[center][color=F8DE7E][h3]Ange Bolganone – Frenzy Camp[/h3][/color]
[@raijinslayer][@liferusher][/center]

The young woman now serving as guard knew that sooner or later the counter-intuitively gregarious demon might try and speak to her, and had been rehearsing what she'd say over and over again in her head—as well as under her breath, though not too audibly.  Still, her easily-agitated nature struck her dumb for a moment when Argus did address her.  [color=F8DE7E]”Oh! ...Most regrettably, I'm not much of a stickler for conversation.  If you wouldn't mind, I'd instead prefer to allow these moments go by peacefully and sirenly...uh, serenely, rather, and unwind the tension your display wound up.”[/color]  After a moment she remembered that this didn't answer his question.  [color=F8DE7E]”Uh, uh, and my name is Ange Bolganone.  Lieutenant.  Lieutenant Bolganone.”[/color]  She adjusted her glasses and her position on her glass stool, keeping a straight and professional face.

[center][color=F0DC82][h3]Leixia Wuiwomi – In the Little Wood[/h3][/color]
[@oblivion666][/center]

The extreme forces evident even in such mundane aspects of Riona as movement prevented Leixia from stockpiling any real confidence despite landing a few arrows.  Some trainers taught that to make one's opponent mad guaranteed victory, but Frenzy Plant had shown the archer that any combatants more talented than a street thug would more often than not become stronger the angrier they got.  For some, rage was a blind fire, burning indiscriminately and foolishly, but for others it was the searing forge that tempered their technique.  Unfortunately, as she watched Riona pound cracks into the ground, Leixia felt no anger; only the resigned acknowledgment of imminent pain pricked her.

Sure enough, Riona shot forward, the flames around her brimming with brutal tenacity.  Too scared to risk dodging, Leixia opted to go for absolute defense to mitigate the beatdown hurling her way.  Dropping her bow, she bent her head forward and raised her arms, palms-in and vertically pressed together, to protect her further.  As such, Riona's blazing dropkick connected, Leixia suffered a mere slight concussion with agony in her bones but no fractures.  For a moment, the archer blacked out, and when her sensed flooded back she was staring at the sky between the trees.  [i]How did I get here?[/i] she wondered blankly, before the realization came.  When it did, she also discovered how painful her arms were, though in all likelihood a mulched, broken face would have been worse.  [color=F0DC82]”Ahhh...ah, fu—I mean, fiddlesticks.  Ow!  Well, you're in.”[/color]  She allowed Riona to help her to her feet, not eager to test her arms' ability to hold her weight.  [color=F0DC82]”When you go for B-rank, ask for Kilo, or Enma.  They'll...ah.  Put up an actual challenge.”[/color]  She gingerly pointed back toward the camp.  [color=F0DC82]”You better not tell anyone how bad you stomped me.  No, in fact, I did fine for a C-rank.  C's aren't weak necessarily, we just have, um, weaknesses.  Let's go. Would you, er...I'm a little dizzy.  Don't support me, just let me know if I step the wrong way.  Yeah?”[/color]

[center][color=d8bfd8][h3]Nero the Genie – Arena Stands[/h3][/color]
[@rivaan][@lunarlors34][@shikaru][/center]

Nero shared thoroughly in the general pleasure taken by the Shadow Heart wizards in the transformation of Arthur.  In getting to know strangers, risks were essential, and sometimes the gamble paid off.  If one could maneuver into a position where he laughed alongside his would-be acquaintances, Nero thought, he nailed it.  When Jessica collapsed in a fit of laughter, leaning forward, the Genie did not spurn the opportunity to sneak a glance at and commit to memory two of her most memorable features.  Still, behind his grin he worried about Ayame.  Knowing that the young girl fared extravagantly poorly in crowds turned his apprehension into an almost big-brotherly terror for her.  However, he could not ditch these fine folks just yet, and tuned back in on the conversation just in time to hear someone mention the name [i]Georgie[/i].  Almost instantly the clever dark mage concluded that this name belonged to the guild master.  After all, these people belonged to the same guild, and a name all of them would recognize and bring up fairly often in idle conversation might as well be the guild's most prominent persona.  [i]Never heard that one before,[/i] he mused.  [i]Might have to pay these whoever-they-ares a visit.[/i]

He turned his attention to Janna, who after Nero's inspiring sorcery on Arthur had dredged up a wish of her own.  The Genie awaited it with theatrical eagerness, only for his mood to fall completely flat when the girl asked him for an act of healing.  [i]Of all the things...[/i]  Nero could cause sickness and hurt, but not mend it.  Though Curse Laws could alter nearly anything, they held no purely benevolent power.  Nero stood still, and on a whim put his hand to his mouth as if in thought, though only to hide that he was biting his tongue in frustration.  There was no doubt about it: if he couldn't pull something off, the faith of these people in him and perhaps all would-be bringers of happiness would be shaken.  Despite holding no obligation to make sure these people felt satisfied, Nero always had trouble allowing a job to be completed poorly if he wanted to do it well.  In the nick of time, just as the pause was beginning to stretch into awkward, a lightbulb sparked in his head.

[color=d8bfd8]”Well dearie, I'm afraid I can't whip up something to wipe them away immediately, but I can give you the next best thing: a good possibility and best wishes.  Here, watch this: umm...Friendly Genie Magic: Gracious Arbor Blackneedles!”[/color]  From the dark mage's fingertips sprang bumpy but sharp-tipped needles the color of pitch.  He collected them and held them out in the palm of his gloved hand.  [color=d8bfd8]”These are...restorative pine needles from the Gracious Arbor.  Grind them up and add them to any ol' tea mix, drink 'em down, and unless the Arbor's had a bad year you'll be free of scars in a week.  Two, tops.”[/color]  With utmost care, he deposited them with Janna.

Nero gathered himself to leave, but at that moment something clicked with him about what Anya said.  [color=d8bfd8]”Humm...missie, didja say, 'Fairy Tail is my home'?  As in, the defunct guild from a century ago?  Weird.  Anyhoo, I've got to take off.  A friend of mine mighta gotten lost.  If you all have more wishes, fate will let us meet again.  The spell on your buddy Arthur will wear off in less than an hour, so don't give him too much of a -ruff- time!  Heeheehee!”[/color]

After a ceremonious bow, Nero hustled off.  In no time he'd retraced his steps to where he'd seen Ayame last, just inside the stadium seating area, but his little companion was nowhere to be found.  The dark mage released an airy, I-might-have-screwed-the-pooch-on-this-one sigh, and hurried out of the arena and back toward Crocus.  He reasoned that the ochlophobic girl might have run away from the crowded Doma Flau.  Black eyes squinted through purple-rimmed glasses at the surrounding shops and houses.  [color=d8bfd8]"Humm.  If I was a tiny, pitiable, scaredy-cat little girl, where would I scurry off to...?"[/color]