YummyYummy

O R I F L A M M E

---

Interacting with: King Arcel@Force and Fury Ulfhild @Salsa Verde, All in the Red Table
Opportunity: Arnaud is nearly finished by Ulfhild, awakens from a short coma and shows up at the Red Table. He's not very happy to see one is missing.

---

Event: Aftermath of Relouse Location: The Torn Beach -> Medical Ward -> Red Table

---

It had gotten so cold. As the accumulated water made-instrument of death washed over the entire field and dragged Arnaud’s near-lifeless body through the blood-soaked mud of Relouse, he could only feel the cold air brushing through his damp body. It was unpleasant, and he hated it even in his half-conscious state. The man had not only overdrawn but also went far beyond what his neglected and ageing body could physically allow. Now laid a fat, broken warrior with skin and tattoos that didn’t match the average Parrench. His chest still mightily heaved, making it impossible to mistake him for dead, but it was easy to confuse him for an interloper that had no place in the war now that his recognizable armour had been peeled off by the foe he had vanquished.

The Aheri’s eyes could barely open. It felt like flashes of time passing by. Sometimes he would see a blade swing just over his eyes from a battle between two men fighting until the end. Sometimes he simply saw the smoke-covered skies above.

Am I dying?

He couldn’t move. Perhaps this was the end? And then an unexpected sight: A maiden whose features were blurred. He couldn’t see properly, but his imagination handled the missing details.

I must have perished. It is as some say- The virtuous are granted many wonders after death. The five take mercy even upon a beast like me.

There was a smile, but not one Ulfhild could see. Arnaud was for all intents and purposes immobile and defenceless. As the knife drew closer, his wheezing got louder.

A warrior too. One to mercifully claim my life. In a battlefield where so many die shitting themselves with their entrails ripped out. I am unworthy.

His dark eyes were almost daring the Eskandr huntress to finish the deed, but it would not come to pass. Something stopped her.

“You’ll see me again,

A wondrous thing to hear, Siwa.

I’ll make sure of it, Parrench dog.”

Parrench. Even the Eskandr maiden-warriors of my afterlife recognize me for what I am. Do not leave, please.

The envoy of death left, and Arnaud soon lost full consciousness. His bleeding and massively bruised body left to be claimed by the elements. It would be a few minutes after the semi-delirium that he would be found by one of his last remaining men. He alone dragged the Aheri back to safety, as Maerec and many others that could be counted on were left to confront their own turbulent fates.

Two days passed. There was no Asier visiting the near-comatose Arnaud. The few good souls dedicated to easing the pain of the suffering feared to approach the man. Partially for his unusual appearance, but also for the fact that he did have bouts of delirium in his ‘sleep’. Mumbles of the words ‘Bouzima’ and ‘Ahsal-hama’ were very common, and were sometimes even screamed to the dismay of the staff and the ill alike. It was only thanks to Moustafa, the same man that salvaged his once master, that Arnaud was properly tended after. As his bruises receded and both mana and body recuperated, his mind adjusted too.

He awoke the day Arcel called for a meeting- just an hour prior. Arnaud’s legs were killing him, his back even more. The perforated gut he carried for a couple of years now stung like he had never felt before. It was better for him to stay in bed, but none dared to tell Arnaud what to do even in his most vulnerable state. He was merely offered the only thing he needed to serve his Lord: The Face of the Executioner. Neither he nor his men showed a trace of their person as they acted as the King’s Justice. And today would not be an exception, no matter how many hindrances he would have to endure.

The consequences of war did little to the thuds and tremors that came with Arnaud being nearby. He was no Nashorn, but he was still massive with a heavy armour to boot. His steps were slow but his stride was strong. When he arrived at the Red Table, it was a known habit that the executioner would remain standing, usually close to the king, but he took a seat this time. Which one didn’t matter as it wasn’t like anyone would exactly miss a man like an armoured Aheri.

”I remain your Lame, Your Majesty. Point me in a direction and I shall deliver the Justice of Dami and Parrench onto those who oppose your order. I will be an immovable wall or an indiscriminate storm at your command, Mon Roi.” he recited with considerable zeal. Whether to attack or to defend, Arnaud was the king’s blade and bulwark. He trusted the judgement of the strong, and to this day hadn’t failed in his duties as a loyal ally to the crown.

A silence lingered after his claim, ”Has he perished?” he inquired behind the metallic filter of his featureless helm, ”The Lion Knight. Has he known his end at the hand of a few Southerners?” it was impossible to read his voice as it remained perfectly flat. Behind the veil of metal, Arnaud was grating his teeth. The Tourrare Knight was an asset they couldn’t ignore, and yet he wasn’t here. The Executioner could only deduce a select number of possibilities. Something stirred deep within Arnaud. An anger palpable enough that those with even a slight connection to Force or Essence magic could tell the beast of a man was not in a good state of mind.

The Hourglass Order

---

Interacting with: Jocasta @Force and Fury, Kaspar @Wolfieh, Casii @Pirouette, Vieri @jdh97, Silas @Tackytaff
Location: Tethered Refuge -> Virang -> Jurassic Park -> Zarina's Home -> Refuge

---

With the Vice-Wardens gone and a semblance of peace brought to the Refuge, Zarina made herself useful in the establishment of the new order. They had a good half of the day remaining and she made the best of it. Well, almost. The words uttered by Escarre concerning the Warden lingered in the Virangish’s psyche. ‘Taken care of’, a phrase someone in Zarina’s world would usually interpret as quite sinister. If only she knew the extent of it.

A day of planning and restructuring quickly passed, and with the seemingly endless days of exertion, Zarina didn’t have too much trouble finding sleep earlier than normal. It wasn’t a long sleep by any means and by the time she woke up, the hours of Ipte still hadn’t fully passed. Groggy as ever, she soldiered on– forgetting that the day prior there had been a conspicuous lack of someone close to her.

The Torragonese skies were a bit more clouded that day, which many considered a Godsend. Zarina found it concerning, given daylight took its time to arrive. Had she maybe slept so poor she had woken up in the early hours of Ipte by accident? The eventual arrival of familiar faces and trusted staff re-assured her for a time. What came with the later risers, however, was news she did not expect. News she should have been the first to know about. Not even morning coffee could keep her in place when Ysilla’s parting was made known to a few, although the concerned party was considerate enough to inform the twin before all others. The note was claimed by the next of kin and Zarina rushed over to Ysilla’s quarters.

No knocking or verbal warning, she just forced herself in. Ysilla was gone, the bed left in a semi-tidy state looking as though someone had rested on it but didn’t actually move any of the sheets. The two other puppets, as well as any potential traces of their broken forms were gone too. The second Al-Nader had left, and Zarina was none the wiser. Perhaps if she had paid more attention or just stopped the day prior, she’d have at least realised her own family had been conspicuously absent.

At first, a flood of emotions took over. A lot of uncertainty. Should she be angry? Sad? Relieved? There was an audience behind her, curious as to what actually happened and probably worried about Zarina. But like many that hardly knew Zarina– Hell even some that did know her– they were usually intimidated by her. With a swift kick of the door behind her, she’d put an end to this voyeuristic session and claim the room for herself.

”What did you do now, Ysilla?”

She smiled and chuckled. The edge of her sister’s bed looked like a comfortable spot to sit. For a solid ten minutes or so, Zarina was just there, quiet and musing. The silence was broken by the Virangish crouching by the bed and tugging an unused hookah. It was small and quite portable, enough to fit in a bag. Along with it were some dark tea leaves.

Let’s make a promise,

Zarina’s young voice of a distant time echoed in her own mind as she prepared her Shisha with the tea. Many favoured tobacco, but Zarina had an aversion for it and it seemed her sister cared enough to consider that.

if one of us gets into some shit. Or like, bites the dust? We don’t cry.

It took a moment for the contraption to be ready. Zarina lied down on the very same bed the replica of her sister had essentially shut down. One leg over the other with her dusty shoes still on. She was relaxed and alone with her thoughts. A first, given how she purposefully avoided these moments of solitude by keeping busy and exhausting herself to sleep.

Or feel sorry for ourselves. We take this time to sit down and not give a damn. Let the others feel bad for us, so we can catch a break.

Zarina took a first swig off her hookah. A nice, deep breath before exhaling the aromatic vapour. The thoughts of a simpler time made her laugh. Some outside could maybe hear it and maybe interpret it in different ways. She was counting on that. Let them think she was distraught, or angry, or devoured by anguish. She stayed true to the childhood promise she had made with her twin. The first half of her day would be some comfortable ass sitting, hookah tea smoking and recalling better times. A rare moment for this restless teen.

---

Enough indolence, it was the beginning of the hour of Eishiran. Siestas were done and slacking could only go so far in these times. But first, Zarina checked herself in the mirror, ensured her expression displayed the desired mopeyness she wanted and giggled at the result. And then she went out to help any way she could.

Abdel was outside, attempting to train fellow youths that weren’t as talented as he was in the Gift. With his temper and desire to cut corners before this hardship, it wasn’t going down too well. Zarina intervened, and while at first he scoffed at the notion of being helped, the fact that the help came with Zarina’s voice had him reconsider his stance very quickly.

“So, having fun, love?” she put emphasis on the last word, adding a slightly smokey tune to it, ”I-I don’t-” Zarina giggled at his shaky voice and approached him, standing tall by his side, ”Yeah, let’s make it fun, then? As a team?” she looked down at the young teen. His cheeks were read, his heart racing and his mind bringing him to overthinking far too much. Zarina clearly knew what she was doing and yet let the youth keep the spotlight in his training session, ”Okay. Drawing exercises, that’s your specialty. I’m not like you or these cuties, but I can help you guys with casting.”

The group nodded at Zarina’s proposal and Abdel felt her confidence falter very quickly when being watched by his fellow countrymen. The afternoon would go smoothly, with Abdel teaching more Tethered-specific notions to the youths while Zarina was more practical in her applications. A few self-defence moves were added to the mix. All in all, both she and Abdel made a nice team.

”Hey, Zaz.” he called out in Avincian over his mother tongue, ”Yeah, hun?” she looked over at the shorter lad, her hip pushed out and a hand over it, ”Would you like to, uh-” every nervous gesture in the book was checked by Abdel today, from scratching the back of his head to restless legs. Zarina waited patiently, ”Have a meal at the mess hall later?” his gaze stayed avoidant even as he proposed the idea of a cute date.

Zarina approached him, leaned in and gave him a light smooch on the cheek. His heart beat so fast and his body felt something he didn’t get to feel too often, ”Maybe after we finish what we started here, hmm?” a rejection for sure, but a very soft one with a little something Abdel could take with him. He nodded and smiled gingerly at her, ”I need you focused on these lot anyway. We’ll need them and youwhen the worst comes, alright?”

The day came and went quickly for Zarina. The daily rituals done and children well looked after. She had to thank her sister for such a mellow day. A day she definitely needed if she was to be fully functional when it’d matter.

On the second day, Zarina awoke in her usual early hours with the sun barely even peeking out of the horizon. Nobody to bother her, or so she thinks …

Zarina encounters a Yasoi that has been waiting for her very early in the morning.
Her name is Casii, and she likes to spit. Zarina hates spit but invites her to breakfast for some much needed coffee.
Meat grosses the melon-making Yasoi out, creating a cycle of revulsion. They nearly square up, only to then part ways.
I’m sure they’ll make great friends.

After the strange encounter with a Yasoi, Zarina takes the early morning hours to herself in her room, barely touching her food.
She is visited by her morning partner in prisoner duty: Silas. He went on to do the job on his own, feeling a tad intimidated by Zaz.
He is invited to her room and to eat her cold breakfast. He shares a bit about himself and his sight. Pretty mellow, until he mentions Ysilla.
They part ways on good terms!

During the hot hours of the day, Vieri is partnered with Zarina to look after the youngest in the library.
They offer wine to the Virangish as tribute for being late. She accepts and absolves them until comes the time for entertainment.
Vieri is designated as the Wyrm to be slain by the energized kids. They survive until they all succumb to a nap. They defended their home bravely.
Vieri and Zarina got a little tipsy too.

Zarina and Kaspar are on patrol duty, partially due to staff being locked up, and partially from volunteering. Yes, she probably volunteered Kaspar.
She teaches him how to ride and coaxes a few answers as to how he fights. She teased him until the bitter end with all of it.
They connect in some ways, even if both have their own shells. Kaspar learns how to horse, and Zarina learns how to Kaspar and his blood magic. And hobbies.
They’ve got a good start for the coming Trials.

Zaz x Casper

The time for the siesta had passed. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon and the sand dunes promised even more safe shading for those unfortunate to patrol. It would so happen to be Zarina’s round and she brought along Kaspar for the ride. He was one of those with restricted mobility- a burden to the group should immediate retreat be necessary. The passionate rider of the group was keen on fixing this shortcoming, especially with the potential need to evacuate should things go sour.

”So, wait, what’s the deal with him looking like you, then?” she asked, clearly talking about Felix. There was small talk and some subjects tackled, but it culminated in the inevitable doppelganger discussion. Zarina was on top of a dark brown mare with a recently brushed mane, while not-Felix was given a male horse (not stallion, yes) with a similar base colour but with some white spots around his back and abdomen. Quite the docile one– a proper steed for a beginner, ”Loosen your hold a little, he’s pacing with Fiorella here.” she gave her horse a nice tap on the neck.

Kaspar shifted in his seat, both adjusting to riding and contemplating the question before him. The boy had yet to decide what he would tell his fellow classmates about the connection between himself and Felix—he’d never wanted to usurp the other boy’s life, but upheaving it all would be… complicated.

“It’s an interesting coincidence,” he admitted, “And he’s also from Helbahn. But we’ve not found any blood relation.” None of what he said was a lie—and the boy was careful of that, given how astute he knew Zarina could be. But there were many lines to read between, and he didn’t know how to avoid those, ”Uh-huh.” she simply answered, not looking too impressed by the explanations, but also clearly out of her depth in the subject.

Watching Zarina’s actions, though, he adjusted his hands on the reins, sliding more slack from his grasp while carefully eyeing hers. He patted the horse on the neck gently. “Is this true, Apelsinfrö? Are you copying Fiorella? You should be your own horse.” He tsked, voice sounding far too serious for the joke it was.

Zarina chuckled, ”You wanna go your own way, Apels- Apel is his name now. Apel and you wanna bond a little?” and then she smirked, ”Let’s go for a little warm up trot, then, shall we?” with only a tap of her boots against the animal’s sides, the mare began to to pick up the pace and trotted about. They were essentially circling the Refuge, making sure there wasn’t anything abnormal and keeping an eye out for potential intruders, ”C’mon, keep up!”

Kaspar narrowly bit back an exclamation as Zarina spurred her mare into a trot. Beneath him, Apelsinfrö was picking up speed, though his gait had not yet changed. The noble boy had learned one valuable lesson in the horse riding days of his youth—that you could most certainly kick too hard. He tapped his heels against the horse’s flank and spurred easily into a trot. ”Good!” Zarina cheered, her head consistently oriented toward her riding partner to ensure no accident happened.

Bouncing in his saddle and trying to shift his weight downwards, Kaspar kept pace with Zarina—though he was pretty sure Apel was doing most of the work for him, thank the Pentad. “You seem to know a lot about riding,” he asked as he adjusted to the change in pace. “Does it run in your family, or is it just a personal interest?”

”Nope, not a family thing.” there was her giddy answer. The girl definitely seemed happy to be riding, ”Mother hates ‘em. Well, all animals. I’m willing to bet she thinks I’m rebelling.” she tugged on the reins a little to equalise herself with Kaspar since she had taken a slight lead, ”Think you and Apple are ready for a canter, hmm?”

There would be no galloping yet, though, as she eventually tightened her grip and brought Fiorella back into a stable pace, ”So. Now that we’re nice and comfy, away from the nosy lot,” they were indeed quite far, and behind a large dune of sand that even shielded them from the Refuge’s sights, ”it’s time I get nosy myself, little Kaspar.” her lips pushed out a toothy smirk, ”Wanna tell me how you mashed the Halassa again? I had time to think, and even Mini-Padre’s fun methods weren’t that hard to figure out.” Fiorella scooted to the side, closing the little distance between her and ‘Apple’, ”How’d you do it? Or did Ysilla cheat and steal a kill to one-up me?”

“Is a canter very different from a trot?” was Kaspar’s response as his grip tightened on the reins. He shot a look towards Zarina, clearly nervous at the idea of speeding up, but was not outright rejecting the idea. ”It’s faster. And you’ll probably eat shit if you’re not careful.” she replied with the usual shit-eating grin.

Then she slowed down, and something reminded him of that first night in the desert, when they’d talked on the way to the refuge. As she spoke of getting nosy, his posture tightened and the features of his face drifted into something neutral. He expected a deeper dig at the connection between himself and Felix—but the Virangish girl had a different thought in mind.

His expression did not mirror his surprise, though, as he chewed on the answers he could give. Finally, voice cool in the practiced way of someone trying to remain unreadable, he replied, “I think it hurt itself more hitting my barrier than I expected. Or perhaps Ysilla did steal it and I didn’t notice—maybe even Jocasta.” He knew the cool tone would not keep her from suspecting he was being untruthful, but he hoped (though a large part of him suspected it was in vain) that she would not dig any further.

”Uh-huh.” another one of those, although despite her blasé demeanour, she didn’t drop it this time, ”So what actually killed it?” she mirrored his attempt at a poker face, although her gaze was adamant in its focus toward Kaspar’s direction. She was expecting something, and that stare would remain inexorable until the Virangish wannabe-inquisitor had her answer. Unrelated to the current circumstances, Fiorella released a cute little neigh!

Kaspar met her gaze with his own, holding it steadily. He could tell she would not back down, but he’d been trained in the art of keeping shit to himself. Still, the boy didn’t want to alienate himself through obstinance; what he’d done treaded the line of acceptable, but it was possible no answer would cause more alarm than a true one.

Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Why do you want to know?” Rather than being accusatory, the question was soft—something in his voice almost asking for a reason to trust her, a feeling he’d not expected to encounter when he first came to Ersand’Enise.

The way Kaspar posed his question seemed to matter as Zarina retreated back a little, adopting a more relaxed posture on top of her saddle, looking as though she was just about ready to tip over and lie down with her eyes now toward the sky, ”Because I wanna know what you can do.” she exhaled from her nostrils and paused for a moment, ”Aaaaand, I recalled our talk– y’know, after the fact.” she reached back to give her horse a couple of taps on its rear, prompting it to suddenly enter a trot just as she straightened her posture.

Fiorella cut off Apple, causing both animals to stop in their tracks, ”So I thought: Maybe he’s actually more than just some glass-making, silent boy at the back of the classroom sort of person.” by how she gripped the reins and held herself, it was clear she knew how to herd these animals and keep them pacified. Her expression remained calm, even playful, ”So. How did the Halassa die? Because it wasn’t melted brains- I’ve seen that before, and don’t ask how- nor was it my sister.”

“No one’s taught me how to hurt or fight with The Gift,” Kaspar admitted softly, glancing away from Zarina. “But they’ve taught me how to create, and I had to figure out for myself how to help the people around me.” He exhaled through the nose, red eyes returning to Zarina and meeting her passively.

“I put a rock in its throat. Like severing it from the inside,” he admitted. “It was not the cleanest kill, but it was what I needed to do to make sure I was worthwhile.” His expression was still stoic, but something in the boy’s red eyes were almost pleading, try as he might to hide it.

When his eyes met Zarina’s, he’d see pursed lips and eyes wide, as if she was shocked! She even started to breathe a little faster, her body language looking tense like an animal having had their space invaded, ”... Oh, Blood Magic!” she blurted out in uncharacteristic giddiness, ”That’s it? Huh. That’s a smart way to handle it, actually.” she nodded, her facial expression suggested she was impressed too.

Fiorella was guided to the side and made to pace with Apple again, ”Were you worried that I would actually lose my shit?” she still had a cheeky smirk on her face, ”With all the ‘Binding Magic isn’t used offensively’” she even used a silly, low voice, ”stuff we hear back at school? Mmm yes, I’ll definitely be super concerned over Offensive Binding after seeing twenty Froabasses just warped away!” the distance between the two was enough for her to reach out and tap Kaspar’s shoulder, ”Canter?”

Kaspar stiffened at Zarina’s initial reaction, the barest hint of panic filtering into his red eyes. His grip on Apelsinfrö’s reins tightened—and then, at her casual exclamation, the boy’s hands and face both seemed to go slack. He stared near-blankly at the girl, barely registering her words, and replied a startled, “Th-thanks. Thank you.”

He glanced down at his hands, a healthy blush creeping up his neck in embarassment. “My… my tutors were very sure to make it clear that Blood Magic is forbidden—that I should never use it. They always wanted to make sure I wouldn’t hurt someone else,” he murmured softly. “And I don’t want to hurt anyone. But Binding Magic relies on controlling the nature of Blood Magic, and I don’t know how to control the nature of something I don’t understand.”

The Helbahnese boy leaned into her tap, exhaling heavily, and gave her a small smile. “Only if you promise to point out why I eat shit the first time,” he half-joked, refocusing his grip on the reins.

Zarina nodded, ”Alright, Mr. Rule breaker, Lord of Law infringing, I will be your teacher today.” the two animals parted to create more of a gap between the two, ”Now, see, there’s no forbidden stuff with horse riding … Well, apart from hurting the thing or anything that’s exceptionally stupid. So you don’t gotta worry about that.” she reached her hands to grasp some more reins, leaving little to be loose when she would begin to go faster, ”You wanna grab your reins like this– Don’t want them getting all wobbly and end up whipping you or the horse. Just don’t pull. He’ll think you wanna stop or swerve.” she kept a close eye on his posture and movements, making sure he could see what she was doing in tandem.

”We’re gonna go in a trot, and then you’re going to give a few more kicks until he goes fast, yeah?” for a moment she let go of the leather fabric she had been grasping the whole time to brush her hands over her hair. The elastic that kept it in a tail was removed and then readjusted as she anticipated a potential accident if she got a bit too quick, ”If you feel a little unsure, grab some of his mane. Again, don’t pull. Helps you keep steady and he’ll react faster if you wanna stop.”

Kaspar listened intently to the instructions, copying Zarina’s postures and movements. He leaned forward a little, grasping some of Apel’s mane between his fingers. He was careful not to pull—and honestly felt a little worried that he might hurt the animal, but trusted Zarina not to give him instructions that would do so.

“Who begins?” he asked, voice a touch nervous as he watched his classmate, waiting for the go-ahead.

”You.” her response was instant, her tone flat and her facial features consistent with her cheeky attitude. With the most minute of Kinetic casting, she caused a little whip onto Apple’s rear. The horse, surprised by the sudden strike, neighed and skipped the trotting and went to a rather speedy canter! Not quite a gallop, as Zaz quickly matched the agitated beast with Fiorella after giving a couple of calculated heel-taps, encouraging it to simply follow, ”If you fall on your ass, watch for the hooves!” she called out, loud enough to be heard through the stomping and the air passing through them.

Kaspar let out an undignified yelp as Apelsinfrö took off, not expecting to start so suddenly. He hung onto the canter, albeit too tightly, for the first several seconds. But his grip on the hair in his horse’s mane was imperfect, and as he tensed he pulled—signaling Apel to stop. He was lucky enough to notice the pull a moment before the horse responded, rocking hard in the saddle as momentum tried to carry him forward. He managed not to fall, though just barely.

After a second of stillness, and with the anticipation of Zarina’s quick approach, he tapped Apel again, spurring him to walk and then into a trot—and after a second of trotting, he tapped again, gait slipping into a canter that he held onto more solidly this time, smiling slightly at his marginally better attempt.

Zarina’s lips parted more and more in anticipation of a disaster, which she would of course heroically prevent. Unfortunately, Kaspar actually managed himself just fine. A sigh of frustration escaped her, but in the end, she kept a subtle little smile on her visage when sharing gazes with her mistreated apprentice, ”Hey look, you’re not dead or in Magic Prison! So far so good.” they were going at the horse-equivalent of a jog, and hopefully the fresh learner adjusted as Zarina did not appear to have any intention of stopping.

They were a good half-mile away from the Refuge. The highest points were still visible to them over the dunes. The tethered could still sense them, some could maybe even hear them still, but such notions did not seem to perturb the Virangish rider, ”A blood mage, a super powered warper girl from a refuge, a tethered mini-priest, a puppeteer, a little lion and the prettiest girl in all of Virang gather in ass nowhere to defend the good cause.” she chuckled, looking over at the orange horizon before them. The twilight had just begun its reign, and with it came pleasant breezes, ”Sounds like a tale we can spin to look extra cool at school, eh? Or the start of a funny joke.”

“I’m not sure everyone would find it so cool,” he mused as they cantered through the dunes. “At least two of those things are probably against school rules… Though we could spin a rather good joke, I think.” He was getting the hang of this particular bit of riding, though certainly did not have the poise and experience that Zarina did.

After a brief venture through the perimeter they sought to patrol, Zarina whistled to get Kaspar’s attention, ”Alright, little break. These two deserve a little reward.” a light tug brought Fiorella to a trot, and then another with a loosened hold on the reins allowed the breast to relax until they entered a halt. Zaz hopped off the critter and reached for a small pouch attached to her saddle with a few old carrots. One was tossed over to the pale boy who hopefully got his steed to stop too, ”You know how to feed them without losing your hand, right?”

Palm flat, treat clearly presented to the animal and a good rub of the idle hand on the neck was enough to get those big lips flapping. The carrot was quickly scooped from her palm with a little bit of gooey saliva left behind, ”Now that’s a good girl. Yummy yum!” she cheered before giving the horse a light smooch on the cheek, ”So, what do you do for fun, Kaspar? Apart from conjuring rocks in other beings’ heads.”

Kaspar coaxed Apelsinfrö into a halt more gradually this time, pulling his high boots from the stirrups and swinging off the horse. He took the carrot from Zarina, watching her for a moment before offering his own horse the treat, keeping his fingers out of the way as he patted softly along the neck.

“It was in the throat,” he reminded Zarina teasingly, “Mostly, I sketch and study plants. Study other things too, when I have the opportunity,” he explained as Apelsinfrö nibbled happily on the carrot.

Zarina raised her eyebrows, ”That sounds uh-” she paused, eyes shifting side to side as if looking for a word, ”Cool?” not very convincing, and she didn’t try beyond that, ”Actually, hey, recall our last session. Gotta make it sound epic!” she cleared her throat with a balled fist before her mouth while the other caressed the animal’s neck, ”I am a scholar of the unknown! The most peculiar of plantlife intrigues me, and with knowledge of their essence, I seek to better understand the dark secrets of this world …” dramatic as always, her voice was on point with the sinister impersonation.

Kaspar chuckled at her reminder, listening to the impersonation. Adopting a similar tone, he continued, “I am a master of capturing form in ash. I duplicate plant and man alike across the continent!” Smirking towards the Virangish girl, he countered, “And what fascinating entertainment do you find, Mistress of Intrigue?”

