[center][b]Vesta & the Direwolf[/b][/center]

It had been years since Vesta felt no pain in her knee. She had grown accustomed to the regular, dull throbbing interlaced with the occasional hot, sharp spikes of blistering agony when she overexerted herself. She was so accustomed to the pain that, as she walked, she imagined that her leg was hurting even worse; yet the illusion wore off as the next day came. However, although she was no longer handicapped, she still felt that she was a shadow of her former self. She had adjusted how she had fought over the years to accommodate her injury—shredded the plate armor, focused on archery, took a more defensive stance. She'd have to change again, fight like how she used to fight; if only Lady Renata had made her nineteen again.

No, she'd have to fight even better than that.

Of course, first she’d have to get used to fighting in her full form. That was why she had taken a trip outside of the manor that morning, although with the eternal night that swamped the land it was really hard to tell if it was actually morning. Vesta had found a little nook of her own; a tiny garden alcove between two rooms that jutted out of the manor. It was far from the entrance, and hopefully far from any interruptions from the more chipper bunch of the crew that’d want to know why she was awkwardly shuffling her feet while waving her sheathed sword back and forth like a child fencing with their shadow. She had been practicing for quite a while now; already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead, making her hair stick to it like spiderwebs as she took measured steps and careful strokes throughout the alcove. 

A crunch of leaves, off-beat to her own steps, from behind sent an alert throughout her entire body. In one swift, practiced motion, she drew her sword as she spun to face the intruder, the blade held level and firm in her hand. The sword dipped slightly as she recognized the face of the heavy-footed man through her squinted eyes and knitted brow.

“I had figured we’d continue avoiding one another,” said Vesta.  

Despite the fact that he was not wearing any armor that day, the Direwolf was making no attempt to hide his presence. Dressed in a simple but fine dark material for both his shirt and his pants, he held a lit cigarette in his hand, and one that he was taking a slow drag from even as she spun towards him with her blade at the ready. His expression, despite the sudden battle-ready movement, was one of pure calm, and slowly his eyebrow rose slightly as she not only lowered he blade some, but spoke as well.

[b]"The only one who has been avoiding anyone is you, Ms. Debove."[/b] He spoke after exhaling, smoke trailing forwards and upwards in a cold as he held his cigarette out to the side, tapping it lightly to cause small crumbles of ash to float towards the ground, their glow rapidly dying even before they touched the grass. Though he wasn't wearing his armor, he still had his blade at his side; it wasn't the one he had arrived at Lady Renata's with though, however. Instead, this blade was in a black sheath, with a red jewel set into the pommel.

[b]"You seem to have gotten quite good at it, after all. Seems to be that whenever anyone happens to find you, it's simply a matter of bad luck."[/b] Though the Direwolf had clearly noted the new state of her knee given the glance he gave towards it, he made no comment about it, choosing instead to inhale yet more smoke into his lungs.

[i]On whose part?[/i] thought Vesta, sliding her blade back into her sheath and tucking it into her belt. She still felt uneasy around the man, the suspicion that he blamed her for their King's death always lingering on the edge of her mind whenever she saw him. They hadn't talked since before she had fled Barcea to avoid any repercussions for failing in her duties—and she had been fine with that. Now, however, seeing Alsius before her, she could no longer bring herself to avoid what was to come.

"I suppose you must think I'm a coward," she said, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. Her eyes lingered for a second on the Direwolf's weapon before turning back to face him. "Can't say that I blame you."

The Direwolf made a deep sort of noise, some sort of a cross between a snort and a chuckle. He gave a slight shake of his head, but he didn't verbally respond until after he had slowly exhaled his smoke once again, holding the cigarette out to the side once more. [b]"You did what you had to in order to survive. The officials of the old guard were on a witch hunt; there was no reason behind what they did, save that they wanted someone to pay for the power they knew they were going to lose as soon as Queen Serio took the crown. So no, I don't believe you're a coward. Clearly you've made your mistakes, but that doesn't make you a coward. Just a fool at some point."[/b] With that, he once more returned to his cigarette, still choosing to look towards the nearby gardens rather than at her.

"At some point," she echoed with a raised eyebrow. For a moment, it actually seemed that the Direwolf was taking her side, absolving her even. Had she misread him? She could even accept the fool comment. She had been a fool, she was still a fool, and she believed she would always be a fool. People who were wise did not turn to a life of constant struggle and fighting; they got married, had kids, and moved to Jasi. Wisdom, for what it's worth, seemed boring. She looked back at Alsius, noting how he seemed to be distracted by other things than their conversation.

"Is there something wrong?"

For a moment the man was silent, focused on his cigarette rather than her. When he finally replied the stick was not much more than the butt, and the way he flicked it away seemed to underline his disgust in what he had to say:

[b]"Breaking bread with the Phantasm had begun to grind harder on my nerves."[/b]

"Harder than rubbing elbows with Demons and Divineborn?" she asked, flicking her hair out of her face. "I have no love for the Gifted, either, but I fear that we will need him in the fight to come. Plus, Cyril wants us to be one, big, happy family." She shrugged. "Face it, long gone are the days where a strong sword arm and a little bit of luck was all you needed to win a fight. Maybe those days never even existed."

She couldn't believe that she was, in a way, defending the Wanderer. "Are you planning on doing something about it?"

[b]"In that, we will simply have to disagree. My faith in the power of my blade has not diminished in the slightest. I continue to serve my country to the fullest through it, cutting down those who would bring it harm."[/b] The hand of the Direwolf went down then, reaching into his pocket to pull out his box of cigarettes, and briefly he began to shake one loose before stopping halfway, leaving the one extended out past the others. [b]"It is because of that reason I do not plan on doing anything about it. The day will come that the Phantasm and I will resolve our quarrel one way or another; it will not be today, however."[/b]

"Hmm," she said, placing her hands behind her head and one leg against the wall; the novelty of her new knee had still not worn off. "In my experience, most people's never stop saying not today. And you must've been spending too much time with that damn paladin with all of that faith-in-my-blade nonsense. A lot of people [i]believe[/i] in their own strength. Hell, I'd say between the two of us we've probably cut down a few dozen of those idiots." She sighed, dropping her arms. "It's easy to be confident; it's better to be cautious. You may not think it's changed a thing, but you have gotten older. We both have."

She flashed one of her rare, jagged smiles. "What I'm trying to say is, don't be a dumbass." 

Very slightly the Direwolf gave another snort. It was rare for the man to give any sign of amusement, and yet in that conversation he had already done something similar twice. [b]"I never am. The same, however, I will say to you."[/b] With that he finally pulled out the cigarette completely, putting away the box to pull out a match instead, striking it up to once more begin trailing smoke gently into the air. [b]"No more even pretending that you're considering fleeing once again. You owe the Serios your life; pay them back properly by laying it down for them, otherwise I will bring it to them."[/b] With that he turned, beginning to walk away. [b]"Welcome back, Ms. Debove."[/b]

"Hmph," she snorted, wondering if she could take Direwolf in a fight. He was good, but they never had dueled before.  It was a possibility that she was quicker, but not a certainty, and she was tired of always being a hypocrite.

"Take care of yourself, Direwolf. Divines know that nobody else would."

Another snort was all she received in reply.