[color=lightgray][center][h1][color=red]FLASHBACK[/color][/h1] [h2][color=#8D3B72]Kalliope’s Rescue[/color][/h2] [h3] [color=f26522]Roman[/color], [color=#8D3B72]Kalliope[/color] , [color=#D0B4EC]Lottie[/color], [color=lightsteelblue]Cassius[/color], [color=peru]Stratya[/color] and [color=1E90FF]Sjan-dehk[/color] [/h3][/center] [color=#8D3B72]Time:[/color] Evening, Ignis 3 [color=#8D3B72]Location:[/color] A warehouse in Sorian [hr] The warehouse stank of brine and iron, the ocean’s scents leaking in from the nearby beach. A loose sheet of tin up in the rafters kept tapping with the wind. Somehow, the sound made the dark feel crowded. Kalliope sat on the concrete with her back to a support beam. Blood had dried in ugly streaks along her mouth and throat. Her hair had come loose into a messy spill, caught in her lashes and on her cheek. A handful of men loitered in the open space, close enough to enjoy the sight of her and far enough to feel safe doing it. They were not careful the way trained people were careful; they were bored, and boredom made them bold. One leaned against a crate and smiled at nothing, another rolled his shoulders like he was settling in for entertainment, and a third crouched to pick up a ripped strip of her shirt, letting it dangle between his fingers with a pleased little hum. [color=#6E6E6E]“They really dropped us a present,”[/color] he murmured, as if saying it softly made it less monstrous. The man by the crate laughed through his nose, eyes fixed on her like she was a present that had finally arrived. [color=#8A8A8A]“He said keep her breathing,”[/color] he replied, voice lazy with confidence, [color=#8A8A8A]“didn’t say she had to be comfortable.”[/color] Another took a slow step closer, testing the distance. His grin didn’t reach his eyes; it never did with men like him. [color=#5F5F5F]“Bet she’s got a mouth on her when she isn’t leaking blood all over the floor,”[/color] he said, savoring the cruelty like it was a joke meant for friends. [color=#5F5F5F]“Tonight we’ll see how much fun she really is.”[/color] The lanterns suddenly trembled. The men paused, all at once, heads turning, attention honing in at all once with the sudden feeling that they weren’t alone in the warehouse the way they’d thought they were. Then the door went in with a violent crash. And through the shower of splinters, emerged the blackened muzzles of a twin-barreled firelock. The men barely had any time to react before one barrel boomed. Its strident report reverberated through the warehouse, echoing off walls and rattling the roof. Dim sparks—the glowing remains of burnt powder, shot from its mouth like the fiery breath of a Vasenyan wyvern. A frantic scream ripped from a man’s throat. Someone else yelled a warning. Both, however, came much too late to help the man standing furthest from Kalliope, but closest to the entrance. He still had his eyes on the red-haired woman when the better part of his head—everything above his lips—exploded into a cloud of red mist and fleshy gore. [color=1E90FF][i]One.[/i][/color] Sjan-dehk didn’t waste any time. He threw himself into the chaos, boots thumping loudly against the floor, smoke still curling from the spent barrel of his blunderbuss. One man regained enough of his senses to charge at him with a dagger in hand. Sjan-dehk discharged the other barrel into his chest. Tiny pellets—some chiseled from stone, others cold iron—turned the man’s abdomen into a bloody mess. The blade dropped, clattering on the floor, and his body soon followed. [color=1E90FF][i]Two.[/i][/color] With both barrels empty, the blunderbuss was now little more than an unwieldy club. Sjan-dehk dipped low, and threw it with both hands at another man’s legs. It struck him in the shins, its heft still enough to make him stumble. Sjan-dehk dashed forward, a blur of blue, white, and black. The man lashed out with his knife in a wide, careless swing. Sjan-dehk tucked his chin in, letting the blade glance off the steel plates covering the brim of his hat. Without as much as a grunt, he drove a fist into the man’s stomach, knocking the air from his lungs, and forcing him to double over. Shifting his feet, Sjan-dehk slid back. He drew a pistol and placed a bullet in the man’s head. [color=1E90FF][i]Three.