[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/231109/0ba929c62ce0023295985d603785fcba.png[/img][/center][hr]The burden of their failure weighed heavy on Ionna’s back as she and Sara made their way to Stern Hill empty-handed. She could see it in the Fire Templar too, and found herself hoping, hypocritically, that the woman wouldn’t blame herself. Nadine had already been gone, and if she had truly been in that helicopter, what were Sara’s options? Blast it and the Scion out of the sky? If anything, Ionna had let them down. She was the Templar of [i]Metal[/i], and if she hadn’t been so hopeless when it came to magic, maybe she could have pulled it out of the sky. 

But this wasn’t helping anyone—it certainly wasn’t helping Nadine. The best thing they could do was regroup and hope Dame Irina could organize some sort of rescue party. 

Well, actually, that seemed to be about the worst thing they could do. 

It seemed like they’d been there all of two seconds before Theobald marched over. The Scion of Fire didn’t look much worse for wear, but Ionna had expected as much; he was probably a more fearsome soldier than most of the Templars. She smiled, glad to see he and everyone else seemed to be in one piece, if not a bit shaken, and left to reunite with Dominka. 

She heard the slap and whirled back around, having nearly mistaken it for gunfire. Theobald was already walking away, and Sara followed quietly behind. Ionna was dumbstruck, and deep inside her a tiny flame was incensed, but it was already too late to do anything as the lot of them were ushered onto the train. 

Sitting beside Dom, Ionna spent the whole ride watching the Scion of Fire. He was cold. Deceptively inhuman. Her father’s warnings needled her, a mounting dread she couldn’t shake off. Had she been wrong? Was this really what he was? Surely Incepta saw more within him, but then again, her father had always said to trust her own eyes first—not out of sacrilege, she thought, but rather because blind faith was no faith at all. What some might see as a trial to endure, Ionna might see as a challenge to overcome. 

So which was Theobald, trial or challenge? She was less sure than before. 

Like many others, Ionna drifted through the introduction to their new abode in a daze that she didn’t shake off until the Templars were once again separated from their Scions. Looking around at the giant stained-glass windows, she was struck with a sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t they just done this?  She supposed things were a bit more protected here, but still, trading one noble’s mansion for another didn’t sit right with her. 

As the Templars entered the ballroom, she handed over her crystal. The attendant paused, glancing at her prosthetic, surprised that it hadn’t come off with the armor. Perhaps they expected she might hand it over as well. It got a snicker out of her.

“[color=E40040]Sorry, disarmored, not disarmed,[/color]” she said with a wink, and proceeded into the ballroom with the others. 

Part of her wanted to find Sara, commiserate, and tell the woman Nadine’s capture wasn’t her fault. But would that really help? Maybe it was better if she just gave her some space, and tried once things were a little less…raw. For now, she decided it was better to focus on quelling her own anxiety. She had a feeling a Dame Irina wasn’t going to be happy with them.