[color=757163][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Jdl8NJo.png[/img]

[img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjk2LjBjNjI0OS5SV3hrWlhJbmN5QkZiV0p5WVdObElDMGdVR0Z5ZENCUGJtVS4w/italianno.regular.webp[/img][/center]

[hr]

[color=1E90FF]"Did you need a hand, miss?"[/color] A man addressed a girl in Avincian, her status as a foreigner clearly apparent. It was better that way, she had decided. It made her a less likely target for either side. [color=598527]"A foot might be better,"[/color] Marceline replied with a rueful smile, waving him off. The magistrate was, at this moment, asking the guilty to make their peace with the Gods. All that she could see was a sea of backs, heads, and shoulders, but she knew that there were five on the platform and that they were standing at the ends of nooses. It was a sight she preferred to leave to her imagination.

Six days by coach into Malanques, five more down the Mererrapora and southern coast, and then a teleport from Varrahasta into San Sameno. She could still feel the awful floaty sensation of being on that boat: the way she would just start to roll whenever she didn't have her brakes locked. Were it not for chemical magic, she'd surely have spilled even more of her meals into the water than the two that she had. 

A moment later came the awful clunk and clatter and she balled her hands up in her skirts and looked down at her knees as gasps, jeers, and murmurs arose from the crowd surrounding her. They gave the tethered a reasonably wide berth, which had its uses in not being jostled, bumped, or blocked, and she was able to spend some moments focused on the chemical patterns they exhibited. [color=598527][i]Fear,[/i][/color] she acknowledged, just as expected, but there were other more complex feelings at work too. Emotional-chemical reading was as much art as science, and inexact, but there was anger there. It hadn't faded. There was... disgust. She focused her senses on some of the more interesting ones. [color=598527][i]...Excitement![/i][/color] Did the sixteen year old visibly scowl? If she had, she fixed it quickly, for she was a better master of her face than that. [color=598527][i]Why excitement?[/i][/color] she wondered, pinpointing a particular cluster of mostly men who were standing together. 

Reaching down to release her brakes, Marci's intention was to make her way over and snoop, but one crooked push of her wheels and a couple of glances from her porters disavowed her of the notion. The square was all cobble, and every movement on it jostled her about and made her arms ache. Instead, she twisted on the spot, trying to make note of any distinctive features in their energy, and made a mental note of the strange incident. Perhaps coming here with a plan to play the other side wouldn't be the fool's errand she had feared it would be. 

In any event, she made her way, with some difficulty, from Ortaklık Square, a great deal on her mind. The mass executions had supposedly ended last week, but there were still occasional spasms of persecution. These shook but did not shatter Ceboyan and Arangal, for their lifeblood was to be distribution points, where the valuable goods of Palapar came to meet the world they would go out into. All manner of people milled about in the streets: from human, eeaiko, and even yasoi locals, to their Virangish upper crust and merchants from afar. The heat was sweltering, even more so than San Agustin for the humidity, but this was quickly giving way to dry season and, already, the first bushels of bamboo were being carted in from the countryside, stacked impossibly high on human and mule-drawn wagons. Marceline supposed that she might make a decent wagon in a pinch.

In any case, it was naught but an hour later when she rolled up to a large green door in the Virangish quarter, arms and shoulders burning from the uphill. Inside was Zarina. She recognized the chemical signature, and had been following it for the past four kilometers. [color=598527]"Thank you, Matu,"[/color] she told the man who'd been following with her bags. [color=598527]"I'll take it from here now."[/color] She paid him, watched him leave, and squared her shoulders. Then, Marci reached up and knocked.

The door opened right before Marceline's knuckles could meet with the door. In a country where rebels sought one's death, Zarina could only see herself as incompetent if she wasn't frequently on high alert. Her hair was damp and she wore but a few layers of cloth on her chest, leaving the rest of her torso bare to cope with the increased heat. Her trousers were baggy dark harems pants for air flow and house green house shoes. 

[color=#E5E4E2]“Are the Torragonese making the move already?”[/color] she inquired with a twinge of noticeable sass in her voice as she acknowledged her friend's arrival. As cool as she may have seemed, she was quick to lean forward and quickly check the surroundings before gesturing Marci to come in quick. [color=#E5E4E2]“Not the best place for a happy reunion. Something big happen?”[/color]

It was the first time they'd seen each other in months. Zarina did not make a big deal of it and, suddenly, everything else Marci had been wondering whether or not she should say simply died in her throat. She looked up at her friend - [i]way[/i] up - and nodded. Two months at San Agustin had been more like a year for her body thanks to metabolic boosting magic, but muscle memory was a bit slower, especially when faced with...

