Atop the highest summit of Caigehn, the foundation was lain for what would become the center of a sprawling city of Flugell: The Advent Church, elsewise known as the Holy Church of Flugell. Like the yawn of a sleeping giantess, the sound of her bells would carry across the lands, far and wide. A crowning jewel of elegance and station, The Advent Church rose proudly towards the Heavens, bathing under the Sixfold Grace of the Six Scion...

“Lux, Lady of Thaumaturgy; Caligo, Father of Void; Natura, Mother of All-that-breathes; Praxis, the Motivator of Ingenuity; Mens, the Ever-thinking Son; Scio, the Experimenting Daughter...” Grisha Penworth looked towards the sky, watching the sun-kissed bottoms of the clouds drift, as he concluded with a sigh: “The new names are... something.”

“It’s just difficult for the Holy Prophets to adequately translate the Holy Scriptures roots...” excused Tethys Zaeroda XII, newest of her line and station, yet oldest of all the Zaeroda before her. Looking back with a tired glance, Grisha would acknowledge her presence behind him, as she preened her feather-fine, crimson hair; all-too befitting a Phoenix.

From within his breast pocket, the Sentinel of the Holy Church would retrieve a pack of cigarette, special made from a unique blend of herbs and incenses, smoked by a religious cult that he claimed no allegiance for or against - merely a chance meeting of circumstance. As he snapped his gloved fingers, a flame would catch the tip, and the curled wisps of purple would drift off, before he dragged on it.

At the same time, Tethys would slip her knees behind him - Phoenixes craves warmth, fire, and nobody burned brighter or hottest than the Avatar of Alexander. Softly, she draped herself upon his neck and shoulder, a warm chase, a living scarf, and yet little more else. Her heart was worn upon her sleeve, and only a fool could not sight the forlorn distance in her eyes, nor the unsubtle cling.

Tethys was a maiden that never knew love over eleven lives, and her twelfth promised to lack it all the same. Still, she was content to cling on... mostly. Despite being the fire-seeker bird, she’d the sensitive nose of a bird, and the smoke that Grisha blew into the air... well...

“ECHU!!!”

“That's your penance for clinging like a lovesick, little girl,” Grisha smirked, before he blew smoke higher into the rising sun's grace.

“Not lovesick! I could never be so intrusive. Madame Mari and Lady Lexi would never allow me closeness like this so regularly...” Tethys lamented, as she fussily, nuzzled Grisha’s grizzled cheek - five o'clock shadow set in.

“Perhaps they are looking out for the reputation of the twelfth head of the Zaerado Family, an Prophet playing like a schoolgirl in her teens, while being well into her thri -- EH!?” Grisha would caterwaul, before stabilizing himself, as he was pushed off the edge by a blushing Tethys. Summoning Alexander's Legs, he would float in the air by steam rockets, and cross his arms in annoyance. “Why?”

“YOU DON'T JUST TELL A LADY'S AGE SO GLIBLY!” Tethys squawked, the tips of her hair catching flame.

“So you'd shove a man to his death to rebuke,” Grisha asks, before landing, legs returning to normal. “I've only one life to live.”

“And choose to spend it so wastefully! Smoking. Drinking. Gambling. Slandering a fair maiden of her age. I'm twenty-one, no more, no less,” Thethys says, spreading her fingers like a fan and pressing them to her modest chest, “A pinnacle of Pheonixan beauty and grace. My eyes are like the sun, always seeing towards tomorrow. My voice uplifts and rises the commoner and aristocrat alike.”

“It's true, thou art as fair as a summer breeze, warm and gentle, caressing skin and soul in equal measure,” Grisha says, “As radiant as a summer day, no more, no less, inviting and inspiring to the physicality and the mentality of Humans, Belua, and Faefolk alike,” he says, “I admit, you're well-put-together for a thirty-two-year-old Harpy, Miss Zaerado.”

Thethys's smugness would faceplant at the summit of Grisha's playful teasing, as she realized his game... and shoved him.

And, he laughed falling.

”Ugh…” Alexandra knew that raspy laugh anywhere. She was walking through a corridor with glassless windows as she heard a couple talking. Alex thought she recognized both voices, but that chuckle was unmistakable - Grisha Pensworth, the so-called Sentinel of the Holy Church. The Ashen Maiden could easily surmise that the other voice belonged to Tethys Aria Zaerado, the Holy Seer. She couldn’t explain it, but even in spite of their behavior there was always something about flirting that got under her skin. Looking out from the hall, she saw Grisha falling from the summit, laughing like he was some sort of carnival ride. Tethys was a bit too high to see from where she was.

Alexandra Haschwalt Vander, otherwise known as the Ashen Maiden, was a proud knight of the Holy Church and from a noble family especially famous for their bladework. She hoped to carry the honor of her family and become a Paladin one day. Palatine was something she was still sitting on, as it would require her to coo up to the Prophets, which is something that didn’t sit right with her.

All this was provided she didn’t lose her sanity at having to watch the antics of her two peers constantly.

”Hey, Old Man Sentinel!” Alex called out to the descended man, both hands cupped around her mouth. ”Apostle Ixnil has called for us! Can you and that feathered Seer quit horsing around?”

Grisha would catch himself with Alexander’s Legs, and hover up to Alex; snapping his fingers suddenly, and blowing a cloud of smoke. “Manners, young lady,” he scolded.

”Ack!” Alex would yelp and stumble back a bit, the sudden puff of smog assaulting her nostrils causing her to have a short coughing fit. She always hated the smell of cigarette smoke. ”A man your age acts the way you, yet you scold my decorum?” She said, voice slightly weak.

“Yes,” Grisha says, simply. “Those that lash out, bark, and call names show weakness of character in the eyes of the Six Scions. The Vander Family is lesser known amongst the Regal Flugell Tapestry, but poor colors stand out the most...” he narrowed his eyes, sharp behind his glasses, “There are ways to showcase displeasure and disdain in equal, and more importantly, proper measure. My act is earned. Yours is a shallow rebuke.”

Righting himself, Grisha would land on the windowsill, and stand over Alexandra, “You who bares the feminization of the God of Machine and War, Alexander, yet whines like a spoiled pup and mewls like a displeased kitten...” Grisha would raised his hand, as if to strike, before plopping it on Alexndra’s head, “You’re too precious sometimes~”

The more Grisha spoke, the more Alex began to grit her teeth. Everytime she tried to get a word in, it was quickly stopped out by Grisha’s solemn tirade of reprimanding. Her expression changed for a moment when she saw him raise his hand. He wouldn’t DARE!, she silently exclaimed. Then, she would feel a gentle touch on her forehead, though she still flinch with eyes closed from the unexpected contact.

His playful tone only served to increase her ire further. ”Oh, enough of your prattle!” She snapped, pushing his hand away from her head. ”The only Deities I honor are the Scions! Now, are you two going to follow me or not?!”

This time, she looked up past Grisha, ignoring the condescending air his current position granted him and was speaking to Tethys.

Tethys would step onto the sill, hovering herself, as she followed Grisha down. “Of course, Lady Lexi...” she says, “But, please, quell your temper...” Tethys would preen her hair, before flicking her talons through; the keratin materials grinding together, and forming a spark that became an ember that became a wave of pressurized heat - a thermal vent surrounding her. “You are making me feel... heated.”

There was always something about the two ladies that always caused them to butt heads with one another. Their attitudes annoyed each other in a different way, much to the chagrin of their coworkers. Alex would respond to the rising aura of Tethys’s mana with her own aura, a veil of glowing white energy beginning to manifest around her. Her glaze sharpened and locked onto Tethys’s.

Cat fights were a phenomenon that could happen in any workspace, religious institutions apparently were no exception.

All too suddenly, a darkness would befall both, as Grisha manifested Alexander’s Arms for the sole purpose of grabbing them by their heads, and dragging Tethys and Alexandra off - kicking and screaming, likely, he wasn’t listening.

They had things to do, after all, and he knew where the lady of the hour was: her study, like always.

Within the central part of the Church’s complex lay chambers for each of the Apostles. They all were privileged with receiving their own spacious residence chambers where they could hold meetings and have a private place to think if need be. Within one laid an ornate room with a crest sitting high on the back wall. The crest depicted a black lion grasping a shield with the Sun shining overhead.

It was the unmistakable crest of the Ixnil royal family.

Within Flugell, the nobility stood proud as the symbol of dignity and the cornerstone of magical practice. However, even their radiance paled in comparison to that of the royalty. Indeed, the Twelve Families reign over Caigehn and its haughty aristocrats, much to the ire of a select few.

Sitting in her chair was a woman with a long brunette mane and a uniform as decorative as the office she resided in. As she sensed Grisha and the two bickering hens drawing near, her eyes opened and relieved a deep golden glow. Elbows resting on her desk, she twiddled fingers in her clasped hands as she appeared to be somewhat impatient.

“Frown lines will look bad on you,” Grisha says, chewing his cigarette.

The woman looked at Grisha, but didn't respond to his statement, also taking note of the whining women he held in Alexander's hands.

”You're late.” She said flatly.

“Fashionably,” Grisha says, “I assume this is about that Eon Tower you’ve taken an interest in,” he asks, dismissing his summoned arms, “Despite the weight of your name, your motion was dismissed 4 to 2 on your own team, and 5 to 1 by the Prophets. Only Tethys and Alexandra supported your motion.”

Grisha would drag on his cigarette, “So, why stay invested with so much else falling apart in this world of Men and Monsters?”

”It will be through their aid that this capricious world may yet stay intact.” Marianne said calmly.”Besides, I fully expected my peers to not take heed to my words. The Basilisk King doesn't have many fans.”