”And man? What the fuck?” she conferred a most judgemental glare at Kaspar’s direction. A stare even more intense than her last attempt to make him uneasy. It was obviously an act, and she’d let go soon after. Fiorella was given a few scratches on her perky ears before she answered, ”Well! You’ve just experienced one of my more favoured hobbies. Doesn’t get more grand than that.” a second carrot was fed to the mare, because she was a particularly good girl, ”I otherwise get the girls to play cards. Or other games when we’re bored. Oh and work. Yeah, current work’s actually loads o’fun.” no grand display of her own hobbies, she kept it at that.

“Mostly duplicating biology studies from books—it helps me grasp it more easily. My tutors liked to make sure I knew a lot about the the body and healing,” he explained, understanding that this was not a serious gripe—though he did still shift slightly as some small part of his mind worried on instinct. “I can see why you enjoy riding. It’s fun, when you aren’t eating shit,” the noble boy admitted warmly.

”Yeah.” she responded with a somewhat smokey tone. Her attention was on her temporary steed. Gold hues in her eyes were evocative of many emotions, and it looked as though she longed for something. Like all this riding was missing a crucial element. It was a mix of serenity but also regret that her voice carried. This brief lapse of vulnerability was short lived as she shook her head and quickly hopped back onto the saddle, ”We should, y’know, patrol. Before they realize we’re slacking.”

Kaspar’s eyes watched Zarina, concerned for a moment as she seemed to have a moment to herself. He contemplated asking her about it, but decided against a direct approach—knowing the generally tough exterior she often put up. Instead, he nodded. “You're probably right, But if anyone asks… I know nothing about us slacking,” he said with a knowing grin.

”If you tattle, I’ll have your tongue, boyo.”” she drew a hunting knife from the back end of the saddle and clumsily waved it in his direction before putting it away, ”Actually, as I say this, you should probably be trained for battle, huh?” she pursed her lips at the notion. The whole Refuge was being prepared, and their own group shouldn’t be slacking either. Ayla and Yalen weren’t exactly fighters either.

As the boy mounted Apelsinfrö, the horse snorting beneath him but standing relatively still, he glanced towards his classmate. “For what it’s worth… If you find yourself wanting to ride with someone, I’d be agreeable. Or if you ever want someone to talk to,” he offered, keeping his tone light but his eyes knowing.

Zarina scoffed, albeit not in any sort of aggressive or condescending manner. It looked like a reflex to dismiss such things. The horses began to pace back toward the Refuge with the night sky slowly creeping onto the opposite end of the world, ”You’re sweet, Kaspar.” she says softly. The pale teen wouldn’t be able to see her expression from his position as she had taken a slight lead- as she usually did. ”May need to compete with Ayla for the riding, though. She does like those too.” she snapped her fingers, ”Wait. Idea. Do you think a Shetland Pony would fit her?!”

Kaspar snorted, doing a decent impression of his horse in the moment. “If you’re placing Ayla on a Shetland Pony, I would very much like to ride with you two,” he responded, trying not to sound too much like a little shit. “Though I’m more than willing to join you two regardless. I already spend plenty of time sketching with Ayla—hopefully she’s not grown weary of me.”

Zarina clicked her tongue, ”Ayla? Weary? Did the trotting shake your brain and turn it into sludge?” she turned her head with a brow raised and a grimace that confirmed her question to be genuine, ”Just ask her to hang out and she’ll just follow you. Maybe even do something cute.” and just as she said that, Fiorella found it appropriate to discharge at about this time, ”I’m pretty sure most of the group is pretty harmless. Except for that Yasoi. And I guess Jo. Hmmm.”

Kaspar hung his head in mock shame. “You’re right—I don’t think she could get tired of anyone. Almost anyone, at least,” he agreed. “Though I’m not sure I’d call you harmless,” he added, raising an eyebrow. “I saw the way that Halassa’s head exploded.” Zarina retaliated with a snap of her fingers and her index pointed at Kaspar, ”Just the brain! No way did I make that skull burst. I know my stuff!” she feigned offence, but in the end she nodded, ”Although you’re right, I’m not harmless. But I’m nice!”

“Nice—but frightening, too. A good person to be acquainted with. Enemies? Not so much,” Kaspar responded, staring down her pointing finger like the barrel of a gun. She slowly lowered her ‘weapon’ and forced a light chuckle, ”Do I actually scare you?” she tugged on the reins to have Fiorella stop so she could match Apple better and forgo her lead, ”Even more than a big, fat Wyrm?”

“More than the Wyrm? No. You haven’t tried to eat me yet,” Kaspar replied, smirking. “But you do scare me more than most of our classmates.” The boy paused for a moment, contemplating, before he added, “This is the most time I’ve spent with any classmates other than Ayla, though—so perhaps you’re not all that scary, relatively.”

Zarina squinted, ”Oh so I just LOOK intimidating?” she crossed her arms, letting the reins loose though it seemed the horse wasn’t bothered by this and kept going, ”I know you boys aren’t used to seeing a tall girl but c’moooon.” an eye roll later and she was holding onto her horse again, ”Or maybe it’s just how I bash skulls when I get pissy. Could be one or the other.” a teasing grin reigned on her expression as she looked over at him, ”Better not get me pissy, now.”

“You do look quite intimidating,” Kaspar offered, getting a good feel for the way Zarina interacted with others (or at least him) with these teasing moments. “And I watched you explode Halassa brain, which I imagine is a skill transferable to irritating humans,” at this, he sent another smirk her direction. “But you haven’t tried to kill me just yet, for which I count myself fortunate.”

The Virangish snorted, ”I don’t think I’ve tried to kill anyone in this journey, yet. Might change.” they were approaching the Refuge, and by then the sky had gotten quite dark with dusk serving as their main source of light before the light pollution cleared and let way to the stars, ”Also, if we’re worried about brain states after encounters, I’d fear Mini-Padre.”

Kaspar nodded sagely. “I think aberration-mad Halassa should fear Yalen, but I think you’re far more likely to use similar techniques against a person. Our dear priest doesn’t seem fond of violence,” he explained, ”Until he is. Until one gives the holyman a good reason.” she grimly responded to Kaspar’s observation. His moniker for the blonde was not teasing though it may sound that way. His red gaze wandered over the steadily growing walls of the Refuge, and he wondered what his classmates and his brother had done in the time they were gone.

Zarina consults Jocasta concerning a special request. She wants to see someone, and even bring them back here, before the big day. It’s her horse.
They go on a grand space-time adventure ALL THE WAY TO VIRANG. Many misadventures and learning occasions, including going back to the Jurassic period.
Zarina is reunited with Riesco, her Camargue Stallion, and Jocasta gets to ride Gina, the Shetland pony destined for Ayla.
All four have the sweetest moments together.

Jojo’s Bizarre Evening

The sun had since set, the cool night breeze ventured through the open halls of the liberated Refuge and those older than twelve were allowed up a little longer than usual. Some stayed up to do the rounds, others simply enjoyed the clear skies hours before their potential end. It was a time to be with loved ones, share the bits of happiness they may have left in this world and form some final memories for the aether that was the afterlife.

The anxiety of what was to come was not lost on Zarina, and if anything it had gotten worse the longer she stayed in the Refuge. Her sister was gone and now she felt more alone than normal. She wouldn’t let the others see this, of course, but she couldn’t bottle things up when the times were this dire. There was, however, a glimmer of hope. A hope she had been cautious of for a while and now was her best hope for some mental relief.

Knock-Knockknocknock-Knock … Knock-Knock

She waited, patiently, before Jocasta’s quarters’ door. Clad in humble, beige clothing typical of the cooking staff, she clearly wasn’t there to dazzle and make a fuss.

The Jocasta who emerged was trying to look like she’d been sleeping. In truth, she’d been close. Her hair was a dishevelled mess that cascaded in tangles like some kind of blonde waterfall down her back. She wasn’t even in her wheeled-chair, floating with a groggy nonchalance as only a skyborn of considerable power could. All at once, the door swung open with a high-pitched squeal. “You ever heard of a thing called sleep?” she grumbled, gazing tiredly, but sans any legitimate hostility at Zarina.

”Only rumors.” she replied with a deadpan voice to match her flat tone to conceal the sass of her reply, ”Sorry for waking you, though, Jo.” she tightened her arms around herself and let a silence linger for a second or two, ”I- uh, kind of wanted to talk about something.” her eyes shifted about, avoiding the short blonde’s gaze, ”Something important. And yeah, it could wait. Or we could be Wyrm chow first thing tomorrow. So. Yeah.” It wasn’t common for her to have such a wobbly voice, maybe she did mean business here. Her gaze eventually locked onto Jocasta’s frame, but eye contact was still scarce.

Finally ran out of bitch fuel, Jocasta thought. Well… a part of her thought. Apparently she wasn’t out of it. Seeing the likes of Zarina show up outside her door looking like a lost puppy would’ve brought her immense satisfaction mere days ago. It still brought her a tiny twinge of schadenfreude, but the tethered tamped down on this. “Um… yeah,” she replied after a moment, not quite letting the pause stretch into awkwardness. “welcome to my humble abode.” She’d been keeping up her gravity loop almost absently, but had to adjust a bit as she started moving towards her bed. Moments later, she settled upon it. “And for what it’s worth, don’t worry. We’re not going to be wyrm chow. My people are an army, and we’re ready. Now -” she paused and sniffed. “- what was on your mind?” She patted the bed beside her and looked up in anticipation.

After the briefest of hesitations, Zarina stepped into the ‘abode’. It resembled most other quarters in the Refuge, which gave way to familiarity and thus a way to relax for Zarina, ”Not just the Wyrm that’s on my mind. But yeah, they do kick ass.” she tittered nervously. When Jocasta offered a seat, Zarina awkwardly stared at it for a moment as if unsure if she would. She capitulated and took her seat with about a foot of distance between her and the tethered powerhouse, ”I wanted to ask something, first.” again, she crossed her arms, only to unfold them a second later and nervously brush them over her legwear, ”That thing you did, back in the desert …” those first words came with the same shifty eyes she started their exchange with, but when she got to the point she landed her gaze to Jo’s and didn’t avert it anymore, ”What did you do? Did you really move them away, just like that?”

As Zarina’s last few words reached her, Jocasta was already dampening the sound in case of eavesdroppers. “I uh… wouldn’t quite call it ‘just like that’,” she amended. “That might’ve been the hardest thing I’ve ever done with the Gift.” She decided not to be a bitch and try to guilt Zarina anymore, though. “But I get your point.” she knit and unknit her fingers, pursing her lips for a moment before continuing. “We think of the five magics and howo four of them are all about energy, but hasn’t binding - really blood - always seemed like the odd one out: how it uses matter?” She didn't wait for an answer. “Well, there’s another kind - harder to grasp - that goes beyond energy, and it pulls upon space and time. That’s what I used.” Her eyes met Zarina’s, unflinching. “That’s what you want to learn,” she concluded.

Zarina sucked in her lips at the mention of Jocasta’s considerable exertion and achievement. The guilting was definitely going to work, ”All of it went by so fast, heh. We do kind of owe you. A lot.” a weak attempt to humble herself, although her fidgety demeanour and obvious nervousness made it clear there was no domination to be had as she may often seek in normal interactions.

Then came some education. One on Blood, a familiar concept to Zarina, and one on notions that felt a tad farfetched. Nonetheless she remained attentive, ”I won’t lie. I can hardly visualize what space and time can even look like, let alone draw or bend it in any way.” she shook her head, and then paused for a moment, ”... Is that why you talked about the past, and maybe the future? I uhm-” she scratched her cheek, feeling a little out of her depth here, ”I just imagined it as, like, just moving things, or people, to other places aaaand- Yeah it’s simple thinking but I promise I have a good reason to about this stuff.” she stumbled in her thought process and even her words. It was hard to articulate what she really wanted, when the ideas proposed to her were oh so alien to some simple teen from Virang.

“Damn. Who switched your brain with Kaspar’s?” Jocasta teased and Zarina snorted, partly to allay some of her own discomfort at Zarina’s earnest, nervous intensity. “And it is a bit like that, but you’re not so much moving people or things through space and time as those are one big canvas and you’re grabbing onto its little threads and moving it around them and sometimes creating little gaps to slip them through somewhere else in it.” She shrugged. “Not easy to explain. Now, my turn to ask the questions, like I was - you’re right - probingly before. What’s your reason? People always have a compelling reason andiit’ll usually wreck the world or at least their lives.”
Now it was Zarina’s turn to deliver, ”That bad, huh? Good thing I have a pro to help me through.” she had regained a little bit of her spunk with a right smirk to go with her first response. She didn’t beat around the bush and properly answered right after, ”There’s -” a brief pause, she considered her wording carefully, ”someone I want to see. You know, before things may get bad. Not just the idea of dying but- like, you know, things back home may not be the same should some things go bad, y’know?” her leg was restless, even as she pressed her hand on it to try and calm it, ”It’s someone I at least owe a goodbye to- even if I don’t intend to die. No drama, I promise. Just, yeah. It’s important. Enough for me to ask for a favour,” she sighed, ”When I owe you about three of those already.”

“Ysilla?” Jocasta guessed. Zarina shook her head, ”Someone at home. Ysilla … Knows where I am, and how I feel. He hasn’t seen me in- Shit- two months?”

Oh, so not what I thought. Jocasta tilted her head in that way she often did when curious or bemused. “So, not to be a prying bitch, but I know you’re not made of papier mache,” the blonde began frankly. “Who, and why?It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…” She tucked some hair behind an ear. “You don’t mess around this stuff.”

Zarina was worried about the justification of it all. After all, in the grand scheme of things, or at least of this Refuge’s issues, this was small. She took a big breath and put on her big girl pants, ”It’s someone I’ve lived a good while with when times were the worst. I- hmm, I think it’s better you see him rather than I describe too much.” her lips curved into a subtle smile, ”I can just say he’s very trustworthy.” she even giggled at the thought of the contrary, how it’d even be possible, ”As for why- I’ve made the mistake of not reaching out, or just being there, when it mattered the most.” another deep inhale. She was gritting her teeth as she recalled, ”I don’t want to fuck this up again. That and-” she shrugged, ”He can be very helpful, if you can bring him back, somehow~” maybe she was pushing it, but her spirits were lifted a little more at such a thought.

Zarina was still playing it coy. Jo pursed her lips. Was she… embarrassed? How could she possibly be embarrassed about asking to see a person so useful and important to - Then, it hit her. “He’s a horse, isn’t he?” the tethered stated, deadpan. She remembered how Zarina’d had a way with animals, how she was always by the stables when she wasn’t doing something else. “Right?” she prodded. “I’m not shaming you, by the way,” she quickly clarified. “Animals are often waaay better than people.”

”Yes.” there was no hesitation or more games, she full-on admitted it with quite the flush on her stressed facial features, ”And they really are.” relief washed over her when Jocasta uttered feelings Zarina resonated with so much, ”But, yeah, it’s my horse. Riesco. I uh- didn’t want to bring him to school. Big boat trips, not good for the heart. And I just didn’t have accommodation.” she nervously justified herself, although in the end it was clear she’d have brought him if she could, ”I work well with him. And I miss him. It’s mostly that, really. I miss him.” she missed a few others, too. But Riesco never lied or went off on his own, ”Would you like to meet him, Jocasta?” she looked over at her blonde friend with a sly, little smile on her face, ”... Although now that I think about it, how would you even know where I live?”

“Virang, somewhere,” Jocasta replied flatly, a corner of her mouth ticking upwards in a smirk. “I’ll be honest: I’m all for it, but there is a problem…” Zarina leaned in just a little, her hopes pushed to high heavens and now ready to fall face first, ”W-what is it?”

“I’m not the Paradigm, Zaz,” admitted Jocasta, a bit ashamed. “I’ve never… teleported anything - myself included - outside of my own range.” She paused, looking pained. “I mean, in theory,” she continued, “I could,” She bit her lower lip. “I wanna try, you know. I have the capacity for it…” She blushed a bit. “Crazy idea, but maybe we could do it in stages. Virang isn’t so far from Torragon. I could try to work my way up in distance...”

A nod of premature acceptance was all Zarina could muster. At least until a new hope emerged under the form of a slightly contrived, but potentially effective solution, ”So like … We’d essentially hop over as far as you can in rapid succession.” she blinked and paused to actually process it, ”... That sounds really fucking hard.” arms crossed, she shot Jocasta a concerned look, ”Is there, like, any way I could help, then? I feel like I’m asking for a loooot.” and it made her quite nervous again.

“You are, chica.” Jocasta sat up a bit straighter and cracked her knuckles. “I’m gonna own that ass after this, comprende?” She grinned like a little fucker. “but it’s also a challenge and I’m up for a challenge. That's how we grow.” She took a deep breath. “Besides…” she leaned in. “It kinda sounds like a fun time, no? And I could stand to get away from all this grim seriousness and just zip through a dozen different random places.” She raised a finger to her lips and tapped on them pensively for a moment. “Mind you ‘rapid succession’ might be stretching things a bit. Accounting for missteps, rest time, and other breaks, we could probably get there in about two hours?”

Zarina liked this tone. From being a little shit to an upbeat go-getter, it seemed like this was going to happen after all. She refrained from commenting on rear-ownership, knowing full well how indebted she’d be, but got proactive when the time came to prepare for this otherworldly adventure. She hopped on her feet and clapped her hands together, ”Okay. How can I help?” she was very eager to do something, even if it was small, ”Oh! I know a few stops we can make on the way. Couple of not-so-shit Taverns to get a quick bite or sip for a break. I- uh, kind of rode the border a few times.”

Why am I doing this, again? Jocasta thought, rising from her bed. It was nighttime, she had a dozen more pressing things to worry about, and she had never gone such a distance before. And I’m doing it for… a horse. She raised an eyebrow in Zarina’s direction. “You be our map, then,” she allowed, shaking her head and smiling ruefully. “But, um… get out for a second. I have to change.”

Zarina nodded, ”Oh, yeah, I should get ready too.” she took a couple of steps backwards with those long legs of hers before performing a quick 180 and skedaddled out of Jocasta’s quarters. The Virangish was going to pack light: Her usual travel bag with a gourd of water, a pouch full of Asper and a few Kurush, another satchel with a handful of old carrots and her Hexaic pendant she kept in the bag rather than her neck for the coming adventure. And of course, both her Shamshirs were sheathed at her lower back for practicality. Finally, a couple of cloaks were picked up– the sort that could shield the face too in case of a sandstorm though in this case the shielding of one’s identity could be more useful.

Before Zarina left her own quarters, however, she paused and stood a good minute in doing absolutely nothing. Something was perturbing her, and when it hit her, she snapped her fingers and got to it with haste. A piece of paper from her night table was seized, and she wrote a brief message. Once the errand was complete, she waited patiently by Jocasta’s door.

The tethered emerged, like a little ghosty-thing, floating a few inches above the ground, a long hooded cloak covering her entire form, and only a smirk peeking out. Her hood shifted a little bit as she looked Zarina up and down. “Shit, Zaz, you look ready for an expedition. I brought…” Pale little hands appeared from her long sleeves and patted around. “A flask and a few Corona.” Jocasta’s grin grew. “Meals are on you!” She half turned but then thought better of it and turned back. “And drinks,” she chirped. “You know, in better times, I’d say we should turn this into a pub crawl.” The blonde giggled, gesturing for her friend to follow as they made their way down a colonnade to a remote part of the Refuge. “Imagine being too drunk to ride after all that,” she snorted. “Ipte, it’s been a while since I’ve been good and toasted.”

”Would you find it weird if I said I only got ‘good and toasted’ only once in my life?” the spare cloak was shoved into her backpack, overloading it even more than it already was but it withstood if just barely.

Jocasta’s eyebrows show up, not that Zaz could actually see it. “Uhhh, yeah. Colour me surprised. Always took you for the type to dive in headfirst, but I guess it makes sense. You’re not daft like me.”

“I don’t know about drinks, replied Zarina, but there might be something nice to munch on at home if we have time …”

“I won't’ say no to that. Viranish food is… not so different from Djamantese, just… a bit spicier.” Then, finally, they reached a little cleared space behind a supply shed. Jocasta flipped her hood back, serious again, rolled her sleeves up, and settled - cross-legged - on the dusty ground. Before beginning, she glanced up at Zarina again, furrowing her brow slightly.. “What’s your RAS again?”

”Seven point …” she paused, not to actually think about the answer but to let a little grunt out as she sat before Jocasta and mimicked her position, ”Sixty-two. And you?”

“Gods, high: like over nine, which is absurd. Truth is, I’ve never properly measured it, I don’t even know what to do with it all, and I’m a little scared of it.” She blushed. “Plus, if you’re tethered, overdrawing is… very bad, so I never draw to capacity and definitely not for some test.” She reached up and swept some hair from her face. “The reason I was asking was actually because I wanted to see if you were in the range to actually do something worthwhile with temporal magic.” It was a quick, professional smile, but bereft of warmth. “You are. Seven-six-two is nothing to sneeze at and, based on my sneaky little probing yesterday, I think I can actually trust you not to mess with the timeline.” She took two deep breaths and closed her eyes. Zarina could feel that strange sort of energy building. “If you ever want to, I can and will teach you. Magic is called ‘The Gift’ for a reason. It’s meant to be shared.” A hand flashed out in Zarina’s direction. “Take my hand! We’re going in!”

Zarina recoiled in shock. A nine? Never had a simple number been so terrifying to hear. And she fully believed it too, ”I feel like drawing at capacity would probably be distressing for not just you.” her hands got a tad clammy but she quickly adjusted her posture for the coming main event, ”To be shared to those deemed trustworthy?” she tilted her head, ”Will it be the great Jocasta that’ll determine who is and isn’t a dipshit?” she smirked and slowly reached out to her companion’s hand but stopped just shy of her digits touching, ”... After this, I’ll first repay you how I can. And then you’ll determine if I’m worthy, alright?”

“All the Great Jocasta and, for my first act, I shall ‘poof’ us to some random place due west of here. Get ready to land safely. Your butt could end up on a cactus.” She flashed her pearly whites for a moment, suppressing yet another smile.

Their hands touched, and then a flash. Not of a bright light but an instant change of air, smell, colours, everything. They were no longer on a dusty, stone surface but on top a dune of sand under the clear night skies. The desert’s cold air rushed through them under the form of sporadic gusts that brought with them small clouds of sand that would get in Zaz’s hair, ”Oh sh-” disorientated and caught off guard, she stumbled to her right and nearly ate a sandy dinner if it wasn’t for her elbow serving as quick support, ”You know, I expected, like, a portal. Like how the old beard did it.” she wasn’t being ungrateful, as she began to giggle between her words, ”This was definitely cooler.” she stood up to brush herself and took in her surroundings. The night was making it hard to actually distinguish anything, and due to elevation, the Refuge was out of sight, ”Lemme just … Figure out where West is.”

“Glad someone can,” Jocasta remarked, glancing around briefly. “Probably the stars. As for the Paradigm…” She bounced her palms off of her knees for a moment. “His way’s more advanced, actually. He’s got damned near a century on me.” She shook her head. “Remember how I said space and time were like a big sheet covering everything? Well, we move through that sheet by reeling it in and poking little holes in it to move through.” Jocasta took another steadying breath as Zarina calculated their next ‘jump’. “Thing is, those holes want to seal themselves as quickly as possible and, the further they are from where you stand in space and time, the quicker and more aggressively they wanna seal themselves.” She smirked. “I hope you’re listening,” she joked. “The Nikanese have a word: sensei, which means like ‘master’ and “teacher”. That’s me,” she chirped, leaning in with a self-satisfied grin. “Basically, a novice can do much more than take a quick peek through, while a true master like the Paradigm can open a hole anywhere, open it wide, and keep it open for a while. I’m… somewhere in-between.” She took another deep breath and closed her eyes. “Ready,” she confirmed. “Gonna go for a bit of a longer one, less guarantees here. You got us a direction?”

Zarina was in for a lesson, and as much as she liked to add something and involve herself, she humbled herself and kept quiet. Once again she seated herself before Jocasta and shifted her attention between the blonde and the stars above. Indeed, she could use what every other traveller used to find their way and as a rider she did have the experience needed to figure it out, ”Sensei. That actually rolls off the tongue, huh?” she flashed a quick smile at her friend, ”Who was your Sensei, Sensei?” a daring question, which she followed quickly with directions, ”Over there, if you can get us on top of that rocky hill in the horizon, I can probably get a good idea of where we’ll go.” she pointed at the mentioned peak, which was a good many miles away– maybe even too far for one warp, but it was something concrete rather than a vague distance.

“That’s the funny thing,” replied Jocasta quickly, “I don’t really know. There was someone who taught me: an assassin, more or less, but I already had some concept of this magic before, and I don’t know how.” She let out a small, frustrated huff. Zarina blinked and then narrowed her eyes, ”An assassin taught the novice assassin from the Refuge to bend time and space? You should write a novel, love.”

“I fear I’d not live long if I did,” she joked weakly, quickly changing the subject. “Now, this mountain. I see it.” She took her breaths and closed her eyes. “Hand.” She held it out. And Zarina reached out after taking a deep breath, ”Ready.” and then she seized the smaller limb, this time ready for the ride.

They materialized, after a moment, on a mountaintop. As one mad her way westward, these would become more common, near the headwaters of the Miharapori. This one, however, was a stray, and gave a magnificent view of much of the terrain around it. “Stay linked with me, Zaz, I can go again if you point me.”

Even in the middle of the night, Zarina could get a decent idea of where they were. The details were unimportant, but the formation of mountains were pretty clear indicators on their own. ”Same direction, try to stay on the mountains. We can probably follow the big river, until we get close enough to Gadankar. Though …” she pursed her lips, looking a tad concerned, ”You alright? This IS going to be a long ride. I haven’t been around this part of Torragon in …” she exhaled from her nose and blinked, ”Like three years.” She clenched her partner’s hand, ”Ready.”

“Right,” replied Jocasta, “First one outside of my range. We’re gonna start in the air and drop, just so we don’t risk materializing inside something else and the grisly death that goes along with it. Be ready to catch yourself.” She drew and pulled and voyaged to places that were hazy and unclear. Then, they popped out, some twenty feet up in the air. Jocasta used the gravity loop to catch herself and float. She looked over to Zarina to see if she’d managed the trick as well.

Once they manifested at their next destination, Zarina let herself fall. The energy gathered from the fall itself was used to unleash a small but strong air stream under her feet to soften the landing and keep things clean, ”... You know, we talk about cool time and space stuff, but I never got to master levitation like you do.” a hand on her hip and the other pointed her index up above, she almost seemed vexed at how impotent she was next to Jocasta, ”And I thought I was good with that school of magic too! But no, plebeian here.” she was quick to assume the position and this time she offered her hand, ”Alright, let’s do this. Maybe we can stop by the river and have a drink or something.” she paused, ”From our flasks. I’d avoid drinking the water if we have some on us.”

“I’ll teach you, Zaz. I’m this good because I’m Skyborn and I had teachers who turned me into a weapon. An absurd RAS didn’t hurt, but it’s not necessary.” Jocasta took the proffered hand and they pulled off the same feat again, and a second time, before stopping at the burgeoning river. In the distance, twinkled a handful of bright spots that signaled a town “I believe this is one of the forks of the Miharapori,” Jocasta asked, “Right?” She settled on the ground and uncorked her flask, taking a couple of greedy gulps. “Should we turn south when they converge or is it faster to head into Inipor first?” They were in the highlands now and the air was thinner and cooler.