She shook her head and popped a wheelie, levering herself carefully through the door with the help of some kinetic magic. [color=598527]"We Torragonese are [i]always[/i] making moves,"[/color] she responded in the same tone, injecting a bit more of an accent into her speech. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she rolled across the threshold. [color=598527]"Do you think you can get the door for me?"[/color] the tethered inquired. [color=598527]"We have... a lot to talk about."[/color]

Once Marceline was through the threshold, the door was closed right behind her. [color=#E5E4E2]“We do.”[/color] answered Zarina. [color=#E5E4E2]“But first thing's first.”[/color] a chair was seized with a single hand and crudely placed right in front of the wheelchair-bound girl and the Virangish teen took a seat. Her golden eyes pierced right into the Torragonese's. [color=#E5E4E2]“When we first properly met, how did our encounter end?”[/color]

Marceline arched an eyebrow. [color=598527]"With me drawing baths for you?"[/color] There was no embrace. In fact, there was an edge. [color=598527]"Gimme the straight goods, Zaz,"[/color] she said, not half as tough-sounding as she'd wanted to be. [color=598527]"You look like a paranoid wreck."[/color] She tilted her head, not used to having to crane her neck like this, until Zarina sat. [color=598527]"Why?"[/color]

Zarina squinted, as if she was trying to find some hidden detail. [color=#E5E4E2]“Not sure who to trust.”[/color] she leaned forward a little with her elbows finding her lap as support. [color=#E5E4E2]“Hmm. I saw Tku with the queen speaking of morality. Our own friends are lurking about. The world's eyes are on this island and they think catching a few local renegades solves the problem ...”[/color]

Marceline pursed her lips. 'Calculating' was something that she could do. 'Strategic' was in her wheelhouse. She had so much to say to Zarina, of course, and no idea of where to begin. This was... easier. [color=598527]"And that's why I'm here."[/color] She straightened some of the folds in her dress, glancing down at her lap before looking unflinching up at Zarina. [color=598527]"Our future is threatened by hotheaded people doing stupid things."[/color] She shook her head. [color=598527]"These streets are gonna run with blood and then we're losing our supply chain."[/color] The tethered shrugged. [color=598527]"I've learned better than to try to intervene when forces beyond me are determined to kill and keep on killing."[/color] She shrugged helplessly, bothered but perhaps realistic about it. [color=598527]"I'm here to ride this wave and to take care of the things that I can."[/color] Calculating as ever, but not entirely unsympathetic, she regarded the closest person she had to a sister. [color=598527]"But I need [i]you[/i]."[/color]

A deep inhale. Zarina let a silent linger for a while. She needed time to ponder a situation that was well beyond her and Marceline had articulated a similar sentiment. Her conclusion, however, differed. [color=#E5E4E2]“I can't leave my post, Marci.”[/color] she answered, her eyes peering up to the tethered, eyes slightly veiled by her unkempt locks of hair. [color=#E5E4E2]“My country needs me too. My people need me. Now more than ever, I'd reckon.”[/color]

Marceline smirked in response. [color=598527]"Good thing I'm stateless, then, huh?"[/color] The mirth faded quickly, however. [color=598527]"I'll be straight with you, Zaz. I don't like any of this. I don't like what Virang's doing here, but I don't have much faith that what these rebels want to build will be any better."[/color] Her eyes turned calculating. [color=598527]"We have to account for the possibility that they'll win.[/color] She shook her head. [color=598527]"Personal feelings aside, we have to."[/color] A tentative smirk returned. [color=598527]"And I just happen to look like I've rolled right out of a hacienda."[/color]

Zarina did not reciprocate any sort of playfulness. [color=#E5E4E2]“I'm not accounting for failure. I'm putting everything into [i]avoiding[/i] that, Marci. This isn't about Zenobucks.”[/color] dry, solemn and the lack of a friend in those tired, golden eyes. [color=#E5E4E2]“If that's what you're here for, I just can't help you. But-”[/color] she brushed some of her hair that veiled her visage. Her features softened. [color=#E5E4E2]“If you're here for me, I appreciate it.”[/color] still, there lacked the sisterly air she was once good for.

