Emeth

Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames

"Be that as it may..?" Ashley prompts him to continue as she watches for Xara, blocking the stairs with her leg. Ashley knew from firsthand experience how vindictive the fairer sex could be, and wasn't prepared to believe the redhead's version of events merely because she'd amassed a crowd of "witnesses," especially since Kavius honestly didn't look that guilty to her. She supposed it was possible Kavius simply had the same mastery over his own emotions that Ashley reckoned she did hers—though, at his age, it was unlikely.

Ashley let out something like a mix between a groan and a sigh of relief. "That explosion was you, huh? Well, we should set sail anyway, before Redhead changes her mind." For a proper-lady-knight type, Ashley seemed surprisingly okay with this, but Kavius didn't know that Ashley had just dodged about 30 arrows.

"Does the stinkboat smell worse somehow to you now? Like some new nasty smell?"

Ashley covers her mouth, concealing a condescending smirk. "Kid, I'm a knight. I've spent my whole life surrounded by nasty smells. The stables, dung-caked criminals with infected wounds, decaying corpses, bleach—sometimes all of the above. Compared to that, the smell of fish is—" she inhales sharply as a new smell approaches her from behind. It was the strong smell of perfume, mixed with the weaker scent of love potion and just a hint of alcohol—a combination Ashley found intimidating. She turned and was surprised to find Tonka standing there, cradling Aleria in her arm. I knew this woman was dangerous... She's like a feral beast!

Tonka looked down at Ashley with the same type of gaze, since she smelled just about the same to her—minus the alcohol—and no-one was getting any points for guessing who she would take to a hotel, given the chance. They both stared at each other with a mix of disbelief and awe. One had ostensibly just bedded the son of a duke, and the other, a chaste maiden of the holy church. It wasn't immediately apparent which feat was more impressive, but they weren't about to talk about it with everyone else eavesdropping.

Don't ask, don't tell? Ashley's face seemed to suggest.

Agreed, said the nod from Tonka as she passed Ashley, carrying Aleria to her bunk.

Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames

Ashley was closely watching the slightest movements of everyone who stood out from the crowd, which was difficult given the colorful and festive nature of many of its members. Her concentration was broken when Mikhail suddenly started pulling her by the hand. How do you expect me to draw my sword like this? Oi! she thought, glaring at him accordingly—but he was focused entirely on getting to that bar. "Mmh." Ashley made a half-hearted sound of protest, well beneath the noise level of the crowd. Were she a helpless maiden, she supposed that Mikhail's "man-on-a-mission" face might be really charming, but right now she wasn't feeling it.

She was visibly worried when she couldn't find Tonka or Aleria in the crowd at the bar, and audibly groaned when Troe confirmed that they were missing. "This is bad. Only a third of us are accounted for, and the captain probably won't leave without Table Hopper." Ashley tries to leave—stumbling a bit—when she realizes that Mikhail is still holding on to her hand. "Move it, boys!" said the boyish mage to the two grown men, wresting her hand free from Mikhail's grip.

Ashley's face and movements became noticeably less tense when she suddenly spotted something. "There!" she said, pointing toward Aleria, who was riding on Tonka's shoulders. Aleria seemed to notice Ashley too, as she was waving, seemingly in her direction—or maybe she was still a bit drunk—not that Ashley could tell from this distance.

As it turned out, Ashley was surprisingly easy to spot. It was as if the dark mage's very presence sucked the light and color from the crowd, creating a pale spot of duller hues that drew Aleria's attention—or maybe, she was still a bit drunk. Ashley's hand gestures seemed to indicate that she'd spotted them, and that she wanted to meet up at the boat.

Pushing through the crowd, this time on her own, Ashley made it close to the boat without being trampled. The crowd was thicker here, and angrier—not a good sign. Eventually, she finds herself face to face with the redheaded girl spearheading this "protest," currently arguing with one of Tedrius' crew. "Peace! Peace, at once, in the name of the law!" Ashley shouted, projecting her best "knightly" voice further and louder than those standing nearest to her would have ever expected—fruits of her training, one could suppose.

The "peace" Ashley asked for was marred somewhat by the slight din of chaos still going on in the background, but it was serviceable for her needs. "I've heard the gist, loud and clear. Now, one of you, please calmly give me the details," she says sternly, eyeing the redhead.

"Are you in charge of that black-haired blackheart?" she demands, a bit subdued compared to before, but still furious.

"That depends on the context. Who is she talking about?" Ashley asks, turning toward Ted's man. He whispers the name to her.

Ashley's stern face melts, replaced by one of concern. "You poor girl!" she suddenly cries out, in a distinctly feminine voice, catching the redhead and many of the other women off guard. "Did he attack you?! Are you hurt?!" she breathes, leaning toward the redhead, who was shorter than her for a change. As if suddenly realizing that she'd lost her composure, she takes a step back and clears her throat.

"Uh, n-no, I'm fine—he didn't hurt me, per se... he... he peeped on me in the bath," she says in a low voice, as if suddenly embarrassed.

