[b][i]Erisse Augusta Narrativia[/i][/b]

[b]Midnight Tournament[/b]

Erisse had unfinished business with Michael and Andras, and watched the two of them talk to each other, and then Andras go back home, alone. She was at least glad that Michael had realized he loved the girl; the latter seemed to have so little love and affection in her life. 

[i]We take what we can from these campaigns[/i], were her thoughts as she teleported onto a high rooftop, using her aura of familiarity to befuddle the Rhean police's minds and hide her presence - The Narrativias knew the dangers of flouting the laws of the nations they encountered, especially nations which were not innately unjust, but it was a necessary evil in this instance as she followed Andras home with short bursts of teleportation. [i]And a new romance blooming is not something to laugh at.[/i]

Then she broke out the wiretapping equipment as Andras arrived home, well aware that what she was doing counted as stalking but deciding that recording and maintaining the story was worth the risk to her morals. [i]She has a counselor whom she is keeping her 'nocturnal activities' secret from. She also does not seem to have good relations with her parents. And she also has anxiety issues.[/i] 

Then a thought struck her: [i]I should leave well enough alone. I've found out what I wanted.[/i]

Years of following after Kyros, her brother, and having to repair the damage he had done, the wreckage both physical and interpersonal which he had left in his wake, had left Erisse unfit to resume her duties of recorder, mentor, and helpmeet. She had lost all appetite for meddling in others' tales, even if it was for a good cause, and like her brother, was prone to dealing with her problems with a burst of overwhelming firepower, albeit for different reasons than he did; impatience rather than a desire to show off.

[i]Some Fairy Godmother I am,[/i] were her thoughts as she left the rooftop of Andras' house, removing the wiretapping equipment as she went. [i]I made things worse instead of better, at least for you. And the worst part is, doing something about it would just wreak more havoc.[/i]

[i]Is this necessary?[/i] she asked herself as she teleported back to the small house where she had been staying, a residence owned by the Narrativia family; her dimensional space was too dreary plus her few contacts with the outside world needed to know where she was. [i]Kyros once accused us of being stalkers and meddlers, no better than villains ourselves - The sort of villain who does despicable things behind high ideals. Maybe he is right; maybe we need a better way. God of Stories, please give us one.[/i]

She prepared to bathe, dress herself in her nightgown, and then sleep, her thoughts gloomier than ever as she thought, [i]What good is our knowledge if our methods of gaining it corrupt our psyches? Can't [b]true[/b] heroes take care of themselves, just this one? God of Stories, please give me an answer...[/i]

[b]Present Day[/b]

She had drifted off to sleep; there had been no answer in her dreams. So Erisse Augusta Narrativia changed to her 'work clothes', got into a small car she had paid for with gems of her own creation, and drove off to her favorite breakfast joint. Once she had gorged herself on pancakes, she was going to see if Michael and Andras had developed their romantic relationship.

[i]But who knows, anything can happen. I can change my mind and go to either The Great Rhean Library, or to Clausewitz's, or some other area with a good story...[/i]

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