”You mean Navarre?” Alex inquired.

“Even so, better to focus on what you can do, as opposed to what you hope to do,” Grisha says, speaking to Marianne as if she were a child in school. It wasn't like when he spoke to Alexandra, the chastisement of a fatherly figure to a child. No, this was equal to equal, yet there was a measure of subordinate to superior, and Grisha was not on top.

”As it just so happens, that's what I'm doing.” Marianne responded. ”The Prophets and my fellow Apostles can only be bothered to focus on the games of petty patricians, meanwhile the rest of the world collapses around us. Someone should be bothered to look at the big picture.”

”Is this because of those visions Lady Tethys showed you?” Alex asked, chiming in with another question.

“Oh, now I'm a Lady,” Tethys asks, venom dripping from her words like a serpent’s fangs. Languid, she hung off Grisha, as she was often wont to do, as he ran much hotter when things were serious. Smugly, she would cast her gaze at Alexandra, before looking to Marianne, “The big picture is never in view. It's like a window pane, just a piece of an even larger whole. You, alone, cannot hope to comprehend it. You're only Human.”

“In her own way, she's right,” Grisha says. “Don't get lost, looking for the forest in the tree that you wind up stuck in reeds,” he cautions, “That said, it is the duty of I and Alexandra to follow your command. So, what is it?”

”Oh, would you prefer a parake-?” Jeered Alex, before she was cut off by a raised hand from Marianne. Alex fell dead silent.

”Then, I will state what I see Grisha.” Marianne addressed Pensworth's inquiry. ”Roughly half of the heads that make up the Royal Council chatter like hens at the civil unrest that threatens to spread across the entire country. All the while, the nobility moves in the shadows, increasing their ranks and stockpile. They scamper like jittering children, acting as though we don’t notice their silly tinkerings.”

Marianne made a motion for Grisha to come over, a motion that he likely knew well.

She wanted a smoke.

Marianne wasn’t an avid smoker, all three people in the room with her knew that well. But, when she did, it was because she was particularly in a foul mood.

Grisha grunted, a half-chuckle of sorts, as he reached into his breast pocket, and retrieved his cigarettes. The emblazoned purple and gold packaging shined in the lighting. “Two things,” he says, “If you choke, that’s on you, firstly. Smoking isn’t a thing you do with enough frequency, and this isn’t the average fare...” Tethys would frown, as she let him move forward; Alexandra ignored. “Second,” Grisha would place the unlit stick to her lips, a gentle brush of his glove prompting the reflex for them to part, as flame lit between his finger, pinching the tip and setting it alight. It was nakedly intimate, adding to the continuation of his words, “those chattering hens are your peers, your equals, you all serve the same master, as we serve you. Remember, no matter where your thread lies, poor color stands out.”

Marianne gently clasped the cigarette with her left hand, taking in an inhale, then exhaling after a brief moment. ”Yet, we often differ on how we should serve said master.” Marianne responded. ”Leading to my next point, while they play games of war and kings in their backyard, they ignore the recent increase in miasma outbreaks across the countryside, in addition to rampant Belua attacks that affect both here and Morgenröte. They leave it to the Knights and Paladins, but they only defend the wealthy. The fools don’t see that a nation is only as strong as its people.” Marianne stopped for a moment, then made a face and began to have a small coughing fit.

”Scions damned, Pensworth, you didn’t have a REGULAR cigar?”

“Regular won’t keep me alive,” Grisha says, with a grim smirk.

Marianne stared at Grisha for a moment, then cleared throat to continue.

”All this to say: Tend to your borders all you want. But taking action only when it meets your doorsteps may be too late for when it comes.” Marianne set the cigarette on the desk, putting it out on the tray.

”I'm taking preemptive measures. But, that snake is an old one, and we need to see if he has the behavior of one…”

“Grisha...” Tethys frowned, but she didn’t move. She could see the drift on his soul. It worried her... how little time he had left. And, more so... how he knew and wouldn’t tell anyone.

Chuckling, Grisha would take the cigarette of the table, and take it for himself. “Wasting good product...” he says, “Enough pageantry, Apostle. You have orders, so, I ask again, what would you ask of us?”

”This is funny,” Marianne said. ”I've never been one to beat around the bush. Goodness.”

”Is something wrong, Apostle?” Alex said. ”Is it your…sister, Lady Ga-”

”Never mind that, Alexandra.” Marianne cut her off again. ”Apologies, Pensworth. To your question, I would like for you to meet Irvin in person. I understand that Eon has its inspection around the same time other mage guilds in Morgenröte do. I'd like for you to be the inquisitor, taking Tethys and Alex with you.”

“A trip?!” Tethys asks, giddy, as she glomped Grisha from behind. “Leaving Flugell is always exciting,” she beamed, before looking back with a cross expression, masking by saccharine pleasantry, “Even a straggling child couldn’t spoil this.”

“If it wasn’t you asking, I would refuse. I don’t like that man. His ascension to Sagehood is... questionable, at best. Sketchy, at the worst. He’s too earnest, and no man is that gracious before the Six Scions without reason...” Grisha says, “You’re looking for more than a basic check up, aren’t you?”

Alex shot a glare at Tethys, always having to make a teasing comment.

”Seer Zaerado, that's quite enough.” Marianne said. When she addressed Tethys like that, it was a sign she wanted things to be taken seriously.

”To you Grisha, indeedly so. Eon is an interesting sect, not beholden to either side. Not a warlock nor a Saint, not bound to a creed but seems to still follow a code of ethics. I'd like you to confirm in person if Irvin seems like someone who could become a possible ally. The Association certainly doesn't seem to like him, at the very least.”

”Sounds like a typical egocentric rogue who ignores the order that keeps the world around him intact.” Alex added.

Marianne slowly turned to Alex, but held a surprisingly warm smile on her face. It wasn't something that most were used to seeing. It made Alex a little more nervous than if Marianne looked at her with a neutral or annoyed expression.

”An ironic statement, given our peers and masters, and even those lower than us in this nation.”

“Understood, then,” Grisha says, before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Tethys. Alexandra. Go ahead of me.”

“Ahead,” Tethys asks, tilting her head.

“Now,” Grisha says.

Tethys would frown, as she understood the order was to leave posthaste. Turning, she would take her leave while Grisha stood before Marianne.

Marianne made a gentle motion for Alexandra to follow behind Tethys. ”Please excuse me, Your Grace.” Alex said with a polite bow and promptly left.

Marianne stared at Grisha's eyes for a moment, greyed but still filled with vigor.

”They are quite lively, no?” She said in a soft jovial tone.

“It’s just us,” Grisha says, plainly.

”I am aware you old coger!” She sneered with an ironic sass. Getting up from her desk, she walked up to Grisha until she was a few inches away from his face. She put her hands gently on his shoulders.
”I sometimes feel I ask too much of you, but you dutifully follow regardless. Tell me, Pensworth, if your health were failing you, would you tell me?”

“I couldn’t see a reason not to,” Grisha says, “It’s my appointed duty to follow you, a typical egocentric rogue who ignores the order that keeps the world around her intact,” he smirked, “I saw that look you gave Alexandra. Hit a little close to home for you, little mischief-maker. You’re hoping to see if the Serpent Sage is a kindred soul.”

”Watch yourself Pensworth.” She said, holding back a smile.
”Allies in this capricious world are a precious resource. I, like my other peers, can see the conflicts and problems that arise from the Association - even if pretense is often on the horizon. However, if at all possible - I feel the man who the whole world feels is the strongest magus may be of great help.”

Marianne steadily slid her hands down his arms until they were just above his own.

”You have my gratitude for looking after the girls. They are eccentric, but certainly dependable.”

“I do what you ask of me, Marianne. Such is my service underneath the Six Scions,” Grisha says. “I want to see the world that you want to bring about,” he says, smiling, soften his expression, ‘For what little time I will have in it.’

”You are so loyal to a woman who can do nothing for your condition.” Marianne replied. ”All I can do is work toward that world. Please take care on your way.” She added, gently rubbing his hands. Perhaps due to her pride she felt it awkward to display more intimate affection.

”Try to make sure those two don't kill each other as well.” She said, shaking her head.

“They’ll be fine,” Grisha says, “As for my condition, I have no intention of stopping smoking,” he would press two fingers to her forehead, square and center, tilting her head up, “You’ll have to write that condition into our wedding vows. That’s the only way I’ll give up my vices, Lady Marianne~”

Smirking, Grisha would disengage, and turn to take his leave.

Marianne's golden eyes would widen at the sudden poke. Despite the fact it was a gesture made since she was a brat, Grisha always found a way to catch her off guard with it.

She didn't like it. Marianne made an exasperated face.

”Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out, Pensworth!” She spat, a blush adorned on her expression.

Grisha chuckled, as he left, “I’ll leave it open, so you can watch it leave, then.”” As he traveled the hall, he wouldn’t pause as he passed Tethys; hiding behind a curtain, curled up. “Let’s go,” he says, not allowing her to speak her unspoken question, “Sleeping dogs are best left to lie.”

Tethys would silently fall in line, and start the awkward train ride from Flugell to Morgenröte...

A spirited chuckle would bubble free of Bellum, as she placed a hand gently upon Triss’s shoulder, and the warrior would feel, for a moment, the weight of Ages - an bygone era - press down upon her, as the Faefolk trundled by with a merry hum, like a verdant Penguin Witch.

Triss could feel the gap between them wasn’t simply vast, but marvelous...

...the burning beauty of nature, hearth, and home.

