[h1][center]Phoebe Hyperion[/center][/h1]
	The flowers were hers, and that was all she needed to know. Everything else that came afterwards was processed through a veil; she understood them well enough, but it was not a matter of importance to her anymore. For Mary's spiel, she simply offered limp, courtesy nods, and didn't so much as blink as the vines wrapped around her. She was not going to fight her, she did not need to and did not want to as much as she did for Goldas.

	Goldas apology and subtle warning fell on deaf ears. He presumed much, but knew little about her, and there was nothing wrong with that. Maybe she even preferred it that way, though she would never really know; she didn't have the time to make sure if she did. Also, being close to him would probably just mean more disturbances. She would rather avoid that.

	With him gone and with the flowers she needed in hand, Phoebe looked at Mary and gave a small nod of thanks. She probably wasn't going to get her fight today, which would be a slight disappointment for her, she was sure. 

	[i]"Sun Chariot,"[/i] murmured Phoebe, and for a very brief moment, her own intense magical power leaked out, before she vanished in a wink of light, leaving Mary alone once again.

	Less than a second later, she reappeared to the side of Koe. She looked around to confirm her whereabouts, before nodding in satisfaction. Turning slowly, she gave Koe a curt nod, before noticing he was in the middle of a conversation. She turned around, to let them continue and looked about. Alcohol, preferably wine, was what she was looking for. This was where most of the Festival-goers were going for drinks, so she could probably find what she needed easily.

	Then, she paused, and reached into her satchel. Rummaging through it, she found her lacrimas, some jerky, and nothing else. Like her wallet. She stared at the good-as-empty bag for a moment before soundlessly letting it go. She wondered where she left it . . . then she realized that she had taken it out in anticipation for the bouquet of flowers she now held in her hand, which meant her wallet was most likely . . .

	Back at Mary's booth, a single, brown leather wallet lay forgotten and sad. 

[@LokiLeo789]-[@j8cob]-[@Renny]-[@RabidAnubis]