[/i][/color] Someone else rushed towards him. Or perhaps they were trying to rush [i]past[/i] him. Either way, he didn’t care—he flung the spent firelock at him. The heavy piece of wood and metal struck him in the shoulder, not hard enough to send him sprawling, but enough to make him shout in pain and trip over his own feet. Sjan-dehk drew his sword, caught up with him, and ran him through. The blade cut through cloth and flesh as if they were nothing. With a precise twist, Sjan-dehk pulled the weapon free, letting the body crumple to the floor. [color=1E90FF][i]Four.[/i][/color] His eyes scanned the room. There were still more people. More thugs. More enemies. [color=1E90FF][i]No, focus.[/i][/color] He ignored the ones standing—the ones with the weapons, the ones keeping their distance with hesitation in their steps—and turned his gaze towards the red-haired woman sitting on the floor, and slouched against a pillar, behind them. He saw the dried blood flaking on her face, the fresh scars on her flesh, and just the terrible state of her person. Anger—No, rage boiled in his chest, and his jaw clenched so hard that his teeth felt like they would grind each other into dust. Kalliope had been hurt—badly so—and the ones responsible for it had the sheer audacity to still be alive. Sjan-dehk tightened his grip on his sword. His eyes were already searching for his next target. Then, he paused. [color=1E90FF][i]No, focus. We’re just here for Kali.[/i][/color] He breathed out sharply through his nose. The desire to simply slaughter these thugs was loud in his mind—and he knew he could do it with ease. But that would still take time, and how much time could he afford to waste, with Kalliope in such a state? No, the smart thing to do would be to get her out of here as quickly as possible. [color=1E90FF]“All of you,” ”[/color] Sjan-dehk said. He took one step forward, making sure every thug had a clear view of the blood—the blood of their fellows—spattered across his cuirass. He pointed to the corpses behind him. [color=1E90FF]“You can join them. Or you can get out of my way. I did not come here to kill you.””[/color] A half-truth, but still a truth, nevertheless. Sjan-dehk pointed to Kalliope.[color=1E90FF] “I am here for Kali. She comes with me, I will let all of you go.”[/color] He raised his sword slightly, just enough to show the blood still dripping from its blade. [color=1E90FF]“But get in my way, and I send all of you to your Gods. Be smart. Choose wisely.”[/color] As Sjan-Dehk had dove straight into the room, the clack of steel armor announced Stratya’s movement as she entered directly behind him and darted to the side. She knew he’d go straight for her. That was best - she would cover him. There were always those in the dark corners, keeping to themselves. Sometimes for sickening reasons. Like that bloke, with his hand down his pants, now scrambling to be ready. The man in front of him turned from the gunman to the armoured woman rapidly approaching. Her plated left arm faced him as she charged with a shield strapped to her forearm, a cuirass covered her torso, a cold expression stared him down. He fumbled with his knife in panic, giving her ample opening to plant her left foot and pivot, revealing the shortsword she’d drawn in her right hand just as quickly as it pierced through his back. Her stride carried her into the thrust and gave her the momentum to shove the corpse to the floor with her sword still in hand. Most of the other men in the room had their attention on the man cutting a path through them very loudly. Stratya closed on the man fumbling with some sort of satchel he’d secured shut, his eyes too focused on her to see what he was doing to unfasten it. He looked away briefly and the next thing he saw was the tip of her sword. Throwing daggers. A simpler alternative to a crossbow, perhaps. She set her sword down and picked one out, looking around the room for a troublemaker. They all seemed quite scared of Sjan-Dehk, and indeed, he was quite the fighter. A little reckless, but she understood why. Movement in the shadows in the back of the warehouse caught her eye. Her left hand retrieved her sword, the throwing dagger still in her right. With the attention of the room drawn as it was, Stratya found it easy to sneak around the perimeter, to close in on the movement. When she was close enough she felt confident about hitting it, she loosed the projectile to a satisfying cry of pain and a prone figure. A man near her had seen the thing wizz past his head and turned to see her. Her hand found his face and she gave a mighty twist, slamming the human dreg into the wall head first. An incredible pressure came from her hand, feeling like it might crush his skull, eliciting screams as he clawed at the gauntlet protecting her forearm and hand.