Ashley softly embraced the girl, comforting her. "Thank the Goddess," she whispers to the motionless redhead. "That man is more dangerous than you know. I've been tracking him... and once he leads me to his hideout, I'll make him pay. I swear," she grits her teeth and tightens her embrace, before suddenly letting go of her. "Go. You and your friends get somewhere safe—now. Leave him to me, okay?" she says to the redhead, giving her a determined smile.

"O-Okay!" the redhead blurted out, getting swept up in the moment and taking a few steps away from the boat.

Ashley turns, smirking proudly. The 'gap' always puts them on the back foot, she thought, satisfied with her performance. Getting her to admit that Kavius didn't attack her probably helped calm her down, too.

"Hey," Ashley calls after the redhead. "Name's Elizabeth," she said, indicating to everyone that knew her that this was an act. "Let's meet again," she said insincerely, waving the back of her hand to the girl.

"Yeah! Go get 'im, Liz!" she shouted.

"You're so cool, miss!" another girl called out to Ashley as she boarded the boat.

"...Maaan. I thought she looked like some lame pushover, before. To think I almost bagged a knight," the tall girl from before groaned.

"If you did, we'd have been in real trouble," her business partner replied, laughing nervously. "The scary pirate lady saved us, there."

The crowd of girls began discussing whether or not this "Elizabeth" character was an undercover knight or a bounty hunter, and which would be cooler, as they walked away.

Ashley, meanwhile, barged below decks, clearly unhappy with Kavius. "I heard you peeped on some girls in the hot spring—care to explain?" she begins, with a false smile. Then, she remembers the more important matter at hand. "Who's accounted for?" she demands coolly, looking around. Sam's still here, poor girl. ...No mushroom girl... but she probably flaked out, like I hoped she would. She's too young to die on a suicide mission. Overdosed in an alley is still tragic, but it's a peaceful way to go by comparison. That just leaves...

"Where's Table Hopper?" she asks Kavius calmly, as though she hadn't just glared daggers at him over the hot spring incident.

|- Book Club -|

Axelle Leroux

「 "Can I really make the world a better place with powers like these?" 」







Name → Axelle Leroux
Nicknames → Alex, Lexie, Xella
Age → 18
Birthdate → May 14, 1999
Height/weight → 5'9'' 133lbs / 175cm 60kg

♥ Poised ♥ Preppy ♥ Protective ♥ Passive ♥ Prickly ♥ Perfidious ♥

The easygoing, "straight Bs" type of student who could excel if she tried, but has no passion for studying in a rigorous manner. She comes across as the type who doesn't pay attention in class or to other people's needs, but somehow or other manages to rise to the occasion when needed. Despite her unassuming demeanor, she has an excellent memory, an eye for details, and a bit of a deceptive-but-soft side. One of her favorite tricks is doing her friend a big favor in exchange for a smaller one—the old "help me help you" ploy, except that she uses it in the other's favor instead of her own. Though she rarely loses her composure, she has a tendency to forcefully push people away when they get too close to figuring her out. She won't accept any notion that her friends might owe her something for her alleged kindness, and won't accept something for nothing. Receiving gifts makes her feel awkward and even anxious, even from obligations like birthdays or Valentine's day.

Like many girls her age, she wants to make the world a better place, but has no idea where to start. She wants to be a good person, but isn't really sure what that means. She understands that it probably means helping people, but it turns out that, secretly, she doesn't actually like working with people all that much—working with people who are broken and needy, even less so. She seems like the kind of person who has her life put together, and doesn't have much patience for anyone who isn't just like her. In reality, she's simply been burned too many times, and doesn't want to let anyone take advantage of her deeply buried desire to be useful. Both of her parents are, in her own words, "worthless Wall Street babies" who have never worked a day in their lives, and if you were to ask her, she'd tell you that she aspires to nothing greater. Really, she's not sure what she should do with her life, but she does know she wants to be better than them, and that's something.

She's the kind of person who's only passionate about their hobbies, and her hobbies are more like short-term obsessions that change like the seasons and disappear swiftly as the wind. She'll discover something completely new, indecisively ponder a while about whether it's a good fit for her, then suddenly throw herself headfirst into the deep end of the subject, quickly becoming a certified expert on the topic, only to lose interest and drop it like a penny into a wishing well. Her newest obsession is blogging.

She's the type who thinks deeply about everyone and everything, except her own happiness; she's easily swept along by her friends' whims. She's trying to go vegan, even though she loves eggs. She tries to adjust her lifestyle to "save the planet," even though the lifestyle seems expensive, and she's quite frugal. She says "I'll think seriously about it" every time her parents bring up the topic of marriage, even though she likes girls. Now, she's pursuing journalism, because maybe emotionally-charged photos and flowery language can convince people to care about others who are suffering. Or perhaps she can expose corruption, ruining those who abuse power, and uprooting systems of oppression. Of course, people will accuse her of having all kinds of ulterior motives—a cozy "fake job," the thrill of the taboo, power tripping over hit pieces—but that's fine. It's better if her peers think of her as selfish.