[color=598527]"Only a fool doesn't plan for all eventualities, Zarina."[/color] Marci tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, even as they flicked meaningfully to her lap and the now-useless legs that comprised it. [color=598527]"I never knew you to be one, and I [i]am[/i] here for you - for our dream."[/color] Her hands were tight around her wheels, eyes somewhere between empathetic, pained, and evaluative. At least it saved her from having to figure out what to do with them. Presently, they migrated to her skirts, gripping the fabric tightly and bunching it up. [color=598527]"The thing we were supposed to do together. [i]Remember?[/i]"[/color]

Zarina peered down to follow those overly agitated hands. Her eyes narrowed without making contact with Marceline's. [color=#E5E4E2]“Our dream-”[/color] she looked up and glared. [color=#E5E4E2]“The one you left me to carry alone when things just got worse and worse.”[/color] where there was once a glimmer of that soft heart a minute ago there was now only a hardened wall of distrust and a sense of betrayal. [color=#E5E4E2]“Dreaming is a privilege I cannot afford when I'm the only one still thinking of my country's - my home's best interests. It's all that matters.”[/color]

Marceline took a deep breath, but she trembled ever so slightly. Was it fear, rage, betrayal, or something else? [color=598527]"Left you..."[/color] she said quietly, a strange note in her voice. [color=598527]"We all say things we don't think through sometimes."[/color] Her eyes flashed dangerously for a moment, but she seemed to tamp down on them. This was another monster, she knew, strong like Juulet: well above her. One did not mess with those above herself if she wanted to survive. 

Yet, whatever their conflict, it did not end there. It was almost twenty minutes later when Marci bumped roughly down the front step, hair disheveled and face red. Perhaps she had at some point, but she was not crying. Her arms and shoulders were stiff and one of her feet hung halfway off of her footrest. [color=598527]"Shune knows I tried, you idiot,"[/color] she growled under her breath, shooting a venomous look back at the door as it slammed. [color=598527]"Dami, too."[/color] She shook her head angrily, cutting an arduous path across the cobblestones. Her knuckles were white around her rims and, frustrated with her slow progress, there was a surge of energy and she leapt forward, barely skimming the ground as she raced away. [color=598527]"Can't save the stupid from themselves."[/color] she muttered, quickly swallowed by the crowds of a busy street.

[hr]
. . .
[hr]

Zarina threw the door to its frame, nearly slamming it shut,  in pure frustration. Her cheeks were red and a pillow had to be quickly found for copious amounts of face-buried screaming. The poor pillow became a feathery cloud when the author of this tantrum had forgotten that sonic magic was still something she was not the most proficient in. An emotional stifle that'd set her back half a day. With only a delusional Raffaella as her tangible ally, it was hard for one teen to even know where to begin if she were to try and take on a threat hidden well enough to dupe her betters.

But one of her main virtues was immense tenacity. Inevitable rebuffing from superiors - reactions ranging from polite denials to crude reminders of her place in the pecking order were things she grew increasingly tolerant to. She had almost wished she had experienced the chain of command when she had started Zenobucks. The deals would have certainly been better. The arduous process of ruffling the nest met her with an ultimatum: Stop now, or be sent home. All she heard was 'one more go'. 

The channels she was closest to did not work, but there was one captain - a woman, too - who she found potential in. One that could see what she sees. Cpt. Selma Balik had her own allocated abode where she could work administration in peace when she wasn't out with her underlings. Without any formal referral or even a middleman, Zarina just showed up with a humble but firm request for an audience with the captain.

It wasn't a servant who opened the door. The fine clothing made that clear. Rather, the woman on the other side was - in some world - a mirror image of Zarina. She was a little older - though still no more than seven and twenty - and a little more refined, but she was tall, dark-haired, and angular: in short, martial in bearing. She looked the youth up and down, though she did not make a show of it. [color=8FBC8F]"You're Al-Nader, right?"[/color] she proposed, not waiting for an answer as she stepped back from the open door. [color=8FBC8F]"That's a Zaqhory name."[/color] She gestured her junior inside. 

Zarina, on the other hand, made herself distinct by keeping herself as a civilian. It had its boons and she was neither military nor of exalted blood. Green and dull yellow silks were her go-to today. She took in the uncanny resemblances and stepped in. [color=#E5E4E2]“Probably. Yours is well-known.”[/color] she shrugged, erecting a veil of indifference to the weight of her name, though it had been more of a burden than anything in her most recent endeavour. The focus on it brought a certain unease from the get-go. [color=#E5E4E2]“Captain Balik. You likely know why I'm here.”[/color] she didn't dilly daddle and take in her environment. She had precious little time and recourse left and she was going to act the part regardless of formalities. [color=#E5E4E2]“I believe our job here's unfinished. And I don't have the resources to do anything about it. Or the pull.”[/color]

It was, by and large, a Spalkan place, save for a few extremely rich embellishments left on end tables or tucked away in corners. Perhaps that spoke of its occupant's ambivalence towards her storied name. Perhaps she simply had less use for pretty things. 