As she strode forward, Damian would feel pressed to move aside, despite her approach to diplomacy - not out of threat or fear, but magnanimous presence, as Bellum picked up speed, before tackle-hugging Scarlett, “Oh, Scarlettina~!”

Understandably embarrassed, Scarlett’s cheeks would inflame into her namesake, as Bellum lifted the tall, gaunt woman off her feet and out of her heel, pale toes squirming in the air, as she was spun around by the deceptively strong and rotund Witch.

“It’s been ages! You don’t call. You don’t write. Not even a pop in for a cuppa!” Bellum admonished, playfully, but with some serious semblance of disappointment.

“I’m busy! I own real estate in multiple cities, and Grave Wardens aren’t exactly made of free time, Madame Hawke...” Scarlett pouted, before she was set back into her living heels.

“If not for me, you could visit for your sister, at least! Poor Alyna,” Bellum counter-pouted, “That settles it! Time for a good cuppa~”

“Madame Hawke!” Scarlett meeped, as Bellum took her hand and pulled her along like a mother would pull a child.

“Oh, and you are invited, too, lil’un,” Bellum beamed, looking at Triss. “And, you, of course, Alyna.”

The dwarven warrior lowered her guard and let the retund witch pass in front of her, mellowed out by a simple touch on her shoulders. It’s like Bellum’s reassuring motherly touch melts through her heavy armor, making it lighter and warming her heart, making her docile about the situation.

This is the first time Triss has felt a real affectionate physical touch ever since she was imported here in Eos. Usually, being born and raised in the gladiator ring where everything is all about fighting, the only physical touch she knows is straight-up fists, some high-velocity kicks, a ton of grapples, and a world full of painful body shots. Not the fun kind when you’re on the receiving end.

She was dumbfounded by the whole interaction, to say the least. It’s like seeing a mother-daughter reunite for the first time. Also, Bellum calling the imposing figure ‘Scarlettina’ like a mother would and dragging her alongside like a child seems to put a smirk on Triss’s face.

“Muh apologies if I misread the situation. Spooky magic o’ways made me giddy. Those who wields it leave a bad taste in my mouth,” Triss said adamantly, crossing her arms. remembering her experience with it at the back of her mind.

“Aye, If you don’t mind having a brutish dwarf at your company and spoil your reunion with these lassies over here, allow me to make it up to you. Lemme aid you with the kitchen duty. lead the way, benevolent lunch lady!” Triss said as she strides on her stubby legs and catches up to them.

“Spoil? Piffle, lil’un,” Bellum says, before shaking her dress, before several small marbles hopped out of her pockets, and landed on the floor.

As they did, they would break like eggs, and several Golems would spawn; chibi beings that looked like Gremlinified versions of a certain biscuit mascot with explicit color schemes:

The ones in pink and white gave off an aura of sweetness, rivaling even Bellum’s outward friendliness.

The ones in green and yellow radiated timidness and caution, coming off as fearful of... everything.

The ones in red and black, however, demonstrated sheer contempt for the world with their crossed arms and scowls.

In a way, they were subconscious reflections of their creator: Bellum's gaiety, melancholy, and animosity given form and expression to aid her in her day-to-day life.

“It's nothing that I cannot handle with my Sweet, Sour, and Spicy Kitchen Staff!” Bellum beamed, as the Sweet Golems waved excitedly, while the Sour Golems hid behind her dress, and the Spicy Golems glowered at Triss for daring to doubt Bellum.

Triss waved awkwardly as these sentient rocks appeared.

“Don't let these little munchkins worry you, lil’un,” Bellum says, before shooing everyone to the kitchen; her domain, unspoken, and uncontested.

Scarlett would grumble as she was dragged, positively petulant.

”Oh, it’s no bother at all Lady Bellum. On the contrary, I find these little buggers quite amusing. These are golems, right? We have these back in the dwarven mountains, where they work and mine for us. They were behemoths back there, although they were not this lively and had a bland personality of a.. Well, a rock.” The dwarven warrior said, kneeling down to one of the friendlier sentient bread dough (Sweet), giving it a scratch under their chin and let it playfully climb on her broad shoulders.

“I never knew they could come this small and fragile. Perhaps I could train these assistants of yours, Forge wee armors and swords and make a fine warrior out of them!” Triss snorted before dismissing the last friendly munchkin into the kitchen.

“Also, I can’t shake the feeling of a minor discontentment there, ‘Scarlettina’ was it?” The red-haired dwarf said, addressing the red-haired elf.

“Don’t you like the food and entertainment from these wee fellows?” Triss asked.

“...” Scarlett narrowed her eyes, the fullness of her name irked her, but she pushed past it with the flick of a lighter, as she lit a cigarette -- only to have it snatched by one of the Sweet Staffers. “Oi! Imp! Give it back!” she shouted, before the Sweets would throw it between each other.

As she did, the Spicy Staffers would body-block her pursuit, and Scarlett would only grow more annoyed and childish, much to Bellum's amusement.

`”Oy! You cheeky little runts, that’s not nice!” Triss frowned upon the mischievous act she just witnessed. Being the lawful individual that she is, the rune knight dwarf cannot idly sit around and watch a theft unfold right before her eyes, even though it’s just a cigar and playful game from these little gremlins.
She reaches down into her pocket and grabs a stone with an inscription on it, and crushes it with her bare fist. The rune reacted as a symbol briefly appeared in the air. A miniature seismic wave shook the ground as the group of spicy staffers toppled at their tiny feet and lost their balance, thus breaking from their blocking formation.
“Don’t fret elf-lassie, i’ll get your cigarette back!” Triss earnestly promised Scarlett with a smile as she ran and bulldozed her way through, in hot pursuit of the thief.
Her chase ended at the kitchen, where these little dough golems are stationed. She opens the door and skims the place only to find a gazillion of them working on this side of the tower. Multiple-colored golems prancing around the area, she can’t tell which is which.
“OY! Which of you little buggers has Scarlettina’s puny smoking mechanism? You know that’s stealing, right? Step forth, give it back,and face the consequences of your actions!” Triss growled and threatened the kitchen staff.
Scarlett grumbled, as she gave chase herself and was suddenly on bare feet, as her heels and stockings materialized into quartet of girls - fashionable, middle-school aged from the appearance, featuring distinct color scenes and fashion senses, but relatively the same face and fox ears and tails becoming Fox Belua.

“Emily! Ophelia! Take the left! Gina! Jacqueline! The right side! The Dwarf can hold the center!” Scarlett commanded, as the foxgirl squealed and scampered in.

Emily and Ophelia would hold hands, their connected arms turning into a length of chain, as their free arms turn into a thick pole, before they would eject a kantana blade from the ends. Twirling forward, they would whirlwind through the Spicy Staffers and Sour Staffers, as the Sweet Staffers were tossing the cigarette around like a hot potato.

However, they weren't scott-free as Gina and Jacqueline were powering through, as well, their left and right hands, respectively, replaced by a stiletto dagger that could puncture and rend with brutal efficiency.

Scarlett crossed her arms, tapping her right foot, “Damn, this cold floor...”

“I’m a little baffled about how you're able to summon these cute maiden soldiers of yours, but hey, all is fair in the art of combat and on the battlefield. I’m Triss, by the way.” Triss smirked, prepping to get in the mood.

In the back of her mind, Triss found it a bit embarrassing the situation she is in. She had fought monsters three times her size and won championships in the arena, but now she was about to fight living kitchen bread in the kitchen. Oh, how the mighty gladiator has fallen, she thought with a sigh.
“Whatever! let's dance.” Triss cast her doubts aside and started cracking her knuckles and loosening her shoulders. She takes the center as a linebacker would. Protecting the group and fending off those who dare to charge at them.

Any staffers who got in her way were met with her fists. Bashing them with no remorse with her haymakers. She charged through like a freight train juggernaut, clearing a path for Scarlett and her spirit group. Everyone got a taste of her punches and kicks. It was blunt, brutal, and effective to knock these little buggers out of commission.

“I think i see the lil’ trouble maker!” Triss exclaimed as sees the staffer making a run for it. She pulls a fire rune from her pocket. She cracks it open and shoots a fireball at the Sweet staffer, making it combust.

Scarlett didn't reply to the introduction, largely because she didn't intend to, and also because Triss was already moving. Despite the quantity of the Staffers, they weren't meant for prolonged combat - they were quality help, but that was spread thin in mass production. Even Bellum couldn't stretch her dough out but so thin before she lost acceptability in her work. As such, there was little retaliation that didn't come in the form of basic dogpiling.

As Triss sussed out the current objective holder, Scarlett would analyze the most optimal plays, and extended her right arm, as her jacket and undershirt materialized. “ Francine, absorb the flame. Vivian, wet the path ahead.” she commanded.

The redhead of the duo would raised her arms, as they melded and transformed into a tower shield that vacuumed Triss’s flame, before Vivian swung her right arm, partially transformed into an oar, and releasing a wave of water to soak the Staffers, before Francine would charge in like a burning comet and flash-bake them.

The defenders down to just two Spicy Staffers, they would be dealt with by a cleaving of an axe and the puncture of a rapier.

“Good job, Laura, Samantha,” Scarlett says, striding forward in naught but a racy, lacy, black lingerie set. Flicking her lighter, she lit its flame, and glowered down at the Sour Staffer that trembled against the back wall of the kitchen turned warzone with an expectant hand extended.

“Wew, that would be disastrous if you guys hadn’t intervened. Just caught in the heat of the battle, I guess. You guys have a better read on the situation, and I’m just a dwarf who punches first and asks questions later. Those two don’t exactly mix. hehe” Triss awkwardly chuckles.