♥ ʟɪᴋᴇs ♥ Cinnamon Buns ♥ Coffee Shop Vibes ♥ Lazy Days ♥
♥ ᴅɪsʟɪᴋᴇs ♥ Bullies ♥ Hypocrites ♥ Loud Parties ♥
♥ ǫᴜɪʀᴋs ♥ Prefers Vinyl over FLAC ♥ Breakfast All Day ♥ Laughs at Dad Jokes ♥

Spells

• Rose's Thorns
  
  • Nightmare Nettle: Drain the enemy's life force with sticky thorns that sting like hornets.
  • Ghastly Garden: Roots or vines bind the enemy, immobilizing a part of their body.
  • Peculiar Pheromone: Summons a swarm of insects that can be commanded with sweet words.

• Mother's Resentment
  
  • Perplexing Pappus: Touch fuzzy, get dizzy. Mesmerizes and disorients the enemy.
  • Fiendish Fruit: Balls of sticky barbs that interfere with the enemy's movements.
  • Seeds of Suffering: Once infected with spores, the enemy's self-healing effects are stopped.

• Toxic Love
  
  • Agony: A crimson storm of rose petals laced with an oily and deadly poison.
  • Torpor: A sticky black sap which produces fumes that, when inhaled, cause drowsiness and lethargy.
  • Fugue: A red oily nectar that, when absorbed, may cause enemies to flee in terror and suffer a lapse in memory.

Weaknesses

• When milliseconds matter, plant-based attacks are only seconds away!
• Attacking with spores, fluids, and flower petals? How's the weather today?
• Did I get some on you?! Oh gosh, I'm sorry! Here, use my handkerchief...

TRIVIA → Keeps an audio diary on cassette tapes. That's safe, right? Yeah. Nobody uses those anymore.

|- Book Club -|

Axelle Leroux

「 "Can I really make the world a better place with powers like these?" 」





Name → Axelle Leroux
Nicknames → Alex, Lexie (Endearing) | Axol (Demeaning)
Age → (18)
Birthdate → May 14, 1999
Height/weight → 5'9'' 133lbs / 175cm 60kg

♥ Poised ♥ Preppy ♥ Practical ♥ Passive ♥ Prickly ♥ Perfidious ♥

The easygoing, "straight Bs" type of student who could excel if she tried, but has no passion for studying in a rigorous manner. She comes across as the type who doesn't pay attention in class or to other people's needs, but somehow or other manages to rise to the occasion when needed. Despite her unassuming demeanor, she has an excellent memory, an eye for details, and a bit of a deceptive-but-soft side. One of her favorite tricks is doing her friend a big favor in exchange for a smaller one—the old "help me help you" ploy, except that she uses it in the other's favor instead of her own. Though she rarely loses her composure, she has a tendency to forcefully push people away when they get too close to figuring her out. She won't accept any notion that her friends might owe her something for her alleged kindness, and won't accept something for nothing. Receiving gifts makes her feel awkward and even anxious, even from obligations like birthdays or Valentine's day.

Like many girls her age, she wants to make the world a better place, but has no idea where to start. She wants to be a good person, but isn't really sure what that means. She understands that it probably means helping people, but it turns out that, secretly, she doesn't actually like working with people all that much—working with people who are broken and needy, even less so. She seems like the kind of person who has her life put together, and doesn't have much patience for anyone who isn't just like her. In reality, she's simply been burned too many times, and doesn't want to let anyone take advantage of her deeply buried desire to be useful. Both of her parents are, in her own words, "worthless Wall Street babies" who have never worked a day in their lives, and if you were to ask her, she'd tell you that she aspires to nothing greater. Really, she's not sure what she should do with her life, but she does know she wants to be better than them, and that's something.

She's the kind of person who's only passionate about their hobbies, and her hobbies are more like short-term obsessions that change like the seasons and disappear swiftly as the wind. She'll discover something completely new, indecisively ponder a while about whether it's a good fit for her, then suddenly throw herself headfirst into the deep end of the subject, quickly becoming a certified expert on the topic, only to lose interest and drop it like a penny into a wishing well. Her newest obsession is blogging.

She's the type who thinks deeply about everyone and everything, except her own happiness; she's easily swept along by her friends' whims. She's trying to go vegan, even though she loves eggs. She tries to adjust her lifestyle to "save the planet," even though the lifestyle seems expensive, and she's quite frugal. She says "I'll think seriously about it" every time her parents bring up the topic of marriage, even though she likes girls. Now, she's pursuing journalism, because maybe emotionally-charged photos and flowery language can convince people to care about others who are suffering. Or perhaps she can expose corruption, ruining those who abuse power, and uprooting systems of oppression. Of course, people will accuse her of having all kinds of ulterior motives—a cozy "fake job," the thrill of the taboo, power tripping over hit pieces—but that's fine. It's better if her peers think of her as selfish.

♥ ʟɪᴋᴇs ♥ Cinnamon Buns ♥ Coffee Shop Vibes ♥ Lazy Days ♥
♥ ᴅɪsʟɪᴋᴇs ♥ Bullies ♥ Hypocrites ♥ Loud Parties ♥
♥ ǫᴜɪʀᴋs ♥ Prefers Vinyl over FLAC ♥ Breakfast All Day ♥ Laughs at Dad Jokes ♥

Spells

• Rose's Thorns
  
  
  
  • Viper: Drain the enemy's life force with sticky thorns that sting like hornets.
  • Constrictor: Roots or vines bind the enemy's arms, legs, neck or head.
  • Anaconda: Combo attack with Constrictor; slowly squeeze an immobilized enemy to death.