[color=8FBC8F]"Take your shoes off and sit first,"[/color] the captain decided, pursing her lips and nodding. She would allow this conversation. It was a necessary one, perhaps even something that she had been waiting for. [color=8FBC8F]"I'm neither surprised that you're here nor surprised by your forwardness."[/color] She nodded, turning halfway and moving for the drawing room. [color=8FBC8F]"I might even welcome it, but we need to establish a few things first."[/color]

Zarina did exactly as told. Her shoes, yellow with red outlines and a curved tip, was carefully but quickly tugged off with her hands and set nearly by the entrance's carpet. With a proper nod, she entered the drawing room with her feet now bare and found the closest seat in the same mentality of wasting as little time as possible. [color=#E5E4E2]“I'm all ears.”[/color]

There was the subtle tingle of magic use and Zarina could practically [i]feel[/i] a sonic bubble enveloping them. [color=8FBC8F]"Good,"[/color] said Balik, [color=8FBC8F]"and I will hope so, because I suspect you won't like much of what I have to say."[/color] She took a seat across from the younger woman, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees. A small table with two glasses and a bottle of red wine in a bucket of ice separated them. [color=8FBC8F]"The pull you're looking for?"[/color] She shook her head. [color=8FBC8F]"I don't have it, or I'd be out there fucking those rebels and you'd be on my team."[/color] She scowled and reached for the bottle. [color=8FBC8F]"You drink red?"[/color]

Zarina remained stoic when the response was both as expected - a dud - but also completely unexpected. She was actually entertained, but she too had been in an impasse. [color=#E5E4E2]“Red's fine.”[/color] a brief glance was dedicated to the bottle. She had seen a few of that same vineyard among the brass and she had indulged too more than a few times during the day. This one, however, seemed a bit older. Likely reserved for those of higher value to the military. [color=#E5E4E2]“But there's clearly a problem here, if we both agree.”[/color] the teen spoke up with immense naiveté to be found in her voice. Where she once held a stone-cold expression, the moment she had to express herself the inexperience in political matters and people management became apparent just in her disposition and intonation. She looked a little restless, like she was holding back some explosive gestures. [color=#E5E4E2]“What's the solution here? Rebel to take down the rebels?”[/color] she forced a chuckle on that one before taking a hearty sip out of her glass.

Selma regarded her evaluatively for a moment, before shrugging. She glanced down to pour some wine for the both of them and the hint of a smile creased the corner of her lips. [color=8FBC8F]"This is the part you're not going to like,"[/color] she admitted, looking up as she handed Zarina a fluted crystal glass. [color=8FBC8F]"But I'm only gonna give you the straight goods here."[/color] She leaned back and took a sip, considering either the red or how to phrase what she was about to say. 

[color=8FBC8F]"You and I, we're daughters instead of sons."[/color] she paused for the ghost of a moment. [color=8FBC8F]"But we're doing sons' work."[/color] She shook her head. [color=8FBC8F]"And we're young."[/color] She took another sip. [color=8FBC8F]"And we're telling them things they don't want to hear."[/color] There was a distasteful scowl. [color=8FBC8F]"We need ammunition - a proven track record of having said something and been right about it."[/color] She snorted, narrowing her eyes. [color=8FBC8F]"Then, they need to see it happen, just like we warned, before they'll listen to us."[/color] She downed the rest of her dainty glass.

Zarina indeed did not like what she was hearing. Her jaw clenched and her eyes found something to focus on that wasn't Selma. In those golden hues one could see just how livid she was. [color=#E5E4E2]“Just do nothing. Let people die.”[/color] she didn't scream these words. It sounded more like she was quoting something. She shook her head and let out a defeated chuckle. [color=#E5E4E2]“You're not the first one to tell me that, you know. To work off the backs of those that eat shit in order to win.”[/color] a twinge of disgust could be found in her voice and she had to wash it down with the vintage. [color=#E5E4E2]“People are going to get hurt, captain, over petty inconveniences. How can I just let that happen?”[/color]

[color=8FBC8F]"Because you have no other choice,"[/color] the captain intoned, reaching for the bottle to pour a second glass. [color=8FBC8F]"And people will die regardless."[/color] She shrugged. [color=8FBC8F]"Our people - [i]their[/i] people."[/color] She puckered her own look of distaste. [color=8FBC8F]"All equal in Vasdal's dream."[/color] Something in her tone wasn't right, though. She quickly moved on.