”Also, why are you a-cloth away from your birthday suit? You’ll catch a cold lassie..” Triss scratches her head, ogling at the modest display of Scarlett in her lingerie.

”In any case, I think it learned its lesson.” She continued.

”Give the lady her belongings or else...“ The dwarven knight turned her attention to the cornered sour staffer as she stood behind the half-naked elf and her transforming accomplices, pounding her knuckles together like a thug, glaring at the mischievous golem.

”Now that the smoke clears, I should probably tell Lady Bellum what happened and help her clean the place up, I can’t help felt responsible for the thrashing of her domain, A collateral from stopping a thief and its petty crime” said Triss, ever the virtuous girl scout that she is.

Scarlett sighed. Triss punched first and asked questions later, true, but didn’t stick around for the answers. It was clear her mind went a mile-a-minute, as she went off to find a place to start cleaning and find Bellum. Exhausted, Scarlett would return to the courtyard...

Three things happened in rapid succession upon being materialized:

First: Triss, the barking Dwarf made her first and last mistake in approaching as threat. Kalos was tempted to rend her in quarters and tribute her blood to her Lord. However, before she could calculate the possible avenues that would arise from that --

Second: Damian, the supposed diplomat, would approach to defuse the situation. Now, Kalos was pissed off, because her bloodlust was being hampered by some namby-pamby looking random. She would just have to add his blood to the chalice, and yet --

Third: Conner approached. Confused. Unsure. Vulnerable. Questioning, not her, but them.

Them.

Why “them”?

“Do I know you...” Kalos asked, not parroting, but repeating, asking herself.

Her stride was swift, almost as swift as Bellum’s - Damian getting brushed by both women, as Bellum tackle-hugged Scarlett in gleeful reunion, while Kalos stood in front of Conner... towering over him, a huntress glaring nose at her quarry. As Scarlett struggled in the background, Kalos would bend forward a bit, before... sniffing Conner’s crown down to the nape of his neck on the right side, before flickering her forked tongue out.

A hiss would escape her, as she straightened out, and her eyes glowed like bonfires. “Boyfriend!”

The announcement was simple, direct, and would throw Conner in front of the Recollection Express Bus on Memory Lane - to get slammed into.

Hard.

”H-Huh!?”, stammered Conner, taken aback by the sudden proclamation. ”Boyfriend!? What do you mean!? We’ve only just me-”

That’s when it hit him. As if seeing this woman had broke a dam, a flood of memories crashes in his mind.

”It’s…you…”

Recognition was now evident in his hazel eyes.

”The Tyrant of Twilight.”“...time sure flies...” Kalos smirked, “You’re still short, I see.”

”Hey, I grew a lot from that time, thank you very much. You’re just tall.”, replied Conner, crossing his arms with a smirk. ”...Still, without you, I wouldn’t have been able to solve that particular mystery.”

“Solved, in the most tentative sense...” Kalos says, before her imposition settled, and she looked almost... feminine(?). “It’s nice to see you aren’t dead...” she says, awkwardly, shyly, “After we parted ways... the monastery didn’t appreciate my detour...”

The young man sweat-dropped. She still had that blunt, roundabout way of speaking. Truly, the more things change, the more things stay the same.

”Nice to see you too, Kalos., he said with a chuckle, though…Was it just him or was she looking a bit more…demure? Nah, he’s being ridiculous. “And I imagine they didn’t. They weren’t too harsh on you, were they?”

Kalos rolled her eyes, as she smirked, “I’m tougher than some old nun. Old Maid Mary doesn’t frighten me.”

”Pfffft! No, I guess she wouldn’t!, Conner guffawed. ”But…real talk, Kalos? I really am glad to see you again. I had some doubts about coming to this place, but if you’re here, then I think it was worth accepting the invite.”

Kalos’s cheeks would inflame, as her blue hair rose from her internal flame and frost creating legitimate steam. “Th-That’s too much pressure on me!” she says.

”Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You’re so cute when you get teased.”, he said, hands up in the air with a shrug and grin. ”I’m being honest, though.”

Conner would feel the nanoseconds he needed to dodge the thick tail that was about to swat him away in glorious tsundere embarrassment.

The young summoner whooped in laughter as he dodged the tail swipe and rejoined the crowd.

Issuing the world’s strongest, “HUMPH!!” Kalos would cross her arms and do the only thing that a tsundere could do in this moment: pout really, really hard, and fume in the corner while blushing.

It was almost... painful... how normal Lupina felt in comparison to Scarlett and Kalos, as Bellum tackle-hugged Scarlett with the grace of a doting mother at Christmas and Kalos seemingly rediscovered an old flame with the enthusiasm of a toddler “rediscovering” chocolate. To the room, she had no clear allegiances.

No family.

No friends.

No lovers.

Just her and her brother.

However, she had sharp eyes that saw both worlds, and her sharp eyes saw that both worlds were burdening a certain rifleman with the air of a clergyman. Blinking, Lupina would see the haunting that surrounded Hector, and the small serpent that coiled around his gun arm and hand - steadying his hold on the rifle, as if an autonomous defense.

Forward, she would pass by Damian, last of the trio to do so, ignoring him as her “sisters” had, as she approached Hector. Draped off her shoulders, Baast would look at the haunting, before growling and releasing a bark that would make it clear for them to piss off - canines and ghosts ne’er got on.

...yet the snake lingered, unphased by the strength of Baast’s bark or Lupina’s presence.

“That’s interesting...” Lupina says.

“I’m not impressed,” Baast says, reaching out to snatch the snake.

Impressed or not, Baast would find that rather than dispersing the faint specters that had been surrounding Hector, the ghosts seemed to hide away within him, a lingering scent of them on his form. Just as Baast’s hand would be a few inches from the snake, Hector’s arm would reach up, grabbing Baast’s wrist with a speed that didn’t make sense for how relaxed he looked.

”Woop. Sorry about that, guess they got a little antsy,” the one-eyed man would say, releasing Baast’s wrist and then looking to his serpent companion, who seemed a bit confused on the outstretched hand. ”My ‘Passengers’ get a little over protective of my companion. Not sure why.”

Baast growled, her fangs bared - not at Hector, but at the snake.

The snake would tilt its head at Baast, before tasting the air with its tongue and then resting its chin against the barrel of Hector’s rifle. He didn’t seem very intimidated.

“Oi!” Baast barked, lashing at the rifle.

Springing from the gun’s top as if fired from it, Hector wouldn’t budge as the snake rocketed into the sky, plopping straight down atop Baast’s ears.

”Looks like he’s in a mood to play around,” Hector said, only having to adjust his position a little to keep Baast from running into him.

“Hey! Get out of my hair!” Baast snapped, reaching up.

Lupina sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Baast would quickly find that the serpent was slippery enough to evade continued attempts to capture it, slipping down the back of their shirt to poke around a bit.

”Not a fan of snakes, is she?” Hector asked, looking to Lupina while Baast sorted themself out.

“He,” Lupina says, “Baast is my little brother. But, its easier for him to use feminine pronouns, since... it is my soul keeping him together,” she says, “That snake isn’t contracted to you. Not like the others. It’s symbiotically linked to you, like Baast is to me, but...” Hector would see Lupina’s white irises turned black as her horizontal pupils turned while, before she narrowed her eyes. “Your eye.”

”Which one,” Hector asked, shrugging his shoulders. ”Herne just showed up one day. Not sure why he sticks around, but his help is appreciated.”

“...” Lupina crossed her arms, before her eyes returned to normal. “The type to play dumb, I see.”

“Dude, get out of there!” Baast raged, as she twisted to reach for the moving intrusion.

Sensing that his game wasn’t especially welcome, Herne would soon phase out the back of Baast’s shirt and slither off somewhere, the snake’s agenda an enigma…or, maybe he was less intelligent than he seemed and was just rushing off for a meal.

”I’m being entirely honest when I say, I don’t have a clue where he came from. Too dumb to play about it, as it were,” Hector explained. ”But the eye was…a bit of an accident. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Where the...” Baast hit the floor, sniffing.

“My existence is a bit of an accident. I can sense the Miasma behind that patch,” Lupina says.

Somewhere off to the red-light district with the snake, judging from the lingering traces of its energy.

”Nothing more than the day I was officiated. And my laicization,” Hector said, looking over his shoulder at something neither of the two could see. ”For the last time, that vintage is too expensive. No deal if you can’t find something cheaper for a last drink.”

“Do what...” Lupina asks.

Baast growled, as Herne was beyond the tower, and she couldn’t just follow.

”Just the mumblings of a washed up priest,” Hector said.

“Right...” Lupina says, narrowing her eyes, before closing them. “Annoying...”

”’They’ can be,” Hector said, figuring she couldn’t possibly mean him.

“Ghosts aren’t my thing. Scarlett handles that nonsense,” Lupina says. “This is awkward...”

”I believe I have it under control at least,” Hector said. ”Your brother seems vexed by Herne.”

“That much is true,” Lupina says, as Baast was stewing in the corner of the room, now. Clearly annoyed as she worried her right thumb claw.

”I hope they’re able to get along well enough,” Hector said, stowing his holy book in a pocket within his bag. ”I may be retired from it, but some people find comfort in the words of a priest. If you need an ear to talk to,” Hector offered. ”For now, I think I’ll put my things away.”

“Military and Religion, yours and mine, likely don’t mesh,” Lupina says. “Planning to retire already, though?””

”The church doesn’t need someone who’se faith is shaken,” Hector said simply. ”On their records, I'm already dead. No sense griping about titles for the departed unless they’re some saint.”