• Mother's Resentment
  
  
  
  • Perplexing Pappus: Touch fuzzy, get dizzy. Mesmerizes and disorients the enemy.
  • Fiendish Fruit: Balls of sticky barbs that interfere with the enemy's movements.
  • Seeds of Suffering: Once infected with spores, the enemy's self-healing effects are stopped.

• Toxic Love
  
  
  
  • Agony: A crimson storm of rose petals laced with an oily and deadly poison.
  • Torpor: A thick, sticky sap which produces fumes that, when inhaled, cause drowsiness and lethargy.
  • Fugue: An oily nectar that, when absorbed, may cause enemies to flee in terror and suffer a lapse in memory.

Weaknesses

• When milliseconds matter, plant-based attacks are only seconds away!
• Attacking with spores, fluids, and flower petals? How's the weather today?
• Did I get some on you?! Oh gosh, I'm sorry! Here, use my handkerchief...

TRIVIA → Keeps an audio diary on cassette tapes. That's safe, right? Yeah. Nobody uses those anymore.

...is ready to get schooled!

|- Book Club -|

I haven't seen RWBY or WITCH, but if you're fine with me revising the design of my character a couple times, I'll take a stab at something.

I was going to say lavender, but by the time I got home from work I was beaten to the punch. Oops.

A few questions for you:

What's a flowerpot character? My best guess is that it's a fragile or helpless character who won't grow without intervention from other players, but I'd like to be sure.

What's the relation between spells and sub-spells? Are spells a category (like ice), and sub-spells are the specific attacking moves?

Actually, I'll read anything you have for how magic works in your setting, even if it's long.

I'm on Discord pretty much all the time, so a server would help me out a lot!

Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames

Ashley sat in the windowsill, her back against one side and her right foot against the other while she waited for Mikhail. From here, she had a clear view of not just the ocean, but also the door to their hotel suite as well as the streets. Her bored gaze wandered between the room, the streets, and the ocean. With each ship that appeared on the horizon, Ashley's left hand instinctively reached for her pocket-sized book of scriptures, and remained there until she was sure that it wasn't the Santa Lyrica. There seemed to be some commotion in the streets about a pervert on the loose, but Ashley thought little of it. Wow. A pervert. Who could have imagined dressing like that would cause lewd men to come out from the woodwork, she thought self-righteously. A lady like her was above such brazen tactics as showing off her skin to strangers. Hers was an educated woman's game—one that worthless men like that would surely fail every time.

Aside from her newest contestant, an exception whom she tries to push to the back of her mind for the time being.

Realizing that she'd been impatiently looking at the door to the bath for a moment too long—as if expecting to see something—her slightly embarrassed gaze wanders around the room. Abruptly, she had a revelation: Ah. This is a couple's suite, after all. With every thing she noticed that wouldn't be in a normal hotel room, her cheeks became a slightly brighter shade of red. Okay, maybe I am a bit brazen myself.

Suddenly, something breaks her train of thought—a bang, which would have been barely perceptible at ground level, in the noisy streets below. From her vantage point, she could see smoke rising in the distance, and as she watched it, she felt her heart beating faster. Had they disembarked higher up the coast, and approached on foot? It became apparent in that moment that Ashley didn't know what her pursuers looked like—she only knew what ship she needed to steer clear of. Eyes locked on to the smoke, she listens for another explosion, barely noticing Mikhail's return as she hopes desperately to be wrong.

"Anything show up yet?" he asked, but received no reply.

No second explosion. Either it was nothing, or the battle she imagined might be happening was already over—a bad sign.

Various feelings—instincts, Ashley called them—waged a war for dominance in Ashley's mind. Torn between her desire as a knight to investigate and protect the peace of this place, and her duty to guard Mikhail, Aleria, and the mission, her face betrayed no emotions—only the urgent look of someone thinking fast. Underneath the darkness clouding her heart, there may have once been a scared, helpless girl who was in over her head, but now, she couldn't feel anything that she would call "fear." Instead, perhaps, there was a "weight" of responsibility.

"I wish I could give a clear answer. Did you feel that?" Ashley asked Mikhail. Surely, she thought, the bathwater must have been shaken as a result of the explosion. "Either way, we've no more time for luxuries. We're regrouping," she says plainly, exiting the room and holding the door open for Mikhail. As she said this, she scowled at herself for not having given everyone some kind of signal to watch out for—or, at the bare minimum, a deadline to return to the ship. Remembering her remark to the captain about "herding cats," she couldn't help but wonder if she could be so lucky a second time.

Everyone is counting on you. If you can't act like a leader—with or without coffee—you should just let Mikhail take over.

As these thoughts are going through her mind, she almost forgets to toss the hotel key into the wooden bowl sitting on the desk at reception. That's when she remembers that Mikhail still has her money. She looks at him as if to ask for it back, but then turns away and keeps walking, as though now weren't the time to worry about it. Or perhaps, she thought their funds were safer with him, after all.

