Things were coming to a head in a way that Elise wasn't a fan of. ...Mordred was restrained from killing Scarlett at least, but that was a verbal prohibition without a command spell. The reality of it was that Scarlett was veritably dancing upon the edge of a knife and daring the hand to tip. Thank goodness that Fran existed as a bastion of some semblance of sanity. Ironic, given that she was the Berserker here.

Right now, Elise doubted she had the words to convince Mordred in any capacity...but there was, of course, the obvious of there being bigger fish to fry. And, with the four-to-one request for a chance to stop and establish a base denied, it was becoming readily apparent that the team was more there for body count than it was to provide actual advice for their leader's course of action. Elise guessed that now, mages seemed to operate more on gut feelings than the evidence at hand, but whatever. Now Scarlett was being allowed to set up a base, and that was at least the mildest step towards getting a foot dug-in. 

Even if it also involved Scarlett putting herself in danger. ...Though, from the events of this morning, Elise was doubting that it was really Scarlett at all. After all, if a doll could fool her for hours, who's to say that this wasn't a facsimile and the real Scarlett was already setting up the base before receiving her orders?

Either way, one thing was becoming abundantly clear: working on this team was going to be damn stressful. Taking out a flask and taking a swig, Elise didn't care if this was a minor breach in protocol, exhaling after downing her liquid courage. [color=fdc68a][b]"I'm going South too. Bunbuku Chagama, keep on the lookout for anything strange. ...Scarlett. ...Stay safe. Celtchar, protect her, or else I'll be the one making threats around here."[/b][/color]
[hr]

The Ulster Lancer would exhale, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed his Master egging Mordred on, his offer to get beaten the fuck up by Mordred falling on deaf ears since Mordred was focused on the bad vibes of the city. At best, the group would go off, complete their mission, and come home to a happy little workshop that Scarlett set up. Worst case scenario, he'd rush Mordred, target her sword arm, and rile her up enough to make enough mistakes that he can bridge the gap in power with skill. 

...The last thing he wanted to do was fight someone that was supposed to be on his side. There was virtually no chance of victory for him if Scarlett died...though, killing Leon would be a win in its own right-

Clapping his hands against his cheeks, Celtchar would discard his thoughts of hypothetical vengeance and power-scaling to just...focus on the task at hand. Putting his lance over his shoulder, Celtchar would say: [color=c4df9b][b]"I'll keep her safe. Ulster knights are nothing if not dedicated to oaths. We have to be, since Geas will weaken us if broken."[/b][/color]