“Didn’t answer the question I asked, and supplied an answer to one I didn’t,” Lupina says.

”Well, of course. Have you ever heard a priest give it to you straight?” Hector joked. ”And…to answer directly, I’m undecided. I just know that I have a different calling now. Perhaps, in a world free of abominations, scripture will suit me better.”

Lupina groaned, “That doesn’t answer if you are going to bed in the middle of the day...”

”Ohh, that ‘retire’. No, not at all. The gun’s heavy, that’s it,” Hector clarified, before Herne suddenly reappeared upon his shoulder. Lupina could smell the scent of a different spirit upon him, a faint wisp descending from the tip of Herne’s tail into Hector’s gun.

“I doubt it's that heavy,” Lupina says.

Hector would remove the gun from his back and offer it to Lupina as if to ask her to see for herself.

Lupina wouldn't even hesitate to take the weapon into her hands.

Upon touching it she may start to see what Hector had meant. Rather than a physical weight, there was a feeling as if something was creeping upon her back. A thousand dead wishes whispering again and again, pouring from the barrel as if the gun had lips to profess the will of the dying. After a moment, Hector would extend his hand to request it back.

”I’ve created quite a little burden for myself. But, it is at least nice that I can put it down for a little while without them getting upset. Sounded like Herne found someone new with unfinished business as well,” Hector said, as Herne leapt from his shoulder to the ground, coiling up beside the shoes of a young girl who hadn’t been there a moment ago, her clean black dress stained by the murky red of blood. If Lupina kept looking, more such figures would become visible. Drunks with crooked necks, men with gunshot wounds still smoking, and even a few wives clutching unmoving babes.

Lupina would, suddenly, toss the gun, as she threw her hand out, and grasp Baast by the back of her light-green hair - her hooves cracked onto the floor by the sheer strength she entered to hold back her other half. Hector could see rivulets of purple blood sliding down Baast’s neck, as she was tearing her own scalp with a blind determination to slaughter the Spirits that had encroached upon sacred lands.

“Enough.” Lupina says, before forcing Baast into her Rifle Form, and shouldering it.

Concerned by the sudden outburst, Herne would look between Lupina and Hector, as if wondering what had just happened.

Kneeling down, Hector would invite his serpent back into his hand, the snake obliging before slithering up to his shoulder. ”Allow me to apologize for upsetting your brother. I didn’t know they’d react that way.”

“We already wear one leash for life...” Lupina says, “I know better.”

Hector could see that Lupina was struggling to hold Baast in form, despite her relaxed visage and no apparent physical struggle.

”Rather angry about it, I imagine. If I may at least say one thing before leaving…none of them are chained to me. Each and every one is free to go whenever they please. Some dozen left just this morning, and Herne found three that wanted to return. After all,” Hector said, starting to walk away. ”A priest should at least comfort the dying, even if death arrives first.”

“Right,” Lupina says.

Leaving the brother and sister, Hector would depart for the quarters offered, easing his burden for at least a few hours. Lupina would find that Herne had stayed however, looking at Baast’s weaponized form with something akin to worry.

“What are you looking at, brat,” Baast asks, brushing her hair with a wet brush to clean the blood out. “Do I amuse you?”

Herne would shake its head side to side.

“Pff~ Now what, no words for me,” Baast snarled.

Empathic as he was, Herne could sense that Baast was lashing out; her nerves agitated out of defense, not rage.

...and guilt.

Herne didn’t know how to speak, but he did know when someone needed reassurance. As such he would suddenly bolt, slithering up Baast’s leg to come to rest on her shoulders and around her neck.

“Neh?!” Baast grunted, as Herne played living scarf. “What are you doing?”

Herne wouldn’t say anything, just sharing a reassuring squeeze and a tail rubbing against her back.

“H-Hey!” Baast squirmed with a small giggle.

Herne hissed in satisfaction, continuing the back rub to improve morale.

“Oi~” Baast squirmed more, giggling.

Herne would ease up, slowly making his way from Baast to the floor. Once there he would look up at Lupina, as if asking if she wanted the same back rub.

Lupina was sitting with her eyes closed, elements swirling around her, as she seemed to be meditating on something or communing with someone.

Her magic felt shockingly Druidic in nature.

Herne wasn’t hearing a no, so backrubs would commence.

It was as if the phantom serpent thought that what they’d seen had scared them and was trying to ease their worries. As if he’d done this before.

Herne would be “swallowed” by serenity. Scarlett was the Galdr user amongst them, but Lupina was the one that had the most discipline, coming from a background of running in a gang and dealing drugs to acclaim and accolades from stalwart military service.

As a result of the transformation, Lupina didn't overextend her emotions like others did; to control the volatile nature of the four elements and combine them, she needed to be calm and collected.

It was the reason Hector's gun wasn't heavy to her.

“Listen, buddy, guiding spirits is Scarlett's thing. Best I can do is smother you,” Lupina says, extending her hand.

Herne would shake his head side to side before springing back down to the ground. It seemed that now he was slithering off to return to Hector…

Baast would slump back, spiritually pouting, even if her face was apathetic.

Herne would turn his head back, sensing that Baast was bummed out despite her face remaining the same. He would wag his tail’s tip, as if inviting her along to visit Hector before slithering off.

Baast tilted her head, confused.

Herne didn’t have much in the way of explaining an invitation. Baast seemed sad that he was leaving, so he was saying she was free to come. Sometimes, it was that simple between spirits.

Baast narrowed her eyes, before following - not out of invitation, but annoyance that she wasn't able to understand him. Most Spirits could talk, regardless of age or form. Herne was different, and different was annoying to her.

It seemed that the marksman and his spirit both marched to their own beat, seeing as Hector would still be in his quarters once Herne and Baast arrived. There was a cold air about, and there was a murmuring behind the door. After only about a minute, Hector would emerge with his rifle stowed away inside the room. ”Hello again,” he said, offering a small wave to Baast as Herne all but shot straight up to Hector’s shoulder.

“...” Baast would just stare, awkward as hell, as her dark cheeks darkened further. Blushing was uncontrollable, and, unlike Lupina, Baast ran on her emotions - her heart was her sword and her shield.

Hector wouldn’t pry, figuring that she’d primarily just been following Herne. ”Was Herne playing tag again?”

“That common,” Baast asks, glad to have a jumping point.

”Just enough to have a hunch,” Hector said, extending a finger out to Herne, only for the snake to boop his snout up against the gloved finger. ”I apologize if what the rifle showed Lupina was unnerving.”

“You couldn't have bothered her if you tried,” Baast says, “My big sister doesn't shake like that.”

”I see,” Hector said, nodding to Baast. ”I was under the impression you were moving to protect her. If it isn’t too intrusive, would you mind speaking to me on what made you angry back there?” the priest questioned, wanting to at least make amends.

“I don't want anyone touching my sister. She's mine, simple as,” Baast says.

”...Did I give that kind of image,” Hector asked, dejectedly slouching as he remembered his pre-priestly days.

“I ain't talking about you. That gun is my problem,” Baast says. “I should snap it in two.”

”I’d appreciate if you didn’t. At least, as long as I can fulfill their last wishes. I’d give a number, but it seems like it changes from day to day for Herne’s friends,” Hector said. ”I apologize if handing Lupina my gun angered you.”

“Those handsy ass ghosts -- hold on! So you're at fault!” Baast wheeled on Herne, “That's why you were buttering me up!”

Herne would hurriedly hide in Hector’s coat, the priest laughing as he slid beneath his clothes. ”Caught red-handed, huh Herne? For what its worth, Herne doesn’t seem the type to do something like that on purpose. He has a way with drawing the souls of the departed to him. Like a lamplight, in a way,” Hector said, deftly catching Herne after one last movement, pulling him out before Baast.

Staying limp, Herne would look up at the irate Baast and dramatically turn his head to the side, laying it down with his tongue out. …He was trying really hard to play dead, despite being a spirit.

Baast would perk her ears and tail, glaring down her nose, as she was nose to snoot with the sussy snake.

Animalistic instinct on lock.

Herne would remain perfectly still and lifeless while Hector tried to stifle a laugh at the sight.

Baast was keeping steady. One of them would break.

Herne’s tail would eventually wiggle, and his tongue would twitch.

Baast smirked, “Nice try,” before smooching his head, “I'm undefeated, gaki~”

Herne would spring up, hissing and retreating into Hector’s cloak.

”I hope you’ll play with him again in the future. Most animal spirits avoid him for some reason.” Hector requested, starting to walk past Baast.

“...” Baast didn't reply for a moment, before her ears and tails stiffened, and she devolved into Babbling Blushing Bae status.

A true Tsunadere.

”Everything alright?” Hector questioned.

“Nn!”

Hector would not see Baast, but a smol, ethereal puppy run past him and through the wall on Fussy Baby Timing.

Hector would give a simple smile as the pup ran past, the priest returning to the assemblage of people just in time for the shot from Lupina and Baast to ring out. ”Seems Herne and Baast are getting along,” Hector said, now beside Lupina once again, not addressing the scene before him.

“That so...” Lupina asks, watching Ruecian warily, unlike Scarlett who was itching for him to jump.

Hector would nod quietly, turning his gaze to where hers fell. Seemed that she was wary of the blue-haired reptile Belua in the room…or, maybe she knew him from somewhere? It wasn’t Hector’s realm to pry into, so he would just lean against the wall and wait for the moment to pass.

“Did you... need something,” Lupina asks.

”To put my gun away, mostly. That’s done, so I’ve returned,” Hector said simply.

