[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://i.ibb.co/3Ymcdzh/Ash-FC-4.jpg[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] L11 (Beach, Backstage -> Dance Floor)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	The approximate time it took to have Thana down from the stage was just long enough for Ash to get over to her. It struck him as very odd at first that, even though Ash had been acting as her personal transportation since they had arrived, and indeed helped her up to the stage in the first place, they felt it necessary to assume the same role without prompting. But that was just at first. Thana had been hurt for a while, and he assumed that even after (and during) a lengthy session of healing, she wasn't going to stop doing what she wanted to do. In truth, she was still healing. Continuing on this train of thought, it was probably second nature for those close to her in the community to move in prearranged ways to help her. Whether or not there was any truth to his assumptions, he was there with her now, and he took over the personally gratifying task of helping Thana get around. 

	[color=4682b4]"Well hell yes, I enjoyed the show,"[/color] he responded to her comment, landing a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. He gave a warm smile, though it faded a little to confusion as he saw the one-armed girl making a rude gesture at them with her prosthetic. [color=4682b4]"That's something you don't see everyday..."[/color] he mumbled, shaking it off as being hopefully inconsequential. Not that anything with her family ever was without consequence, in his experience. But his attention wasn't for her, it was for Thana. [color=4682b4]"Yeah,"[/color] he agreed. [color=4682b4]"Let's go find a seat."[/color] 

	He hoisted Thana up in a bridal carry and began walking back in the direction of the bar and kettles, then stopped, looked back toward the gulf, and asked, [color=4682b4]"Would you want to sit for a while on the beach? I can get us a couple of plates, drink or two, and we can look a the stars for a time."[/color] There was no telling when someone else, friend or family of hers, might need to call upon her. But a few moments with her on the beach, the sound of pounding surf and music in the background, and a plate of southern shrimp boil was heaven enough. If not now; if she had other wishes or plans for the evening, then he could content himself that it could be reserved for another time. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.ibb.co/5rQc2nm/x-Thalia.gif[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] L11 (Beach -> About -> Kettles again)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Plate balanced in her prosthetic hand and letter in the other, Thalia was walking in search of her dear, long-lost brother. It was a fair bet that as long as she kept her senses tuned for he only Latino who spoke in iambic pentameter for several hundred miles around, and probably the only one left in existence who used the word '[i]thee[/i]', she'd be in the clear. Thalia took a mental pause to consider what her life might have been like if she didn't lose her mother all those years ago. She wouldn't have known about this whole other part of her family. She wouldn't have known that she shared a father with one of the most annoying men on the planet. Oh, she loved him. They were family after all, even if the exact meaning of that had changed in recent years. The thought of it made her hungry. Or mindful of the fact that she had food in her heavy, metal hand. Pausing in her search, she leaned her head down to delicately sink her teeth into a tiny, red skinned potato, then tilt her head back to let gravity deposit it into her mouth. 

	Chewing thoughtfully, she shook out the paper to better unfold it, and went over the words again. Thalia began to mumble, [color=dc143c]"Mason, shipwright, carpenter... who wrote about.. ?"[/color] Even if she didn't look like it anymore, Thalia received a contemporary education in both Mexico and the United States, not to mention college in Boston. Fat lot of good any of it did her now, but at least student loans weren't an issue anymore. But she did seem to remember something from classical literature, and if anyone knew anything about classical literature, it was Joaquin. Hell, the people here called him Shakespeare, and... [color=dc143c]"Sostenga el puto teléfono[/color][sub]1[/sub][color=dc143c],"[/color] she uttered, looking at the exact wording of the riddle again: 

	[color=darkgray][i]"A clue to find a clue, here is a riddle for you: The question is not _'what is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?'_ but who did write of he?"[/i][/color]
 
	They were in it together. Thana and Joaquin both; considering that her brother's nom de guerre was [i]Shakespeare[/i] in this place, and the passage in the riddle was from Hamlet... the very person she was looking for to help figure this out was the actual answer the entire time. That bastard. Unfortunately, she didn't see him anywhere. He was hiding, or not in attendance. This was not a thing which would be solved today. Thalia stuffed the paper into her back pocket and started toward where she saw Thana last, shifting her plate to her good hand in the process. 

	What she saw there from Thana? Intentionally ignoring her, like this was all some game. But of course it was. Something to divert, maybe. She didn't know. Oh, that smirk. Thalia would come back to that smirk later. Maybe she just imagined it coming off of Thana, but she responded by raising her metal hand toward the pair of them. Having not messed with it since opening the letter, its middle finger was still quite extended. Fine with her. Thalia returned to the kettles and sat down heavily in [b]her spot[/b], and set to devouring her food in earnest. She'd see about her brother later. 

[hider=Translations]
1	=	Hold the fucking phone
[/hider]