[color=peru] “Ye find this [i]sa’isfying[/i], do ye?!”[/color] The pressure in her grip pulsed and the Fury flashed through her eyes, for only the man in her grip to see, as she crushed his skull in her hand and dropped him. Slowly, her head led the rest of her body as she turned to the room. Roman and his men watched the others move through the door and into the fray. He brought up the rear, taking the time to observe those inside. They didn’t move as a cohesive unit; they looked like mere hired help. Unfortunate. [color=f26522]“Take two alive. Kill anyone else that gets in your way.”[/color] Boots scraped and skidded over the concrete as the remaining men broke. It was less a retreat than a panicked scattering. They shoved past crates and each other, shoulders clipping crates and each other, eyes wide and wild as if the warehouse itself was now filled with lions. One tried to back away with his hands half-raised, tripped, and hit the floor hard with a choked cry; metal rang out sharp in the sudden scramble—the key tumbling from his pocket and clattering across the ground before he crawled after the others attempting to escape. The seven men who came with him dispersed past the others. Two teams pinned down their targets with speed and efficiency, binding and gagging them before they could scream. The other three moved to cut down and disarm anyone who tried to fight or was too slow to flee. They moved and fought in near perfect sync—practiced, trained strikes, cuts, and kicks. Sjan-dehk watched Roman’s men cut down and capture the runners with hardly any emotion on his face. He hadn’t lied—he let them go. The actions of everyone else who’d come with him was simply not under his control. He made a mental note to ask Roman for one of the captives later. If these men—or more likely, their paymaster—wanted Kalliope so badly, Sjan-dehk wanted to know why. No, he needed to know why. And if the Varian wasn’t keen on giving up his prisoners, then Sjan-dehk would just have to hope that at least one of them was slippery enough to escape the warehouse, and run into Cynwaer’s crew lurking in the surrounding streets. If the Recompense’s—No, the Remembrance’s Captain word was good, they’d sweep up any stragglers and hand them over to Sada Kurau. Lottie hastily darted in from the shadows of the entrance and snatched up the key. Then she threw herself to her knees before Kalliope, her gentleness a juxtaposition to the cruelty of the room. She carefully cradled her face between both hands. [color=#D0B4EC]“We’re here, Kalli… oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,”[/color] she whispered, blue eyes shining with tears as her thumbs brushed tenderly along Kalliope’s cheeks. She lingered just long enough to make sure Kalliope could see her before she shifted closer and, hands trembling but determined, leaned down to work the key into the lock on the chains. Roman did not rush to save her or join the fight. In fact, he acted as if the slaughter wasn’t happening at all. While the others fought, he searched. His eyes swept over every scrap of detail in the warehouse, every scratch on the floor, every piece of displaced debris. He seemed more interested in how she had gotten there than in assessing her actual condition. There was always a chance this was a setup, and she was merely the bait. The warehouse was nothing but a ghost, its stink of brine and iron scraping at her senses like static in a dying mind. Kalliope was back in the river, the one from her childhood nightmares, water dragging her under while the shore burned and the world screamed. She’d spent the last hours begging for the dark to finally swallow her whole, for the water to fill her lungs and end the nightmare Hafiz had clawed open. [color=#9dc183][i]Little Sparrow,[/i][/color] a voice whispered—soft, melodic, and smelling of sun-warmed clover. [color=#9dc183][i]Little Sparrow, why are you weeping?