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So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
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Bio

Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?

Stay awesome, people.

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I think Agrarian is like super rural slang.

Like you have French, then Cajun French. It's similar enough to its roots, but you will struggle if you don't know either one very well.


Gotcha. I like it. With your permission, I kind of like the idea of it being the informal name for a series of related dialects common from southern Perrence, through Crisia, Enth, Eastern Kerremand, and Northern Helbahn: maybe a sort of creole language spoken in rural areas (hence the name).

Like, Enthish and Crisian people have distant Eskandish roots (as to Holmanians and Kerremans), but they're culturally closer to Perrence at this point.


Location: Outside the Storage Room >> the Telescope Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 09:52 // Interactions: Cerise @Medili, Akaia @Exit, Vincent, Ajax (mentioned)



Lysandra felt a twinge in her arm and that was it. She'd loaded all of her stuff, done all of her prep, and now she was just helping out of the goodness of her heart and maybe a slight sense of inadequacy. Her body was telling her that it had had enough and she needed to listen to it. Goddamned lucky revenants, she grumbled inwardly, never aging. She was on the wrong side of thirty now and the notion that she would start declining physically often nibbled away at the edges of her confidence. She finished with the bag she was loading and backed gingerly away from the van, rubbing at her bicep and grimacing slightly.

That's about when she noticed Cerise: another less-than-super-physical specimen also pitching in. They caught each other's eyes for a moment.

Cerise had already finished all her personal prep as well. Upon noticing Lysandra, she unsurprisingly immediately greeted her with her usual big warm smile on her face. "Oh, hi Lys! Are you done with your preparations? Do you need any help? I'm done, so I can give you some hands if you want!"

God, girl, how are so cheerful all the time? Lys arched an eyebrow. "I dunno, can you get rid of the lactic acid in my arms? 'Cause that'd be nice." She snorted, but paired it with a faint smile. "Nah, I'm good, sis, and as done with this as you are." She rolled her shoulder a bit. It was nothing. She was fine. Thank God. the last thing that she needed was a pull or a sprain. "Wanna head over to the scope room? Get the best seats?" she joked.

Cerise giggled lightly in response to Lysandra's remark. "If only I could. Unfortunately, all I can do is reduce the amount of iron in your body instead~" She stuck her tongue out slightly at that, feeling a little bit mischievous. "Anyways, sounds like a good idea to me! I think the general preparations are already done and everyone just need to finish their personal preps now. So let's go~" Finishing her words with a nod, Cerise then started walking to head to their destination.

Lysandra grinned. Cerise was not without wit, and there wasn't a barb there like there usually was with Ajax. She rolled alongside her friend, not bothering to avoid the tiles this time. It was a goofy habit, like a kid avoiding cracks in the sidewalk or purposely jumping from puddle to puddle, not that Cerise would ever be critical. It was nice to have people like that, who were just reliably... nice. A part of Lys wished that she could be that way. "Well, even if they're not," she tossed out there, "that new guy will handle things..." she knew his name, of course, but didn't want to make like she cared too much. That could be embarrassing. She lowered her voice. "If he doesn't break all our gear somehow."

Cerise walked beside Lysandra as they talked, a bag of supplies carried on her left shoulder while her rifle hung on her right shoulder. "'That new guy'?" Cerise contemplated it briefly, before she quickly realized who Lysandra meant. "Oh, you must be talking about Vincent then." She giggled again as she was also aware of how careless Vincent could be with things despite only knowing him for a few days. "True, I suppose. Still, he definitely seems nice enough!"

Lys nibbled her bottom lip for a second, trying to gauge Cerise's tone. That was the problem when someone was so damned nice all of the time. "Oh, he's definitely... nice," she replied lightly, keeping her tone neutral enough that she could maintain plausible deniability. Eyes quick as a wisp, she spared a glace in her friend's direction before flicking some hair over her shoulder and continuing on.

Being especially empathic, Cerise noticed the nuance of how Lysandra spoke her words. She glanced at Lysandra in return, still with a smile on her face. "You sound like you wanted to say something, Lys. Anything on your mind? You know I'm always up to listen if you have some worries or such that you want to let out!"

What Cerise had just said effectively translated to, "hehe, we can totally talk about him," just... in Cerise language. Lys kept her voice low. AB revenants had good hearing. "Okay, like... am I wrong in thinking that he's hot? I mean... those arms. That jawline. Sis..." Blushing and smirking at the same time, she made a chef's kiss gesture. She reached down for her wheels after a moment and sighed, deflating a little bit. "But such an idiot." She rolled her eyes.

Soon enough, they arrived at the Telescope & Strategy Room, entering as they kept on their gossip-y conversation. "Hmmmm. Well, to be honest-" Cerise started saying while also keeping her voice low like Lysandra "-I kind of get what you're saying. He is handsome, huh? But yes. Umm, it seems like he's more the physical type than the thinking type, hehe." She then sat down on a chair before continuing with her words. "Then again, I suppose that's also a part of his character; what's making him unique? Ahaha."

Lys pulled to a stop beside Cerise and a bit forward of her, clicking her brakes into place. "Girl, someday I'm gonna get you to say something not incredibly nice." She grinned. "Not today, though, looks like." She leaned forward, resting her elbows and forearms on the map table's cool stone surface and her chin, in turn, on them. "So hot," she murmured to herself. "So dumb." It was right about then that she noticed Akaia at the opposite end of the table, dressed and ready to go, and she realized that the latter part of her statement may just have served as a self-description. She'd been so in her own head. That wasn't like her at all. Lysandra sat right back up, unlocking her brakes and half-turning. "Oh, hey there, Akaia." She tried to suppress a blush, but it was hopeless. "You sure got here early!"