The sound of running water and the cool air of the Miharapori were comforting to Zarina in all her wanderlust. She settled too, not too far from the edge and just stared blankly at the stars reflected on the water’s runny surface, ”Yeah. You are right.” she took too a quick sip, less so out of thirst than to get rid of the dryness in her throat after lurking in the desert for a while, ”Have you ever been to Inipor?” if the answer was no, then that’d be her answer, otherwise continuing south was likely safer, ”The Refuge turned you into a weapon. Did those that took you in do the same, Jo?” she didn’t seem in a hurry to end the break. Her face was mostly hidden by the night and the cloak she was wearing, but her tone manifested concern she seldom showed, ”Were they like- errr, a new family? Or was it more of a brother-sisterhood thing some orphans sometimes form here and there?”

Jocasta turned and grabbed Zarina’s other hand. “You’re a friend,” she said earnestly, “and I say this to you as a friend:” She worked her jaw anxiously for a moment. “This is something that you don’t want to get involved in.” She paused. “Well, maybe you do now, but you’ll regret it later. I’m into some serious shit, hun, out of my own choice. They’re… not perfect, and some are just bad, but I believe in their goals and… I owe them everything.” A dark kind of smile came over her face and there was a flash of the old Jocasta in there. “Besides, I don’t think they could stop me if they tried. Now,” she chirped, “Enough about my must-remain-a-secret-upon-pain-of-death life!” there was an ironic mirth in her words and face. “We have a place to get to. Hand!”

Zarina peered down, silently remarking that her hand was already held, ”I won’t push further. Not asking questions about big deals is common practice where I’m from. I get it.” her gold eyes were still on those hands. She nodded to herself and slowly raised her gaze back to the cloaked Jo, ”Just know you got some people that like you. And you don’t owe us anything. Nor do I think we’re the fairweather asshole types. Dunno about the Yasoi, though.” She turned her head and stared down south, ”It’s probably faster to avoid Inipor. Less chance of encountering the types that don’t sleep at night.”

Jocasta let out a snort at the part about Casii. “Thanks, Zaz.” She squeezed the slightly younger woman’s hand a bit tighter for a moment. “Not really sure what to say to nice things like that, to be honest. Now, big one. I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

The world flashed and then they were on a rooftop. It was thatched and rickety and they could feel it giving way the moment that it had to bear their weight. “Up, Zaz! Dammit!” Jocasta yelped.

”Wha-” she hadn’t quite realized her predicament until the roof began to collapse. Out of reflex, Zarina reached her other hand to Jocasta’s figure and clung onto her like a cat terrified of water, ”Up, up, Up!!” she yelled out hysterically, legs flailing under her. She could probably hop and flip her way to safety at this point, but as she calmed a thought came by her, ”Okay, bear with me. I’m gonna let go … And you catch me with your great power, yeah?” the more she explained, the wider her toothy grin got, ”And then I try to suspend myself, yeah? If I fail, I eat shit.” and so she did just that: Slowly peeled her hands and arms from her levitating friend and hoped she’d be ‘caught’ so she could begin this quick little exercise.

Jocasta’s expression turned from alarm to appreciation. Anything could be a learning experience. She felt Zarina let go and, drawing and expelling energy in equal measure, the tethered ‘caught’ her and held her up, the both of them hovering in midair. They were in a small village and it seemed to be still and quiet. “Okay,” she allowed, “I think the coast is clear.” She moved the both of them away from the rooftop, so as not to risk damaging it or disturbing anyone. “The trick here is to use the energy of gravity. Once you’re in the air, it’s a freebie. Draw it in as fast as it pulls you down and you should hit equilibrium. You’ve gotta be fast, though, and sharp. The other big trick is not to become overwhelmed. Expel the energy as telekinetic to help keep yourself up if you find yourself sinking, and to move yourself. If you have too much excess, just bleed it out or use it for other things. You’re a bit below eight, so you don’t have as much of a safety net as me, but you should be able to do it.” Jocasta looked her in the eye and grinned in nervous anticipation. “You ready?” she asked-but-not-really “Three… two… one.”

So much to take in, Zarina was visibly a little distressed! Still, her confidence wouldn’t be shaken, especially as she already grew accustomed to essentially ‘floating’ via Jocasta’s intervention. Deep breaths, she tried to visualise how she would do it. Like a woodsman readying an axe and giving a couple of swings before delivering the decisive blow, she drew and released in small bursts to practice the reflex of drawing faster than her fall. It was definitely tricky. ”So wait, I-” zero! She fell, and she caught herself mid-fall, albeit clumsily. The loop itself wasn’t difficult the moment she actually did prevent her imminent impact, now the issue was to rise back up while juggling the mana she contained for this balancing act. A couple of air propulsions under the form of air kicks were pretty quick at correcting her altitude problem, and so came the challenge of consistent levitation.

“Stop kicking!” scolded Jocasta. “Do you see me kicking in midair?” There was something deliberately impish about the comment. “Use Kinetic, use gravity. Relax.”

”Okay. I’m doing this. But I can only focus on this.” it was going to take a while before it’d become second nature, ”But it’s not too h-” she jinxed it, and one draw was a bit off and now she was playing a very clumsy game of catchup where kicking was banned. There was no relaxing, only panic-casting.

“Zaz!” Jocasta called, “Think of it like a river: the energy. You’re like a sharp bend in that river. It’s flowing into you and out of you smoothly. All that it’s doing is changing directions. That’s how you get it smooth.”

”A River?! Ahh!” all she could think about was the river they had just passed. Still, she managed to prevent the worst with her usual technique of softening the landing.

“Yes, you’re managing that river, keeping it consistent.” Jocasta watched her land safely. “Honestly, about the same as my first attempts. Just need to learn not to hammer it and overcompensate when you feel a slip. Leads to more course corrections.” She clasped her hands together and floated downwards until they were basically at eye level. “That was a good first try. Now, come on up with me.” She held out her hand again. “I need directions and we need to get moving again.”

”Wait, really? Here I thought you were just some super-genius good at everything.” she brushed herself off and welcomed her friend with her hand ready to be taken, ”Reassuring. Or maybe you’re just that good of a tea- Sensei, and you’re just telling me this for my self-esteem.” her eyebrows raised and her smile kept strong, ”Well it’s working.” her index pointed slightly south-west from their position, ”I think we can do a few jumps in quick succession, otherwise we may end up learning every school of magic before we get to Gandakar!”

Jocasta nodded. “Agreed.” she replied. “No more messing around.” and that was exactly what they did. Four more jumps of increasing length in quick succession. “You know,” the tethered said after one, “I think I’m learning just as much as you. I used to think of this as aiming for a target and the further away, the harder it was to aim properly.” They teleported again. “It’s more like pulling that fabric over to you, though, and just stepping on through.” After another twenty minutes, they were in Qamuz, in the massive estuary of the great river. “Southwest now, right?” asked Jocasta.

“So you’re telling me you’re figuring all this shit out now? Meanwhile I can barely fly. Sheesh.” they were now at their most recent destination and Zarina took this time to stretch and grab a quick drink, “West, actually. And take a sip. Don’t want you getting dizzy and end up in …” she exaggerated some shuddering, “Paggon.” she even offered her gourd to make extra sure Jocasta was well hydrated, “... You know, before we get back to the Refuge at whatever hour– and I know I said I should earn it first– But I should definitely try to jump us. Even if it’s like, five metres.” there was a child-like giddiness in her mannerisms and voice when she suggested that. Quickly, she grabbed her friend’s hand, “Onwards!”

“Walk before you can run,” Jocasta warned, but she paired her eyeroll with a smile. “But I like this ‘you’. Don’t compare yourself to me.You’re starting years later.” She reeled herself across space and time, then, a pressure building inside of her as she did so, but then Jocasta got an idea. She stopped for a moment. “Do a hover for a moment. I need some inspiration,” she teased.

“Got a big catch-up challenge ahead. No sweat.” she feigned unreasonable confidence, brushing her nose with her forearm to really sell the con, “I can even hum a little tune while doing it, I think.” she did a little hop just to get her feet off the ground and she was back to doing the exercise from before. Still clumsy, still just about ready to fall on her rear, but she was close enough to the ground to propel herself upwards the traditional way if it got too out of hand, “Mmmhmmhmm~” she hummed a little bedtime tune. A pleasant one as she had quite the pair of lungs, even if she rarely used them.

“Awesome,” Jocasta remarked. “Damn. Now I feel like I should hum too. I’m going to do something stupid.” Zarina would immediately comment, “I like the sound of that.”

“Not sure you will after I try it,” chuckled Jocasta nervously. “I’ve only messed with space up to now, even though I can see time. I’m going to try setting us back a little bit as we travel, so we have more clock to work with. You… okay with that?”

Zarina shrugged, still ‘floating’ in the air, albeit with the occasional ‘hops’ that weren’t all that elegant, “I mean, as long as we’re not changing the course of anything …” she crossed her arms and masticated somewhat nervously, “... Are there any consequences I should be made aware of? Assuming we don’t kill some Duke in the cradle for the betterment of all or anything.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. We’ll only be going back maybe ten minutes at first, just to shave off some of our travel time. I’m honestly… not confident with any more.” With that, she closed her eyes, reeling in not only space, but time with intent. She’d peered before, fleetingly, but never gone. “This is hard,” Jocasta grunted. “It’s like two separate sheets that don’t want to be aligned and you have to…” She was straining now, “Align them.” Then, her voice rose. “I got it! Zaz, hand, quick!”

Zarina has ceased her floating when Jocasta manifested just how hard the endeavour was. The Virangish stayed quiet and near her almighty friend. Little mumbles were uttered from time to time, cheering Jocasta on in this remarkably difficult attempt at a magic that was beyond most. Then, she seized both of Jo’s hands when the time was right, “Let’s go!” she cheered with a big, fat grin, ready to tackle the unknown!

“Shit!” hissed Jocasta, as they tumbled down onto a brightly lit plain.“I flubbed it. I flubbed it horribly!” Her head turned this way and that. It was daytime. There were no dwellings in sight when they should’ve been on the outskirts of a small town. “Don’t touch anything or do anything. I… think we went much too far. You wouldn’t have happened to have been in this area before, would you? We should be just south of the foothills of the Angahar headwaters.”

Zarina froze. The light of the sun was blinding enough to get her to close her eyes for a good while. Given something had gone terribly wrong, she hesitated to even speak. It was only when she began to open her eyes that she breathed again, “... Fuck. Nevermind where. When are we?” she looked around and indeed Jocasta was correct. It looked like the beginning of the hours of Shune by the position of the sun. What day? Both seemed at a loss, “Uhm, okay. Do we just kind of go with this or are you gonna bring us back to nightfall? Worst case, we uh, walk. A long way. Well, I walk.”

Jocasta appreciated the joke at the end, but there was enough panic leaking through her features that any humour was set aside for now. She tried to remain calm. She didn’t even know if she could get them back, the air felt strangely… rich, and she sensed a series of very large, very unfamiliar creatures - reptilian - she thought, approaching. “Anywhere is better than here,” she assured Zarina, batting absently at a fly as she tried to concentrate. “Hand!” she called, and then they were on the same plain, at night. She breathed a sigh of relief. All was as they’d hoped. A small town hunkered in the distant foothills.“Thank Dami. There was still some evidence of the hole we’d left when we came. Travel back is easier if you do it quickly.” She shuddered in relief. “Okay, no more messing with time. One more leap and we’re in Gandakar. Then, we’ll have to pinpoint your home.”

Zarina could feel it too– the eyes of predators far beyond what she had ever seen, “Agreed.” she clenched Jo’s hands tightly, “Hurry, please.” the tall and confident Virangish girl whimpered. Luckily they were swiftly brought back to a more recognizable era. Zarina sighed in relief, her head falling over Jojo’s shoulder, “And here I thought we had doomed the world …” again with the jinxing, but she was blissfully unaware. After a moment to regain her senses, she adjusted her posture and held both of Jo’s hands, “Yeah, same direction, minus the time. I’ll show you my home if you can get us uhm …” she was pondering for a moment, “There’s a big plateau southeast of Gandakar, many from the city go there for hiking, or to impress someone. You can see my home from there, sort of. And we avoid the city.”

“Right,” replied Jocasta, nodding, businesslike. She closed her eyes. “Got it.” Then, they were there. A great stone citadel, covered in chaparral brush, with a chapel and a series of small structures, it loomed over the city. Vast and lush, Gandakar spread out beneath them, with its handsome gardens, grand plazas, bustling port - even at this hour, to an extent, and narrow, chaotic streets. Surrounding it lay endless green fields, terraced on the hillsides and pockmarked with dozens of little villages. At its very heart lay the enormous dome of the Silverstar Idasque: resplendent in platinum plate and one of the holiest sites of the Darhannic faith. Down a grand boulevard, it was mirrored by the six mighty towers of Sultan Osman’s palace. For a moment, Jocasta just took it all in. “Your home,” she observed, “It's… beautiful.”

Home sweet home, well almost. Zarina took in the Virangish air she had sorely lacked for at least two months. It really wasn’t any different than Torragon, or Inipor or even Ersand’Enise, but it just had this insignificant little something that brought floods of nostalgia to the native teen. The city definitely made most other places look somewhat backwards in comparison and Zarina, despite having seen these sights thousands of time, was awestruck just like her friend, “A lot of people have this mindset of ‘greener grass on the other side’ with their homes, especially young people.” she shook her head, “No such thing in Gandakar. Sucked all the green in Virang, and became the most beautiful city in the world.” she chuckled, although it almost sounded like a scoff. Her hand extended west, pointing at the south-end of the city where a few hills held large, gated homes. One of them was her’s with a few flat fields adjacent to the property, “You can get us on the big patch of grass over there. The servants should be inside or asleep.”

“That much property,” Jocasta wondered, “in the city…” Then, she nodded. “When we arrive, I’ll find a place to sit, out of the way.” She took one more deep breath, and didn’t even close her eyes. In a moment, they were there, plopping down gently on the lawn.

It was indeed a good amount of property. The field they were in was big enough to host small horse races if it were tailored for it. To the north was the family home. A three-story mansion to some, but just a relatively large house compared to the obscenely wealthy of Virang. There was little in terms of lighting beyond a few lanterns inside that illuminated the large windows surrounded by pure, white stone. Opposite of the home was the stables– a far more humble building that was well maintained with an old lantern dangling outside by the entrance. It was remarkably remote from the main home, and even further from the main exit of the property. Surrounding the property and beyond the iron fences were either stone as they were still by a hill, wild greenery of property owned by the governing bodies of the city or a neighbour’s plot of land that was carefully tended to like the Al-Nader residence.

“Come, you can sit at the stables. I’m sure you can make a friend.” she offered her hand and showed Jocasta the way. Inside the wooden animal home were two rows with give slots each. Five for horses, two for goats (there were two in each), and three were currently empty. A loud neigh could be heard the moment they stepped in and Zarina couldn’t help but grin knowingly while looking over at Jo, “Have you ever seen a Camargue horse before, Jo?”

“I… haven’t,” admitted Jocasta, floating up after Zarina. “I’ve just heard they were a Perrench breed originally, and a very ancient one. Came with the Torraro but didn’t do so well in the desert, so they sold most of their breeding stock out here.” She blinked. “I um… read a lot about animals,” she admitted. “Just don’t get o see as many as I’d like.” She paused, eyeing the horse hesitantly. “What’s his name?”

Zarina gestured for Jocasta to keep following, as the horse in question was at the very end of the row, “M’hm. Well, most animals don’t do too great in deserts if they’re gonna be there for a long time, unless bred for it.” she added, “They do just fine on sand. Given where they originally came from, beaches were part of their environment.” slowly but surely, upon passing a few other lovely equine creatures, they would meet him, a grey Camargue Stallion. The fact that he wasn’t completely white yet suggested he was still relatively young, “Hey, hey … Riesco.” the animal was agitated, he hadn’t seen his rider in a good while and now she was stopping by at irregular hours. AND with a stranger?

And yet, when she passed her hand over his snout and gently brushed upwards, he kept still. No more neighing, no more grunting, his black eyes were trained solely on his partner, “There we go.” her idle hand reached for her backpack and slid a carrot out to present to her neglected stallion as an offering. He gobbled that up instantly, “You wanna feed Riesco, Jo? I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” another carrot was pulled from her back and offered to her instead. She then side-stepped and leaned her cheek against the big male’s neck while coiling her arms around him.

Jocasa’s eyes flicked between Riesco, Zarina, and the carrot. She accepted the third and slowly approached the first. She looked to the second for reassurance. “He’s… alright with strangers?” Zarina nodded in approval, although Riesco would grunt at Jocasta’s first approach only to mellow soon after sniffing her and her tribute.

“Aww, good boy, Riesco.” She let him vacuum up the carrot, accepting the inevitable stray slobber, and mimicked Zarina’s earlier motions, reaching out to pet him.

The animal was oh so happy to get this much positive attention. The stables were clean, the animals looked after, but the place was conspicuously distant from the main home and it was no surprise that the servants weren’t going to go beyond what was necessary. A good while was dedicated to giving Riesco the love he deserved. Some smooches there, scratches behind the ear and loads of petting. Then, she unlocked the wooden door he could only peek over, “Hold him here real quick, he tends to go for walks if unsupervised. Gonna just grab a bridle and a saddle.” she did just that, leaving the two cuties to bond. Camargue horses were known to be friendly to humans, and despite being a full-on stallion, Riesco was no exception. Except of course when in a rut or a total stranger tried to ride him.

Zarina would return, saddle and bridle in her arms, but she also came with an impish smile on her face, “Hey, Jo. Kaspar and I had this idea and … I mean, you’re gonna love this.” she’d still take the time to prep the horse, but she was eager to show her silly idea, giggling all the way. Riesco, being the horse that he is, tried to steal a couple of carrots from Zaz’s backpack. The lips were flapping fiercely.

Jocasta blinked and tilted her head. “Oh?” she chirped, “I will?” Zarina nodded and walked Riesco with her to the first slot of the horse row. There wasn’t a horse in there, but a white Shetland pony, “Meet Gina! She was our pony when we were like … Eight.” the slow but curious little animal approached the wooden gate and attempt to sniff the humans, only to raise its head and to scout out the same carrots Riesco was beaming for, “Wouldn’t this pretty girl be PERFECT for Ayla?” she couldn’t hold it and began to wheeze at the notion.

Jocasta, in the middle of taking a quick sip from her flask, snorted half of it out through her nose. “Oh my Gods,” she laughed, nearly losing control of her hover. For a moment, her feet thumped against the ground. She regained the lost height and grinned. “Well, the size is about right…” She nibbled her bottom lip. “You should do it, friend.”

They had a good laugh, and Zaz would be stuck with the hiccups for a bit, “You agree? Alright, perfect.” Gina was prepared just like Riesco after being given proper carrot compensation. The saddle was older, given the residents were no longer kids, but it fit nicely, “Hey, Jo. Why don’t you give the ol’ girl a try, hmm?” she smirked a toothy one while Gina kind of just stared at the Tethered behind that long, white mane.

A little pang hit Jocasta, and she swallowed. “I would… love to. She’s such a little sweetie, but…” She stopped herself. “I’ll have to use some of The Gift to hold myself properly on. That won’t spook her or anything, will it?”

Zarina shook her head, “There are two here that won’t lose their minds with magic.” she gave her Riesco a nice pat on the neck and in turn he gave her a ‘kiss’ with his snout, “This guy, whom I’ve travelled with. And then there’s Gina,” she focused on the unassuming little thing. She hadn’t grunted a single time or protested anything when geared up for a walk she likely hadn’t done in years, “so long as you just don’t make her do effort-heavy things, she’s essentially made to deal with kids.”

“Well, that works, since I’m basically an overgrown child.”Jocasta replied. She spent the next few minutes riding a pony, eventually coming to a stop in front of the stables where Zarina was with Riesco. “So… not to throw some water on your joy,” she began, “but, uh… what’s the plan here?”

Zarina was back on the saddle, literally. With Jocasta doing her rounds, she made sure to leave the note she had written prior to leaving the Refuge onto one of the wooden beams inside the building. When asked about the plan, Zarina shrugged, “We go back? With these two lovelies. Aaaaand,” a small tap of her boots brought Riesco to a walk. After traversing the field and reaching dangerously close to the house, Zarina directed her attention to an unlocked cellar, “There are a couple of jars of Virangish peppers. Absurdly valuable. Yummy as fug. My gift, for uh …” she lowered her head and sucked in her lips, “Being so good to me. And yeah, I’ll get them.” which she did. It took ten agonizing minutes. And during this time Jocasta could very much hear movement inside the house. Zarina eventually emerged and presented the promised goods. Dried and properly sealed, they were to be carried into a bag on Riesco’s saddle, “... Just don’t eat them raw. You’ll lose your tongue.”

“Oh, hun,” Jocasta assured her, “Who says they’re for me at all?” Her smile was all teeth. “Now, this goes faster if we’re both mounted and holding hands.” In practice, it meant that Jocasta had to reach well upwards. “Fun as the journey here was, I’d rather not take thirty jumps and almost two hours on the way back so, if it’s just the same to you, I’m gonna try to accomplish this in maybe six.” She reached out, closed her eyes, and took a breath. Then, they were somewhere else.

Zarina extended her hand in full trust. They were used to this, but the horses were now put to the test. Gina was thoroughly unimpressed unless they were suspended mid-air, while Riesco got agitated and stomped the ground to gather himself. But nothing wild, they reacted just about as Zarina anticipated, “Hey, hey …” she whispered sweet nothings to his perky ear, and it was enough. After a sigh of relief, she called out to Jo, “Hey, Jo. Before we just jump again.” she gestured for the blonde to come closer, which would probably require some floating. All so she could be in Zaz’s range for a big, warm embrace.

Jocasta blinked. “What is it?” she asked, rising from the saddle for a moment. “We really don’t have -” Zaz squeezed the little lady in her arms, her chin over Jo’s shoulder and eyes blissfully closed. She kept this going for maybe half a minute without a word, until very slowly loosening her grip and letting the floaty being go, “Thank you.” she said simply, her voice almost like a whimper. It was clear she didn’t like showing this much vulnerability, but this was earned. If Jocasta paid enough attention, and she needed to with how dark it was, she’d notice the faintest blush on this Virangish’s cheeks!

After about ten seconds, Jocasta squeezed back. She could count the number of genuine embraces she’d received on one hand over the past six years. “Thank you too.” she breathed. “You, Yalen, Kaspar, and Ayla…” she sniffed. “You’ve given me just as much as ‘ve ever given you.” She buried her head in Zarina’s shoulder. “God this sounds awful, but… you’ve given me myself back.” They parted with one last squeeze and, if Zarina was blushing, Jocasta was close to tears again, for the third time in three days, after having one for years without. “Now, come on, bucko, I‘d like to get at least a wink of sleep tonight.”

She tried so hard not to cry. Zarina would end up succeeding, in the end. But it was so hard and the teeth clenching was getting painful. She had to be strong for this one, even if she had all the power in the world, she was still a person. Gentle caresses were given to Jo’s head as the embrace lasted as long as it needed to, “Feels good to be around decent folk sometimes, huh?” a sentiment Zarina shared, even if not to Jo’s extremes, “I’ll promise you something, Jo. As a friend who respects you.” they were both back on their saddles, and Zaz reached out to hold her friend’s, “I’ll still be the one to say no if something feels strange, or if I think you need some standing up against.” she spoke with a brittle voice– she hadn’t fully recovered from holding back her own reactions, “Most will either be intimidated by how strong you are, or love you too much. I won’t let shit slide just because. And only because I care.”

“Right,” said Jocasta. “Right. Thank you. I think… I need that.” She nodded. “Now, just Casii,” she laughed. “No more delays, though. Come on!” She placed a hand against Zarina’s leg and they were somewhere else, and again. A couple jumps more, and they were at the headwaters of the Miharapori. Jocasta stopped for a quick drink. This was energy-intensive. She patted Gina, who’d been solid as a rock the entire time. “One more,” she told her friend. “to take us in range of the Refuge, and then one into it. Then,” she snorted, “All we’ll have to do is explain how a random horse and a pony showed up here overnight.” Jo winked. “I won't tell if you don’t.”

A complicit smile was plastered onto Zarina’s visage, “Let’s give them mysterious eyebrow wiggles until they force us to confess.” she stuck her tongue out as they paced closer to the refuge. Whether they warped there or not didn’t quite matter at this point as they were quite close. But one thing was for certain: They couldn’t wait to sleep!

For the first time in two years, Zarina had slept a full NINE hours! Which is to say she slept normally without the need to exhaust herself. The last night was something, even if it didn’t usher in any dreams, still. In no way could her mood be ruined by anything. A panicking Laelle seeking her out as she did the others? No issue. Zarina even stopped by the mess hall to get herself a little snack before joining the others at the patio.

“Guu Morning.” she spoke with her mouth full of churros. Upon noticing Ayla, Zaz clearly knew what the priority was here, “Hey, Kitty cat. I got a present for you, actually. I’ll show you later.” she winked at the shorter girl before orienting her attention toward Jocasta. Never has this Virangish giant been this fresh and jolly in the morning before. Hopefully the good vibes would bleed onto the others before tragedy inevitably struck the Refuge.

“So. Plans? Or do I need to drag out the mouthy Vice? She mentioned having a connection to the Patron guy.”

tl;dr

Coming Soon, half the post is a tl;dr.

What's this?

Zarina and Jocasta return to a Refuge full of hostile Sirrahi. They nobly fight with their steeds until the bitter end, and for many years.
Upon killing that one fly 120 million years ago, Jocasta has irreversibly damaged the timeline by causing a butterfly effect.
The Sirrahi have grown tired of humanity's abuse of the world and have emerged from their hideouts to eliminate the problem.
The Gift is no more. Humanity hides in hidden enclaves around the world. Everything is snake.
Legends of the two riders from beyond time resonate throughout the timelines.

!!!Ending Unlocked!!!

O R I F L A M M E

---

Interacting with: Olaf the Aged@Force and Fury & Hildr the Red@Jasbraq
Opportunity: Arnaud is now on the beach, having a small heart-attack after killing Olaf. He is completely beat down.

---

Event: Defense of Relouse Location: Near La Plage

---

Arnaud and Maerec, two soldiers that didn’t shy away from the most gruesome ordeal war could offer, parted ways once the situation was thoroughly established. A retreat was announced, but the decisive battle of kings wasn’t over. And until his Lord was safe or killed, the Royal Executioner had a job to do.

The Parrench King was facing off with the Invader, and the finest of his army were repulsing the wicked beast that sought to aid Hrothgar in his endeavour to win the young Arcel's head. Rodric and Asier were evident to the executioner, both facing off with the beast. The former had dealt a powerful blow and had his guard down long enough to warrant the attention of a certain, inconspicuous female warrior. She didn't look like much from afar, but as Arnaud reached out with the Gift, he could sense something was very, VERY different about this woman. How she moved, how she breathed, how she oozed of a power he could maybe compare to the ways of Dame de la Saumure. He had to intervene.