[/i][/color] [color=#8D3B72][i]Because I’m tired,[/i][/color] Kalliope’s mind answered into the void. [color=#8D3B72][i]And I cannot find the shore.[/i][/color] A phantom warmth touched her heart, a hand that felt like home. [color=#9dc183][i]You have been so brave, for so very long. But you must be brave a little while longer, my Little Sparrow. You do not yield. Remember the fire in your blood. You do not yield.[/i][/color] The thunder of the firelock, the wet slap of bodies hitting the ground—just echoes, just the same brutal loop she’d run a thousand times to survive. Sjan-dehk’s voice sliced through the chaos, but she didn’t even flinch. She’d conjured him so many times in this hell, he was just another ghost. He was safe on his ship. She was still drowning, listening to her mother’s voice at the bottom of the river. The world lurched sideways. Hands, warm and trembling, caught her face and held her together. Kalliope’s breath caught, jagged and raw. She forced her eyes to focus, the glassy film of dissociation cracking just enough to let in the impossible—tenderness, in this hell. Dark hair, just like she remembered. [color=#8D3B72]“...Mama?”[/color] The word barely made it out, a thin, broken thread. A single, hot tear cut through the dried blood on her cheek. She slumped into those hands, her heart splintering. [color=#8D3B72]“You came back.”[/color] She managed a delirious, crooked smile through split lips. [color=#8D3B72]“I waited so long in the dark... please, let me come home...”[/color] She stared into those eyes, blue and ancient with grief. No. That was wrong. Her mother’s eyes were green, just like hers. Thumbs brushed her cheeks again. Not clover—lavender, and the sharp salt of the warehouse. The fog in her mind shivered, tore apart. Her mother’s garden vanished, replaced by the cold, filthy floor. Not a ghost. Lottie. A sob ripped out of her, violent and raw, tearing her chest open. Disappointment crashed over her—she wasn’t dead, the afterlife hadn’t claimed her. But relief followed, sharp and dizzying. She wasn’t alone with her ghosts. Someone was here, real hands working the key into her restraints. Kalliope’s body sagged, muscles too shredded to hold her up without the beam. [color=#8D3B72]“Charlotte?”[/color] The name tore out of her, a broken plea, as the chains crashed to the floor. She slumped forward, no longer held up by iron, her body shaking so hard she could barely breathe. [color=#8D3B72]“Charlotte, you’re...you’re really here. You’re...I’m not...I’m not dead?”[/color] The realization hit like a fresh wound, forcing her to feel every ache, every bruise, as the numbness of the river finally let her go. And if Charlotte was here... She looked up, searching for Sjan-dehk, and another sob broke loose. He’d come for her. They all had. They’d cared enough to find her. Sjan-dehk’s eyes met Kalliope’s. He saw her shoulders shudder with her falling tears; heard the vulnerability in her voice. And just like that, all thoughts of the fight vanished from his head. [i][color=1E90FF]“Kali,” [/color][/i] he breathed, and immediately went to her with haste in his steps. The key turned with a click, the metal complaining, then yielding. The lock gave way, and the chains fell with a heavy clatter. Lottie flinched at the sound like it had struck her, then immediately leaned in closer, as if she could shield Kalliope from even that last cruelty. One of her hands slid down to steady Kalliope's shoulder and the other swept carefully to gather the chain away from her skin. [color=#D0B4EC]“There we are… ”[/color] she whispered softly. [color=#D0B4EC]“You're safe now. You’re alive and soon you’ll be well.”[/color] She moved with a tenderness that didn’t match their surroundings at all, guiding Kalliope forward into her arms, catching her before she could fold to the floor. Lottie shifted onto her knees properly, bracing herself to be a cushion, drawing Kalliope gently to her. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, while the other cradled the back of her head. Lottie held her close to her chest, her eyes shining with tears. [color=#D0B4EC]“You don’t have to be brave right now. You can just… rest. Sjan-dehk, Stratya, Cassius, Roman... They've all come to save you and they'll protect us.”