Unfortunately, she only knew where one person was, and it was the person she considered the most dangerous of the nine. However, someone as tall as her would have a much easier time trying to find someone in a crowd than either of them, so Ashley felt it was her best move. "We know where Tonka is. Let's get her first. Lead the way," she said to Mikhail, drawing closer to him. One hand on her scabbard, she eyes everyone in the crowd warily, as if unsure who she were looking for. She seemed almost... no, she was definitely tense.

Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames

Ashley locked the door to the bath and sighed. Finally, something resembling privacy. Although... her newfound solitude left her feeling somehow... unsatisfied. Why, though? Propping up her swords in a handy location near the bath, the emotionally stunted dark mage tried to reason with the restless feeling in her heart as she slowly removed her garments one by one.

Did she... want company? No—even if she were suddenly struck with the odd desire to share a bath with someone—something she'd never done before, nor did she want to try—she'd obviously have invited Aleria first. Actually, why did she drag Mikhail along, anyway? Even if it was spur of the moment, it would have been easier to attach herself to Tonka, and going to a hotel with her would have been less awkward. Still, out of everyone in the group, Mikhail was most worthy of her rarely-given trust. It wasn't as though she expected a man like him to make a move on her. Did she... actually want him to make a move? No, surely she didn't. It wasn't as though she intended to bed a man she had no intention of marrying. Not that she wouldn't marry him, if she could—like, if he asked her—but there was no way she was going to ask him. She was beneath him, and that would be inappropriate—well, it was a bit too late to worry about propriety—but there was certainly, absolutely no way he would ever ask her, even if he didn't care about the difference in their social status—for a multitude of reasons Ashley promised herself she wouldn't dwell on anymore.

Yet, no matter how much she didn't want to dwell on it, one of those reasons was now staring right at her from the mirror next to the bath. It stared at Ashley with the narrowed, tired eyes of a caffeine addict. Stripped of her rank as a knight captain, her sorcerer's garb, and the semi-formal men's clothing she wore underneath, she was now both undeniably a woman, and one who looked almost ten years younger—and she hated it. She was shorter even than most women—not helped by the fact that she refused to wear heels. Bandages covered her forearms, calves, and "inadequate" bust, concealing scars which, had she been born a man, she figured she could wear proudly—but on a woman, she thought they were unsightly. Those muscles, though modest enough for a lady knight, would be more fitting on a man, too, she concluded. No feminine charm whatsoever, she thought bitterly, reminiscing on the few noblemen who had attempted to court her over the nearly three years she'd been a knight. This immature body... but once they learn that I'm 28 and self-sufficient, they lose interest! Scum like them should just jump off a cliff, right into a trash fire! Ashley splashed a handful of water onto the mirror, distorting the image. She sighed again, and began unwrapping her bandages. She needed to focus on the task at hand, not wallow in her regrets and bitterness. Ashley inhaled sharply as she stuck her bare legs into the bath. The pain from her scars wasn't unbearable, but it was enough discomfort to serve as a reminder of her past mistakes. She takes a moment to allow the pain to subside before sitting down. As she did, she suddenly realized why she felt so unsatisfied by Mikhail's underwhelming reactions to her antics—unlike the other men in her life, she couldn't place him.

Noble, commoner. Man, woman. Teacher, student. Knight, civilian. Leader, subordinate. Ashley's mother had ingrained in her the need to follow particular social conducts around different types of people. Ashley only thrived in social situations with people she could categorize, and with roles she could play—but Mikhail defied any kind of expectations she could use to find out what "script" she should use when interacting with him. He was not a typical noble, nor a typical man—and though he was still a squire, he didn't act like a typical knight, either. At a loss for how to handle him, she'd just defaulted to saying whatever came to her mind, and doing whatever she felt like doing. No matter what she said or did, though, Mikhail seemed to just blithely accept it. What was he really thinking, underneath all that indifference? Was Mikhail the kind of man who could accept her faults? Or did he really not care at all? No, rather, why should he care? It's true that she felt pretty close to him lately, but they'd hardly said a word to each other before the last three days. Sure, a detail-oriented dark mage like her could learn a lot about a person from very few interactions—such skill was a tool of the trade—but Mikhail was a pretty ordinary guy. He barely knew her at all, and had no real motive to get to know her more. He also vowed to protect everyone, not just her. She really did just kind of casually ignore that part, didn't she?

How... depressing.

Ashley rubs her temples furiously with her palms. You're just being selfish. You haven't taken his feelings into account even once. You're flirting with him, even though you know it'd never work, and you're getting disappointed when you don't get something you never asked for, and wouldn't accept even if he was unreasonable enough to offer it. You ridiculous mess of a woman. Go find a hole to crawl into and die of embarrassment already.

Dunking her head into the bath, she lets out a silent scream of self-directed frustration before begrudgingly bringing herself back to a sitting position so she could breathe again. Why do I need coffee and a bath to get rid of the cobwebs in my brain, so I can think through such simple problems? I must have the emotional awareness of a spider.