[color=8FBC8F]"You see, that's the trouble with you merchant types."[/color] Selma shook her head. [color=8FBC8F]"And - truly - I mean no offense."[/color] Perhaps she did, though? Just a little bit? [color=8FBC8F]"You're very good at the details. You catch things us more... [i]political[/i] families might miss."[/color] She shook her head. [color=8FBC8F]"But you don't see the bigger picture. The men in charge here - beard-stroking old fools whose minds have gone soft in this tropical hell - will never admit that you're right."[/color] She swirled her wine in its glass. [color=8FBC8F]"They'll never give you a fuckin' [i]sniff[/i] of influence on their own."[/color]

Her tone was bitter as she continued. [color=8FBC8F]"Everyone's a degenerate here, and that's the sad truth. There are locals who sacrifice goats to their primitive gods and believe that fans can steal your soul away."[/color] She rolled her eyes. [color=8FBC8F]"There are administrators who've never even visited the properties they're in charge of."[/color] She tossed some more of her drink back. [color=8FBC8F]"They all drink and fuck their days away."[/color] She regarded Zarina darkly, from the corners of her eyes. [color=8FBC8F]"We need to go right over their heads, but we need proof to make it stick and, if you ask me, a few of them dying in assassinations or some provincial rebellion might actually do this place good."[/color]

Zarina resented every bit of truth Selma had been feeding her. None of it could be countered, she even felt an uneasy parallel with those 'degenerates' for more than one reason, one of which being her inexperience. Her once stoic and hardened demeanour faltered completely, her emotions now worn on her sleeve. [color=#E5E4E2]“It's not a merchant issue.”[/color] she spoke, somewhat meekly. [color=#E5E4E2]“We're actually the ones to advise cutting losses for the grander end.”[/color] she shook her head again and reached out to serve herself some more wine. [color=#E5E4E2]“In the eyes of Dami, we all deal with capital, at the end of the day. No, this is a me issue, captain. I resent sacrificing lives. I HATE giving an inch to those against me. I want to WIN.”[/color] 

After letting out more than she had intended, the Virangish teen let herself sag into her seat. [color=#E5E4E2]“If I go against the brass and take matters into my own hands, what will happen, captain Balik?”[/color] her eyes searched for Selma's. In spite of her protest, she seemed close to just relenting. It was why she was brought to this woman's doorstep, after all. [color=#E5E4E2]“I just need [i]something[/i] to work with.”[/color]

Selma watched Zarina drink. She watched and let out a sigh of vexation. Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she squared her shoulders, set down her glass, and began ticking points off on her fingers. [color=8FBC8F]"Firstly, you'll fail,"[/color] she announced in no uncertain terms. [color=8FBC8F]"Well -"[/color] she softened her initial stance, [color=8FBC8F]"- you'll fail if there's any real teeth to this."[/color] She shook her head. [color=8FBC8F]"If there isn't, then it's not worth stopping."[/color] 

She regarded Zarina evenly. [color=8FBC8F]"You're stronger than me,"[/color] she admitted, taking a small sip, [color=8FBC8F]"but you're no Hugo Hunghorasz. You're no Ren Baykara. Even..."[/color] She trailed off rather suddenly and her eyes, after looking away for a pointed moment, returned to Zarina full of wary evaluativeness.

With each finger propping up, the scowl on Zarina's face grew. From a light twitch of her cheek to her teeth gritting at the mention of Ren. She had felt powerless during her entire endeavour to speak up against the brass, but it had reached its very low here. More truths, some she just didn't have the emotional maturity to digest fully. She was about to say something, lips parted and air inhaled, only to instead finish her second glass as a last second decision to keep her thoughts to herself.

Good wine, it was. Good enough to give her more sensible mind that had, in fact, experienced things and had been moulded by journeys few could ever live. She mused, silently, before giving a calculated response. [color=#E5E4E2]“The men and women you command, are they loyal to you or the chain of command that pays them?”[/color] it was her turn to shoot an evaluative look to her better.