[/color] Her own breath trembled, but she kept it steady for Kalliope’s sake, rocking her ever so slightly, the way you would calm a frightened child. Every few seconds, her fingers brushed Kalliope’s hair back from her face, tucking stray strands away as if tidying her could make her world feel kinder. [i][color=#D0B4EC]“I’m so sorry, Kalliope.”[/color][/i] Charlotte whispered again. Sjan-dehk knelt beside Charlotte, his brow knitted with concern, and eyes filled with worry as he swept them over Kalliope. Her wounds looked serious, and even if they weren’t, she was clearly in a terrible state. The first thought that came to his mind was to have Dai-sehk see to her—he’d trust that man with his own life, and the lives of everyone aboard Sada Kurau. Kalliope would be safe, and her injuries quickly healed, under the surgeon’s watch. [i][color=1E90FF]“We’ll get you to Sada Kurau,”[/color][/i] he said quietly. Without thinking, he reached for her hand, placing his own gently over it. [i][color=1E90FF]“You’ll be safe there, I guarantee it.”[/color][/i] A pang of guilt stabbed at his heart. He knew that he had to shoulder at least some of the blame for Kalliope’s pain. All this could’ve been avoided if he’d just focused a little more, if he’d moved just a little faster, during the fight in the tavern. He’d wasted too much time on the thugs, wasted too much effort cutting down men he could’ve easily scared away, or let Cynwaer handle. And in the end, it was Kalliope who paid the price. [i][color=1E90FF]“I’m sorry.” [/color][/i] Those words escaped him before he even realised it. His first instinct was to explain them, but then he shook his head to clear those thoughts away. It wasn’t the right time for that. So instead, he looked at Charlotte and pointed over his shoulder at the bag affixed to his belt, sitting just below the small of his back. [color=1E90FF] “Please, help take out my shirt from there,” [/color] he said. [color=1E90FF] “Then give to Kali. I can hold her while you do that.”[/color] Charlotte nodded and followed his instructions. She gently slid Kalliope’s body delicately into Sjan-dehk’s open arms, then moved to fetch his shirt from his bag. Perhaps it was because she’d been blaming herself for years that Stratya heard it in his voice. [color=peru] “Doan blame yerrsen.” [i]Hypocrite.[/i][/color] She approached, scanning the warehouse steadily. Her hand had been wiped on a cloth attached to the inside of her shield, perhaps poorly. The cloth had been intended for her sword. Roman’s men were methodical and effective, something she could appreciate. It was then that a side door at the far end of the warehouse flew open with a sharp crack of splintering wood. A man stumbled through it first…or more accurately was kicked through it…boots skidding uselessly across the concrete before he collapsed onto his back. An axe was buried squarely in the center of his chest. A heartbeat later, Cassius stepped through the doorway behind him, bloody sword in hand and wearing his Iron Wolves armor for the first time since coming to Sorian. He moved with the unhurried swagger of a man who had finished his work. His armor was dark with blood that wasn’t his, sweat slicked strands of his perfect hair fallen loose around his face. He crossed the distance in a few long strides, planted a boot on the corpse’s abdomen, and wrenched the axe free with a wet, guttural sound that was followed by the spilling of blood from the wound. [color=lightsteelblue]“West hallway’s clear,”[/color] he said calmly through slightly heavy breaths, eyes flicking once over the room. He saw the bodies and destruction the others had left in their wake. It seemed as though some semblance of order had been restored. Satisfied, he turned away from the corpse without another glance, wiping the blood from his sword before sheathing it and hanging the axe where it belonged on his belt. His attention went immediately to Kalliope, a surge of relief coursing through him at the sight of her alive and breathing. Though he knew better than to assume that she was not worse for wear. His eyes then shifted to Charlotte, who still held Kali in her arms. The relief was replaced by worry, shock, and a dash of frustration. [color=lightsteelblue][i]She wasn’t supposed to be here.