Looking around the room for something to distract herself from how pathetic she felt, her uninterested gaze glanced from perfume to perfume before turning full circle back to the corner where she had propped up her sword, which she had dueled Kavius with—and another sword, which she had kept concealed and shown to no one. My secret weapon. I wonder what kind of face that worrywart would make if he knew I'd spent most of my last bonus on a cursed sword, Ashley thought, smirking as she imagined Lord Clive trying to lecture her about something she understood better than he did. Rather than the Devil Sword, she had opted to show Clive the other thing she'd bought: a Prayer Ring. She'd bought it early, expecting that she'd have to offset the lack of support from her team of combat medics somehow, but with Aleria coming along, it would hopefully be a redundant measure.

Suddenly, she remembered something about Prayer Rings. They were commonly bought by love-struck maidens, and gifted to gallant knights on their way to the battlefield, as a promise to be reunited. Now, she found herself wondering what kind of message Clive must have thought she'd been trying to convey, buying her own ring and showing it to him. Suddenly, Ashley's head found itself submerged in the bath again.

Eventually, Ashley would realize that she'd been clean some time ago, and begin the slow and tedious process of drying herself with a towel, re-wrapping nearly her entire body in clean bandages, and putting her clothes back on over those bandages without disturbing them too much. The arduous process was a small price to pay for an extra layer of defense against the elements, the cut-purse's knife, and most importantly of all, the prying eyes of the curious. She would show her body to no one—but her shameful scars, above all, must remain a secret—even from the healers, if such a thing were conceivable.

Ashley emerged from the door to the bath, looking as sharp as she did on the day of departure—sans her cape and arm band, which she had left on the boat when she'd stumbled out of bed. "All right, your turn," she says to Mikhail, tying her hair up. Now with her mild bedhead sorted, she looked... a bit like a butler. It was kind of amusing how removing one piece of clothing could have such an effect. "Is there something on my face?" Ashley said sternly, having seemingly fully returned to "lady knight" mode. "Get a move on. If you hadn't noticed, you stink too."

Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames

Her unsuccessful attempts at grappling hand-to-hand with Kavius still fresh in her mind, Ashley silently cursed at herself for being so weak. Where had all of her strength gone? Wait a minute, had she eaten anything at all aside from that swamp water she'd tried to turn into coffee? Oh, of course she hadn't! When she got into a working mode, Aunt Alma would often have to force her to eat. As if her body were suddenly reacting to this "new" information, Ashley noticed that her hands were shaking—not out of fear of what these girls might to do her in the hotel room bath, but out of hunger.

Change of plans. The bath could wait; what she needed more than anything right now was some food.

As Ashley began thinking of what she might say to the girls to get them to change course, Nitonka saved her the trouble—in a truly dramatic fashion that even left Ashley a little stunned. She was certainly awake now. This woman... was kind of a badass, huh. I wonder if she realizes that they were only after my money... or does she actually think I'm worth a second glance? Ashley wondered, a little bemused. Before Ashley could offer to buy her a drink, though, she walks away and another familiar face approaches.

"Would you like an escort?" came the slightly sarcastic, faux-gentleman voice. Forgetting her manners, Ashley snickered.

Rather than taking his hand, Ashley took the whole arm. Now he'd done it. He'd given her an inch, and she was going to take a mile... or so it seemed. Rather than feigning bashfulness and cracking some joke about how she'd scored her Santorini dream date with Mikhail exactly as planned, she simply leaned into him like someone who genuinely needed the help. "I need food, coffee, and a bath, and I don't care where, as long as it's me and you, no locals, and no ocean," she says as she slightly struggles to re-adjust to walking on solid ground.

Her veneer of "noble lady knight" charisma had been chipped away little by little over the past few days, at least around Mikhail. Was it because she was finally away from her mountain of duties back on Faroth-En, and felt no need to wear a mask in front of him? Had the camaraderie of the crew, cheering on their "little champ" lowered her guard a little? Or perhaps it was the cynical option: just a lack of coffee. Whatever the reason, she was acting unusually vulnerable today.

"Thanks... for catching me back there. Though I'm supposed to be protecting you, it ended up like this."

Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames

Ashley rose to the task of sailing like a champ—and that's what Ted's crew took to calling her when she was out of earshot: "little champ." Immediately making herself available as an additional hand on deck, she listened to everything Kavius had to say about seafaring with rapt attention, and it quickly became clear that she wasn't afraid to work up a sweat. When she wasn't working, it seemed like she was always thinking about something; mostly, she seemed to be thinking about ways to contribute.

"Would a hammock alleviate her motion sickness at all?" she'd eventually ask Kavius, considering Sam. "Might I bother you to spar with me? The way you move around on deck seems so natural—if I can't match your dexterity, I'll be a liability if we're boarded."

"I remember you said you were a healer, but are you comfortable defending yourself?" she'd later ask Aleria privately. "I'm not much of a healer, but I have supervised medical in mass casualty events before. We may be walking into one, so please, don't hesitate to ask me anything."

Ashley watched Nitonka try to learn magic with mild interest. If she's hoping that learning magic will give her an edge against me, she's wasting her time, she thought smugly at first. As Nitonka made progress, though, Ashley's opinion of the boisterous woman improved a lot, and she eventually began giving pointers herself. As a lady knight, she felt something of an obligation to halfheartedly protest Nitonka's crass way of speaking whenever Aleria was present, but she otherwise didn't seem to care much.