“I see,” Lupina says, before summoning water to her hands to cool down Baast, the rifle panting from overheating.

As she did, eight, little foxes would gather around her feet and whine for attention; acknowledgement came in the form of her glowing with magic for a moment, before clouds would gather around her, and she broke into a localized thunderstorm to rain upon them.

After a moment, Baast would deform and wallow in the rain her own puppy form, as the foxes ganged up on her to play in the cooling shower.

Herne would slither free of Hector to go and hang his mouth open in the small rainfall around Lupina, while Hector’s side got soaked from the water splashing to the ground.

“You make a habit of standing in the rain,” Lupina asked, as her military coveralls were getting soaked through.

”A few spirits wanted to feel the rainfall once again. So, that’s at least two contracts fulfilled,”” Hector said, pulling a journal and pen from his satchel before clearing off two lines he’d written, stowing it away right after.

Lupina didn't say anything, as she just maintained the rain. Spirits weren't her thing, but her connection to the Galdric Realms was strong enough for Hector to sense - not as wide as Scarlett’s or as deep as Kalos's, but refined and narrow, a bridge for one to cross.

”Seems you have your own ties to the spiritual,” Hector said. ”Probably from Baast’s presence within you.”

“Something like that I suppose,” Lupina says.

Hector would quietly put a hand out for a handful of rain, holding it before Herne for him to drink it up.

“You're strange,” Lupina says, as if she wasn't literally generating a thunderstorm to cool down nine canines.

”As if anyone coming to a place like this could be normal,” Hector teasingly retorted as Herne drank up.

“I'm perfectly normal, I'll have you know,” Lupina says, pridefully.

Comparatively, she was.

”Perfectly,” Hector agreed, since technically the unusual part of her ensemble was everything except for her.

Lupina smirked, before settling into her quiet Mother Nature aesthetic, as the thunderstorm quieted into a gentle snowfall that would settle the foxes and puppy to rest, and eventually sleep.

Herne would eventually curl around Hector’s wrist and up his sleeve, coming to sleep somewhere within his coat while Hector waited for the left half of him to dry off.

All the while, Lupina was still watching Ruecian...

Despite her interaction with Conner doing much to lighten the mood, Kalos could feel the annoying pressure behind her. The Valeniquen Siblings, Ruecian and Lapis, were studying her - sight and scent - with different intentions; the male with suspicion, the female with apprehension. They were acting like they knew her, like she owed them something...

...it was getting annoying.

Reaching behind her, Kalos would stretch out, before she shot across the room with a crack of her tail; the Sun was high in the sky, and her strength was rising with it. As a result, Ruecian and Lapis could feel the creak of their hyoid bones, as Kalos held them up by their throats with one hand each, and held them off the floor.

“ I don't like the look your giving me...” Kalos tightened her grip, “But, I love the sound of your struggle...~”

Kalos would quickly find a strong force bend against the strength of the hand she used to hold Ruecian with. He shifted his weight, and along with the added leverage, struck against her joint to free himself.

Unfortunately, Lapis wasn't strong enough to do the same. But, then again, she didn't have to. Her body shifted into a liquid-like form, therein she was able to slip away from Kalos's grasp.

”Getting heated over a couple of dirty looks? Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” Ruecian said with a sneer.

Lapis was still holding her neck. With labored breathing, she summoned her draconian familiar.

”Why are you here?! You want revenge for him?!” Lapis snapped.

“Don’t know who him is. Don’t know who you are. I’m just here to do a job, and I don’t like when snot-nosed brats shoot me a shitty looks,” Kalos says, as she removed her leather coat and the fur-lined undershirt, showing how her scales where patterned and the red to blue gradient that Conner knew intimately, as she was clad in sport bra. “Whatever you got against me, we can settle it...” Kalos’s scales hissed steam, as her sweat vaporized from the heat, “..right here...” Kalos extended her right hand, summoning a scythe with a blade of flame, “...right now.”

”You…don't know???” Ruecian said, almost genuinely confused. ”You smell, look, and act just like him. You don't know your own dad?” The air around Ruecian began to chill, as little droplets fell around him. He materialized a chilled polearm weapon ready to meet Kalos.

Lapis looked at both of them, as if she was beginning to think something was off.

”Wait, wait a moment!” Lapis said. ”What…type of relationship do you have with your father?” She asked Kalos.

“Don’t have one. Don’t know one,” Kalos says. “Keep talking shit, brat, and you’ll be eating it, when I slice your head off and shove it up your ass.”

”Ballsy to speak in such a way around a superior officer.” Ruecian said in a calm, but menacing tone. ”Especially when it’s toward his little sister.”

”Brother, wait! I think she’s telling the truth!” Lapis said.

”Even if she is, so what? She’s still breaking the chain of command, and quite frankly, her scent is getting on my nerves.” Ruecian snapped. The clash of the sub zero and high temperature air that Kalos and Rue were generating displaced the pressure around them, creating visible distortions and steam build up.

”Whaddya say, cousin? Wanna have a midday dance? ” Ruecian beamed.

Kalos beamed, as she jammed her right fingers into her chest, and gripped her heart; purple blood spurting out, as she pulled. “Let me just put on my Devil Tr -- ”

Kalos was suddenly silenced by a pale arm jammed into her mouth, as she was captured from behind by Scarlett “Are you capable of forward thought, you muddlehead,” she asks, as Kalos’s fangs bled her arms, but her restraint was secure.

“Too much heat in that skull. Boiled her brain,” Lupina groused, as Kalos's left hand was digging into her right hand, as she pushed her fellow Belua’s hand back. “Stop struggling. I'm strong enough to handle you until noon.”

As the purple blood escaping the Handmaidens came into exposure to the light, as the sky cleared, it would vaporize into black gas.

Kalos would thrash in place, being held hostage by her own tail, as Baast held it wrapped around her legs, with her hands bleeding from the scales tearing her skin.

”Huh…?” Rue barely sensed the presence of those girls as they got the drop on Kalos.

”Oh, thank goodness!” Lapis said, with a sigh of relief. ”Brother, you acted too hastily! Perhaps we could’ve approached her with more diplomacy.”

Ruecian stared at his sister for a moment, then to the thrashing Kalos. Sighing, he reluctantly relented.

”Ok, fine. My apologies, as a senior officer, I acted too unprofessionally and brashly. My actions only served to further instigate conflict rather than to stop it.” Ruecian said with a bow. Looking at Kalos again, an exasperated expression with a large sweat mark appeared on Rue’s face.

”Uh, is she even listening…?”

“Do you shut up?!” Scarlett snapped. “Lupina, I’m losing my grip!”

“I’m trying! She’s not a weak as she was in finishing school!” Lupina groaned, as she pushed Kalos’s heart down.

“Screw this!” Baast growled, before biting Kalos’s ass with a growl.

Stunned, Kalos would stop fighting Lupina, which allowed her to push, and Scarlett would spin them - booting Kalos towards the door with Lupina’s help, putting foot and hoof to ass.

“-- and you’re all jerks!” Kalos finished her internal rant, as she just... stormed off.

The Valeniquen Twins just…looked on with perplexed faces as the situation seemingly was de-escalated by the other girls that came with Kalos after being summoned to the Tower.

”Um, well, thank you very much for clearing up that fight before it started. I’m not sure if you all have received a proper welcome, but we’re happy to have you all as new members of the team. ”

Like her brother, Lapis made a polite bow before the other Handmaidens. ”My name is Lapis. Lapis Valeniquen, and it’s a pleasure to meet you all. You’ve already met my brother, Ruecian, yes?”

“The pompous asshole, yes, unfortunately, we've met, little Miss Pansy,” Scarlett says, bluntly, as she lit a cigarette, her arm healing as she dragged on it. “Don't thank me for saving your life. Next time, I'll let her kill you.”

“Oi. Gimme the smoke,” Lupina grunted, as she took the stick, emitting purple smoke, and puffed on it; her hand starting to heal. “Open, Baast...”

Baast would take a drag, healing her hands.

“Hey, give it back, already,” Scarlett grumbled.

Ruecian and Lapis simply looked on with blank stares as the Handmaidens bickered among each other like highschool students.

”Well…I don't ‘ppose you all mind telling us a bit more about yourselves? I guess Master Arteus made a good sales pitch?” Ruecian said.

“We didn’t come here for that stick in the mud,” Scarlett says, “Ours is a Divine Charge,” she says, “Most literally.”

“A Goddess tasked us as weapons, if that’s not clear enough,” Lupina says, dryly.

”Goddess?” Lapis asked. The Scions certainly were not the only deities that certain groups in this world paid homage to, her family included. Lapis guessed that they were perhaps some pagan god they gave offerings to.

Although, she felt from their emotions that said deity was of much more significance than that.

”Well, if your Goddess wishes for you to be our allies, then I give them my thanks as well!”

“Cringe...” Lupina groaned.

“You smoke, kid,” Scarlett asks.

”Uh…no, I don’t, unfortunately….” Lapis responded flatly. ”In fact, I despise cigarette smoke and can do well without it, thank you.”

”Well, make yourselves at home for now. I’m sure Master Arteus will grace us with his presence at some point and give further instruction. Try to stay outta trouble until then.” Ruecian said, staring off in the direction Kalos walked down.

“I wasn't asking,” Scarlett says, flicking a fresh smoke at Lapis. “It's called an olive branch. Go find Kalos, girly,” she says, before drawing her scythe, as Lupina extended her grip, and Baast turned into her rifle, “Order me around again, boy, and you'll be breathing through your lungs directly.”

