[i]I knew it. Djonn wants me to suffer.[/i] Adele removed the totem mask from her face for the umpteenth time, one arm curled around her middle as she tried to keep her stomach from turning inside out. The rattling movement of the carriage on top of having her vision zoomed in and out at will was the perfect recipe for nausea. While she figured a master of such a device could ultimately learn to use it while moving, she was far from such a goal. If she tried to use her cannon without some ample practice, her trajectory would be so off-put that the group would probably wonder if she’d ever used her cannon before.

[i]So what gives, Djonn? Why me? Even if you didn’t want to play lookout, you could have given this to someone else. Y’know, someone you’ve known longer and trust more?[/i] Adele put the mask back on and gazed in the old man’s direction, squinting her eyes to zoom in on his face. Surely, the totem must have psychic properties to affect her vision so. Or perhaps the eyes had special lenses that reacted to the subtle tension of her face?

The carriage hit a pothole, and she promptly forgot anything about the totem’s properties.

“You alright?” The driver glanced at her, more fearful than concerned. “Mr. Hemming isn’t going to forgive me if you—”

Adele held up a finger, her other hand occupied with covering her mouth. She waited a moment for the rolling motion in the pit of her stomach to stop before speaking. “Don’t worry. If something happens, Djonn will be fully responsible. If that’s not in the contract, I’ll write it in.”

“Eh… maybe you ought to take a break, then? Whatever you’re doing looks awfully… awful.” 

“Thank you for noticing, Sir Obvious.” Adele shot the man a glare, deciding to take out her frustration on him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have the best vantage point in this miserable caravan, so I’m more responsible than most for keeping vigil. If something sneaks through while I have this masochistic vision totem, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She couldn’t tell if the man’s face was amused or annoyed—it was a very strange mix of the two on his crinkled face. “Just give it a break for a few minutes. I don’t want to have to deal with vomit on the driver’s seat.” 

For the sake of her light lunch, she did take a break. She listened to him go on and on about his various clientele, namely some popular vocalist by the name of Tristana Dent. The best part was that she didn’t even have to feign interest because it was her job to continually glance away to watch the roadside. At length, she finally gave him a jibe about never having given a ride to an esteemed engineer—namely the one responsible for creating the carriage he so liked to brag about.

“His name is Victor Greaves, by the way.” Adele gave the driver a smug smirk. “He worked with a team of scientists who put the first electric crystals to use—in Bossart, that is. I got to attend a seminar on totem powered machinery by him when I attended the academy. After his lecture, I got to shake his hand, and he personally signed my copy of his textbook.”

After that little quip, the driver didn’t talk much.

She was more or less left alone with her thoughts, and she eventually came to regret that. While she was used to getting upset and going off as she pleased, losing composure as she had in front of Rook was new. She still couldn’t shake off the embarrassment he’d given her just before they left. With a real task in guarding the most targetable object in the caravan, she’d been eager to go off to her post, only to realize she wasn’t ready. There’d been no time or privacy to get her shoes and stockings on, so she’d been caught leaning haphazardly against the carriage while trying to shove them on.

[i]“Did you want me to put those on for you? Not that seeing you hop like that isn’t fun, of course.”[/i]

[i]Ugh, that pervert! I’ll get him for that![/I] Adele glared down at the carriage’s passenger compartment, knowing full well that Rook was in there. He probably wasn’t having issues holding his pride or his stomach down, either.