With introductions out of the way, it seemed as if Ashley was no longer interested in talking about herself; it was as if she'd already covered just about every piece of information she was willing to share, and had abruptly become utterly withdrawn and unsociable outside of anything that involved the task at hand. In fact, she even removed the arm band that she had been wholeheartedly showing off before. "It's poor manners to wear one's rank while off-duty," she claimed. The most anyone was able to pry out of her after that was that she was 28 and had no children, siblings or extended family "worth talking about." When asked about "Auntie," she would say only that she was "just a live-in attendant."

When it came to curses, however, she could talk an ear off, as Xara would find out. "It's a misnomer to say that a curse has been 'broken.' Truly destroying a well-designed curse like that would take mythical amounts of magic power that almost no human could handle. It's truly easier to reverse-engineer it, make the necessary changes to reverse its original effects, then re-activate it. It often takes multiple days and is ninety percent boring work—studying the runes, writing them down, double checking, triple checking—you can't afford to make mistakes when it comes to curses. Any cursemaker who's good at the craft will design a curse to be passed on to anyone who tries to mess with it. From the moment you first touch anything, you have about sixty seconds before that happens. That's the exciting part of the job. Sixty seconds of pure adrenaline, and hopefully hours of basking in dopamine for a job well done. There's no feeling like it on this earth."

She stuck to Mikhail like glue throughout the whole journey. Much to his relief, she relented on the teasing, but whether she did so out of consideration for his dignity or because she was simply too busy thinking about more important matters to find the time for it, one could only guess. Strangely, though, she didn't even look at him most of the time. She just followed him around as though she were his own shadow, hovering around him like a buzzard around a carcass, while keeping her eyes on everyone else but him. Though her behavior was unsettling, her reasons for doing so were not nearly so nefarious. Out of everyone on the ship, Mikhail was the only one she completely trusted as of now—he was her anchor—though she suspected the feeling was not mutual, and thus, never said so openly.

When Mikhail was not available, she buddied up with Aleria. "It feels safer with two of us here, doesn't it?" she'd remarked once, when it was just the two of them. She seemed a bit more open around her than everyone else, and a bit more considerate of her, too. Of course, it wasn't as though she was completely inconsiderate of everyone but Aleria and Mikhail—she'd spent a good half an hour on the hammock idea for Sam after all—falling over more than twice as she did, while the ship tossed and turned. But with Aleria, who she immediately took to calling by the nickname "Sister," Ashley was just noticeably friendlier, in a "I've just decided that we're going to be best friends" kind of way.

For the first day, first night, and second day of the trip, Ashley seemed invincible. She worked nearly constantly, taking only short breaks, and didn't even sleep the first night, as she was used to working for about 36 hours—sustained on coffee—then sleeping for about 12. By the second night, though, the withdrawal was becoming truly wretched. Her head ached like no part of her body had ever ached before, and not from lack of coffee, but rather, lack of good coffee. Trying to delicately boil a pot of coffee just right while the ship tossed and turned, using cheap equipment and cheap coffee grounds, was like trying to wash women's delicates using a waterfall of runoff from a cattle farm. She attempted to help during the second stormy night, but despite the chaos she somehow managed to pass out while standing up and would have fallen overboard if Mikhail and one of Ted's crew hadn't caught her. At least, she thought the other guy was one of Ted's crew, but for some reason, someone called him Xaru. Wait, wasn't his name Xara, not Xaru? Ashley couldn't be bothered to think anymore. She only caught a few choice words out of the choice words Mikhail had for her after that as she stumbled her way below decks and collapsed into her bunk, exhausted.

Now, after almost an entire day of lying in bed with a killer headache, micro-sleeping betwixt the ocean's waves and idle thoughts about dulling the pain with mushrooms—and a night full of sleep so deep it might have been mistaken for death—Ashley rose from her "coffin locker" with only two things on her mind. First, she needed coffee. Not just any coffee would do—she wanted the strongest, blackest coffee Santorini had to offer. Second, she wasn't about to drink it in some tourist trap, surrounded by chatty locals with thick accents, thick heads, and thick... well, anyway, she didn't want to be harassed by these women. She wanted room service. Coffee, and a damned bath.

Ashley shuffles out of bed, forgets to bring along either of her "escorts," and in no time at all is surrounded by giggling local girls looking for a dull-eyed mark—and though Ashley was just about the furthest thing from it, Ashley fit the physical description perfectly. She was short, which theoretically made her easier to isolate from the crowd and pressure into something, her fancy clothes set her apart as someone with money to spend, and most of all, Ashley just looked like a guy who was desperately in need of a good time. I'm a woman, though... she thought irritably.

"Come on! You'll love the hot springs! All your stress will just melt away~" the tallest girl coos suggestively, leaning in toward Ashley.

"I'm not interested," Ashley says flatly. Unable to find a girl her own height to look at instead, she just closes her eyes stubbornly.

"Aw, are you shy? Don't be! You're so handsome~" another girl says sweetly, stroking Ashley's hair. "Broody boys like you are popular, y'know?"