“Whether than from her scythe puncturing your lungs or my bullets tearing your chest open is a matter of who hits you first,” Lupina says. “Whoever you think you are, I follow the orders of one man and one nation. Commander Vagus orders me.”

“Grave Wardens follow our orders, and those of the Goddess of Knowledge,” Scarlett says, “You aren't kith or kin of mine. Barely wet behind the ears.”

”What IS your problem…?” Ruecian said to the girls, making a sigh and shaking his head. ”And I suggest you not order my sister around, if you want your friend to have that olive branch or whatever, give it to her yourself…”

Lapis didn’t need the ability to read emotions in order to tell the tension would begin to rise again. She decided to follow suit, if only to maintain civilities.

”It’s alright, brother, really!” She said, attempting to break the tension. ”We’ll just look at it as doing a favor for a friend.” Although, “friend” was a loose term in this situation. She made her way to where, picking up on her scent from earlier.

Ruecian then turned to Lupina after hearing her proclamation.

”...Vagus?” He said. ”Funny, I wonder where I heard that name before?”

The instant Lapis moved, and Ruecian turned, Lupina and Scarlett moved in - Scarlett summoned Vivian as an oar, and Lupina repositioned her hold on Baast, as they dashed in to smash into the ground.

“I told you not you order us around!”

It didn't matter that Ruecian ranked above them. He didn't listen. In a field where life and death hinged on listening, Ruecian held himself above them - and they hated it.

Ruecian squinted at the pair, having made a mess of the floor with their ego. It wasn’t like there weren’t several members of the staff who couldn’t fix it in a heartbeat, but the principle is what matter most.

The icy Belua turned away and began walking in the other direction.

”Do whatever you want, it’s none of my business. Just don’t do the same to my sister. That’s not an order, but a warning. That’s all.”

With that, Ruecian departed from the courtyard where their altercation took place. Lapis had perhaps made her way to Kalos by now…

Scarlett straightened out, as did Lupina, before the Dire Sheep turned, and widened her eyes. At the same time, Scarlett would glow, as her clothing turned into Will-o-Wisps, as the Ossuary Octuplets went into the sky.

Lupina would extend her hand, forming a whirlwind of air that surged into a sphere and collapsed into a cylinder, before Baast opened her mouth and swallowed it, as Lupina scanned the sky - reading the sisters’ mind.

“Locked. Adjusting. Angle corrected. Error 0.003%. Acceptable Loss Factor under 10. Kalos will take damage.” Lupina reported.

“Orion is acceptable.” Scarlett returned, as she adjusted the sisters.

“Heh. Keep walking brat...”

Lupina would pull the trigger, as the air-bomb bombshell rocketed into the sky to be ping-ponged between the sisters, and beelined straight for Lapis.

All to spite Ruecian telling them what to do.

Meanwhile, Kalos was fuming on a park bench, as she soaked up the sun to calm herself down, as Lapis managed to catch up - unaware of the explosive Wind Magic coming for her. However, it was one minute from noon, and with the tick of the hour, noon hit, and her senses became explosive.

Throwing herself off the bench, she would charge by Lapis, and leap into the air with the strength of the Sun itself, catching the shell in her hands, and rearing back with the force of the impact, and slamming into the ground.

“I get to do one cool thing a day, and I waste it saving you...” Kalos groaned, as she dropped the spent shell, “So, what did you do to get shot at? You aren't the 'start a fight’ type...”

”Wah?!” Lapis let out a yelp, at the shockwave of Kalos catching the bullet and throwing on the ground caught her by surprise

She turned to Kalos with a wide-eyed expression. ”S-someone shot me…?” She uttered. ”But, who, and why???”

“My sisters shot at you, that's who,” Kalos says, “As for why, I cannot say...”

Kalos frowned, as she rolled the shell with her bare foot. “Take off your boots or shoes or whatever.”

”Eeeh??” Lapis let out, quite confused.

“Humor me, or go away,” Kalos barked.

After blinking at Kalos for a moment, with a small sigh, Lapis obliged her fellow reptilian Belua and removed her footwear.

”What is it that you’re aiming for?”

Kalos wouldn’t say anything, at first, as she simply put her feet in front of Lapis. Despite the general “Human” construction, they were built with reptilian features in mind - three, splayed toes with clawed nails, modified joints, and scale coverage from the tips to the heels and up her legs towards her thighs unseen. “...”

”You seem to be confirming something.” Lapis said. Able to peer into her emotions somewhat. ”Were you thinking of what me and my brother had said earlier?”

“No. I don’t know you. I don’t know him. I don’t care about what makes you tick, what makes you hurt, what makes you laugh, live, or love. I don’t care about him or whatever he means to you...” Kalos says, looking down at Lapis, “I care about that look you gave me. That disgust. That loathing. You looked at me like I was filth, and you don’t fucking know me, who I am, what I’ve been through, or how I suffer...” she huffed, “You just saw our shared father, and like everyone else, you just saw the Daughter of Kinnich.”

Lapis looked into Kalos’s eyes for a moment, noting the deep solemnity they held. Then, she looked down, as though lost in thought.

”I believe Kalos is your name, yes?” She started. ”You are…correct. When you first appeared before everyone, my brother and I immediately recognized the similarity between your scent and…his.” She then looked back into Kalos’s eyes.

”It triggered memories. Ones that we tried to forget as best we could, ones that we honestly may not have healed from yet. But, none of that changes the fact that we unjustly projected that unto you. For that, I apologize.”

Another polite bow was made by Lapis, essentially submitting to the point.

“...” Kalos would lash out at Lapis, snatching the Purpura. “You don’t smoke. Not this. You’re too deep in Weenieness to hit this,” she would draw her scythe, blade igniting, and light the papal paper, “Soothes the soul... Heals the body...”

“If you’re undead, anyways.”

”Undead…?” Lapis inquired, a bit confused.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Kalos says, sitting down, and offering the cigarette.

”No, thank you.” Lapis responded to the gesture. ”But, are you really a resurrected soul?”

“I have no reason to answer you,” Kalos says, annoyed at being rebuffed, as she drew her knees to her generous chest.

If she was truly resurrected, Lapis thought whoever it was must’ve been a master in their craft. Her body had no trace or scent of rotting, although she did notice the miasma. But, malfested aren’t usually able to hold complex conversations. Since she’s here, Arteus must trust her as a member of the tower. For now, that was enough for Lapis.

”Well, we appear to be kin. If so, it’d be nice if we could get off on the right foot. Oh! But, um, I won’t force it if you don’t want too…”

“...” Kalos just smoked in silence, her body healing as she did. Same as Scarlett, Lupina, and Baast had healed.

”Your friend had asked me to give that to you, so I guess you have it now.” Lapis said with a nervous laugh. ”Well, I get the feeling that you wish to be left alone for now, so I suppose I’ll see you later then?”

“I don’t like talking. No, people don’t like me talking...” Kalos says, “Nobody cares what I have to say. Pray, Phillipa. Grace, Phillipa. Repent, Phillipa. Hush, Phillipa.” she furrowed her brow, “Hush...”

Lapis looked at Kalos, stopping herself from getting up. ”It sounds like you’ve had a difficult life. I…also know what it’s like to not have your voice feel as though it matters. I will say if you ever do feel like talking, please know that my ears will always be available.”

“What, you finna pull them off, and lemme put them in my pocket,” Kalos asks.

A joke.

”Oh, uh, hehehe…” Lapis said, attempting to laugh and play along. ”I would, but they might take too long to grow back!”

“Kikiki~” Kalos giggled, a low, raspy sound. Idly, she would wiggle her smoke, tapping off the ash.

Lapis was a bit relieved that she was able to make Kalos giggle a bit in turn, sensing that her mood was slowly improving. However, her smile left her, as they was something still weighing on her mind.

”Hey… So, um, you said his name earlier. Kinnich. Has, has he…hurt you at all?”

“All the children to hatch from his cruel recklessness...” Kalos would stand up, stripping to reveal her scale, the gradient from blue to red, “I’m the only one to inherent his dominant gene. Sun-kissed Scales of Scarlet.”

Lapis gazed at the scarlet scales, ones that she hadn’t seen in a long time. ”Those must be…quite heavy. They are, much like his.” She said. ”I realize that the way me and my brother acted before must be something you’re likely used to. I’m…very sorry Kalos…”

“...” Kalos would let the awkward moment do what it was intended to do, and hold her silence.

”I will say this Kalos. I believe we can choose who we want to be, you don't have to let his legacy define you. Of course, I'll have to follow my own advice, teehee.” She said looking down at her feet.

“I am Kalos, Tyrant of Twilight, only I define me,” Kalos says, before scooping Lapis off said feet, and putting her on her back.

Lapis made a small yelp and blushed, the sudden sensation of being hoisted up catching her off guard.

”Ah! Um, Kalos? What are you doing…?”

“Heading back, duh,” Kalos says.

Lapis blinked twice, then made a wince at her kin teammate. ”No, I mean why are you carrying me!” She whined, futilely wiggling in place.

“Nobody can stop me,” Kalos smirked, before snatching her wiggling feet, and holding her back straight with her tail. “That oughta keep you from falling, since being still isn’t a talent of yours.”

Lapis was a Belua, but against one such as her, her physical strength paled in comparison. Realizing that struggling was a pointless effort, she pouted as Kalos walked them both back towards the others.

Kalos would hum, as she walked. An old song, a cradle song that passed down by Holy Church and various religious establishments. “...bless me with the leaf off of the tree... on it I’ll see the freedom rain...” Kalos looked up, “Praise to my father, blessed by the fire... black night, dark sky... I’ll never cry...”