[/i][/color] The words ran through his mind as he began to process the danger she, and the others, had allowed her to be in. A problem to address later. He gave Stratya, Sjan-dehk, and even Roman a thankful nod as he approached and knelt down beside the tortured woman they had all come here to rescue. His eyes softened, and the smile he offered Kalliope was one full of vulnerability… Lacking its normal bravado. She seemed as though she was barely holding on to consciousness, but he offered words as comfort all the same. Roman continued his quiet investigation while the others checked on Kalliope, returning Cassius’s nod with one of his own. He made several quick hand gestures to his men, issuing silent orders. Four of the seven were to take the two captives the long way back to their ship, which was anchored out in the bay. One would stay with Kalliope to serve as an escort when they moved her. The remaining two would stay with him to keep watch over the others. The men obeyed without a sound. [color=lightsteelblue]“You didn’t think we were going to let these fools take you from us, did you?”[/color] The question held a gentle, friendly tone. [color=lightsteelblue]“We’re all here now, and everyone is going to take care of you.”[/color] Finally his gaze turned upwards to Lottie. [color=lightsteelblue]“Are you okay?”[/color] He asked quietly. [color=#D0B4EC]“Physically, I’m quite alright…”[/color] Lottie assured Cassius with a weary sigh. She had been soft spoken, however, her tone had carried a hint of dryness, as if such was the only way to internally cope with the sudden uptick in extreme violence around her just these last two days. Before she could stop herself, her gaze darted about him in an effort to check him for any injuries. Only when she found none did her shoulders ease. Still she asked, just in case. [color=#D0B4EC] “ And you?”[/color] [color=lightsteelblue]“Oh I’m fine, love. Especially now that we know our girl here is going to be alright.”[/color] She turned back to Kalliope at once, her softness returning in full. [color=#D0B4EC]“Alright, sweetheart—arms up for me,”[/color] she murmured, lifting Sjan-dehk’s shirt carefully and angling it toward Kalliope’s head. Kalliope wasn’t drowning anymore, but the air in the warehouse pressed down on her lungs, thick with brine and the raw, iron stink of blood. Every word from Sjan-dehk, every careful brush of Lottie’s hand, snagged her back into a body that felt like it had been shattered and stitched together with broken glass. Shame burned through her—bloodied, used, torn apart by the man she feared most. She wanted to vanish, but the need to cling to them, to not be left alone in this ruin, was so much worse. [color=#8D3B72][i]“Sjan-dehk...”[/i][/color] she breathed, his name a shattered prayer as she felt his hand over hers. His warmth was a tether to a world she thought she’d lost forever, and when he whispered his apology, she tried to squeeze his fingers, though her grip was weak and trembling. [color=#8D3B72][i]“No... not your fault... don’t say that.”[/i][/color] Another sob caught in her throat, jagged and sharp, as she looked up at the faces of those around her, friends and new acquaintances alike. She saw them through a blur of tears—the people who had waded through blood just to find the wreckage of her. Sjan-dehk averted his eyes. He knew the truth. No matter what Stratya—or even Kalliope—said, he knew the truth. He should’ve focused. He should’ve been faster. He tightened his hold on her, ever-so-slightly. [color=1E90FF][i]“Just rest,”[/i][/color] was all he said. Anything more, and he might end up saying things that were better left unsaid. For now, at least—there would be plenty of time for reflections and self-critique later. Until Kalliope was away from this terrible place, and in safe hands, Sjan-dehk wouldn’t allow anything else to occupy his mind. As Lottie lifted the shirt, Kalliope’s breath hitched in a series of shallow, panicked stutters. The simple act of shifting her weight sent a white-hot flare of agony through her core and her limbs, a brutal, sickening reminder of the hours Hafiz had spent systematically violating and breaking her. She bit her lip until it bled anew, a soft, broken whimper escaping her as she leaned her weight entirely into Sjan-dehk’s chest, hiding her face against him to conceal the hysterical, soul-deep trembling she couldn't stop. She felt disgusting, her very skin crawling with the memory of Hafiz's touch. [color=1E90FF]“Gentler,”[/color] Sjan-dehk said to Charlotte each time Kalliope flinched and whimpered, despite that Charlotte made certain her movements were as slow and careful as they could be. His voice had much more of a bite than he’d intended, but it wasn’t until Charlotte had fully pulled his shirt over Kalliope’s shoulders that he gave the girl a sheepish, apologetic look. He nodded to her. [color=1E90FF] “Thank you. And sorry.”