"Communal bathing is out of the question for me. Just tell me where I can find a hotel," Ashley barks, frustrated.

"Ooh! I do love a man who knows what he wants!" she says as she covers her non-existent blush, while the other girls giggle even more.

"Oi, you! That's not what I—unhand me!" Ashley twists her arm, trying to slip free of the girl's grasp—but her vice-like grip doesn't give. Ashley was astonished. She'd been forcefully grabbed by the hand many times, but never like this. Yeah, no crime my ass! These prices are criminal, and so are these girls! Isn't this a kidnapping?!

Fire Emblem: Sunken Flames

Ashley stifled the urge to fake a giggle as she watched Mikhail squirm. "I look forward to seeing more," she says as innocently and sincerely as she can, trying to keep the gag between them. Then, she approaches him, and turns deadly serious. "I mean it, though. If I'm taken down, you're in charge here. If anyone has a problem with that, tell them they can fight me." Leaning in to him, she covers her mouth and whispers one last thing. "I trust Aleria and Troe. Xara's a wildcard. Margot's harmless. Tonka is dangerous. Give me time on the other two, but if the chips fall, we can take them." She slaps his arm lightly, snickering, as though she'd merely been flirting with him again.

Yes, if the chips fell. If they did, the group would probably be divided by class. No noble would want to be done in by a commoner. In this, they could at least temporarily be united. Commoners, on the other hand, would eat each other, she thought. But despite their low birth, some of them were like that ugly bastard at the tavern, with their stupid barbarian's pride. Despite looking down on him, Ashley thought that Tonka had some of that same energy. She's probably waiting for an opportunity to get back at me for 'mouthing off,' or some nonsense. Still, given her attitude with that guy, at least she would probably just kill me and leave it at that.

Then there was Sam. For some inexplicable—even frustrating—reason, Ashley felt inclined to trust Sam, and she had no rational explanation for it. Indeed, she had no reason at all to trust her, and every reason not to. Was it because she was so plainspoken about her motives? Was it because her interest in money would make her easier to control? No, that was decidedly not it. But, it had to be that, because otherwise, what was it? Was it because she said Ashley looked like "better prospects?" Could she be so vain? No. Compliments from strangers meant nothing to Ashley. They were empty words used to garner favors—nothing more. But then, what? Ugh, I'm getting nowhere. How vexing.

Kavius was friendly. Way, way too friendly. Ashley could only remind herself so many times that this level of friendliness was to be expected from someone who didn't know her family history. His friendliness wasn't necessarily fake like that of the nobility. She'd almost have to fight the urge to distrust him, while trying to decide if he could be trusted. How awkward. Whether she could trust him or not would largely depend on Sam, since they seemed to be together. For now, all she really knew was that he had a tendency to find trouble, which could make him a liability. On the other hand, one must never underestimate the craftiness of street kids.

Then, there was Margot. By the Goddess would she be easy to control. The girl was an open book lying atop an unlocked toolbox. Ashley pitied her a bit. Such a waste. She has such great potential. Perhaps, if this mission doesn't break her resolve, I can convince her to be my student.

Xara was an unknown, and that bothered Ashley. The power he held right now as the friend of this gruff and tough captain—the situation couldn't possibly end fast enough. She certainly had better odds against him and the captain than against a group of thirty mercenaries, but that wasn't setting the bar very high. If Mikhail hadn't been here, Ashley wouldn't have even considered getting on this ship. If over half the crew hadn't left at the captain's mention of a "change of plans," she still would have looked for another ship.

Troe was a respectable scholar, at least in her eyes; perhaps Ashley could even consider him a colleague. As soon as possible, she needed to pull him aside for a strategy meeting regarding their mysterious enemy, but it could wait until after the first leg of their journey, when any members who had second thoughts—or were spies—could be dropped off at their first destination. If Troe had such second thoughts, she might have to get a little desperate while trying to convince him to stay. His cooperation would be crucial.

Aleria's arrival was a huge boon. Ashley was a specialist, and by no means a replacement for a dedicated healer. Having one easily doubled their odds of success, and if the group split, a girl from the church would never side with commoners against the nobility, Ashley thought. She was also the only other noblewoman in this ragtag group. If they had to share sleeping quarters, it was a given that they'd be together. A holy woman of the church sharing a room with a former holy woman turned to the dark arts—there was certainly potential for friction—but with friction came opportunities for such things as "healing" and "bonding." I'll be 'relying' on you, 'sister.' Heh.

Finally, there was Mikhail. If Ashley had to truly rely on someone, she'd prefer it to be him. To put it plainly, he didn't play the noble "game." He was honest, forthright, and bold. Even if he did seem to be a bit of a meathead—picking fights at the bar just because he can—at least he wasn't sleazy like all the other noble "gentlemen." Mikhail was sharp-witted enough to catch an innuendo, fun enough to let her have the joke, and—if she could use the word properly for once—noble enough to not take it as an invitation, even if he appeared to have a bit of a weakness for aggressive women. Ashley didn't hate this... much to her chagrin. I'll have to keep an eye on him, but I was planning on doing that anyway.