Passively, Kalos would hum the melody, as if Lapis wasn’t there.

However, a serenity would overtake the hostilities. A gentle breeze crossed over the courtyard, as the sun started to descend, and Scarlett could feel herself - unwillingly - relaxing. It felt like Espermancy, but it was a little too calculate, a little too unnatural, which gave her cause to seek out the source. Off to the side, the pacifist of Eon Tower, Naomi Schuller, was flapping her neon-pink wings, casting the breeze suffused with alchemical magic.

Eyes close, she seemed to be uttering a prayer, which was heightening the calming factor of the spell she was casting.

Silently, Scarlett would approach, and cancel the spell... by blowing purple smoke in Naomi’s face, and making the Harpy break into a coughing fit.

“That’s incredibly invasive,” Scarlett says.

“Tha-ack! Ru-uuff!” Naomi hacked and coughed. Birds were stupidly sensitive to smoke.

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Anyways,” she says, “I could handle the lizard on my ownsome. Sticking your neck in other people’s business is a bad habit of yours, Mimi.”

“Don’t call me that!” Naomi groused. “If I didn’t so something, Ruecian would have boiled over! Why did you even do that?!”

“If we didn’t, Kalos would have just kept fighting,” Scarlett says, “Forcing her to exert her aggravation on something greater than Miss Priss, that’ll snuff out her drive to pursue combat.”

“There’s better ways, Red!” Naomi says, noticing Scarlett’s shit-eating grin. “Don’t you look at me like that! It was a slip of the tongue!”

“Sure, Mimi~” Scarlett purred, slinking behind her.

“Oi, oi! Can you get dressed at least?!” Naomi asks.

“I’m as dressed as I need to be,” Scarlett says, clad in her underwear. “My clothes are taking a nap.”

Naomi would just squawk incredulously, before sighed, and folding her wings to slump back against Scarlett, “You are still very annoying for a priestess,” before craning her neck back to capture Scarlett’s lips above. After an extended moment, she would draw back, and made a playful face. “Such an icky taste. I missed it.”

“How unprofessional of you. Acting like a teenager, when you on the cusp of thri -- URK!?” Scarlett would gag, as she was buffeted from both sides of her face by Naomi’s wings, and discombobulated for a moment, before shaking her head. “Bruh.”

“YOU DON’T REVEAL A LADY’S AGE SO GILBLY!” Naomi snapped, bits of her feathered hair smoldering, as she turned to confront Scarlett.

“So, you would smote me upon the sword to keep it secret,” Scarlett asks. “I only have the one life to work with, you know.”

“And look how you are using it. Smoking, still. Picking fights. Exhibitionism. Slandering my age as a humble scientist of twenty-years, and nothing more, nothing less,” Naomi says, huffing. “I risk myself to save you, and even kissed you without prompt, even though you taste like that icky smoke.”

“Of all my old flames, you still burn as brightly as the day we parted; separated by the callings of science and religion,” Scarlett says, taking her hands. “For days and nights, you were my reason for prayer, and guiding light. My sun. My moon. My north star. Never forgotten,” she says, “Miss Schuller, you are a brilliant Harpy, inside and out, even now, at twenty-seven-years-old.”

Naomi’s cheeks were glowing pink from Scarlett’s sermon, before she realized the callout, and the pink turned red, like her wings, as she channeled Elemental Magic... and whipped a hurricane at her point-blank.

And, Scarlett would tumble off laughing.

Huffing, Naomi would cross her arms, and retreat to Rozemye and Elaine to pout.

As the sunset, the Shining Jewel of Caigehn would bloom in the darkness. Cambridge, named after the First Popess, Zianmera Cambridge, as a bridge between Yoake-Hua and Caigehn in the Days of Yore, now a bustling metropolis. It was not dissimilar to Morgenröte, almost to the point of being sister-cities, but Cambridge offered nothing in the way of technological progress. Instead, she shined on sound, stage, and screen, dominating cultural enlightenment of all that strode her streets. Entertainment capital of Caigehn, Cambridge is host to all kinds of stories...

From the brightest rising stars to the hopeless and fallen...

“It writhes when She is near... the Slithering Goddess...” mused a towering Belua, of armored carapace and unbridled menace, a rare Insectoid, “The Serpent Thief steals its rest, so it might ne'er wake...”

“Never took you for the scripture reading type...” counter-mused another Belua, one of serenity and unspoken threat, a blue-furred Feline, “Religion is fairytale for adults to perpetuate childhood fears, Dharnef. The wise does not allow the potential of the unknown to rule them.”

“Yet, so, doth the fool mistake dismissal of the unknown to uphold them, Talaf,” Dharnef shot back, monotone, no heat. “Thou art aware, in fullness of heart, of the world beyond,” he accused without malice, “Thou callst upon thine own ancestral kith and kin as spirit to aid thee, yet though wouldst brook there art no Divine beyond the Six, no Seven?”

“Even the Six are sketchy at the best of times,” Talaf says, unmoved by the philosophy. “Everyone knows the fairytale of the Eight Days. Light and Dark mated, and birthed a son and daughter, and rinse and repeat down to six,” he says, “All I take away is the grandkids passed on the incest ritual. There's no Seventh, no Serpent, no Apple...”

“Yet, it still writhes... the larva...”" Dharnef says, motioning to the pedestaled apple - the size of a wild pumpkin - softly glowing within the darkness of the sewer hideaway.

“Say what you will about that google-eyed jester, he was invaluable in locating this beast of a fruit,” Talaf says. “Still, it's just an oversized apple. I doubt there's anything inside there. Kinnich is just -- ”

" -- what, lad? Do tell. I'm listening with open ears," offered the third of the Belua, a beast of sheer reputation, a crimson-scaled Reptile.

“Come off it,” Talaf sighed, “You don't truly believe there's something sleeping in there?”

"I do, lad, I do..." Kinnich say, grinning wickedly, as he stroked the apple. "It just needs the perfect, noisy party..."

“Festivites,” Dharnef asks, “Thou would undo its sleep more? If it does not rest, it shalt ne’er mature completely.”

”O’ contrae, laddie.” Said the crimson beast. ”My intentions lie with its quickened maturity.”

“Holding a grudge against the social elite,” Talaf asks, before jerking a thumb back, “Or, you looking for a pet Human like that one of there,” he asks, as a woman stood motionless in the corner of the room, eyes empty, yet her expression was stern and focused; a solider of the Elite Guard, the finest of the Adventurer’s Guild - the unsung other half of Cambridge’s elite. “Dharnef can work his magicks on a woman, if that’s what you’re hurting for.”

Talaf’s smirk exposed his true intentions with that line of questioning: he was just being an ass.

Kinnich squinted at his feline cohort, then shook his head with a light chuckle.

”No, my boy. A spirited ape, she may be, I intend to use ‘er fire to fuel somethin’ else.” He looked intently at the apple as he uttered those words, then at the woman. A defeated warrior who thought to quell one of the continent's deadliest scourges. Whether it be cruel fate or bad luck, success was not found.

“Kindling, might she be, thou shalt be mindful to not break her before she catches flame,” Dharnef warned.

With a small scoff, Kinnich walked over to the strung up woman, gruffly grabbing her chin with his clawed hand. Staring into her eyes, he saw the hatred, the anger, and the disgust.

“Careful, Valeniquen,” Talaf warned, “Eyes like that reflect. Look deeply enough with your own hatred, and that's all you'll see.”

“Exercise caution in expressing thine emotions,” Dharnef seconded, “Thou art as wrathful as the sun above. Do not be blinded by thine own anger and mistake it where there is none,” he says, “Mine puppet is without, thou art burning with.”

“It's rare that Dharnef and I are in agreement with anything,” Talaf says, leaving it at that.

Emotionless. Motionless. Ivalice Schuller would just... acknowledge Kinnich with eyes devoid of anything but the reflection of his own. There was no woman before him, but a puppet with a name and a parasite of Gladric Magic curled around her brain like a warm blanket.

Hatred. Anger. Disgust.

These emotions were gone, as the parasite chewed on her thoughts, and kept her pacified and controlled.

All Kinnich was seeing was his own emotion, reflected, like an abyss screaming back at him.

There was something that stirred inside Kinnich indeed, something…unnatural perhaps? The inferno of emotions that boiled in him seemed to be all that kept him going. With a snarl, he snickered a bit and turned to Dharnef.

”Tell me boy, would ye find the lass a worthy vessel for this wretched fruit?”

“Rough diamonds lie everywhere,” Dharnef stated, plainly. “Thou art merely consumed with future to see thine present.”

“So, good thing you have us, you blind snake,” Talaf smirked, as he clapped Kinnich’s shoulder.

Kinnich's eyes made a furrow at his left and right hand.

”I feel you boys only see meat and women…” He said with a disappointed tone.

“Sounds like something you would say,” Talaf says, “Now, then, we have a ritual to finish.”

”Hehehe, indeed laddie.” Kinnich agreed. ”I believe the lass looks quite famished. Dharnef, if you would.”

With that, the scaly bastard moved the apple right to Ivalice's mouth, her eyes still vacant and dull.

Talaf looked at Kinnich, puzzled, before Dharnef would raise a finger, and Ivalice would take hold of the apple, devouring it to the core.

”Patience cat.” Kinnich said to Talaf, as he watched Ivalice devour the last bit of the apple core.

“Oi,” Talaf says, “Covert missions can be real loud, real quick, with a single misspeak...” he warns, arms crossed.

A large grin appeared on Kinnich's face. He often enjoyed teasing, in spite of the situation. With the apple having been eaten, the three would watch to see what would unfold.

Not for long of course.