Just ten meters in front of Hildr, an axe would fall from the heavens and plant itself onto the war-tarnished soil. A warning to not move any closer, as the wielder of the weapon impacted with the ground a mere half-second after, causing sand and dust to rise around both figures. He drew his axe from the ground, and from the simple removal of his axe, he'd send a blast of wind toward Hildr, aiming to repulse her and potentially break her guard.

The mighty gust of wind successfully stopped and propelled Hildr away, although she was ready and easily tanked the hit. Nonetheless, Arnaud's might and use of the Gift was strong enough to send her off and give Rodric a brief moment of respite from a potential flank. Arnaud was ready to keep her at bay, if only to let the Knight have some peace when handling the monster, but the Executioner soon noticed a familiar face. An old- literally- friend of the battlefield: Olaf the Aged. If that man was allowed to run around unchecked, that Nashorn monstrosity would be unstoppable. Arnaud had to act.

Unlike with Hildr, the Aheri didn't immediately open with an attack, but instead slammed the pommel of his weapon, causing a quake he was sure a master of the battlefield like Olaf could recognize. The featureless mask Arnaud wore stared right at the elder. He had retrieved his axe and was back for more. Although this time Arnaud didn't start with mere bullrushing, he reached out with the gift once more and instead manipulated the chemicals in his being to recreate the effects of 'Majini', a drug commonly used by his people. With the right dosage, it endowed one with great strength in the battlefield, although missing the mark would often lead to weaker performance and even potential frenzying.

It was a simple matter to sense so flamboyant an opponent: one who thundered across the battlefield bellowing and slamming like a man twenty years younger. If Olaf still had his youth, he'd have fought Arnaud differently. As it was, he reached out with his magics, seeking the man's muscles, and decided to make some changes. However, upon noticing the perfect and quite foreign cocktail that coursed through the Aheri’s being, Olaf figured a new plan of action: Co-opting the enemy’s strength. The shaman felt the same drug-induced power the executioner experienced.

Both of them knew, as their gazes met, that this would be nothing like they had experienced before. A battle of titans that would rival the destruction brought in by Sweyn, the Nashorn or even Hrothgar himself!

Again, this large man came at him, roaring and thrashing, and again, Olaf made, of him, a toy. Reaching out not into the world but into Arnaud's body, the old shaman sapped the very vitality from his muscles. The brute staggered and dropped: unhurt, but rendered practically helpless. Olaf dashed forward, feeling twenty years younger himself, and began gathering energy for an attack that would down the former king once and for all.

Arnaud, in very much a different state of being- a state he hadn't felt in at least ten years himself- thought first to only attack and rush forward. But, with the Majini coursing through him, he felt as though his reach could go far beyond just his strikes. For now, he was chained down by the very chemicals he manipulated, as his foe was even more talented than he was in that regard. But it didn't mean he couldn't retaliate. Olaf may have replicated the Majini, but he did not understand it, for it was very much foreign to the Eskandr as a whole. Arnaud's goal was to prompt an overdose of sorts, or at the very least strain the elder's body to chain him down too.

Rushing towards his foe, drawing his sword like some young fool, Olaf was nearly caught. He could feel the adrenaline flowing through his veins, overloading them, making his heart work harder than it needed to. It was the big man! He was capable of some subtlety and magic after all, and Olaf had to work hard to counter his efforts. The elder shaman's heart rate slowed. His body returned to equilibrium, and he thought twice about charging in. Instead, he called upon the land itself to swallow Arnaud and bury him.

With the Majini fueling them both, the scale of this battle was massive. The earth that came to swallow the Aheri resembled Sand Wyrm's maw, chomping down everything indiscriminately. Arnaud, kept pinned by Olaf's drugging, could only go on the defensive, enveloping himself with the very same kinetic energy that the bite of this vile earth south to lock onto his being. Stones, sand and other minerals grinded against the Aheri's armour, destroying quite a bit of it, including half of the executioner's helmet. But it wasn't enough to kill him. Arnaud emerged with a grand explosion out of his tomb, axe still in hand and half his dark body exposed for the world to see. Many holes punctured his chest, even his left bicep was pierced by a powerful branch conjured by the shaman, but it did not stop him. Not yet.

"You fight well, old warrior."

He compliments Olaf, light bleeding coming from his chest, and far more would come out of his arm should he remove the branch. He merely broke off a piece to keep the piece of wood small enough to not be a nuisance. Then, with his enhanced physical might, he dashed toward his enemy, eager to give him a worthy rematch. With only one arm, he was for a horizontal slash with his axe!

Olaf is ready when his opponent bursts from the ground, but the speed and ferocity of his charge are nearly too much. Reaching out with the Gift, he takes from the speed of the axe swing and puts that into his own body, leaping aside with the grace of a fox. From his belt, he draws two flasks full of stun spores, and launches them in Arnaud's direction, aiming to blow them up in the enormous man's face. "It is time to sleep, young man," he says simply, as they fly through the air. Arnaud recognized the chemicals involved, by sight and by drawing via essence. He goes for the simplest approach: A second swing, helped by his injured arm. He unleashes a gust of wind to not only repel the light flasks, but blow away the contents too by unleashing a gust of air similar to what he had sent Hildr away with.

Olaf's vials flew truly, propelled by all of the Force Magic that he could muster so that, when Arnaud reached out with the power of the wind to stop them, it momentarily became a contest of magical might. What the elderly shaman could not do with muscle, he could do with the Gift, and he overpowered the winds. He overpowered them and the bottle sailed, not into Arnaud, but past him. They exploded behind his head, their contents caught in the unnatural wind, and Olaf was just good enough to add a swirl to it so that the spores would stick and begin their work. "Soon, you shall sleep!" the Eskandr crowed, "once more, though we shall leave it up to Sister how merciful I will be this time."

Outplayed, and now forced into déjà vu. The hurting Arnaud was not having a good day. Well, maybe better than the majority of the brass. And, in the end, he was facing the greatest foe he could remember. A shame he was in such a sad state from years of inactivity. He felt the familiar fatigue creep in, and he could hold it at bay for a time, given he had been exposed to it before and mastered essence himself, but it wasn't going to stop it.

”Do not speak of Mercy, ”he bellowed, an immense amount of force emitted from his being as he remained standing, ”until you've claimed victory, old warrior!”

He literally attempts to force pull the lanky man before he could touch the ground, forcing the veteran to come to him, rather than Arnaud doing so!

Were his opponent not so fond of talking (a fault that he was occasionally guilty of as well), Olaf would've had no warning. As if it was, he felt himself pulled with incredible force towards the giant. Drawing from the wind, the rain, and the fires that now raged in many of the fields, the master shaman was able to stop himself. He remained just outside of his opponent's reach, staring him in the eyes. They were over the grass now, and Olaf filled it with energies: blood, essence, and kinetic. It sprouted like snakes: each sharp as a blade. He hurled them at Arnaud.

The executioner, staying true to an old namesake of his- The Earthquake- caused the very earth around him to shake and fissure. The enhanced flora was crushed and repulsed, leaving Arnaud safe. They were at a standstill, which ultimately was in Olaf's favour as the poison was going to take its toll, even with Aheri's previous exposure (Could arguably extend his natural resistance by a marginal level, don't wanna push it since he's injured) to the stuff. But now he had a window to give the elder a fight he couldn't give beforehand. Arnaud raises his axe in the air, the earth around him already devastated and fissured, and ushered in a lion's roar. One far louder than the one he had done before- enough to cause the bedrock near him to sprout out of the earth, making for a particularly hazardous situation to be in for Olaf. And then, after this brief but telegraphed moment of buffing up, Arnaud slammed the pommel of his axe to the ground, prompting a massive, near region-wide earthquake (it loses a lot of power beyond the epicentre, but people feel it alright!)

Olaf is glad that age has made him slightly hard of hearing, for this large, tiresome man will not stop roaring, stomping, and generally making the battlefield even louder. It is quite the threatening display, but it still strikes him as that of a cornered animal, lashing out. For a moment, the old shaman simply lifts himself into the air by drawing some of that excessive force magic and redirecting out the bottoms of his feet. He settles back down once the bothersome display is quite finished. He has so much more grass, and it coms splitting and spitting out of the newfound fissures easily enough. Sometimes, you can just try the same attack again.

Arnaud repulsed a great deal, but the Shaman was smart- he has seen this before. He can work around it and thrive while the Aheri is fighting an uphill battle. For all the power the Majini conferred to this man, it was nothing when the enemy could still match you. Arnaud ended up enduring more slashes to his already scarred and punctured body. Did it hurt? Not really, not at this point with adrenaline flowing in borderline excess. But it weighed on the muscles and caused him to bleed more than he already did.

He did not falter. Olaf wasn't too far from him still, so he had a chance. The moving earth and crumbling hills provided copious amounts of nearby energy to draw from, and he focused it on a single lunge forward with the pointed end of his war axe. The length of the massive weapon could likely reach the shaman, but the real danger was the concentrated blast of force that shot out like a beam capable of razing rows of houses!

WHY. WON'T. YOU. DIE!!!? Something inside of Olaf screamed. The sheer amount of damage he had done to this man would otherwise have felled armies! It had felled armies, in fact. Then, with deceptive speed, a poleaxe came for his head, and a slicing ribbon of Force magic.

Olaf drew from it as liberally as he could, slowing its impact and infusing himself with energy enough to burst out of the way. "I call upon thee, oh wind, rain, and thunder, grant me your power that I may strike this behemoth down in your service and that of my people!"

He thrust his arms into the sky and shaped the very rain into a great mass that surrounded and entrapped Arnaud, suffocating him. He held it as the giant moved, as he pushed back. Olaf strained to hold it until his opponent hopefully, finally collapsed.

Olaf was getting frustrated and went out of his way to try and lock away Arnaud in a water prison of sorts. The Aheri, feeling like he's always on the defensive, angrily attempts to usurp the conjured encasement, but subsequently ends up submerged and borderline crushed by the pressure. But he doesn't let up. No, this was the Aheri. A Zuyr. A KING. He looked down at his opponent for just a moment, and then he stopped. Most never lived as old as this man. Most that didn't see battle didn't live as long as Olaf the Aged. In his rage, Arnaud was ready to simply bash his head in some more. But for once, he learned. He learned from the man who lived a lifetime in a profession where most died young.

He didn't immediately repulse the bubble. No, he stayed in it, and drew. He was taking the very force Olaf was using to preserve it, and even more. He drew, and expelled, without completely perforating his prison. He was going to make it his. He drew and asphyxiated himself longer.

His nose started to bleed, the few teeth in his mouth were begging to grate dangerously.

What Arnaud was conjuring up, it was big, big enough to prevent Olaf from stopping his spell, as Arnaud had laid claim on it. Now his ears were ringing, water started to fill his lungs.

It wasn't enough, the Aheri needed to make this count. The mass of water was his, and melded with the shape of his axe to form an absurdly large weapon. A hammer of epic proportions. It was heavy, far too heavy of an oxygen deprived being like Arnaud, but he pushed on, at the bring of overdrawing on mana too.

A grand shadow arose before the old Eskandr. One far too big to be held together by a normal man, and it was growing by the water syphoned from the nearby ocean.

Judge

A mighty hammer reigned supreme and above all those near la Plage. A tool of justice used by prestigious magistrates to render their sentence. It almost looked as though Arnaud had gone out of his way for it to take this shape. Some Eskandr could see it as an insult- an imitation of one of their Gods- but it was anything but. The weapon was readied by the Aheri’s strength alone at this point, with all of his magic energy dedicated to keeping this massive weapon together.

Jury

Arnaud’s body was not only exposed for the world to see, but it was badly beaten by Olaf the Aged. Every single wound, every single open gash that started bleeding again after wetting the scabs, every single bruise … They all drove the Aheri, in a way. The pain, and even worse, the shame of falling so short to such a great warrior, was unacceptable. Every single strike he had failed to prevent on his being was another count he’d use to fuel his fury and give him the divine strength only the ‘Strongest Man in the World’ could ever hope to deliver.

Executioner

…

---

Years Ago - Parrence

---

He was like an exotic beast, covered in chains and held by at least six men, two of which were somewhat capable mages. And of course, Asier Arslan himself. All these men held a single, half-naked man from the North to be presented to the King. Many in the court wondered if this was a new form of entertainment. Others scoffed at the sight of a Tourrare bringing in such a thing- uncivilised as always. None of them knew what the King thought, however. And none of them knew of the value Arun The Aheri could hold to a country teetering so close to a way.

”Toi. Roi. Mort. Oui?”*

The grinning Northerner glared at the king who loyally sat by his wife and merely watched the beast react, ”Bien.” he crudely chuckled before spitting before the king himself. His guard grew furious and readied their weapons, but no order was given to attack. The hall remained quiet.

”Petit Roi. Force Roi, avoir toi?”** he asked in an expectedly boken parrench. Still, the king said nothing. More and more, the Aheri struggled in his chains, and with what seemed to be very little effort, he broke free! Most panicked, but the King, along with his queen, remained unmoved. Arun didn’t go on any sort of rampage, and instead stared down the ruler of this land, keen on asserting his dominance even when made a mere prisoner to a Tourrare.

”Très bien.”***

The King Stood. The Fallen King nearly faltered. He had already begun to understand what most close to the King hadn’t already. There would be no casualties that day, despite everything Arnaud was known for.

---

Present Time

---

Arnaud remembered that special day. Not the day Asier proved himself better at war. No, it was inevitable that he would know defeat at some point. Arnaud, at the time called Arun, recalled perfectly the day he met a God. His honour bound him to Arslan as a prisoner, but it took nothing shorter than what he saw as a divine revelation to reform such a man. King Arcel. The one many old fools scoff at. And yet, one of the most brutal Warlords of the North loyally bow and fight for him.

Sentence Rendered. The hammer swung down as Arnaud descended his axe in the same manner he would when performing an execution under his King’s Justice. He grimaced while he attempted to scream, but he couldn’t. No air got into his water-filled lungs.

Too late, Olaf realized what was happening. Too late, he tried to boil the water away, but it was a poor choice. He was poor with Arcane. Perhaps his mind was slipping. He would've scolded a student who'd made such a sophomoric mistake. He'd have whipped their hands with a yew branch. In truth, though, it was a matter beyond him. By rights, he should have finished the roaring man off earlier. It was strange, how little effect the dozens of wounds and his normally-potent magic had taken, almost as if the human spirit or the will of this man's Gods was somehow greater than what the old shaman could throw against them.

The axe bore down and Olaf found himself stilled. He had lived so long that all of his old friends were seated at the Visitor's table in Gronhalle now. When people asked him why he continued to fight, he'd always told them that it was because he was still alive. The truth, however, was that he was still searching for the one to give him the death he would need: one that would send him to the green hall, where his lifetime of deeds great and small would earn him a place of honour.

I come to you, brothers and sisters.

Then, the blow hit and there was nothing left. Faintly, Olaf could hear the flap of winged horses and distant sounds of drinking and merriment. For a moment, he thought he felt warmth.

A massive cloud of water and vapour erupted from the middle of the battlefield. The shockwave could be felt way back into the Witchwood, and the mushroom could be seen many miles away. There wasn’t much of a crater, but many areas near the Beach were flooded and turned particularly muddy from the impact. Olaf was dead- his body devoid of any deformation of mutilations as the pressure mostly destroyed him internally, leaving only large bruises.

Arnaud was seventy metres away from the fallen shaman. His upper body fully exposed and still bleeding from the main sustained wounds. His chest was heaving heavily, his axe a few feet away from him. He was on his back, looking into the darkened sky while droplets of water ceaselessly befell his unmoving body. He only briefly turned his head to see the corpse of his foe. There was no smile or even a twitch in his expression. He had beaten Olaf the Aged, but clearly at a cost. And in the end, he felt nothing but respect for what was a man who devoted his whole life to the cause of his people. If only Arnaud could part this world with such an accomplishment.

His heart was racing, even as he remained rested. It was unnaturally fast and painful. So much so that he began to get a blurred vision. And slowly, his breathing became more painful. Until eventually his eyes closed and he lost consciousness. The Royal Executioner had pushed himself far too much, and now his fate was no longer in his own hands.

Translations

*You. King. Dead. Yes?
**Little King. Strength King, have you?
***Very well.

tl;dr

Arnaud kicks Hildr away from Rodric for a moment.
Olaf and Arnaud have at it again.
Arnaud uses a dangerous drug to push him to his full potential, but Olaf co-opts it, making for a battle that matches the epic levels brought by the top bosses.
Olaf mostly dominates and has an almost repeat of the last fight.
When all seems lost, a battered Arnaud musters up EVERYTHING to at least stop Olaf in his tracks, even if he has to die for it.
Flash back of Arnaud when he is first presented to Arcel years back. A crown is warranted with Strength- Arcel knew this, and the Aheri understood why this man stood at the top.
Olaf is killed by a massive water hammer used by the very water he tried to kill Arnaud with.
Arnaud is now heaving a mild heart-attack on the beach, fully exposed and vulnerable.

The Hourglass Order

---

Interacting with: Yalen @pantothenic, Jocasta / Adela / Luisa @Force and Fury, Ayla @Ti, Kaspar @Wolfieh
Location: Tethered Refuge -> Zarina's Quarters -> Stables

---

"If you were able to time travel, what do you think you'd do with it?"

This philosophical question was brought to you by Jocasta Re as the group of school-age teens made their way from Amanda’s room to the common room. Kaspar and Yalen seized this opportunity to express their thoughts, and Ayla soon after with an equally thought-provoking idea. And yet, one remained discreet, keeping her eyes forward and somewhat separated from the group.

"How about you, Strong-but-Silent?"

Jocasta prodded. Zarina had remained conspicuously silent during this exchange. The subject itself did not appear to inspire much from the tall teen, and if anything, it prompted her to stick to the background. Her arms crossed under her chest as she paced slightly behind the others and just watched the evening skies. Jocasta then poked for both Ayla’s and Zarina’s attention, and again the Virangish kept discreet while the Torragonese expressed her views on the matter, more so than a wish. With the tone she used, it seemed like the subject had affected her patience and forced herself to answer.

”I don’t like to think of these things.” she states when a moment of silence came and inevitable attention was brought to her again, ”They busy the mind with things that won’t– or shouldn’t happen.” she scratched her cheek, ”I don’t dwell on the past and I make the future what I want it to be. No point skipping ahead.”

Zarina pursed her lips and shrugged to the group, knowing full-well that her answer brought nothing but awkwardness. She kept it at that and clearly didn’t seem too enthusiastic over the notion of sharing her genuine thoughts on such matters. It was almost quite cold how she held herself in such a harmless and probably meaningless exchange between friends. When they reached the common room, Jocasta and Yalen entered together to get things ready, while the Virangish went off to get a drink, only to find an adorable scene not long later.

Giving the two blondes the privacy they deserved, Zaz simply waited outside and gatekept those that would potentially intrude.

"Good to see you Zarina. Please, come in." Yalen held the door open and politely gestured for her to proceed, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any other arrivals.

It looked as though the two were done. The door creasing open prompted Zarina to relent on the ‘too cool for school’ posture she held by it. She peered at the cuddle-recovering blonde that invited her back in, ”How we feeling, Yalen?” she was definitely still giving the look alright.

She took the invitation and stepped into the room, although she kept to the edges and didn’t appear to want to be noticed all too much, ”I hope you can excuse my lack of participation,” Zarina speaks up before others may join, ”I don’t exactly share the same enthusiasm for the Pentad as some others might.” and yet here she was.

Zarina kept herself in the background, vigilant and present. Where others prayed, she was left to her thoughts in the most uncomfortable of ways. At some point she would have to pay some mind to the communal worship, even if she didn’t quite participate. It allowed her to focus on other things- on others. How they conducted their faiths, potentially why they did it, and how much they were tied to it. She watched and judged, all so she couldn’t be left to observe and judge her own person.

---

The sun had long since fallen into the horizon, Zarina had retreated to her room, just as many others had. It was at this point that she fully realised how rancid her clothing had gotten, and to a lesser extent her entire being. Dried blood and guts were really reeking in the crevices of her attire, her hair was dried from all the dust and sand as well as- you know it- disgusting remains. She shuddered at the sight of her reflection on the mirror and quickly purged herself of the ranger clothing given to her, relegating them to a remote corner of her room. She was left with but a single, long top that covered most of her dignity.

A bath was readied, and in the meantime she would perform the second prayer of the day. Realistically, she hadn’t had a proper opportunity to do so, except perhaps when they stopped to eat. But by the time she had gotten through her issues with Marceline, it was time to go. So, as many did in Hexaism, she simply ‘expressed’ it. Prayers, after all, were meant to dedicate time of one’s life for worship, show discipline and some degrees of humility by sacrificing potentially good moments and giving time to prayer. But it was also all just works. Rituals, which most held close to their hearts but reasonably found shortcuts when circumstances made it so. Some were even lax enough to simply half-ass all prayers. All but the last one. The one before bed- the one before one dreamed. This one- every Hexaic worth their soul would do it right.

Zarina did her second while still mostly covered in filth and simply recited the words via mumbles while kneeling rapidly, wanting to just get it over with. The bath was more important. Once it was done, she cleaned up, enjoyed a good half-hour of heated water and thorough scrubbing before getting back at it.

The final prayer of the day could begin. Clean, with fresh clothes and the Hexaic pendant set right before her, hanging from the nightstand. Like the previous moment of worship, she mumbled over uttering, but she took her time. Eyes closed, muscles relaxed and mind made to be as serene as her washed body. Only, Zarina’s mind seldom ever found serenity. Whereas yesterday she thought of compassion and her hopes for others, a boiling anger deep inside was growing on this very night. The very stone her carpet was set upon was beyond soiled and this place reeked of nothing but death and misery.

May the nightmare …

She thought, gritting her teeth. The Virangish tried her best to purge the vile thoughts. The thoughts of a cauchemardesque world, where her anger was unrestrained and many feared her as much as they feared her mother. She imaged the faces- even those she’s never seen- of those that defiled these kids. Those that defiled the calamity that is Jocasta. Despite the endless compassion and generosity the awakening of the Dreamer could usher, she wished nothing but the nightmarish abyss to those many wicked in this world.

... seep into your very soul.

This release of anger, the excess energy she had remaining before hitting exhaustion- it was cathartic to release it. It was liberating, in a way, to poison the world and its future, just so those she hated could suffer. It was so easy to forget the good in the world. The Ayla’s, the Kaspar’s, the Yalen’s … When pain and anger all filled your head, at this very time. She did not want to hurt them, she wanted the best for them. But maybe, her desire to damn the wicked in her misplaced indignation was stronger than her will to bring good to those that deserved it. She hoped it wasn’t the case, but sometimes she wondered.

For the first time in a week, Zarina managed to sleep. Well, she collapsed onto her bed and slept in a dreamless slumber. She awoke earlier than most, but she was refreshed and not as volatile as she could be. First came the coffee, and then came a relaxing stroll outdoors before joining the meeting led by Escarra and Amanda.

---

Morning came, most were awake and Escarra, along with Amanda, announced the state of things. The Warden had been taken care of, the schedule was established and the next operation was to be conducted very soon. Zarina, sitting with a half-finished breakfast before her, raised her hand to pose her question, ”Where did you put the Warden?” she asked plainly, no beating around the bush with her eyes focused on Escarra in particular. Given their tight timeframe, if the answer wasn’t satisfactory, she would still have to go on doing her job.

”Otherwise, I can handle one of the Vice-Wardens. I just need a chem-person to help.” she then took a bit of churros and brought her gaze toward Luisa, who so happened to have stepped up in all her talkative glory. They all quickly went into action, with Luisa providing enough information on Adela’s routine to prepare an ambush. And it so happened that the stables were a good point of interception. This was going to be a good day, Zarina could feel it.

The Crop or the Crop

It was 4:48 Shune: two minutes to the hour. The nighttime cold was eagerly transforming itself into the desolate daytime heat of the high desert as morning was on the verge of giving way to midday.

The Refuge of San Agustín de las Arenas was well and truly awake now: the daytime shift of Cardinals at their stations, Magpies and Pigeons having cleaned up after another successful breakfast, the Tethered themselves walking or wheeling about the courtyard, paths, and colonnades, the first few dipping unfeeling toes into the water of the great bath. There were two people, known as Eagles to those ostensibly in their care, who walked purposefully from area to area.

One, Adela Mirabel Gonzalez, fifth daughter of a count and barren all her life, was approaching the stables, a distinct note of discomfort to her step. Ahead, she could see the girl who never stopped talking - Luisa - rolling towards one of the horses in her wheeled-chair, what appeared to be a bag of feed slung across her lap. At the vice warden's approach, the Afortunado twisted her way and waved a greeting. The area seemed conspicuously absent of all other human presence and that put her at further unease. She did not trust these people. The Tethered were dangerous. Presently, Adela began to reach out with the Gift, searching for other energies.

Zarina had been paired with Luisa, and their target was the female Vice-Warden. The patrol route was defined with basic information on both individuals, and so they waited with the Tethered teen unleashing a ceaseless discharge of words and Zarina tending to one of the horses further into the stables. She chose that one to stay out of sight when the time came, and it wouldn’t be until Adela sought to stake out any presences that the Virangish guest would show herself, waving with a brush in hand.

”Ah, hi!” she looked jolly and her high-pitched salutation helped to give off that impression. By the looks of it, Zarina likely didn’t get too much sleep the previous night either, but had enough to be functional. The horse she was tending to neighed after her greeting, ”Vice Warden Mirabel-Gonzalez, right?” her Torragonese accent was on point, ”I’m Zarina. You have wonderful horses. Especially this stallion here.” she reached out to caress the beast’s snout and he responded with the typical, affectionate flapping of his lips over her palm.

”Could I bother you for a bit of your time? I fear this one needs a bit of an advanced manicure. And, well, this one here-” she nudges her head toward Luisa with a smile, ”Has a bit of trouble with her height.” Zarina gave the official an intense, unmoving and wide-eyed look- not exactly threatening, but the tall teen was definitely trying to impose her presence into this relatively peaceful environment.

The Vice Warden blinked, pausing. She had not noticed the interloper. It was one of those students from Ersane'Enise, one of the ones that Tavio seemed determined to send to their doom. "Yes, I am she," Adela responded, knitting her hands before herself. "Pleasure to meet you, Zarina."

Yet, when the youth implied that she should help with the stallion's hooves, the older woman found herself insulted. A natural inclination, perhaps a weakness from birth, nearly took over and made her acquiesce. However, Adela quickly remembered who she was and what her position was here. Expression turning just a bit cooler, she forced a tight smile. "I shall call for some of the help to assist you," she said, turning about ninety degrees and taking both young women in. "It is their job, after all. For the time being, I must continue my rounds, especially with the danger that we now face." She shook her head and something that probably should've remained sealed within slipped out. "He should've called the Duke. All this pride..." The Vice Warden took a couple of steps, still open to responding, but ready to move on.