[/color] [color=#8D3B72]“Don’t... don’t let me go,”[/color] she whispered, her voice cracking into a raw, hollow sound that barely sounded human. She clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from slipping back into that dark, suffocating river. [color=#8D3B72]“Please... just keep... talking. Don’t let it be quiet again. If it’s quiet... he’ll come back. I can still... I can still feel him on me...”[/color] She let out a small, terrified gasp, her fingers curling into Sjan-dehk’s clothes with a strength born of pure, unadulterated terror. [color=#8D3B72]“Take me away. Please. Just take me home.”[/color] Hearing the weakness, and the terror in Kalliope’s voice made Sjan-dehk’s chest feel tight. More than anything, he wanted to find the ones responsible—every last one of them, from the highest boss to the lowest thug—and make them pay for what they’d done to her. The flickering flame in his belly sparked, threatening to re-ignite. Sjan-dehk quickly doused it, drawing in a deep breath and swallowing his fury. He had to focus on getting Kalliope out of here. [color=1E90FF][i]“I won’t let you go,” [/i][/color] he said quietly and squeezed her shoulder. Then, he grinned—more to give her some assurance than anything else—and continued. [color=1E90FF][i]“In fact, I’ll have to get a little closer, so excuse me while I…”[/i][/color] His words trailed away, and he bent over slightly to slip an arm under her knees. With a soft huff and a grunt, he carefully lifted her off the ground. He slowly stood up, his body leaned back, and his arms tucking Kalliope in towards his body, while he found his balance.[color=1E90FF][i] “Don’t worry about the silence,”[/i][/color] he said, unconsciously squeezing and patting her shoulder.[color=1E90FF][i] “Don’t worry about anyone else. Nobody’s coming back, not while I—I mean, not while we’re all here. If they do, we’ll laugh at them for being an idiot, and then make sure they won’t do anything to you. You’re safe.”[/i][/color] He looked at Charlotte and Cassius, then Stratya and Roman. [color=1E90FF][i] “I will take her with me and return to Sada Kurau,” [/i][/color]he said. It was neither a suggestion nor a question. After the events of the past week or so—and after all he’d learned about Caesonia—he didn’t, and couldn’t feel safe leaving Kalliope anywhere other than his ship. [i][color=1E90FF]“I can’t promise to have enough to say to last the trip back, but I’ll try.” [/color][/i]He continued to speak as he carried Kalliope back the way he’d come, taking care to step over the bodies he’d left, and to avoid the slippery puddles of drying blood and pieces of scattered gore. [i][color=1E90FF]“There’ll be more noise than you’ll ever need once we’re back aboard Sada Kurau, anyway. Her crew’s going to get into a buzz seeing me return like this, I just know it.”[/color][/i] They needed sound? [color=peru]“I shall make t’ ci’y sing. Jus’ ge’ herr safe.”[/color] Stratya marched from the warehouse swiftly then and whistled. She knew Gale would be near. [color=peru]“Barrds. Now. Tell Garrcian I’m payin’ ferr wha’e’er this doan coverr, frrom ‘erre tae porr’. Somethin’ soothin’.”[/color] She passed him a satchel of coin. Gale had no room to argue, not from the look in Captain Durmand’s eye. There was a bit to organize, but who was going to look sideways at the occasional bard? Orders received and no time to waste, the man made off quickly to make the Captain’s needs done. Stratya herself moved ahead of them still, finding the fife she’d had in her satchel since the tavern and pulling it from its hardcase. She stopped only once she was in a good position, between the party and the port, giving enough space that Gale might get some bards set up, maybe they’d even hear her and pick up [url=https://youtu.be/9t13Np-aq70?si=ipLMDiI7OQS9bCDe]her tune[/url]. [/color]