It was a dangerous question: one that most wouldn't have dared ask, but it didn't bother her, in truth, and deserved a considered response. [color=8FBC8F]"Some may be loyal to me, personally, but I've been here only a couple of months. Some are loyal strictly to the chain of command or someone within it."[/color] She shook her head. [color=8FBC8F]"What I can guarantee you in this pit of vipers is that each is strictly loyal to himself and what will benefit [i]him[/i]."[/color] Her eyes narrowed. [color=8FBC8F]"No grander cause unless he's personally affected."[/color]

[color=#E5E4E2]“Then this could be an opportunity for them too.”[/color] said Zarina with growing confidence. She had adapted, it seemed. She even scoffed at the focus on 'men'. [color=#E5E4E2]“If we're going to do a 'I told you so', then we may as well look good while doing it.”[/color] it was time for a third serving of wine, although this time she paused to give a considerate glance to Selma and if she had permission. [color=#E5E4E2]“The ball they've announced. If there's one place to send a message, it's there and in only a few days. Do you reckon have a few trustworthy-ish men at the ready could be something you pull off? If these rebels are bound to have their way, we may as well make it not-so-easy for them and be heroes while doing it.”[/color]

Selma tilted her head, regarding Zarina with a mix of admiration and annoyance. She nodded, however, to indicate that they'd might as well finish the bottle at this point. 

[color=8FBC8F]"You just don't understand,"[/color] she admonished, [color=8FBC8F]"do you?"[/color] She shook her head. [color=8FBC8F]"If there's anything left more than embers - and I can't be certain that [i]isn't[/i] the case - then it has the backing of Revidia, Tarlon, Retan, Tor - well, they've actually been reasonable, so maybe [i]not[/i] Torragon, but you've got the idea."[/color] 

They split the last bit of wine evenly between them. [color=8FBC8F]"Half of my squad is fucking gone."[/color] She shook her head and her bearing, despite the obvious inebriation behind her words, became quite firmly serious for a moment. [color=8FBC8F]"A Revidian Century - a full on century in shining silver armour - was guarding that little chapel with the memorial, as if they [i]knew[/i], as if they'd [i]planned[/i] it."[/color] She leaned back, downing the last bit straight from the bottle. [color=8FBC8F]"We do this, we might be fucking with something way above our grade. We may not live to [i]take[/i] that action you want to see so badly."[/color]

Zarina was about to match her superior's pace, equally as loose lipped by the drink. But there was a specific detail that had her just [b]stop[/b]. She downright flinched. [color=#E5E4E2]“A century?”[/color] she left the glass on the table and crossed her arms under her chest. There was immense skepticism and bewilderment in her eyes. [color=#E5E4E2]“Those ones are supposed to be neutral, like the nation that's contracted them. That's-”[/color] she raised her thumb to bite her yellow-painted nail. [color=#E5E4E2]“Not good.”[/color] a deep inhale. Her inebriated mind had managed to connect some dots. [color=#E5E4E2]“No wonder we both came to the same conclusion.”[/color]

The teen huffed and needed a moment to gather herself. The world spun and her back felt a little numb. [color=#E5E4E2]“We've got to show some balls, captain.”[/color] she decided, head canted slightly with her lips pursed. [color=#E5E4E2]“In a man's world, we demoiselles need to have bigger nuts than the limpdicks to get a point across. Yeah, we'll be ready for those nasty fuckers this time.”[/color]

[color=8FBC8F]"We need to be seen to do something, but I warn you that I won't overcommit while we have nothing."[/color] Selma shook her head and narrowed her eyes. [color=8FBC8F]"Real life isn't some tale from Firrazene Nights or an Eskandish saga."[/color] She heaved herself to her feet, snapping the bottle to her palm with some kinetic magic. [color=8FBC8F]"If something happens at the ball, we choose a handful of priority targets, protect them, and cover ourselves in glory. We let the bad ones get dealt with, and then we scream 'I told you so' at those old men and get ourselves some [i]real[/i] pull around here."[/color] She picked up her glass, starting to turn, but she stopped and met Zarina's eyes. [color=8FBC8F]"Comprende?"[/color]

An intense grin grew larger and larger on Zarina's face as captain Balik eased herself into the idea with her own brand of dominance. Inspired and drunk, Zarina raised her glass. [color=#E5E4E2]“Aye-aye.”[/color] and then she drank to the simple plan. [color=#E5E4E2]“Comperende. I could, like, have you arrested for malthink, or something. Oh, wait ...”[/color] she gestured her glass toward the woman. [color=#E5E4E2]“They're kinda good guys now, right? Guess that's okay, then.”[/color][/color]