Zarina sighed from her nose, eyes closing very briefly as the Vice Warden rejected the invitation to help. When her eyes opened, her eyebrows furrowed and her teeth gritted slightly, ”Did you know?” she spoke up with a dry tone while giving a quick glance toward Luisa, indicating the Tethered youth that it was time to seal the exit, ”Did you know about the plan? The one where you’d sacrifice us, as well as Marci and your own people?” she stepped out of the stall and locked eyes with the timid creature that couldn’t spend a few moments helping a vital creature to their operations, ”Tell me- Vice-Warden- what are you going to do now? The Warden isn’t calling for help, or anything really. The Wyrm is coming. Everyone in the region is probably going to die in not too long.” her stepped closer, and the horses were beginning to neigh more and more, as if sharing the growing frustration brewing in Zarina’s being.

Just like that, Adela knew this for what it was: an ambush. Luisa was strong, though she did not make a show of it, and this student from the school likely stronger still. As she had always known hat they would, the Tethered were turning on their carers. The fools. The best course of action, the vice Warden decided, was simply to tell the truth. "I am not your enemy, stupid girls." She shook her head, trying not to sound too cutting. "I knew of the Warden's plan. I knew he would not be dissuaded, so I contacted the Duke Frannemas. He is on his way and will deal with the Wyrm." She shook her head. "Whatever this little rebellion is, it is unnecessary and unhelpful."

It was then that Luisa, normally a chatterbox but silent up to now, finally spoke. "Unnecessary and unhelpful to you, maybe," she accused, "But long overdue for us. Not that you would know or care. You've always feared us handling things on our own."

Adela was nonplussed. "A baseless falsehood!" she shot back. "I never said anything of the sort."

Luisa rolled her eyes, taking a push forward. "No. It was only in your tone, your expression, the way that you drew energy whenever you were around me, as if you were ready to defend yourself."

Adela's eyes darted between the two young women's implacable faces. "So are you going to attack me, then?" she demanded. "It is true that II find you dangerous - you are proving it right now - but I have never thought you incapable. What that you had simply been empowered by Tavio - that fool - to handle this yourselves, we never would've had to call the duke!" She paused, trying to gauge the two. "If I meet with him, I may yet be able to call him off..." she said.

Zarina began to draw from her surroundings as a conspicuous warning to the Vice-Warden the moment she qualified the two as ‘stupid’, ”Let’s not prod the side that has the numbers on you.” she stopped her approach, however, and stayed by Luisa while keeping an adamant eye on the authority figure.

”You were certainly very helpful when we, as well as your colleagues, were sent to die. The only one that stepped up was Escarra.” the Virangish went on to brush through Adela’s figure with a scrutinising gaze, sizing the woman up with close attention given to body language, ”We won’t hurt you, so long as keep on being agreeable like you are now.” Zarina’s attention scatters briefly and her attention is taken by a riding crop nearby that she picks up, ”Now- Tell me. In the case of a loss of control of the Refuge, what are the protocols?” her eyes turn from the crop she had been passing her digits over to the Vice-warden, ”Will the Duke attempt to take the establishment? Burn it down with everyone inside just to be safe?”

"I have never met the duke," Luisa added, tilting her head to the side. "Though I have heard of him, of course. Huarcan Frannemas is second only to the King himself, and some say not for much longer."

Would that she'd seen this coming earlier, Adela would've done something to head it off. Now, these two had her over a barrel. Now, she had to think. "The duke is a powerful man. If what we do here threatens him, then we shall find ourselves facing a fight we cannot win. If it serves him, however, or at least appears to do so, then he may yet be an ally and even grant you some of what you appear to seek." She shrugged. "It is hard to say in lieu of meeting with him." She furrowed her brow. "I would have to have words."

Zarina shifted her attention between the cornered Vice Warden and the crop in her hands, eventually only holding it with one hand after giving a couple of test swings, ”Haven’t used one of these in a while. Used it to help my horse, Riesco, get into a gallop faster and reach his potential. A sort of encouragement, not really a punishment.” by the swings, however, it was clear Zarina had the power to really make it hurt, ”If we were to bring you downstairs, kept quiet until this Wyrm issue is resolved- Señora Mirabel-Gonzalez- would there be a need for additional encouragement for you to comply?” she nudged her chin forward, eyes wide and expecting an answer from Adela.

”Do you think she can ever be trusted, Luisa?” she inquired while keeping her wide stare on the second-in-command, ”You’ve known her for much longer than I have.”

Before Luisa could offer her opinion, the Vice Warden interjected, voice rising in panic. "You are making a huge mistake if you try to hurt me or.... or lock me up." She glanced both anxiously and vexedly at the crop. "I am no threat and I am valuable to the duke. I'm his agent. I can talk to him!" She took a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. "I am not your enemy. Surely, you can trust me to look after my own best interests!"

Luisa tilted her head to the side, positively Jocasta-like in the gesture. "To answer your question, Zarina..." She narrowed her eyes. "You can't trust her an inch further than you could throw her."

”Valuable?” Zarina raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer to the vice warden to intrude on her personal bubble. She could trust Luisa to at least have her back if the older woman attempted anything, ”I don’t think anyone condemned to work here is all that valuable.” she chuckled, both at her own remark and Luisa’s assessment of Adela’s worthiness of trust. With little warning, the Virangish smacked her own palm with the shaft of the tool she had been swinging, prompting an unpleasant, visceral sound to assault the cornered woman’s ears, ”I figure it would be a huge mistake for you to not let yourself be locked up. Unless you’d prefer some mob justice out there.” she gestures her own head toward the exit of the stables, ”I’m sure more than a few hold higher-ups like you responsible for the more unsavoury things going on here.”

She let that threat sink in, all the while placing herself between the exit and Adela, and Luisa covered the other direction. There was nowhere to go, and Zarina’s shadow was perfectly cast over the other’s being. But, she sighed and let her body relax a little, ”But we’re not here to take lives. Orders are to preserve them. And usually-” she locked the crop between her armpit and arm, and reached out for a nearby bag of feed. A carrot was taken out to be fed to the nearest horse with a flat palm, ”the carrot works better in these cases. Surrender yourself to Luisa. You’ll be taken care of. And then you’ll have your word with the big man when he arrives.” she looked over at the vice warden expectantly while the horse munched happily on the treat.

Adela saved a choice glare for Luisa. The girl had always had something against her and now that she'd had the chance to act on it, she had. "You are making a mistake that could cost you dearly," the Vice Warden warned. "Don Frannemas will shoot first and ask questions later if he feels he cannot trust the situation." She forced a shrug, though, hiding her fear and bitterness. It was clear that these ungrateful tethered - who had no idea how difficult it was to staff and run a refuge - had corrupted the students and brought them wholly onside, not that Adela could blame them all that much with the way that idiot Tavio had decided to deal with them. "But it is quite strongly built and isolated there beneath the red tower. When he razes this place to the ground because you didn't listen to me, I will be safe enough, I suppose." She held her hands out in acquiescence. "Lead me away or I can see myself there. It does not matter."

Zarina rolled her eyes, her fingers simulating a mouth yammering about when Adela shifted her gaze away from the Virangish while making a goofy face, ”Yeah, well, we’re counting on you to slip in a good word when the time comes, yeah?” she noded toward Luisa to do the deed and knock out the Vice-Warden with her chemical magic. When everything seemed to be under control, Zarina shelved the crop and continued to give a bit of feed to the animals, ”Although, good to know the basement is that durable. Thanks for that.” she flashed a quick smile toward Adela, probably right before she fell into dreamland.

”Hmmm,” panic in the Refuge was getting louder. If Luisa hadn’t captured the sounds yet, Zarina would have at this point, ”know a way to get her nice ‘n’ comfy without dealing with more jumpy staffers? I can handle the carrying.”

The energy was still cooling in her veins. Her target was asleep. Though it couldn't quite be characterized as a 'hatred', there was little love lost between Luisa and the Vice Warden. "Gods, that felt satisfying," the former remarked, as the latter slumped half on the ground, half across her lap. "I should've let her hit her head. Might've knocked some empathy into the bitch."

”She was a bit of a cunt,” Zarina nodded, amused while handling a very large and empty bag of what likely used to contain feed. She flapped it straight and began to fit the sleeping vice warden in it, ”but I’ve seen far worse. And I’m sure you have, too.” she was careful to not hurt Adela- the woman did concede without a struggle and complied, so Zarina was going to stick by her word, ”At least you’ve shown you’re not a cunt. Just a bit of a tart.” she winked at Luisa.

After a moment, Zarina spoke. Luisa shrugged easily. "All you, boss lady." She pulled a small flask out from the folds of her dress, uncorked it, and took a sip. "I'm good to help if you need me." She furrowed her brow, then, casting about for Felix. Then... she felt his energy and it was not good.

The Vice Warden was carried over Zarina’s shoulder. The Virangish was built stronger than the average female, but mostly utilised the Gift to make the task far easier. She relied on Luisa to navigate while she brought along this conspicuous bag that was just loose enough to not be TOO obvious. Still, she hurried, before things got a bit too hot in the Refuge. So far, this day was indeed going pretty well.

tl;dr

-Zarina isn't too engaged by Joscata's philosophizing.
-She attends Yalen's prayer in the common room, but stays in the background, discreet.
-She prays to the Dreamer in her room, but feels nothing but resentment and anger as she remembers where she is and how vile people can truly get. She sees but a nightmare.
-Gets good sleep and wakes up early, attends the meeting and asks where the Warden is stashed.
-Teams up with Luisa to ambush Vice-Warden Adela.
-Adela is given a choice: The easy way or the hard way. A riding crop is used as effective illustration.
-Adela concedes and is knocked out, but not before mentioning the Duke Frannemas, his inevitable intervention and how he'll mow down everything if he feels threatened. She claims to be his agent and can talk him down.
-Zarina and Luisa knock her out anyway, but nicely.

O R I F L A M M E

---

Interacting with: Olaf the Aged @Force and Fury
Opportunity: Everyone feels the earthquake. Feel free to say hello to waking up Arnaud!

---

Event: Defense of Relouse Location: The Beach

---

The storm raged, tugged by both sides of the conflict with the beach growing in occupation now that the traps had run their course and more Eskandr busied the forces to the point where Aheri had to forgo sentinel duties. War axe clenched tight in his right hand, he stood vigilant over the small peak that overlooked La Plage and considered his next play wisely, as distracting echoes from other fronts were keen on destabilising him. One in particular simply had the Northern man smirk behind his featureless mask, ”Le roi tombe, hein? Tombé sur son cul, oui! Ne laissez pas ces conneries vous séduire! En avant!*” he shouted at his men and those close enough to hear the executioner’s metallic voice.

Arnaud hurled his whole being forward, having since taken notice of the unnatural grove that bled from the Witch Wood. Regardless of what brought it, it was now being used against the Parrench, and thus was an enemy. The fodder was wise to not directly engage Arnaud- No amount of glory justified a swift and pointless end to the axe that could obliterate even the more heavily armoured in a single swing. Leave it to Olaf the Aged to handle these cases, as he did many times before. With a great stomp of his left foot, Aheri unleashed a focused blast of Force toward the mass of unnatural plant life, along with fissures to go with it, in the hopes to compromise the vined structure.

It dented the false forest, although it was far more resilient than Arnaud had initially thought. But the architect of this machination knew full well a few more concentrated strikes could end this peculiar endeavour– and so he attacked. A barrage of strange branches were sent toward Aheri– branches of a wood that very much defied the conventional. The executioner made the mistake of not realising this sooner, figuring a strong air blast from a swing of his axe would do, but he was wrong. Enough withstood the blast with their trajectory barely affected, hitting Arnaud at various points: The left armpit, the cheek and the hip, breaking some of his armour and revealing just a tad of his face, although one would mostly see his dark and greyed beard. Arnaud wasn’t bleeding quite yet, as his armour was endowed by the queen’s Boon. But at this rate, he would exhaust this blessing and rely only on his own power from here on out.

Olaf didn’t stop for a moment and went for his own wind strike. Aheri stands his ground, consolidating his stance to be immovable and with a mighty, lion-like warcry, prepared himself for the oncoming attack. But the elder Eskandr’s assault is far more powerful than he could have anticipated– The blast became far, far more powerful the moment it hit the ground before Aheri, prompting an explosion to completely destabilise the executioner! In this moment of weakness, the shaman capitalised with a closing of distance and tapped his wrinkled hand over Arnaud’s chest. A kneeling Aheri attempted to seize the older man’s wrist, but was too late to prevent his system from being exposed to soporific poisons. The attempt to catch Olaf was met with failure, as vines bound Arnaud’s being and the elder was allowed to retreat to safety.

The Royal Executioner feels his body waver, the poison already starting to have an effect. His size and inclination toward Essence magic delayed the effects relatively well, but Olaf’s poison was indeed potent. Arnaud knew he didn’t have much time before he would be rendered too weak, and so he charged with another war cry, but instead of swinging his axe, he performed a feint and instead stomped the ground when he was right before Olaf, who had been attempting to recover through syphoning energy via the plants. Surprised at first, Olaf’s eyes widen but he does not panic. With a strong exhale, he manages to downright deaden the air near him, preventing the kinetic blast from doing anything beyond serving as an annoying gust of wind passing by.

Left in complete disbelief, Arnaud pauses at the sight of Olaf’s raw power. He hesitated, and that was enough for Olaf to bind the axe wielder with vines and attempt to bury Aheri for good. The poison was making good work too, to the point where Arnaud seemed just about done.

Tomber, sans que mon adversaire ne connaisse mon nom? Foutaise!**

ROOOHHHHAAAAAR!

A great roar echoed throughout the Beach, and could be heard all over Relouse, some parts of the Witch Wood and very clearly for those that stayed near the Cape. A Lion’s roar, which ironically was probably unknown to most present in this conflict. What followed it was like thunder to lightning, a great earthquake that rumbled through the whole beach and the vibrations reached as far as the echoes of the scream. Aheri had slammed the pommel of his axe into the very ground that was ready to consume him, liberating him in the process and leaving the man with ceaseless steam that coated his being. His own sweat was cooking up!

”I, Arnaud Maobe, The Aheri, recognize you worthy foe. Old Eskand Warrior, will you give me your name?”

He says with quite the foreign accent. Olaf first speaks in his native tongue, something the executioner couldn’t understand, but he does honour the request with his own broken Avincian.

”Name. Old. Olaf.”

Arnaud nods. In spite of his clearly empowered state, the poison was still there and his threatening demeanour was thoroughly compromised. A shame he could not go at a strength worthy of such an opponent, but the Zuyr warrior embraced these circumstances of war. With battles continuing around them despite the grand quake, the executioner darts toward the enemy, faster and more devastating than ever, and readies a single axe swing to cleave through the coming projectiles from his equally reactive opponent. Once close, he readied another stomp, one that not only forced the sands and stone beneath to violently rise under Olaf, but was transformed through Essence magic to be as sturdy and impaling as possible. Unfortunately, Olaf was known for his manipulation of sand in particular and easily dissolves the transformed material, creating a cloud of sand in the air.

Aheri capitalises, but ends up outplayed by his opponent once more. Bound by vines through a deceitful counter by Olaf, the Eskandr sought to free the executioner from his tool of justice. The tug was strong, and Aheri’s strength was waning. Thinking it was the end, now that the big man had his mighty weapon taken, the shaman would be rightfully caught off guard by Aheri’s next manoeuvre: He simply abandons his axe and charges in, faster than ever from the lack of burden. Olaf reacts with a sprouting branch to uppercut the disarmed axeman, buying himself enough time to retreat, but Aheri doesn’t give up, even as his age and weight start to get to him along with the poison.

Confident after this swift dodge, the Eskandr taunted the Parrench warrior, ”You no good fight. Weak! Hahaha!” then he drew his own weapon, a typical sword of his people, and went to attempt a Coup de Grâce. Arnaud, too angry and battle charged to die, parries with his silver gauntlets and pushes back with enough force to destabilise the geriatric foe. Olaf stumbles, his own age also affecting his performance, and stares in rightful fear of what’s to come next.

The Parrench crouched before the recuperating Eskandr– to get at his level– and readied his right arm behind him, winding it up with a couple of spins. His left hand rested over his shoulder, keeping his posture steady as he focused on that one, decisive move. It all seemed slow, especially for such a fast paced battle, but it was all calculated, just enough to make for a devastating attack with the window Olaf had given. And then he struck, as fast as a snake thrusting its fangs onto its prey, in an attempt to lay that massive hand onto Olaf’s chest. The shaman knew he wouldn’t have a torso if this was allowed to hit.

With every bit of energy running through his being, Olaf propelled himself back whilst sacrificing a large amount of vines in the process. Aheri’s strike was so that the simple act of his palms and fingers grazing the side and shoulder of the elder caused bones to break: Shoulder and rib. If anything, Arnaud had succeeded in getting this veteran out of the picture for a while, even if it wasn’t through death, as these injuries were certainly dangerous, especially at that age.

In a cold stare, Olaf silently took back the taunting words. Having flirted with death so closely, far closer that an elder of war like him was used to, given his survival thus far, he knew it unwise to call Arnaud weak. Before Aheri can pursue and put an end to a now very wounded Olaf, he begins to lose control of his legs.

”Merde.” he cursed, now on one knee. He could barely see straight, and his armour was weighing far more on him than normal. Before long, he fell unconscious, in the middle of the battlefield, although was conscious just long enough to fall on his back, ”Next time,” calls the shaman, staggering away, ”We play again, big man. Next time, I no play with me food.” Arnaud heard it all, the last words he would hear before blacking out.

One of the most powerful warriors in Parrench was now ripe for the taking. If it weren’t for his squadron arriving on time, now missing two bodies from the initial six, Arnaud would have been a free claim to glory. Although perhaps the fact that Olaf didn’t finish him off was potentially enough of a warning to the lesser that it wasn’t wise to pursue the issue. Regardless, with Olaf out of commission, the Beach was just a tad safer. Safe enough for Aheri’s faithful men to drag him back into Parrench lines for recovery.

Translation

*The King Falls, huh? Fell on his ass, yeah! Don’t let this bullshit seduce you! Forward!
**To fall, without my adversary knowing my name? Fuck that!

Tl;dr

-Big fight with Olaf, Arnaud is a bit too confident
-Most of Arnaud's attacks are countered by Olaf, his expertise outmatches Arnaud's raw strength and speed.
-Arnaud is poisoned and made weaker, he is slowly succumbing to fatigue at an abnormal rate
-He buffs up to buy time and threaten the veteran, causing his roar to echo through Relouse, some of the Witch wood and very much the whole beach, along with an earthquake.
-He is disarmed despite his buff, but says fuck it and goes with his bare hands, and Olaf kind of realizes he's even more dangerous like this.
-Arnaud nearly obliterates Olaf with a grab (Rolled 19 ayyy), but the elder manages to barely avoid death, ending up with a broken shoulder and a few shattered ribs.
-Olaf retreats, Arnaud is unconscious but found by his men. Beach is a tad safer with Olaf tucking tail.

The Hourglass Order

---

Interacting with: Abdel
Location: Tethered Refuge - Stables and Lounge

---

They made it back mostly intact. Well, except for two guards and half the camels. But the survivors weren’t particularly injured or distressed beyond Jocasta’s exertion from what Zarina could tell. The Virangish took it upon herself to tend to the animals once they had returned to one of the stables, making sure none were hurt and removing the load they were carrying while ensuring they were with food and water. On the side were multiple Tethered children curiously watching– a familiar sight to their first night here, although with less energy. Spirits weren’t as high.

Ayla went on to meet with Laella, and Zarina took notice of the same pre-teen boy that had approached her the other day. She recalled his name to be Abdel and wasn’t exactly appreciated by some of the staff. She gave him a knowing glance but didn’t do anything beyond manifesting her acknowledgement of his presence. The camels were first– they had done a lot of work– and he could wait a little bit.

He did take a step forward, potentially a little shy to take the initiative with such a tall and good looking girl, ”Are you a stable girl?” he asked somewhat sheepishly which prompted Zarina to raise an eyebrow while peering at his direction, ”Do I look like one?” she replied with a loaded question and a focused gaze that could be mistaken for a glare. She didn’t look particularly classy at this moment, being covered in bloodstains and sand, one could confuse her for just about anything. Abdel was wise to fumble with his words and not give an answer, ”Pass me the brush, Abdel.” the imaginary crisis had been averted, her eyes returned to the animal before her and her hand extended out in wait. Abdel smiled– she remembered his name.

With the brush in hand, the Virangish girl went on to clean some of the stains on the beast ridden by Jocasta and Marceline. There was an awkward silence– Abdel didn’t dare interrupt her, not when she looked as bloodied as she did. It didn’t take long, and soon she would be at his disposal, standing straight before the younger teenager with a hand on her hip and the opposite arm rested along her side, ”So, what’s u-” she paused, shifting her eyes from side to side, recalling that the walls did indeed have ears. She spoke in her mother tongue, instead, ”Did you need anything, Abdel?” she asked calmly, gaze peered downward and kept soft to not overwhelm the kid or make him feel scrutinised, ”I wanted to-” he reached for the same satchel he had the previous night, and Zarina cut him off when he made his intention clear, ”Yeah, that. Pass it here.” she stepped closer to him, shielding the item from the view of any potential onlooker.

The medallion was placed into her gesturing hand by a somewhat surprised Abdel and she looked into it. She had memorised the seal, but it was good to get some confirmation that one’s memory served well. Her thumb brushed over the symbol as she got quiet, feigning reflection even though she already had an answer, ”Okay.” she says in Avincian this one time. From this close, Abdel could definitely feel the not-so-pleasant odours of dried blood, sweat and dirt all mixed together, and yet he could also distinguish the unique lavender aroma that almost seemed natural to her, ”I know where this comes from.” she plainly answers, sliding the item back in the small bag for Abdel quickly enough before they’d get any unwanted attention, ”And I’ll tell you. In exchange for something.” she smirked.

Abdel squinted, rightfully suspicious of this proposition and teetering close to the same look of defiance he had given to one of the Refuge’s staff, ”... It’s just soap. And a book for the night. The nights here suck and I want something nice.” she relented on the teasing and just cut to the chase with what was a fairly simple ask to a resident like Abdel, ”O-oh. Yeah, I can do that.” Zarina interjects quickly, ”And a place to sit real quick. Saddles destroy ass, I tell you.” the kid couldn’t help but snort at that comment and nodded in agreement. A spark of hope lit up in his eyes and he got to work. Zarina almost felt bad for making him move with that cane of his, but then she realised he would use the gift to get most of the job done.

A nearby couch in a lounge was chosen for Zarina’s little break while Abdel made his way to the library to handpick a book himself. The gift was used to nab one of the better soaps used by the staffers, a soap that would fit nicely with the subtle smell he caught from Zarina’s figure. When the ingredients were gathered, the goods were offered, ”Shit, you’re fast.” Abdel grins, and even blushes a tad at the compliment from the clearly pleased older girl. She first smells the block of soap and happily fits it into her bag she dropped by the couch, ”The Marvellous Vagabond, Don Canas del Molino.” she read, a Torragonese book by the looks of it and quite a popular one, ”Fast, efficient and an intellectual~” she winked at the lad, adding fuel to the fire within as his heart beat a little faster, ”Thanks.”

She tapped by her, inviting the Tethered boy to join her. He sat normally, letting his cane lean against the couch’s arm and rested his hands over his knees, ”Are you … Happy?” Zarina was letting her side lean against the backrest, elbow just over it and supporting her cheek. Her golden gaze was fixed right on him as she stayed silent for a brief moment, ”Very.” she answers plainly, taking mild amusement at the subtle reactions that came from the poor boy. It was cute, ”And I’m a lady of my word.” she peers downward and muses for a moment. Abdel’s legs grow increasingly restless– he is eager to know the answer to what’s been working his mind for so long. As long as he can remember, actually.

”Every year I see that emblem. One of four, I think, that lead the pilgrimage to Inipor for the Annual Festival.” her features soften, her gaze vaguely directed toward the boy, ”House Bukhari. Imam Buhkari is particularly known in Northern Virang. I’ve attended a couple of his prayers.” she exhales from her nose while Abdel listens with great attention, ”Well-known? My family is … Important? Is he my dad?” clearly excited to get some answers, Zarina didn’t quite share that enthusiasm, ”I’d say they’re important. I don’t know if he’s your dad.” it looked as though there was more she wanted to say, but she kept it to herself.

Abdel had taken the medallion back out and stared right at it, clutching it close. For a moment he seemed happy, but as this newfound discovery mellowed in his mind, the unjust reality of it all hit the young teen’s sensitive mind. He started to clench the item, a squeeze tight enough to nearly break it. Zarina could feel it– his frustration and disappointment, ”And they were ashamed of me.” he said in a mumble. Zarina pursed her lips, knowing full well the signs of growing rage, and reached her hand out to his shoulder, ”They’re assholes.” she says with the driest of tones, ”They preach about you, y’know? The Tethered. How your bodies are bound to an endless dream.” she squeezed on his shoulder, and in turn his own grip on the medallion loosened.

”But that’s not enough to be accepted, is it?” he aggressively retorts, his eyes burning with an anger he had likely bottled up for a long time, but couldn’t quite articulate it nor have a direction to hurl it toward. Zarina exhales from her nose and keeps her body language open, letting her hand slide down his arm and just gently rest over his hand, ”They’re no different than anyone else, important or not.” she replies, eyes locked into the teen boy’s, ”Do you want to meet them?” she asked, but before he could answer out of emotion after hesitation, they’d be notified of the meeting at Amanda’s room, ”Raincheck,” she stands and uses her hand over his to help him up, ”don’t get too pissy over this. Most parents are total fucking assholes. Focus on getting through the next few days, then we’ll see what you feel and what you want, yeah?” she gives him a final expectant stare which he responds with a nod. He clearly was still distressed by this inevitable truth, and he likely knew it deep down, but now it was given form– a name.

Tl;dr

Abdel approaches Zarina for information on his past.
She knows the family, informs of who they are after he gets her some quality soap and a book.
At first he's glad to know, but then grows frustrated at the reality of it.
Before it can go any further, the meeting at Amanda's room takes place.

O R I F L A M M E

---

Interacting with: @Dao Ma Maerec @Pirouette Camille - Any Parrence Aligned at the Beach! - Any Eskandish wanting to take on the Big Guy.
Opportunity: Arnaud is leading the defence of the Beach and using a squad of Force Mages to blast away the Mist and obliterate ships with waves of force. Anybody is welcome to attack or help!

---

Event: Defense of Relouse Location: La Plage

---

The Silence before the storm– A storm he was keen on ushering in himself. Many were already praying before the horizon was littered with the enemy, high and low-borns alike. Aheri never wasted his energy on such things, not from a standpoint of superiority, but rather he would never consider the possibility of falling to battle. And should he meet his match, the euphoria would be immense and the clash grand enough to shake the five moons themselves. The featureless, armoured executioner who bore the title many more noble than him spent a lifetime to earn stood tall at the top of a stoney hill bordering the sandy beach and the green lands surrounding Relouse. With him were a recently arrived troupe of men and women, all clad in an armour similar to his barring the lion symbol and the extra decorative touches. They were the few of his people that followed him, and all bore the gift of Force with them.

