[color=silver][center][h2][color=#915027]𝔏𝔢𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔯 𝔊𝔲ð𝔪𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰𝔰𝔬𝔫[/color][/h2]
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Come morning, Leifur found no trace of last night's battle. Not on the castle's corridors, tainted red just hours prior, nor in the atmosphere that permeated the premises. In the early morning rush to mobilize what remained of the four teams, he supposed no one had time to waste on mourning. A moment of silence was a luxury none could afford, and it'd do nothing to bring back the dead besides. 

The efficiency was commendable.

As their group was ushered outside to be given mounts, Leifur noticed their numbers had dwindled. Culled either by Valheimian bullets the night prior, or by fear, mistrust or the stubborn need to work alone thereafter. Of those, Leifur could relate to latter; he, too, would have preferred to ride north alone. Thankfully, he was a few decades too old for childish dreams of grandeur, and knew it took more than a single man of [i]any[/i] caliber to face the wrath of an empire.

Speaking of, they never did receive more information regarding the motive behind the attack - so if they wanted to find out the extent of Valheim's involvement, they had little choice but to press onwards.

On... the backs of [i]silver [/i]chocobos. Leifur's brow furrowed at the sight of the animals, majestic as their feathers were in the morning light. So much for flying under the radar. With mounts marked to belong to Leonhart's own, they had no chance of approaching any town without rousing suspicion. They'd be easy targets for Valheim. Stylish targets, he admitted, but targets nonetheless.

[color=#915027][center]-[/center][/color]
[i][color=#915027]At least the chocobos are well trained,[/color][/i] Leifur conceded as they reached the Stormseas. The scenery was beautiful, soothing, and as their Moogle companion reminded them, potentially dangerous. That didn't stop some of their group from making conversation to fill the lull, though.

Leifur didn't mean to eavesdrop, but neither did he attempt to cover his ears as Arton and Izayoi discussed the latter's past. The viera kept his eyes on the road, body swaying with the chocobo's trot. Her tale was tragic - if not uncommon. Those who sowed death were cursed to face it again and again, in one form or another.

The last bit of their conversation was reduced to a whisper, and Leifur couldn't help but wonder if his ears, standing tall above all their heads, had something to do with it. He found the thought amusing, if nothing else. No doubt the young man had a tragic tale of his own to tell - as did most of the others, he'd wager. Well, mayhaps not the healer; she seemed all too kind to have been touched by tragedy.

The viera would not have offered his condolences even if Izayoi hadn't explicitly discouraged against it. Words were meaningless; they couldn't bring back the dead, nor bring relief to the living. Besides, it seemed quite clear that Izayoi wasn't trying to alleviate the pain of her loss - she was trying to [i]pay it back,[/i] tenfold. 

In that, Leifur could assist her, for as long as they shared an enemy.

[color=#915027]"I presume we take a stop at Midgar?"[/color] he asked from whomever, almost as if he hadn't heard the earlier conversation at all. [color=#915027]"Would be wise to go over our strategy before we cross the border. I'm curious as to what to expect, as well; I've yet to set foot to Osprey after its occupation. Should we be worried we'll be shot on sight?"[/color]
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