are here to stroke your own ego and enjoy the show.”

As Reseya gave a disgusted, disdainful look at the massive monster of a man that stood with them, Alexai responded much more physically. He whirled, and with one step that sounded like a thunderclap moved towards the figure, but once more the metal-covered hand of Yaguar went out, bringing the boy to a stop by the sleeve.

Slowly, Yaguar looked over, and then up at the man. His grin remained, even as one eye widened slightly as he looked quizzically upwards. ”Ah, Knightmare, so pleased that you could join us! I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to decide to accept the invitation. Alexai is obvious, I could see Sawyl showing up at one point, and I’m sure Sanura is lurking somewhere already, perhaps watching our friends inside, but you… I never expected you to be a man of culture.”

It happened so quickly that Diane never saw the actual attack. She only saw Yaguar click the blade back into his sheath afterwards. To her, there hadn’t even been a turn, nevermind a slash. All the same, suddenly, a deep cut appeared in the breastplate, carving into the flesh beneath and sending blood that steamed and burned the face of the man it belonged to. The wound itself then suddenly burst into flame that curved upwards, licking at the metal even as it ate at the man who wore it. The blood that struck Knightmare’s face set his skin alight even as it evaporated, and the sickly smell of burning flesh nearly knocked Diane off her feet.

Yaguar’s gaze turned back forwards, towards the Sentinel and the boy. ”Down, boy. Remember your place, and how gracious I’ve been to you as a master.”

Even if Knightmare could prepare himself, he never was able to read Yaguar’s movements. He became aware of the strike against him moments after the Gifted returned his sword to its home. A deep snarl and his head tilting backwards was all the giant allowed for a reaction. He could feel his flesh burning, actually burning, though he didn’t mind that much. This pain was just a reminder of how far he still had to go. He continued to grin at Yaguar as his face cleared, the areas where the blood hit appearing red with inflammation still.
“Of course,” he began as if the attack didn’t happen, “I am all about expanding my horizons.” Knightmare could feel his body quaking as his breathes became harder to achieve. “Who knows, maybe I could even learn a thing or two.” He placed a hand upon his chest and offered a small bow. “Pardon the surprise, even if it is a pleasant one.”

”All is forgiven. You’ll enjoy being here, I’m certain. This announcement will be something to remember-”

”Announcement? What announcement?!” Diane interrupted Yaguar, but the man only laughed, shaking his head a little.

”Now, now, patience, Ms. Laues. You’ll learn soon enough. The sooner you step out of the way, in fact. I would prefer not to kill any member of King Serio’s little… entourage before the challenge, but if I must…”

”Get out of the way, children.” Suddenly both Marco and Diane were grabbed from behind by their shoulders, turned and swung into the wall none too gently; the woman who had done so stepped away afterwards, adjusting her sleeves afterwards. She had long red hair pulled back over her shoulders, and wore a closed white coat, dark pants beneath.

”There you are, Sanura! Had your fill already?” Yaguar stepped forwards through the space that had been created, walking towards the entrance of the very booth that Diane and Marco had come from. The woman fell into step at his side, beyond Alexai.

”Your comrade isn’t in there with them. But for the most part, the rest of them are there.”

”Of course it’s not perfect…” Yaguar sighed. ”But nothing ever is. We’ll just have to make do. Let’s go make ourselves known, shall we?”