One that stood out was none other than one of those that did earn his title. Maerec de Solenne, a man Aheri would have remarked on how ‘pretty’ he looked, just like Asier, had it not been for his scars. They had never formally met beyond crossing eyes on various occasions in the King’s court. The stoic Arnaud stood at the peak of the small hill, just barely turning his head to acknowledge the younger man, ”Oui. On m’a informé de ton arrivée*. I’m all ears.” he mixed his Parrench and Avincian in a cocktail of accents that were honestly quite difficult to makeout for those uninitiated, and many rarely dared to make him repeat, if only due to his size and a lack of facial features to gauge his metallic tone, slightly muffled by his helm.

Maerec proposed a plan that coincided nicely with Arnaud’s own standards. To sabotage the enemy through drainage of Force energy, and feed it to Arnaud and his squad of mages to retaliate full-force. An interesting position to have as a Knight, being a full-on support, as most had the tendency to simply want to prove their worth. Many of which would attempt and fail in the coming Cap battle. Perhaps Maerec’s wisdom would be what keeps him alive through the coming ordeal. The Blood mages and the Yasoi female were preparing the beach, some of which were specifically designed by Arnaud. The sands at the extremes of the beach were made into quicksand, similar to the many he had encountered in his treks in the West to claim the land that would one day be Virang. Most fodder and weaker mages were essentially doomed without a plan to handle them, and how often did the Eskandr ever raid the deserted lands of the North and West? The only safe landing area was at the centre, where troops were already positioned, and the shoring ships would be funnelled into.

”Dame Camille de la Saumure.” he called out in the ranks, ”Come.” the massive figure extended his hand out and gestured his fingers for her to come. From her position she likely only saw his back, and would only find a fully-armoured giant the closer she got with no distinguishable human features, ”Quand ils mettront les pieds sur la terre sacrée de Parrence, je peux compter sur ta volontée? Ainsi de m’aider avec tes paroles divines?**” he turns his head ever so slowly to look into her direction, gauging the youngling’s reaction and resolve. Such a young Knightess, so clearly out of her depth. It reminded Arnaud of his own youth. Thrust into battle as a prodigy, and perhaps she too would become a war-bound hound like he did.

---

Here they were. The Southern Armada. An army bigger than anything Aheri had ever seen, whether it was in Rettan or Belzagg, he had never seen such a fleet in one place with this level of coordination. It was impressive, but nothing that would make the metal-clad executioner flinch. He stood firm in place, stalwart to the cause he had taken and unmoving in his resolve. He brandished his axe from over his shoulder and roughly slammed the pommel over the stone below him, causing a mighty thud to reverberate throughout the Parrench lines and the lines of sand they had carefully prepared for the occasion. It was a signal: The enemy was here, and they had to step up.

Archers and ranged mages went first, blasting away at one another. Lightning strikes from a considerably powerful Thunder mage terrified the many, even some of Arnaud’s close men, but he didn’t budge. Should he be struck, his own accumulated Force energy was enough to repulse a stray bolt, and he could perhaps even draw from it to return the favour to the source. But then came the Mist and the visible destruction of Redane from even Arnaud’s position. Something had happened, something that would have made a younger Zuyr king rush into battle, but he knew better now. Only by holding his position would they have a chance, and he made sure neither his men, nor Maerec, nor even the young little Camille would seize the misguided initiative.

”Trickery already, eh? Very well.” he chuckled while clenching the metal bar that held his weapon together.

Dark clouds began to form above them. A bad omen or maybe a signal? In any case, as the battle commenced and longboats began to make land, the experienced warriors on the beach would not be the only ones to notice a major discrepancy. Arnaud could feel it ever since the mist came about, but now that he could witness the Eskandish tactic unravel, he wordlessly raised his poleaxe, holding it as close to the pommel as he could. He swung it in a circular manner over his head, prompting a considerable amount of air to unleash from the motion. And then another, with the accumulated air getting bigger and bigger. Aheri’s men began to draw from that very air while simultaneously slowing the enemy on the beach with similar forms of drawing with Maerec spearheading the endeavour. With more and more gusts of air concentrating over Aheri and his men adding to it and ‘containing’ it in a small area, it was becoming more apparent that his goal was to conjure up a small storm– a very localised hurricane to not only attempt to dispel the mist with violent winds, but also focus enough of it to unleash a devastating blast to the fleet.

Projectiles were beginning to lose efficiency on both ends, as the winds became more violent in the Beach area, while those in Relose and the Cape were definitely feeling powerful drafts coming their way. Arnaud had no issue continuously drawing and unleashing more Force via his axe’s movement. And when it was time, his second hand came to hold his poleaxe as well. The massive weapon, readied and now still with a great concentrate of energy and air held together by his men and Maerec right above it, was to descend down the same manner he had always done to exact the King’s Justice. He purposely aimed it toward a ‘trapped’ area of the Beach, aiming slightly to the direction of the Cape where there had been a confirmed assault already. The blast was massive, more than what a Third Wheel could normally unleash. Although he was not only a Leadvein, but it was a group effort too. A straight, vertical wave of pure force blasted through the sands and waters alike, unleashing a horizontal shockwave in its wake akin to multiple explosions occurring in that one slash.

Any boat in the way would likely be obliterated, those just shy of the main blast would be propelled so harshly, survival was unlikely, and those far enough to survive but feel the full might of the shockwave would capsize and be devoured by the ocean’s waves prompted from the mighty attack. With that, Aheri banked that the blast would be enough to dispel the mist, if only temporarily, and get proper sight of the Eskandish machinations. The blast went as far as about 200 metres, matching many other mage attacks, although the shockwave extended much farther (albeit losing its lethality beyond a 15 metre distance from the epicentre).

The conjured mini-storm had made communication difficult for that brief moment, and would only be now that word would come to Arnaud regarding the Cape and the Witchwood, ”Hold. Your. Post.” he called out for all those nearby to hear. Without an order from the King, or a high ranking official, it was foolish to expect anything good from questioning authority and battle strategies now, ”If Le Lion needs help, he can come and get it.” he bellowed out as he raised his weapon once more, going for another round of storm conjuring with his battle-induced laughter of excitement muffled by the gusts of wind surrounding him. So long as Arnaud remained at the top with his support, safeguarding La Plage, the divided Eskandish had little chance of breaking through the middle by brute force. Not without a proper mage to take charge.

Translation

*Yes. They’ve informed me of your arrival.
**When they will put their feet on the sacred land of Parrence, I can count on your will? As well as conferring me your divine words?

Tl;dr and Opportunities

-Maerec proposes to support Arnaud as a Force Saboteur on the Beach and enhancer to the berserker. The latter also has a small troupe of lesser Force mages from his Tribe to assist.
-Camille is beckoned to join Arnaud, and then encouraged to show what she's got when the battle starts.
-The Mist's deception gets everyone, and Arnaud conjures a 'storm' of wind with the help of Maerec, his squad, and perhaps even Camille's 'prayers', creating a localised hurricane to begin to dispel it and hinder navigation.
-He then swings his axe to unleash all the accumulated winds and force into a single, vertical wave to 'cut through' the veil and blast it it away, scrambling the boats in the process and probably destroying quite a bit.
-He can continuously do this if not pressured by a strong force.
-Arnaud will likely pressure the Cape if he is allowed to mow through the Beach with his team of mages and the bulk of the army, but is contingent on orders from Arcel.

The Hourglass Order

---

Interacting with: Yalen @pantothenic, Jocasta & Escarra @Force and Fury, Ayla @Ti, Kaspar @Wolfieh, Ysilla @Pirouette
Location: Torragonese Desert

---

The Two Sisters

The stables held a good dozen horses, bred for the desert and slightly bigger than average. Most of them were brown with long, unkept manes, except for a couple which Zarina had just recently brushed. There were also a few goats in a pen near the entrance, likely for a steady supply of milk. There were four, all sticking their heads out of the wooden planks that kept from leaving, curiously looking over at the new human that had entered their home and giving them head scratches beforehand. They weren’t calling for her– they just stared and flocked together, like they enjoyed her presence. The horses were also calm when she approached them, some even stretching their necks and flapping their lips to get her attention and hoping for some food.

Zarina was currently kneeling behind one of the mares. An older beauty, still in shape for duty but one could tell her age by the shape and colour of her teeth. Quite yellow and beginning to ‘split’ in a way. The mare’s hoof was over her knee, hoof pick on one hand and her other holding the strand of hair just over the foot. A routine cleanup, one she really put her back into. It made her happy, and even better: It calmed her down. In turn, the beasts were serene, without a single neigh of protest. But then she heard an all too familiar squawking from the nearby window. The Virangish girl’s features distorted from a composed and relaxed neutral to a mild scowl.

The hoof was allowed to drop and she stood up, giving the brave horse a little tap on the behind and a kiss to the side before she moved to the front of the pen so she could see the inevitable frame of her sister and attack the muck under the front hooves, ”Kol Khara*.” she responds with a restrained but whiny tone. She rolled her eyes and exhaled from her nose in frustration. It didn’t stop her from going about her task. The animals noticed the newcomer, and some of them stomped in light agitation. A couple of goats even ‘baah’d a little loud and the nearest horse grunted. Maybe they sensed something strange? Nothing Zarina would find too odd– maybe they had the same tastes as her.

”So,” she too spoke in her mother tongue, ”You come to the stables, for once, as a sort of unpredictable move to get me, huh?” she gives a glance to her sister from under the pampered horse, a gaze that didn’t hold much annoyance or even anger, though she definitely didn’t try to be even remotely welcoming, ”Pass me the brush, to your left.” she directs her eyes to said brush to make it clearer, and the order wasn’t heavy or loaded with any emotion. A mere routine request.

Ysilla maintained a lifeless expression from her sister’s snap. She had grown accustomed to rude receptions and made a habit to never give them anything. This was different in a way and a mild annoyance began to surface. Why did she even bother with her sister anyway? Why now? What exactly did she want to do here with her?

Unknown. It was a compulsion that just took over and now since she made the bed, she was going to lie in it.

It was Ysilla’s turn to respond but she carefully considered her words and opted to buy herself time. The puppeteer would raise her hand in acknowledgement at the request and would send Hoopoe to fly over and grab the brush with her talons and fly over to dump the brush in Zarina’s hand. The stable held silence, aside from any audible discomfort of the animals or Hoopoe’s flight and cawing, imitating a real bird.

To get her? The wording of her sister’s comment was simmering in her head as she considered the meaning. ”Such a trifling conspiracy to waste your breath on.” A scoff but with Ysilla’s emotionally muted tone, it was hardly noticeable but there was indignation in her tone. She never liked when her sister accused her of something. ”Do you feel threatened? Like I am about to get you.” She aired snidely.

The unnatural clanks from the wooden puppets broke Zarina’s focus on her current manicure endeavour. A glance of subtle revulsion was dedicated to the marionette and she swiftly nabbed the brush from it. She did not like the imitation, not one bit, ”Thanks.” she then passes the brush over some of the fur near the horse’s knee, scraping off some dried dirt that had accumulated there before standing back up. The next task was the mane, and she’d use the underside of the brush to begin straightening the knots and removing the scarce debris.

”Threatened?” she shakes her head, her tone matching the monotony of her sister’s, ”Just wondering what you want. For you to come alllll this way to the stinking stables to talk to me. I must’ve fucked up real bad, or something’s up.” variation in her tone returned, showing some degree of frustration. But she also seemed a tad intrigued, as her gaze deviated more and more from the animal and dedicated more interest to the twin, ”I’ve been doing good, by the way.”

Once more Ysilla stood still, her form tucked under cloak so even her idling finger taps on her thighs would be unnoticed. Her glare never leaves her sister. She was silent but without something to act as an excuse to delay her response, she answered after a few moments. ”Guilty conscience?” Ysilla robatically asked, tilting her head to one side inquisitively. ”Or do we only converse amid peril?”

”Bit dramatic.” Zarina is snappy in her response, ”We got through the worst. I think.”

A question that Ysilla didn’t care to hear answered. She knew her sister stormed to the stables for a reason. A reason she was not forthcoming with and the lack of trust was bothersome. ”The former, I suspect. You did, afterall, retreat here.” She jabbed, ignoring her sister’s wellbeing comment as that was only a poor attempt at distraction, she surmised.

Zarina exhaled from her nostrils, lips tightening and her repeated strokes coming to a stop. There was still some mane to go, so she clearly wasn’t finished, ”If it’s the case, what can you do about it, Ysilla?” her gaze is now hidden behind the beast’s long neck, her expression barely distinguishable, but a very good listener could hear a brief grit of the teeth and slightly heaving of her chest, ”You never were a people person.” she pauses, ”But I guess neither was I.”

Ysilla had no mare in front of her, no task to distract her. When she spoke, she wanted to know all about them. Her sister was no exception and the little, unseen reactions betraying Zarina’s apparent composure.

She knew not to push her luck too much. They were at least talking, though Ysilla’s own composure started to crack. She was hurt hearing her sister immediately discount the opportunity that she provided. A space to vent freely like any true sisterhood in the plays she had seen. How could they be called sisters like this? On edge all the time. Ysilla stood in silence, her mind rapidly shuffling through responses that she could say. She couldn’t think of anything to offer, creating the lengthiest silence in their conversation so far. That was until Ysilla finally offered something that was on her mind.

”The Torragonese have a stage play with a narrative around horses.” Ysilla began, diverting into reciting a play or story she knew, most relating to the situation she finds herself in. She often did this when she couldn’t find anything to say. ”Finding the finest horse, fit for a King. Specifically a replacement for his old war steed.”

Ysilla finally moved and began to shuffle over the nearest horse and she watched it as it began to rustle nervously. ”Gran Dia. You remember this one?” She announced the title of the play just as she reached out for the horse. It jumped and snapped in clear agitation, prompting Ysilla to recall her hand and fold herself back up in her cloak. A quiet resignation that she wouldn’t be able to pet the horse. The horse calmed but was still visibly disturbed.

”He never found a better horse than the one he had.”

Without any proclamation, Ysilla turned and began to head out. Hoopoe dropping for her perch and flying out the window that she had come in.

The long pause had given the time Zarina needed to finish pampering the mare. The mane was clean and made ten years younger, while the rest of the fur was brushed. Ysilla then began to speak, mentioning a play that both of them knew, although she didn’t stop her sister from retelling it. It was one of her favourites. She reached for a sachet she left at the corner of the pen, taking half of an old carrot from it. The now cleaned horse turned her head, likely recognizing the dull smell and the sound of the bag opening, and began flapping her lips in anticipation. Zarina didn’t tease the beast and offered her flat palm to be felt out by the lips. The carrot was quickly gobbled up and munched away, as a reward for being such a good girl.

Ysilla attempted to connect with one of the horses, or at least get a little closer, and was rebuffed. Zarina watched curiously, still silent. But when her sister had finished her story with an ending that warmed the teen’s heart, she stepped out of the pen, ”Hey.” she called out, her voice loud but tone softer than what she had been using during the exchange, ”Come.” she beckons her sister with an inviting gesture and then offers the other half of the carrot, ”Flat hand. Go slowly. Talk to her quietly.” she forced a mild smile, trying to be encouraging, and stuck by her sister’s side. The horse remained docile for now, although it was clearly eyeing Ysilla with caution.

The puppeteer froze in the threshold of the doorway as her sister called to her. She turned witnessing a beckoning gesture and the offer of a carrot. If there was any way Ysilla could express concern, this was it as her eyes darted back to the horse watching just as carefully as the animal did.

Silently accepting the offer, Ysilla proceeded over to her sister, palming the carrot and following the instructions to the letter. She… didn’t know how to talk to animals and her mind settled on the first thing she could see. The carrot. ”Do you enjoy carrots? I enjoy carrots.” She muttered under her breath, stepping lightly on her approach. ”Carrots are often put in a stew. Those carrots taste best.”

This felt humiliating and a rosy color blushed on Ysilla’s cheeks as she stuck out her hand and offered it to the horse.

Zarina could not help but giggle at Ysilla’s choice of words. Not in a condescending or mocking manner. It was cute. When her sister got close enough for the horse to reach out of the pen’s gate and take a sniff, the more animal-versed of the two stepped forward and stood by the horse’s long visage, one hand rested over the neck just under the mane, and the other over the cheek, ”That’s it.” she whispered to her sister while also providing some comfort to the beast.

It still looked reluctant, but eventually it began to flap its lips and reach for the strange human’s palm. A little bit of saliva was left onto Ysilla’s hand, and if she kept her palm still she would get a little, gooey massage. Zarina did not dare to tell her to remove her hand, as it was quite amusing to see. Munching away, the younger mare appeared to be relaxed now that the odd human had reassured her and given her a pleasant treat, ”I believe her name is …” she squints with her head tilted, ”Fiorella. And she seems to like you.” she didn’t have to force a smile this time, ”Maybe you and Fiorella can become friends when we make the trip, hmm?”

She had never been able to do that. Feed a horse by hand. Even as a child, Ysilla had always put animals on edge and it seemed like she’d always approach them, it would be the wrong way causing them to flee or fight. Fiorella seems to have been the first animal in a long time that was willing to put up with her. The resulting feeling was unexpected.

”Fiorella.” Ysilla muttered the mare’s name, unflinching as she was slobbered on, believing that was expected. Even after the horse had taken the carrot from her, Ysilla never moved her hand and let it sit there as if she expected something else to happen. ”Perhaps we could.” Ysilla trailed off, thinking about her actually riding a horse. She never really rode before. Wait. Has she ridden before? She couldn’t remember, her mind stirred harshly as she tried to recall a memory that just wasn’t there anymore.

Ysilla winced at the feeling in her head, and promptly retreated her hand tucking it under her cloak. ”I have something to do. See you.” She stated abruptly and turned, headed out.

Translation:
*Shut up/Eat shit

With Ysilla gone, Zarina could return to caring for the beasts she thought would be their trusted steeds for the next venture in the desert. The sunrays from the window Hoopoe had come from had since thinned, indicating the sun had moved a bit since she had last checked. It was nearly time, and hopefully the staff had the steed ready for them in the next minutes or so. A few more things were packed, notably her two blades and a second gourd containing a nice mix of the refuge’s coffee and the goat milk that had been freshly taken from the livestock. A Café au Lait. Finally, a very brief morning prayer– it wasn’t too unusual to get it done quickly, as few were morning people, and they were not in a place of worship. When Zarina walked out to meet the party, it would not be the guards and the head of the expedition that took her attention, but the animals.

”Camels. Huh.”

She remarked, eyeing one of them that she would claim as her’s, ”Then a long journey is to be expected?” she inquired out loud, to see which one of the three unknowns would step up and present potential plans. It would likely be Escarra in this case, a man that definitely looked the part of a veteran desert ranger. All the while, she slid her hand over the snout of the tall breast, immediately letting the relatively young but strong male take a good sniff of her scent and grow used to her touch. Similar to a horse, it seemed to be more intrigued to see if there was food in her palm, flapping its lips a little over it before returning to its docile state, looking around and awaiting its rider’s orders, ”What’s your name, handsome guy, hmmm?” the camel’s neck got a couple of pats before she walked to the side and eventually hopped onto its back between the humps. Clearly she had rode one before, ”Daoud. That’s your name, okay?”

The caravan was to set off, and Zarina’s experience as a horse rider made it easy for her to adapt and steer the camel to her liking, although she abstained from pushing it before a calm pace. It was also a habit of her’s to keep to the back, especially with inexperienced troop members and supply animals, ”That’s right, Yalen. Nice ‘n’ steady.” she called out to the young priest with a grin, ”Hold the reins tight, but don’t pull unless you wanna stop, yeah?” it looks like she had regained some vigour after spending some ‘alone’ time.

Their first hurdle: The Halassa. Well, as much of a hurdle as they were the previous night. Zarina was ready to act, but the squad leader had his way of dealing with it. A method she approved of quite a bit and took note of the means to efficiently scare off these big beasts. But the real jump in adrenaline came with a Rhinodon of all things charging right for them. Why? It was anybody’s guess, but one would suspect it could be from invading some territory if it wasn’t madness. Without any comment on it being the latter, she started to manoeuvre her camel to steer clear of any path the angered beast would take. The fact that some of her peers were not too experienced with riding, however, prompted her to step up in this mini-crisis.

”Hey!” she called out, tapping the sides of Daoud with the soles of her boots to prompt a trop and maybe even a canter if it came to it. The Virangish girl even whistled to get the Rhino’s attention, but it seemed tunnel visioned. It didn’t help that riding a camel at such speeds for the first time stressed Zarina a tad, but she did her best to at least help her teammates not get run over by the bulky creature. Luckily, or maybe the contrary, a storm seemed to hit them minutes after this issue had occurred. A wall of sand was coming onto them, and it was enough to have the horned animal to cease its assault and seek safety. The group did the same in a mountain of sorts, taking refuge until it subsided just moments later. No casualties so far.

When they emerged, an interesting sight came about from the residue of the storm: Ruins! Architecture Zarina didn’t recognize, although she did not think too much of it either. What took priority in her mind was a little break to eat and drink with plenty of shading to be had in these forgotten stone buildings. The animals were parked and given some feed, with Zarina lagging behind to ensure all was good with Daoud.

Zarina Reconciles with Marceline

The storm had revealed ruins of a time long gone. With the announcement of a small break, it seemed everybody had the instinct of hunkering down under the ancient roofs, away from the merciless heat of the desert in mid-day. The animals did not mind, they were born for such climates, but even the Virangish needed time for siestas during such times. Before she could indulge in some of her packed food and a good caffeinated sip, Zarina made sure that Daoud– the camel she had baptised as such was properly bound in the shade and given food, although water was withheld for now (they were used to conserve it after all). A good few pats, a couple of whispers and then a general inspection of the others’ beasts later and she was off for a lunch break.

She was late, much like another person that had been on the Virangish girl’s sleepless head. Marceline was not having a good time with the sand. Funny they had a Refuge in the middle of an ocean of the stuff, right? Hesitant, the taller teen watched for afar, water gourd in hand and taking in a sip. Sighing from her nostrils, she caved and approached the tethered she had not exactly treated nicely just a few hours ago, ”Wanna sip, Marci?” she asked while keeping a few feet of distance and holding back from directly offering help, ”Haven’t seen many drink up. No point saving up if we all get heat strokes.” she presented the gourd with an awkward smile, now a few steps closer. Now she was close enough to help without it seeming too forced.

For a moment, Marceline only glared at Zarina, and it looked like the girl’s insecurities and stubbornness had won out. She drew upon the immense heat in the sand and was able to put enough bounce in her step to manage a near-normal walking pace. Then, she sighed in the slightly petulant way a fourteen-year-old might when confronted with what they know they should be doing, in spite of their pride. “You don’t… need to give me your water as a peace offering.” She snorted. “Save it. You’ll need it.” She shook her head. “And I don’t think you’re a horrible person or anything. You just… don’t get it. You wouldn’t unless you’d grown up here.” She paused at the steps and reached up to brush some hair from her face. “Plus, I bet you had the traditional first night’s sleep.” Marci grinned. “Nobody sleeps well their first night.”

Zarina blinked, surprised at the reaction. No adversity, only a composed teen that acted far more reasonable than many adults she had known. It left the Virangish speechless for a moment, gourd still presented as an offering, ”Well,” she pursed her lips and shifted her eyes side-to-side before whispering, ”I have a pretty damn good café au lait in my bag, and you know what they say about drinking alone.” she snorted at her own mediocre joke, and the Perrench accent was very much exaggerated. She gestured over at one of the decrepit buildings from a bygone era, there they could probably sit and be safe from the merciless rays of the sun, ”No, no. I was a right cunt to you. Very much a horrible slag at that moment.” she gestures in dismissal with a smile. The exchange with her sister and the time at the stables had apparently done good work on her mood, ”T’was uncalled for. Whether I know what you lived or not. So, er-” she shifts her jaw, prompting a couple of pops, ”Yeah. Sorry.” awkward, but embarrassing enough to be genuine.

The apologetic tall teen found herself a flat, stone surface to rest her rear upon, bag by her side and opened to reveal a packed lunch and a container with the supposed milky drink. Marci reached the same area and plopped down beside her, taking and releasing a long breath. She untied the little sack she’d slung over one shoulder and pulled out some biscuits, dried salted meats, and a couple of clementines. “How about we trade?” she offered. She began peeling her fruit. “I take some of your coffee, you have one of these. I’m more thirsty than hungry anyhow.”

Zarina pursed her lips at the sight of clementines before nodding, ”Oh, yeah, sure thing.” She presented her hand to collect the goods and the exchange was made. “As for sleep, it looks like a few of us didn’t get great sleep, no.” she added, peering over to the direction of the others. If she couldn’t see them, she could probably hear some of them conversing during the break. Zarina shook her head, ”Sleep just doesn’t come easy for yours truly, even on the comfiest of beds.” a small, metallic cup was being filled with the beverage as she spoke, although it had since lost its heat.

The Tethered girl swept some loose hair from her eyes. There was a backdraft coming from inside the cavernous old ruins. She’d been stealing glances inside since the moment they’d sat. She blinked. “Why?” she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. “Is something the matter?”

The mention of a lack of sleep had Zarina drift for a brief moment. She just stared at the drink she poured and nearly caused it to overflow, ”Ah crap.” she was quick enough to not waste anything, and equalised the volume by adding some to her own cup, ”Why what, again? Sleep? Erm.” she begins to focus on one specific yet irrelevant point of reference: a stray hair of Marceline’s that stuck out near her ear, ”I just- Hmmm. I just haven’t been able to sleep, let alone dream, for like …” she tilts her head and closes an eye, ”Twwwooo years? I mean, I sleep. But they’re more micro-naps. I think. Anyway, it’s basically routine.” she shrugged to downplay the issue, smiling confidently as she took a sip from her own drink. The excessive powdering of her face that served to veil her black circles was becoming far more apparent when one was so close and aware of Zarina’s habits.

For a moment, it looked as if Marci was going to say something, but she paused and took a sip of water. “I never have trouble sleeping,” she shared. “At least… I never used to. They put essence of valerian in our evening tea. Knocks us right out.” She leaned back, posting her hands on the cool stone floor behind herself. Her sea blue dress fluttered in a sudden light gust. “They add honey so we always drink it. Nobody can say no to honey. Thing is…” She glanced at Zarina almost… evaluatively for a moment, “I don’t get the extract anymore - not since I’ve been in training. I guess they need me sharp and I train at night sometimes. You know what the funniest part is?” By the way that she turned to face the older girl, hands knit in her lap, it was clearly a rhetorical question. “I wouldn’t have even noticed. I’d have slept just as well if I hadn’t found out.” She sighed. “Two weeks ago, I did, though. Now that I know, I fear I’m not faring much better than you or Ayla.” She shook her head and bit into some of the jerky.

Zarina indulged in the pieces of clementine that were traded for some of her coffee mix, meticulously nibbling away as she kept her golden gaze on the tethered teen by her. When the drug was mentioned, she narrowed her eyes, rested her left calf over her knee and leaned forward a tad, ”Well, you did call it a prison. Don’t want any of these extremely dangerous ten year olds to wander during lockdown, now.” the sarcasm was as evident as the smirk on her face when she turned her head to face Marceline, ”The training.” her voice lowers, respecting the discretion Marceline sought out the last time they spoke, ”How many of you are in that program-thing?” she takes a sip, gaze focused on the other’s eyes, ”Do you have a choice in the matter?”

Marci’s eyes narrowed - not hostile, but perhaps a bit professionally suspicious. She finished chewing and she swallowed. “Why are you so interested in us?” she asked. “Why do you wanna know?”

Zarina didn’t back down when she met the girl’s cautious gaze, keeping hers focused while her body language remained relatively composed, “For the numbers? Just so I know how many could potentially be helpful if things don’t go so well with the mission.” another contingency, something she had been preparing since her exchange with the warden, “As for your choice-” she averts her gaze, arms crossing under her chest and fingers drumming over her bicep, ”I’m no stranger to being put in a situation where you’ve got no choice, as a kid.” a quiet pop can be heard when she shifts her jaw, ”The little flip out I had back in the Refuge wasn’t really because of what you said- Well, it was, but this whole thing reminded me of something that hit close to home, I suppose.” she sighs and returns her attention to Marci, ”It pisses me off to no end, that the people trusted to care for the young and defenceless, would put them in such … Fucking impossible situations. To use them, instead of nurturing. Ugh,” she pressed her fingers against her temple, ”Sorry- It’s hard to articulate without me heating up.”

“We have a choice,” Marceline said quietly. She gazed out over the ruins, the camels, and the sandy floor of the deepening canyon. “But it’s a pretty easy one.” She shrugged. “I think it's designed to be.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, braces and all, and there was no missing the atrophy in her calves, the bunched up muscle in her knees - at least until she pulled her fluttering dress back down over them. Her body was losing the battle, same as Jocasta’s was and even Yalen’s to a lesser degree. She turned to the Virangish girl earnestly. “We don’t know who we are. My name isn’t really Marceline. It was just something I chose after I woke up with no proper memories of who or what I’d been in the ten years I lived before the Refuge. On the surface, this is a paradise for us poor, doomed souls.” She rolled her eyes and glanced down at her knees. They were pressed together, her feet splayed apart, knock-kneed. “But there’s no purpose. There’s no excitement. There’s no reason to live. We’re just… things that… exist.” She sat up straighter, fingers bunching and unbunching the folds of her dress. “Every week, it just repeats: the same thing again and again. The caretakers get a little older and you get a little older and the other Tethered you looked up to as a kid get more and more crippled each year until they disappear into the red tower and you just know…” She trailed off, her face scrunching up. “That’s gonna be you someday.” Tears started to bleed out of her eyes. “And there’s no point to it all. Nothing to look forward to, only things to fear. You did nothing. You were nothing: just some tragic girl who nobody wanted or remembered who sat there by a pool in some little corner of the world, numbing herself with prayer and drinks and drugs and-” She blushed. “Sex,” she whispered. Quickly, she began to gather herself. “So that’s why I did it. That’s why we do it: it’s a chance to have done something, anything that’s real.” She sniffed, wiping away the few tears she’d cried with the back of her hand.

Zarina’s extremities felt more numb than usual. It was far from being cold despite the adequate shading, and she wasn’t scared or anything. She had begun feeling this when she admitted to her own issues that prompted her outburst, and now that Marceline was painting a proper picture of her situation, the Virangish girl felt a little queasy. And then Marci began to cry. Hairs rose in reaction, Zarina’s heart rate intensifying and her gut cramped ever so slightly. How easy it was to cause a visceral reaction to this girl with a show of emotions. It ate her soul so much more when she was forced in situations where she had to be the cause of these. The cold extremities began to shiver, though she’d hold one hand with the other to hide it. The more Marceline spoke, the colder it felt.

Awkwardly, she found the courage to raise her hand and rest it over the Tethered’s shoulder with the same hesitation she had shown to Yalen, but this time exacted it. She did not want to be too invasive, and Zarina was clearly not too experienced with positively dealing with emotions, but she offered her hand nonetheless, ”I don’t see you as a thing.” her voice was unusually mousey, even a little difficult to hear with a couple of words swallowed by her trembling form, ”You’re this new friend I made, that thinks a tangerine is worth my awesome café au lait.” she lets an awkward giggle escape her.

Marci sat up a bit straighter. “I was only gonna pay half a tangerine at first,” she teased, popping another slice into her mouth, “So be grateful.” Zarina grimaced, waving her hand in dismissal, only to laugh right after, ”Revolting. They don’t even teach you manners!”

“You know,” the younger girl giggled, “the tears and boogers actually add a nice bit of saltiness to it…” She grinned impishly, mock-horrified at the inappropriateness of it.

“But how ‘bout that?” Zarina offered, “I’ll teach you the value of such a delicacy, so we can open a little brewing gig. These places make BANK, I swear. Doesn’t that just sound a quadrillion times better than that not-choice, hmm?” her Virangish accent had briefly mellowed out there.

Marceline’s face became sad again, for just a moment, and she went still, aside from absently taking a bite of her jerky and the final sip of her coffee. “I’d love that, someday,” she said quietly, with a faint smile. “You're a good person and I’m sorry for misjudging you.” Finished her food, she tied up the knot at the top of the bag. “But that’s a false comfort.” She reached for her crutches and, with a bit of kinetic assistance, stood. She pivoted to face Zarina. “There’s no getting out of here for us.” She shook her head. “They’ll never let it happen. You know the truth?” She narrowed her eyes. “They’re scared of us.”

As if the hand of Dami himself was at work, Jocasta emerged from the darkness of what looked to have been a small temple, drifting above the ground like a ghost.

”Oh, yeah, they’re scared. Anyone would be, if what you said is true.” Zarina straightens herself too but remains seated. The moment they had quickly reverted to the darker, depressing tones they started with, but the Virangish girl didn’t let herself sink into that mood. Then, she noticed Jocasta. She was a little surprised, almost jumping in place even, but the timing was too good for her to make it a scene, ”But she got out.” she gave the blonde Tethered a glance and nod, ”Why can’t we make it happen for you too?” she then narrowed her eyes back toward Marceline, leaning forward a little, ”Should you want to leave, of course. We talked about choices, after all.”

“I do,” Marci replied “But…” she hesitated, mouth open to continue speaking, but found herself pre-empted instead by Jocasta, who whooshed over and ‘stood’ beside them. It was a bit jarring to see her at eye level. One could feel the kinetic gravity loop that kept her off of the ground. “Hey, s-sorry,” she cut in. “I don’t mean to i-interrupt. I just overheard the last bit while I was back there.” She glanced at both of the others. “G-gods willing, if all goes well today or… at least not disastrously, I’m going to be meeting with Amanda to-tonight.” She took a breath. “I think we should all sit down and discuss these things and…” She looked down for a moment, meeting Marceline’s eyes and glancing at Zarina as well, “If you want to know how I g-got out, I will tell you everything.”

“I can only speak for myself,” replied Marceline, “But it sounds good, sister. Very good indeed.”

”Amanda …” Zarina focused on that name, eyes squinting downwards toward a small pile of sand, ”She’s one of the clover names.” she recalled upon snapping her fingers, ”An old one too. I assume … You know her too, Marci?” she tilted her head, clearly a little overwhelmed with the information and potential plans to be. She needed a moment to process, ”Sister?” she furrowed her eyebrows, glancing over at Marceline, and then toward Jocasta, then back to Marci. She never thought the Tethered were THAT close.

The pair of them looked at each other. “There’s still a lot you don’t know,” the younger one admitted. “But…” She glanced over at Jocasta, as if looking for permission, and the blonde nodded. “It’s time to fill you in. It’s time to fill everybody in.”

“Both of us know Amanda,” Jocasta admitted. “All th-three of our names are on that tree.” She glanced down and then up, meeting Zarina’s eyes with a bit of a twinkle. “I’m trusting you, Zamira.” She smirked knowingly. “Tonight,” the eldest of the three promised, voice sinking conspiratorially. “Tonight, w-we not only figure out how to sh-shove that stupid aberration back where it belongs, we start plotting our refuge revolution.”.

This was dizzying to the small time, wannabe mobster with a bit too much of a bleeding heart for the job. Zarina could hardly follow. How the two girls were on the same wavelength, how Jocasta was on the tree despite the absence of such a name, how it just jumped to REVOLUTION all of a sudden. Zarina blinked and stayed quiet for a moment, hands over her thighs. Silently, she looked at Marceline, and then at Jo, ”... I have a lot to say, realistically. Vashdal as my witness.” another pause. She clenches the sandy cloth that covered her legs, ”But honestly? Fuck it. If you guys wanna fight for what you want, I’m in.” taken by the excitement, she grinned a toothy smile, ”If only to get this nasty little git out so she can taste REAL quality stuff and repent for her awful comments.” she nudged her chin toward Marceline. If she were fully truthful, she had quite the reservations for such rash decisions, but she did yearn for something more than compliance. She did, however, shoot a knowing glance toward Jocasta. Nothing had slipped by Zarina, despite her sleepless state, and the blonde girl had always managed to keep the Virangish on her guard.

They were back on the hot sands, marching forward to a destination she could not see. The break was soothing, if not jam-packed with conflicting feelings that plagued Zarina’s restless mind. The fact that she still hadn’t gotten some shut-eye was weighing on her, even if her mood was kept in check with other positive stimuli. The more her mind got hazy, the more the unsettling thoughts came to be.

Jocasta …

The ‘On Two’ Tethered of the group. A mysterious one that had so far merely been a light risk of emotional breakdown, but now a whole new angle was provided. Zarina kept at the back and could have a good look at everyone, and she narrowed her eyes onto the blonde first. What was it she had planned? How did she have a rapport with Marci? Why did she not just come clean with her origins? The more she thought about it, the more she started to piece things together. Slowly. Before any conclusions could be made, her weakened mind ended up focusing elsewhere …

Marci …

The young teen she had reconciled with, and in turn was let in on some insight that made Zarina’s head spin. She wanted to help Marceline. Help the one willing to fight for what’s her’s to get what she’s owed. It was almost a sort of honour thing, to the point that it drew from Zarina’s indignation and emotional nature and led her down this rabbithole of revolution. Would she partake in this potentially disastrous ‘revolution’ to help a friend? Or is she just way over her head? She blinked a few times, having nearly fallen asleep on her camel.

Yalen …

Did they all know each other? Was this some sort of coordinated thing and Hugo was the mastermind? Or was he fooled too? After all, two Tethered pupils attending this mission was objectively a boon. He did not look well at all this morning, even worse than Zarina herself. Had he been involved in something as well? Or was it one of those nightmares her sister had brought up? So many questions, and the Virangish insomniac would get little from them in her current state. Although with the way he killed those Halassa, Zarina was not going to bank on some Quentic pacifism to hold this one back.

Kaspar, Ayla …

Two with family names that mattered. One from this very land, one from another where potential ‘Clovers’ like Marci could be sold to. What would disrupting a factory of Mage Snipers potentially do to their reputations? Would they go with it, and maybe risk their families’ wellbeing? There were many patients in that Refuge, many children. But how many depended on these families too? Would a two or three hundred ailing youths be worth the many impacted by the harming of big names? The thought was nauseating, when Zarina realised how complex things could get with stopping something so clearly ‘wrong’ in many ways.

Ysilla …

And finally her own sister. Her own blood. What applied to the two previous applied to her own family. In a sense, her mother was likely not to ever falter over petty geopolitical cabals, but to bring shame to her family’s name, and subsequently harm her very blood was a frightening prospect indeed. It was all mentally taxing, to the point where she just let go, and slumped over the first hump, and entered a micro-sleep. Luckily the camel was content with just following the herd, letting the rider get a bit of rest. No dreams would be had, thankfully.

---

And then suddenly, she woke up to growing tremors in the sand and stone. They were getting close to the aberration. The Tethered trio could sense it. But it would obviously not be made easy. Another Wyrm came into play, or maybe it was the same one as before? It really did not matter, they just had to leave. Rushing toward safety, the animals were clearly spooked by the ordeal, but Escarra could lead the flock away just in time while Zarina took notice of the one supply camel panicking. Pumped with adrenaline and refusing to lose a precious source of goods, she went into a full-on gallop with Daoud to retrieve the panicked beast, seizing its broken rope and calling out to it. It actually calmed down once tugged and heard the calls of the girl despite the chaos going around it.

Successful in her rescue, she kept the camel bound to her own and quickly joined the party before she ended up Wyrm chow. They were safe … Until one crisis ushered in another. A meat feast had awakened within the canyon, and the predators were now all on high alert. Forabasses, a lot of them, first picking off the easy targets, but then taking interest in the party. Coming in waves, the clouds of pseudo-dragons began to pick off their group, ”Hug the wall!” she called out, employing some of her Kinetic magic to push the supply camel to safety and close to her own.

The Froabasses were limited, for a time, but they would end up winning. First was one of the guards, and the scene unfolding before her eyes had Zarina’s heartbeat at a headache-inducing pace. She was clearly scared, but not helpless. One hand drew a sword, and the other picked up some knives she had brought along for the trip. The guard was already long ago, taken by the carnivorous beasts, but the second was about to be devoured right before them. As he was being ripped apart, she instinctively hurled her blade toward his head. She missed, hitting the throat instead. Her attempt to end his life painlessly before the gruesome end had only partially failed, as he would likely not feel much after losing most of his blood in a few seconds. Still, she whimpered at the sight, but didn’t give up. A few camels were taken too, and while her aim wasn’t the greatest, she did her best to pierce their skulls and end it quickly, until it was her turn to be greeted by the predators.

”Fuck it.” if it was going to be the end, she would go down with a fight. Both blades were drawn and she hopped off Daoud, keeping the terrified beast behind her as she began to swing at the monsters while shouting at them. And when she was in the right state to just go all out, her mind serene and committed, one of the creatures downright attacked another and served as a shield for Zarina and those near her. This bizarre turn of events had her completely stunned, ”What the …” her body felt cooler than normal, and she couldn’t shake off the sensation that the moment she felt that coldness, the beast felt it too and acted accordingly, somehow.

The group attacking them retreated after this strange occurrence. They were not safe, but a moment of respite was generously given to them. Enough time for Zarina to actually approach the draconic being and slowly attempt to rest her hand on its tail. Any thoughts of her actually connecting with the beast immediately vanished as it reacted with a slap to her core with the tail. Not breaking anything, but she would get a bruise. It growled at her, seeming ready to attack, but then just flew off with the flock.

That same flock was going to come back to them. At least two dozen massive flying beasts, and they had to chance. Zarina took this time to peer over at her sister and Ayla. Then at Marceline. She frowned melancholically, but only briefly. Inhaling strongly, she raised both her blades and stared down the coming swarm with defiant eyes. She screamed a powerful warcry, bracing herself for the worst and standing between the attackers and those she cared for most. She would not die today, however.

A massive draw was taking place. One that even the Froabasses were sensing and halted their attack over. All this energy– it converged toward one person: Jocasta. The intense power was enough to have Zarina kneel and stare in awe. She had only seen one person display such power before, and even then this seemed exceptional by that standard too. The thought of inevitable death was superseded by a fear of the unknown. What could possibly come of such a concentration of power? And then she felt a familiar feeling. The same that came from solving that first riddle in the tower, and when the Paradigm opened a tear in space and time. The Froabasses were then all gone. Poof. Like they weren’t there in the first place, along with their meals.

It took a moment for Zarina to fully grasp what was going on, her eyes shifting about to see if anything else had changed. And then Jocasta explained. The threat was gone, taken somewhere else via a magic that few knew. It didn’t hit the Virangish teen right away what all of this could imply. No, she was first and foremost thankful to Vashdal that this did not turn into the nightmare it could easily have been. Her hand reached for her pendant, her thumb tracing the lines upon it. She had so nearly died, and yet here she was. It did not stop a creeping bad feeling to take root at the back of her mind, however.

[Ending is at Ayla's post above!]

Tl;dr

-Comfy ride in desert, names her camel Daoud
-Reconciles with Marci
-Jocasta shows up during her lunch with Marci, the idea of Refuge revolution is mentioned
-Zarina agrees to help Marci and considers the revolution idea
-Zarina is realising what this may imply, especially to those they're close to
-Big chaos with the Froabasses, loads die, she is ready to fight to the end
-Zarina attempts to tame one that defends her
-She fails
-Jocasta saves the day and the display of power makes Zarina particularly anxious
-She connects some dots when she speaks to Ayla
-Ayla proposes a plan, but it can be an issue if someone as strong as Jocasta is on a warpath
-Ayla falls asleep over Zarina's shoulder

The Hourglass Order

---

Interacting with: Yalen @pantothenic, Jocasta, Marceline and Tavio @Force and Fury, Ayla @Ti, Kaspar @Wolfieh
Event: The Deserted Location: The Refuge

---

Zarina gave an appreciative nod to both Marceline and Jocasta before heading into her temporary quarters. She really wanted that bath, and it would be the first thing she hopped into without even familiarising herself with the foreign room. Her sweat and sand covered skin appreciated the warm, pore-opening water. A good half-hour was spent in it, until it eventually entered lukewarm territory and the Virangish could only bear so long with only her thoughts and nothing else. She smelled of oranges, a flavour that was quite common in this Refuge, it seemed.

They had a big day tomorrow and there was little chance of sleep. Still, Zarina clung onto a modicum of hope. Dried and fitted with a fresh set of common, dark clothing provided by the establishment, she had set her pendant over the nightstand by her bed, improvised a carpet with the spare towel and got on her knees before the stand. The third and final prayer of the day- even if it was probably the start of a new one. Hands over her thighs and head lowered, with her hair modestly tied to not hide her face, she started off silent before reciting it in Inipori.

”Dreamer, the one and only above all.”

Thoughts of home and the Al-Nader estate flooded her mind. Her mother, in particular, and the affairs she had to leave behind.

”I embrace the three envoys of the one great Vashdal.”

Yalen came to mind, and her assumptions toward his person. A cleric in a group with at least on Hexaic, and her mind immediately drifted into suspicion. A cruel and unjust thought, unworthy of the dreamer. Unworthy of a kind man either.

”Let us dream. Let us dream. Let us dream.”

Then came Ayla, along with her sister. Envy reigned supreme in Zarina’s heart, for many reasons. A jealousy unfitting for people she loved. It was so hard. She paused, but the prayer had to continue.

”Until we see you, Great Vashdal, freed of …”

The first thought went to Kaspar, the one she began to admire. The serenity of that young man and his way to talking, it made Zarina think of just how bad things had gotten with her. But then, as the prayer ended, her thoughts drifted toward Jocasta- toward the one she was the most concerned over.

A nightmare.

”A nightmare.”

Cold sweats mixed with the humidity of her hair, making for an uncomfortable coldness throughout her upper body. Something felt off, to the point where she forgot to finalise her prayer. There was nothing, in truth, and yet that last thought caused her to just stop for a good moment. She did end up finishing the last lines and bowing to finish the ritual, and complete the final prayer of the day.

Sleep was not an option, not in such an unfamiliar place and with so many things running in her head. Zarina was going to have to kill time while keeping her mind busy. Grabbing a chair from her quarters and opting to step out, she placed herself by a nearby corner where her field of view covered all the rooms of colleagues who were resting in. She had brought along a weathered knife from her limited belongings and a piece of wood, about the side of her palm as well. A work-in-progress it looked like, given she brought it along with her weaponry and bag, that she carved into something. It was at the beginning stage with nothing particularly intriguing about it. A mere slab.

Her work was interrupted by a little lion seeking out the tethered girl of their group. Zarina watched, silently, and let her find out if Jocasta was awake or not.

[See Collab Post in Ti’s Response!]

---

Zarina was likely the first to be awake, given she hardly slept. If one could even call these micro-naps sleep. When the smell of pastries and warm drinks captured her flair and activity began to accumulate in the Refuge, she left her post and got a head-start on the others. Coffee was inevitable and she served herself with a reasonable amount. She may be an addict, but she didn’t consume in excess, or at least not in one sitting. She took this time to find a nice, comfortable spot where she could admire the rising of the sun and indulge in the fresh, morning air of the arid desert, the sweet spot between the frigid coldness of the night and the scorching air of the day. How she missed her horse and the days she rode through these very dry lands.

Morning before the Mission

There was a conspicuous lack of Zarina when the group had gathered for a convivial breakfast. She had since left before they had woken up with coffee safely acquired. Her return from the same tree she had visited last night would be around the conclusion of the morning feast, empty cup in hand, “Buenos Días.” she greets in passing as she reaches for the coffee and pours herself some while staying on her feet. She also indulges in churros.

She didn’t look particularly tired, or at least hid it well, but her gaze wasn’t nearly as focused as it once was. It darted around, taking in quick information before discarding any concern she may have for those present, except of course– “Sleep well, Ayla?” although she asked while the Warden was speaking. Not loud enough to actually cut him off, but she didn’t appear to really consider others, as if she were a tad zoned out.

Ayla starts to become a little flustered when questioned directly again. She navigates avoiding responding when Jocasta asks, though with Zaz… she could not even recall how she returned back into her bed. “Like Jocasta”, glancing at the other girl in her attempt to avoid any exchanges with the caretakers. They had great difficulty, and the lingering scent of smelling salts were still present in her nostrils. Jocasta leaned in knowingly, smirking. “They used the salts on you, didn’t they?” She shook her head tightly, shooting a wary glance at the warden and vice–warden. The blonde seemed… almost uncharacteristically clingy this morning, making an effort to place herself in the centre of the group as they’d made their way here, even holding Ayla’s hand for a little while.

Nonetheless, Zarina’s attention was soon drawn away. The mention of a missing ranger prompted the cocking of her eyebrows in a similar, blasé manner to when she heard of the strange death of the other ranger. When the head of the establishment finished, she looked over at him, “Yeah. How many are on the payroll here?” she inquired with little consideration for manners, her tone coming off almost aggressive with how straightforward she was, but her body language suggested the placebo she was drinking was keeping her poised. Somewhat.

Tavio paused, clasping his hands behind the small of his back and, for a moment, a look that seemed to be almost… annoyed flashed across his aquiline features. “We don’t disclose that information,” he said shortly. After a second, he thought better of it. “But there are four hundred thirty–five souls in this place, and all are in equal danger.” He broke character for a moment, lips forming a thin, bitter line. “Gutierrez was a coward for running like he did, now that we face a serious threat.” he shook his head, gazing out across the others.“And after ten years, too,” he muttered. Jocasta seemed to shrink back, ever so slightly, from his eyes. “Any other matters?” he inquired, businesslike again.

Ayla reaches for the plate of churros, helping herself to the cinnamon as she sprinkles some on, drizzling warm coca upon them. She turns to look towards Jocasta, “Would you like some?”, offering to give the plate to the girl and reach for some more. She extends this courtesy to others within the group, especially those who have not had the pleasure of Torragonese treats before. Yalen accepted his share, but seemed more interested in staring at the steam rising from his plate than actually eating. He quietly offered his thanks all the same.

Zarina figured as much and merely responded with a quick cock of her eyebrows when the information was withheld, but she nodded at the compensation given by the warden. She took a bite from her churro and downed it with her still very warm coffee, all while still standing. Someone was quite restless even after the all-nighter, “So he’s a deserter?” she pauses and winks over at Ayla if she paid attention. Bad pun…

“It would appear so,” the warden replied, as Jocasta muttered something under her breath. He didn’t seem to notice, perhaps because Zarina continued.

“That’s … Unsettling. Do you have, err-” she raises her eyes, thinking for a few seconds, “A contingency? That’s the word, right? If things kind of go not so great?” she keeps calm, eyes wide and focused right at Tavio, all while she casually nibbles on her pastry, “Because that’s a lot of souls. And we’re …” she was about to say a greater number, “One guy down. And the job’s to save lives.”

“The job is always to save lives.” The warden nodded. “Worse comes to worst, we make a formal request to the Duke of House Frannemàs to send a force.” He shook his head. “However, that is something of a last resort. It would be… stressful for the patients. Right now, they don’t know that anything is wrong, except for a select few.” He glanced at Marceline and she nodded quietly. “For many of the younger ones, such danger would be distressing. We don’t need to fill the minds of children with nightmares, especially children who have already suffered so much and will suffer yet more.” He paused. “For the older ones, many of them are in fragile health. We cannot afford to introduce more stressors into their lives.” Beneath the table, visible to perhaps only the couple of people closest to her, Jocasta’s grip on the tablecloth tightened momentarily.

For a moment, Zarina appeared poised to respond and pile on questions that would give way to a clear answer, but then she just stopped and took a seat not too far off from Marceline while the others took turns speaking. She could use a second churro, “Mmm, by the way, love this. Props to your cook. Or baker. Or whatever.” she nods enthusiastically while pointing down at her second delicacy. “You should see their Pastéis de Nata,” Marceline whispered back. Usually not for us inmates, but I get the odd one when I’m a good girl.”

Meanwhile, Ayla could not help but notice how tense her companions at the table had grown. What was said on the high desert sands stays upon the desert sands as she attempts to cup Jocasta’s hand within her own. “Shai-Desierto is a nightmare which the children in Varrahasta even fear, it is not surprising that those here experience its terror. If it becomes like the Halassa, no one will rest easy in their beds”.

“They may rest eternally, with Echerràn,” Tavio replied grimly, catching her words just as he was done with another inquiry. “The truth is that Shai can break through these walls should she really so choose. She does not, for the cost would be too great. Were she to go mad, however…” He trailed off. “That is why this is so urgent.” He scowled. “Why even a brave man like Joaquin gave into his fear; why Gabriel expired from it.” For a moment, Marceline glanced his way, as if she had something to say, but she kept quiet and looked down at her plate instead.

Zarina took more notice of her neighbour, the one that had her name distinctly carved on the big tree. Her stare was obvious, maybe even overwhelming should the tethered girl be paying attention, “How are we feeling, Marceline? Marcelina? Sorry, bad with names.” she smiled and even offered to fill the girl’s cup with some coffee Zarina refilled herself with, “I’m Zarina, by the way.” she extends her hand out invitingly.

Marceline blushed“Oh Gods, I didn’t actually learn your name last night did I?” She swallowed and shook Zarina’s hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Zarina, and it’s Marceline.” She lowered her voice further. ”The Warden just insists on making my name sound more Torragonese, even though I’m pretty sure I’m Kerreman.” Just then, Tavio glanced their way. “Did you have a concern, my dear child?” he asked the younger girl. She shook her head. “Not truly. I was just sad about Garbiel and Joaquin.”

The warden smiled understandingly. “I know that you and Joaquin were… close. I am sorry he has disappointed you like this, my Marcelina.” A tight nod and smile was the girl’s only response. “Now, if there is nothing else, I need to see to finding his replacement.” Tavio clapped his hands together. “I will meet you in…” He glanced at the large clock mounted on the wall. “One hour and a half. In the sun-shelter by the gate.”

Ayla used the opportunity to make a request “Given we have time, could we request Marcelina to give us a tour? We could use an opportunity to awaken for the trials ahead of us. A stretch of the le.. Our muscles”, she turned to face the girl, as if the warden had already consented, offering her a warm friendly smile, “If we are not imposing too much on your busy schedule and your hospitality, we would greatly appreciate the gesture.”

Ayla was quite the Godsend in this situation, as Zarina had finally felt her nerves flare. When the warden came off as strangely possessive, the ‘My’ in particular, the Virangish teen could not help herself. She first just stared at him, still processing why it irritated her, and then narrowed her gaze to a brief glare when it happened again. How easily she would have snapped if someone talked to her like that. She shook her head when Ayla spoke up and just nodded in agreement with the lion’s proposal.

Tavio Ortega may or may not have recognized the ploy for what it was, but it was clear that he trusted ‘Marcelina’ enough to go along with it if it would just keep them out of his hair while he arranged for them to go and kill things in the desert. He waved a hand almost…dismissively. “You may go.” he replied. “Of course.” His eyes found Marceline’s. “Lead them prudently,” he told the girl, taking a few steps. “Remember, one hour and a half, by the gate!” He was talking as he backed away, and Vice-Warden Mirabel joined him. She had not said a word the entire time. “We have general supplies, but if you need anything specific, that is on you to have ready.”

“Muchas Gracias.” Zarina forced a smile and lazily waved, but did not put any heart in her tone.

“De nada,” he replied, with equal enthusiasm, disappearing around the corner. When the warden was gone, she exhaled from her nostrils, “MY Marcelina,” she tittered while addressing Marceline, “everyone gets the honour here or something? Or are you that special?” she looked annoyed, but articulating it did seem to calm her, enough so to make it seem like half-hearted humour.

Ayla mumbled,“Las paredes oyen - the walls are listening”, she draws upon her gift to shield from any eavesdropping, though sound within the space begins to echo as they spoke. “Ahora ellas no son - now they’re not.”

“What sort of place do you think this is?” prodded Marceline unconvincingly, grabbing a crutch and rising to her feet. “Surely, nothing but goodness and light happens here.” She rolled her eyes. “The warden seems to think of himself as our father rather than our jailer.” With a rather hedonistic flair, she leaned over and popped one last churro into her mouth, licking the cinnamon off of her fingers when finished. “Those of us who learn to humour him are more likely to receive certain privileges.”

Zarina snorted, “Smart girl. You play the role well.” she then gives a curt nod to Ayla as a thanks for covering them.

Jocasta sighed. “S-seems very much like the Refuge where… where I was,” she agreed, using a minor telekinesis spell to grab a few more of the treats and pack them into a little bag that hung off the back of her wheeled–chair. “Good girls get special privileges, so you learn to be a good girl.”

“Mein Gott!” replied Marceline, “You were in a Refuge?” She blinked. “I had thought to ask but didn’t want to be insensitive. How did you ever get out?” She turned to regard the rather quiet Yalen. “You too?”

Yalen shook his head in the negative. “...No…” The entire time Yalen sat at the table, he had been staring at his food like a lifeless doll without taking an active part in the discussion. He could sometimes be seen glancing fearfully at Jocasta. There were shadows under his eyes indicating a severe lack of sleep.

Taking notice of Yalen’s predicament, one Zarina was all too familiar with, she took it upon herself to fill his cup with an almost excessive amount of coffee with some added sugar, “Drink. All of it.” she ordered with a stern tone, her eyes never leaving his frame until he complied, “We should pursue this while ‘touring’, or else they’ll get on our ass.” the Virangish girl stood up, bringing a third churro and her filled cup with her.

”T-thanks.“The coffee was too hot for Yalen’s sensitive tongue, but he didn’t bother waiting for it to cool before gulping it down. He didn’t particularly care right now. The look he gave Zarina as she left her seat was like seeing a ghost.

“You’re not wrong,” Marceline offered in response to Zarina’s earlier recommendation. Pivoting jauntily, she hurried forward with a motion halfway between a brisk walk and a normal swing-through on her crutches. “I’ll give you the grand tour,” she promised, “and answer any questions that might come up.” She started to lead them out the door. “Today’s activity day,” she mentioned, “So everybody’s out and about. Well… except for the zeros, of course. Anyways, it’s busy.”

Before everybody could make it out in the hall, which simmered, open to the elements, under a colonnade, Jocasta spoke up. She glanced awkwardly in Yalen’s direction and then at the others, with a small, reassuring smile. Yalen’s eyes grew wide for a split second, but he quickly straightened his face out and smiled back. “You... you all go on w-without me,” she told them, a couple of pushes from the entrance. The sequins and faux-gold embroidery on her green and white dress caught a few rays of the desert sun and sparkled and her blonde hair, done up in an elaborate fashion, shone in a halo about her head. “I have… s-something else I need to do quickly.”

Ayla waves Jocasta off as everyone else departs for their tour, pointing towards the clock with a smile as a reminder of the time they need to be back at the gate. As they travelled for a moment, she began to address their guide using her proper name, “Marceline, the naranja are juicy here. Do you enjoy the fruit often?”, her question is more of a prompt to Zarina to remind her of their late night exploration.

Zarina conferred a final glance at Jocasta before the group would be completely severed and they went their own way. The late night expedition had made both Zarina and Ayla familiar with some of the area already, “Quite a cute spot, with all the initials and names there. Reminds me of that one time when I-” she pauses and clears her throat, “Nevermind.” although she trained her eyes toward Marceline from behind, “... How many staffers are there? I actually did have a good reason for asking, beyond prodding the guy.”

Trying to stay ahead of the others, as was her nature, Marci found herself unable to do so, and so she settled for being in the middle of the pack. As they reached the ramp and the stairs, she opted for the latter, boosting herself down with some kinetic magic. She glanced back at Ayla and Zarina and smirked knowingly. “You two got up to a whole lot of mischief last night, hmm?” She stuck out her tongue teasingly. “As for staff…” she furrowed her brow in thought. “Maybe a hundred or so? Perhaps… a hundred-fifteen, I’d say. They don’t give us exact figures, but they cut wherever they can, lemme tell you.” She shrugged. “Most of them are caretakers and crafters. We call them magpies and pigeons, for their robes and their… tendencies.”

Yalen descended the stairs like a waddling duck, to the amusement of the rest of the group. For once he was walking without the aid of his cane. The leg braces he had requested last night still needed to be broken in. Marci couldn’t help but look at him. “You’re still on four,” she observed almost reverently. “Lucky.” They reached the bottom and she continued on, directing them towards the pool area. It was teeming with half-dressed children and teens. “And yes. That tree is an institution.” She smiled fondly. “Everyone eats the oranges. Everyone’s name is in the bark…including people long gone.”

As they descended, Zarina kept an eye on both the front and the back, being Yalen’s clumsy descent. She had half a mind to help, her body language even suggested hesitation, but she instead let him push through, “Keep at it, hotshot, and you’ll be faster than me.” she winked before continuing onwards. Taking in the air of the pool and the laughter of kids having fun, Zarina stretched her arms open, prompting a yawn in the process, and just let the damper air hit her, “Anyone feel just a little tempted?” she shrugged with an impish grin. She nodded at the mention of the tree’s popularity, “Names, cute hearts.” she tilts her head, “Dates. Any particular meaning to any of it, Marcel- Is Marci good? I like that, actually.” she nudges her head toward Ayla, “She calls me Zaz after all.”

However, before Marci could reply, a small curly ball of energy came streaking out of the pool, headed straight for their group or, rather, one member of it in particular. “Mistuh Yawen!” Rita made it a few more steps before tripping over her own feet and only managing to avoid a faceplant by sticking her hands out and absorbing the impact. She lay there on her stomach for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to cry. They apparently didn’t have swimsuits, so the kid was in her underwear and showing a fair bit of plumber’s crack. “Oww,” she pouted.

“Rita!” Yalen broke away from the tour group, nearly tripping on his own feet in the process. In the same moment he tore off the outer coat of his uniform and wrapped it around the child’s body to preserve her modesty. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

Apparently comforted, she returned to a more neutral expression, quirking an eyebrow. “Owaph,” she muttered. “Whewe doesn’t it huwt?” She rolled onto her back and sat up, examining her palms and rubbing at her knees.

Possessed of an instinct similar to Yalen’s, Marceline was about to go over herself but, with a quick reassurance, the priest decided to separate from the rest of the group to see to the girl. Before Marci turned back to Zarina, she watched them go. “More falls are coming in the future,” she said softly, before forcing her face into another expression. “But sure, you can call me Marci, as long as there’s no stupid ‘a’ at the end.” She rolled her eyes, almost as if she was trying to act cool in front of the older teens. “Yes, the stupid ‘a’.” Zarina nodded, lips pursed as she let it sink in, “It’d be REALLY dumb to have that in a name. Right, AylA?” she exaggerated just how vexed she was, and after a brief moment she ended up laughing, “I’m messing.” Ayla was counting the classmates with her fingers. Ayla, Ysilla, Zarina, Jocasta, Kaspa, Yalena… they were not getting entry in the cool club any time soon.

Marci, who’d looked nervous for a moment, relaxed into a smile and a blush. “I’m always so bad at telling, ” she admitted. Around them, people in various states of ambulation moved about the pool area, many within the water. Plenty of eyes were turned their way, but nobody interrupted them. As they watched, a boy and a girl about the age of the students were carving their names into the tree. Funnily enough, the boy bore a striking resemblance to their own Kaspar. “And yeah, the tree,” said Marci. “Those two just reminded me: there are lots of meanings. Sometimes the little kids just do dumb stuff.” She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Lots of dicks. Then, we get the lovers.” She tried not to linger on the two by the tree.“Like everyone over sixteen just has a lot of… you know.” She blushed. “Not much else to do.” She moved on, taking them under the shade.“Most dates are arrival or name dates, since you get a new name when you come here. Usually someone older takes you under their wing and carves them for you.” She sniffed, settling awkwardly onto a bench, and her yellow summer dress fluttered in a gentle breeze. “Ones in circles are first day on two - that means when your legs stop doing shit and you get your chair.” She shrugged. “That’s about it, I think.”

Kaspar’s eyes drifted to the tree, scanning the branches and admiring its shape. This kind of tree was unfamiliar to him, as he didn’t study the plants of Torragon, but it pulled him in like so many other plants had in his time. Keeping the voices of the group half in mind, he stepped away, head tilted as he noted the particular shapes of the leaves, the contrast between the bark and the bright fruits that dangled temptingly from the branches. He reached up, fingers skimming one, and wondered passively if it would keep until he had a notebook in hand. Willing to chance it, he grasped the fruit fully and tugged, detaching it from the branch and watching the leaves bounce in response. He palmed the fruit, turning it over, and then found himself wondering what, precisely, his plan for storing it was. Feeling a bit sheepish at the way he’d been distracted by the tree, Kaspar glanced around to see if anyone—most of all his fellow students—had noticed his captivation. His red eyes trailed down, sweeping around, and froze near the trunk. His brow furrowed, unbidden, as he stared at the couple carving into the bark, and a coldness crept up the skin of his back. The girl was unfamiliar, but there was something unsettlingly recognizable about the boy, like Kaspar should know him from somewhere. It took him another moment of openly staring to realize just how strongly the stranger’s face resembled his own—the most noticeable difference being in the differing colors of their eyes. For a moment, he felt as though he were looking at some distant timeline in which he’d simply been disposed of, placed far away where no one would ask any questions. It burned hot in his gut, flooding his mind with everything he’d spent the past night pushing away. It almost seemed like he could smell the blood again, coating his stinging palms… And the pain forced his awareness back, red eyes sliding down to the fruit still gripped in his hand. The skin was mottled and leaking, pooling on his scraped flesh and dripping to the ground as his Gift peeled at it. The juice was sticky against his skin, not warm or red but still enough. Startled, he dropped the fruit to the ground where it thudded gently and rolled, leaving the stone wet beneath it. Breathing raggedly, he backed away, trying to find his classmates and their guide. The boy didn’t matter, nor did any path but this one. Kaspar could simply push him away, every boy he’d ever been, and forget this moment in the garden. If it truly wouldn’t leave his mind, as part of him perhaps so dearly hoped, the carving would still be fresh—and it’s not as if the boy could leave.

Ayla, meanwhile, decided to push the boat out a little further, though avoiding being direct. “There are a couple of pretty ones within a clover. Amanda, Consuela…
” she pauses for a moment, “There are lots of A’s… does the four-leafed clover signify anything?” choosing to refrain from mentioning Marci’s own name. Zarina kept silent, her face not directly geared toward the younger tethered girl, but her eyes were very much peering in her direction. She also crossed her arms– she didn’t know what was coming, but she braced herself for anything.

Marceline paused and something flickered across her face. “Wanna see where the aqueduct comes in?” she asked pointedly.

Ayla tilts her head at the sudden tangent, it stuck out like a sore thumb, awkward and disjointed. “Seems there are more names in the clovers, taking a closer look” the implication left to hang awkwardly, allowing Marci to answer the question with privacy. Zarina sighed somewhat loudly from her nose, catching on to the situation as quickly as Ayla, although the potential undertones and the idea of prison-life weighed on her mood. She stood close, not behind but by Marceline, as a rather tall individual and hoped to provide some semblance of safety and discretion with the proximity without actually touching the girl, “Nothing here but us girls, and maybe a few flailing kiddos.” she mumbled under her breath.

“You remember what Ayla said about the walls in the dining room?” Marci suggested, trying not to let out an annoyed sigh. “It isn’t just the walls. I think we should go see the aqueduct. Nobody ever gets to see it and I kinda like it there. It’s peaceful.” She began walking.
Ayla gave a nod, “Always wondered where you find water in the desert, please show us the way.” Zarina looked side to side, checking if they didn’t have any unwanted tails or little worms that whispered to their avian masters.

When they arrived, they found an ancient aqueduct, dating back perhaps to Avincian times, though Avince itself had never conquered the High Desert. It stretched off into the distant highlands. Here, where it spilled over the wall into a great copper and ceramic holding tank, there was nobody to be seen. Marci turned awkwardly on her heel and regarded them. “Your friend there - the one in the chair – she told you about these places, and what they’re like.” The tethered girl sighed, gazing wistfully down at her feet before looking up. “The clovers are from when they recruit you.” She sniffed and rubbed at her nose. “Some of us: the more powerful ones, the more biddable ones: they… train us.” Her eyes flash challengingly for a moment. “People treat us like we’re useless, like we’re a liability. We will never be anything or do anything of worth, and they teach us plenty of that in the refuge.” She chuckled bitterly, sounding eerily like Jocasta last night. “but a Tethered who is trained in the Gift is superior to all other magic users. We are not limited to the tiny world of perhaps a hundred yards. We can draw from miles distant. We can sense from miles distant. We can strike from miles distant.” She nods knowingly. “I haven’t been called up yet - likely when I’m sixteen, if they have their way - but I’m in training.” She shrugged, letting herself lean clumsily against a ceramic pipe. “And if you wanna know why we do it,” she snorted, “What else is there to do? What other chance at a life do we get to live?” She gazed out blankly up the aqueduct. “I will never get to build something great, like this, that lasts for a thousand years. I will leave no descendants. My name will not be written in anybody’s books. We’re all disposable here. If something happens to us on a mission, then it was because of the Tethering.” She turned her eyes back to them, expression even, mouth a thin line.

Ayla pauses for a moment as she listens, contemplating the words, simply trying to imagine. “So the Tethered are used as weapons, powerful ones.”, she recalls how Jocasta and Yalen dealt with the Halassa, the strength they showed, and also the strength that was hidden. There were many questions that she wanted to ask, though some could wait, “Do you know where the Aberration is located, does your skill extend that far?”

Marceline sighed vexedly. “I should be able to sense it, but I can’t.” She shook her head. “Normally, finding the little aberrations isn’t a problem, so I have to assume that it’s far: outside of even Tethered range.” She shrugged helplessly.

“If so, Jocasta and even Yalen can likely sniff it out too.” Zarina kept her arms crossed the whole time as she listened, and one could easily notice her scowl growing on her expression. It wasn’t indignation as one might imagine, but a growing frustration toward Marceline’s words and disposition. When the tethered girl sought to justify her decision, a ‘Tsk’ escaped the Virangish girl, ”The strongest among mages, shuddering before the worms that have crawled in this establishment.” she shook her head with venom in her voice, ”Have you just given up, Marci? Is self-pity just that comforting? Given you’re fully aware of your situation, it’s not like they have a full grasp of you.” eyebrows cocked, Zarina leaned forward a little, invading the tethered’s space a little, ”And, you know what?” her voice raises a tad, ”Who cares if you don’t accomplish memorable things? Most people don’t.” she purses her lips and backs off a little, ”Most won’t. Slaves and Royals alike.”

Marceline shrunk back from the display and stumbled slightly as this near-stranger invaded her space. She took a second to reevaluate what she was going to say and what she was willing to reveal. This one was too aggressive: an eagle or an owl in manner. Such people judged. They judged quickly and often wrongly and were eager to speak on it. The fourteen-year-old decided that it was not safe to ask her question nor share her final secret. Perhaps she had already said too much. There was the Tethered girl among them, and the Tethered boy. They would understand her better and the former had even said the words. She knew Him or knew of Him. Perhaps she would be better to ask. Marceline blinked. “With all due respect, you haven’t lived my life, so don’t condescend to tell me how to think. I already get enough of that, thank you.” Her eyes narrowed momentarily and she grabbed her crutches. “Anyhow, I think you have your answer. We should go back now.” She turned and took a few steps, annoyed at her inability to outpace this group. “I invite you to enjoy our pool facilities,” she threw over her shoulder. “As for me, I have things to do.”

Ayla has her eyes flash towards Zarina, the smaller girl was visually shaking in the spot, “Jo told us all about these places, and this is what you came out with? You… babaca!”, moving to place herself between the exit where Marciline was leaving and Zarina. ”You are some estrangeiro who has just entered their home, already judging her from your pedestal. What are you expecting, her to walk out of here into the open deserto in her braces... And where? This is the only home she knows, this is the only family she knows.” She glares up at the taller woman, not being intimidated by the height difference, and in a lower voice, “and even if she did somehow walk out of here and somehow survive, what about the rest, bring her family with her too? Without his little treasure, who will senhor pervertido target next, her little sister Rita?” She taps upon the side of her head with her finger, then mimes her voice with her hand, “Pense antes de falar - Think before you speak”.

It went about as expected, Marceline took it the way she should and Ayla was left revolted. Zarina, however, exhaled peacefully as the tethered girl ‘walked’ away. When the inevitable verbal spanking came to be, she just passively peered toward Ayla’s direction and took it, only to flinch at ‘Babaca’. That was new, but then the lecturing began and again the same steam that pressurised her sensitive, sleepless head began to accumulate again. Her jaw shifted, causing her teeth to briefly grate against each other, “If I have to hear another fucking pity-party story, see innocent little lamb-to-the-slaughter eyes or play moral counseler one more time, I’m going to take the fucking naranjas and shove them up the warden’s trimmed asshole. And cut the fucking tree.” as humorous as the imagery was, the growing anger in Zarina was palpable in her voice alone, and her body language would not leave anyone feeling reassured. She was clenching her crossed arms, nearly damaging the fabric of her top, and her face began to look a tad redder. It made it somewhat easier to see just how much her sleepless night affected her features when she was flexing them all like that, “I’m here to do one job, I don’t have to be moral support.” she shakes her head, “Most powerful mage …” she mumbles before scoffing. Quite the disproportionate anger for just some lost fourteen year old. The clenching became bad enough that her nails were viciously digging into her skin through the top, leaving marks. She gestures in dismissal, “Tell her I’m a babaca and you’re outraged or something if you care. I need to prepare for the job.”

Worked up, tired and with a killer headache, Zarina passed both Ayla and Marceline to reach the sanctity of her mostly unused quarters. A brief breathing exercise and some water helped with the head, but as she composed herself, the all-too-common realisation of the fruit of her impulse made her slip. A weighted punch was thrown toward the wooden edge of her bed frame, causing it to crack and her knuckles to suffer some light damage. Heavy breathing became light hyperventilating- nothing she couldn’t control, but it did not help the case of her increasingly pained head.

”Fuck.” she cursed with as much restraint as she could muster before turning her head to the pendant she had left on the nightstand the whole time. It was time to pray, but how could she? So much anger, so much regret that bred even more anger. Again, she had to keep her mind distracted. Food, water, knives, rope, everything one would need for basic survival in the desert, just as she was taught by her papy, were accumulated and put into different bags provided by the Refuge. Most of all: Cloaks, adapted for the climate and made to protect from potential storms. If they had ranger getups available, then all the better, Zarina was all over them. She was almost ‘zoned out’, completely separated from all those that passed by her and tunnel-visioned on completing this rudimentary task. At least the group would be somewhat prepared this time.

And finally, she made a trip to the stables, to see if they had any mount capable of helping those limited like Yalen or even Kaspar. If anything, she would take one for herself too, even if the Gift allowed her to effectively navigate faster without one.

Collab Summary

Jocasta is clingy this morning. Hand-holding all around.
Warden is reluctant to share numbers of staff.
Yalen is distant and preoccupied in his mannerisms. Must have slept badly last night.
Sand Wyrm doesn't break through the refugee walls as the cost would outweigh the benefits. If it were to go mad because of the Aberration, the children would be in grave danger.
Marceline is called 'My Marcelina' by the Warden. Intentional 'a' at the end. More Torragonese that way.
Due to the need for a replacement ranger, the party has an hour and half to do what they wish.
Marceline provides a tour, away from the staff, allowing the group to ask questions in private.
Jocasta disappeared with Yalen for a bit, then went off on her own.
Marceline suggests there are about 115 staff at the refuge.
Yalen reunites with Rita, assisting her to become modest.
Kaspar sees someone who looks like himself. Triggers his trauma and abandonment issues.
Marceline explains that the four-leaf clover is a sign of being chosen to be trained as a weapon. If trained the right way, they can sense and use their gift from miles away.
The Aberration is not within tethered range.
Zarina slips loses her cool with Marceline, she chooses not to share the final clue. Perhaps something for Yalen or Jocasta to explore due to possibly being more understanding due to the status of the tethered.

O R I F L A M M E

---

Interacting with: King Arcel@Force and Fury Asier @Ti
Opportunity: Parrench-aligned Players - Potential travellers that have seen what Arnaud left in his travel to Relouse

---

Event: Defense of Relouse Location: Provincial Parrence

---

”Another! Another!”

The tavern of St. Jérôme-des-Voyons was bustling with joy. What was initially a grim arrival of the notorious royal executioner quickly turned into a fiesta overflowing with mead and women. Arnaud’s unique appearance to the Parrench did little to deter them from enjoying the evening– If anything, it got people even more interested in hearing what he had to tell. Some touched his hair, others tapped his belly (mostly women) and even some tried their luck in taking him in brutish games such as arm wrestling. They would all know defeat in the case of the latter. But the party went on, ending with once Zuyr King leaving at first daylight from a warm and populated bed.

Aheri had been making the voyage to Relouse on his lonesome, as he often did. Riding was nauseating and company tended to hamper his desires for exploration and hedonism. He moved on foot, at his own pace. Some days he would traverse miles without any effort under an hour, some others he kept a slow pace to just enjoy the beautiful day in the pastures of Parrence. Highwaymen and other bandits never dared to get in his way, for all knew what the Lion emblem and the featureless helm represented. Arnaud Maobe was the executioner because there was nothing he couldn’t slay.

What a curse it was. Little adversaries these day, no stupid kid to try his luck against the Aheri. He felt himself getting old, even with war on the horizon. Many will be after his life, a thrilling prospect to be sure, but he would no longer be the lord that presided over the battlefield, instead a tempest to wipe out the enemy of the one standing above him. It was as if the five Gods had heard him, as the dire state of Bérignac came to his attention. A lot of smoke coming from a nearby farming village. As a royal enforcer and anointed Knight, it was his duty to aid the people of Parrence, after all.

Had the five heard his plea? It was a raid from thieves. Petty pillagers taking advantage of the recalled soldiers that were being mobilised by the King. Arnaud, with his partially cleaned axe over her shoulder, calmly made his way into town. They were nine and the village’s men were either killed or crippled. Perfect. The hulking beast of a man stood quietly at the edge of town, staring down the gang, both hands wielding his axe.

”*Dites vos prières.” he took a singular step forward, his helm distorting his voice somewhat, ”Tenez près vos precieux souvenirs.” then a second step, the wrongdoers were sweating profusely, shouting various obscenities that fell in deaf ears, ”Et mourrez comme des hommes!” and then he lept in the air. The sun blurred his figure, and before they could see anything, his swirling axe landed onto not one, but two of them. One was essentially sliced in half by the blade, the other terminally wounded by the metal pole that collided with his torso.

Then he landed by his axe just as it hit the ground, obliterating a female of the group with his feet and pulling his weapon out. The simple act of whipping it out created a blast of air that’d pin two others against a stone wall. They were helpless to being cut down by a single swing of his axe. Only four left. One begged for mercy, and was met with the King’s justice. The penalty for thievery didn’t always entail death, but murder was on the table, even if this one didn’t directly do it. He was granted a swift decapitation. The last three built up the courage to fight, and behind his mask Aheri smiled. They stood no chance and were judged like all the others.

When the deed was done, Arnaud didn’t stay to help the villagers. He didn’t say another word. He merely cleaned his axe with one of his rags and then departed back on his journey to Relouse. His duty was fulfilled, the King’s Justice was delivered and peace returned to the people. Now they needed to fight to reclaim what was lost by the will of the Gods.

---

Location: Relouse Encampment

---

When Arnaud arrived at the camp, things had already been set in motion. Not everything was set up just yet, but enough was done to avoid having to need his assistance for anything. He knew what he had to do, though, as he would be one of those spearheading the defensive manoeuvres and counter-attacks against the Eskandish menace. From his own experience as a Northern raider and the suffering Parrence had previously experienced from attacks from the South, Arnaud understood how to prepare a battlefield.

The sand dunes of the beaches were to be turned into death traps. Unstable patches of quicksand that would swallow up fodder with precious seismic strikes from his stomps or axe. Some holes would be tombs for enemies, some others basins separated from the sea where Thunder mages could quickly cook entire groups in a matter of seconds. And of course Arnaud himself found the best vantage point he could find to not only send concentrated Force waves onto incoming ships, but also create gusts of winds to slow and halt the downpour of arrows.

With most of the setup involving his own abilities ready, it was time for Arnaud to attend the King’s speech, although not before sniffing out a certain misfit old feline among the brass …

---

His place was not by the King, nor was it among the many men conscripted to give their lives to the people. It was further back, among many King’s Guards. It made sense, as the King’s executioner and an iconic figure that flexed the might of Perrance. They had such a massive and scary man in their ranks, how could they possibly lose? He remained unmoving during the whole speech, shouting a powerful ‘Amen’ came from him.

When the time came for praying, he too got down and on one knee. The prayer had a particularly martial tune to it, and with each beckon to a specific God, Arnaud hit the pommel of his upright axe against the ground, causing a controlled and long-reaching echo to reverberate throughout the entirety of the forces. They could ‘feel’ the Pentad reaching into them, in a way.

”Amen!” he said right after the queen. The formalities were done, and now the big players gathered, with Asier being one to take the initiative. The massive Zuyr chuckled, ”**Un lion rusé.” he had removed his helm the moment he had entered the council, ”The preparations on shores are mostly complete. It will be difficult for them to secure entry point should we keep control of the terrain.” he spoke with his usual, thick accent and somewhat still broken Avincian, ”Have we got new word from our scouts and infiltrators?”

Translation

*Say your prayers. Keep close your precious memories. And die like men!
**A clever lion.