I'm going to say that Desmond is approved. Feel free to pop him in the character tab.

As an aside, I am heartily curious as to what 'Agrarian' is as a language.
This RPG has been around long enough now that we've passed the honeymoon stage and our droppers have dropped. A couple of new people have joined as well, but we do have room for one or two more if anyone is interested. Should you have any questions, don't hesitate to DM me.
Chapter Six: Flight by Night


Pandes, Vardes 29, Dami-Zept 54, 1:30 HD - 3:30 HD



Location: Campus (The Laughing Hyena, outside Arc-en-Ciel Hall, various bars and beer halls)
Interactions: Onarr Yidlob @Bork Lazer, Leon Solaire @Jumbus, Manfred Hohenfelter, Mayu Iovina [@Bel], Linah Aranda @SilverPaw, Selio Tavares @Bastian


For most of the student body, the fallout from the Conclave was not immediate. It was a subject of gossip that evening. Letters were sent home to family members. The Perrench and Eskandish were fired up. The Jorubans were uneasy and the Kerremans were proud. Yet, the majority of students continued about their business, settling into the beginnings of a routine.

The same could not be said for those with real power. Horik was fuming. The Zenos of Ersand'Enise scarce had time to offer him an honour guard before he stormed out of the city, galloping north towards what had been a safe port in Revidia when he'd first arrived. The Zenos had given him an honour guard that included many young Eskandish from well-known families, such as Anesin of Bjelke and Marlijn and Owen of Vaanse, in addition to foreign escorts from friendly nations such as Paggon and Rettan.

Scarce had the last refrain of 'Green Perrence' finished echoing through the cavernous Arc-en-Ciel Hall than Rouis was off into the night, stepping into his coach and being whisked away south, towards the friendly territory of Perrence. One did not get the sense that he was angry so much as stunned. An honour guard of ten Perrench students and two Zenos rode with him, the strongest - Penny Pellegrin and Jean Lascand - in his very coach.

Jobanzaggah had cut some sort of Eshiran's bargain to not be toppled himself and his displeasure was clear. Prudently, he had paid the onerous port fees of Ersand'Enise to have his personal ship moored at the city's docks. He made for it immediately following the night's proceedings, accompanied by a small guard notable for the presence of Jomurr III of House Ikon.

Meanwhile, the city's small community of Jorubans gathered at the Hyena's Laugh - the only Joruban-owned tavern in the city - both celebrating and discussing over drinks the move that had just been made, their country's new status, and President Yibozo's personal boldness. The rational revolution was to spread and this was good news for most, though some had their misgivings. These, they discussed with varying degrees of openness. The president's personal friends and allies were among them, after all. They would not want to offend. Yet, there were some, who strolled out into the night and made their way towards the Arboretum, who were more openly worried and, within this group, they spoke candidly of their discomfort, the seeds of rebellion fomenting in their minds and slogans forming on their lips. It seemed, from their rhetoric, that one was either with them or against them.

The Kerremans, however, did not share their northern allies' restraint. They gathered in bierhauses around the city in raucous debauchery. It was noted that the kronprinz was in attendance at one. Prinzessin Lina was at another. Their celebrations lasted well into the night, ample quantities of beer - both cheap and fine - being consumed in the process. There were - at most - only a handful among their number who did not join in. Manfred Hohenfelter was not one of these. He knew that appearances needed to be kept up, but he had grave misgivings which he smothered with a beer stein, a false smile, and a forced laugh.

For others, the takeaway was more nuanced. Leon Solaire, a young performer beloved across much of the twin continents but with known ties to the Doge of Revidia, found himself facing the interesting choice of whether to party or not to party and, if so, who to party with. Some Revidians were celebrating their coup, but not all that many. It was simply politics and they were more interested in business. The Perrench were sullen and hostile. The Jorubans were excited in their oft-intellectual way, but the sounds of Ziggurat-spitting competitions and Joruban folk songs could nonetheless be heard sporadically. Not all seemed jubilant, however, a sentiment certainly shared by the many Belzaggic students who gathered to confer and conspire in hushed tones. They stood in solidarity with their Perrench allies.

The Torragonese, in true Torragonese fashion, did not personally gloat, but many of them liked to let loose and had joined the most raucous party of all: the Kerremans were utterly out of control. Drink flowed freely, copious amounts of pretzels, sausages, and sauerkraut were consumed, fußball games occupied the plazas, parks, and streets, and music pumped out into the night. There were impromptu dancing circles, arm wrestling competitions, and fisticuffs. Magusjaegers held increasingly convoluted target-shooting contests. There were dozens of beer pong tables and one beer hall had even set up a teufelsrad. People coupled up. Youths ran around wearing flags like capes, shouting patriotic slogans, and singing traditional Kerreman songs, for their nation was on the rise. It had earned its place in the sun and they were certain that great things lay ahead.

The same could be said for Torragon, yet their king had sent a subtle message through his speech and body language today that celebrations were to be somewhat muted. One did not bait the bull unless he was certain that he could slay it. Evidently, King Sancho was not. Yet, he had taken personal steps, and two students, in particular, Selio Taraves and Linah Aranda, had received personal summons from him. To what end, they did not yet know.


Penny Pellegrin

Location: Near the southern border of Ersand'Enise
Interactions: Seung Eun-Ji @Medili, Carmillia Carbonneau @Animus, Penny Pellegrin



Father was a master actor and the trick to it, Penny supposed, was that he had only partially been acting. Perrence had been removed from that meaningless council and all it had done was make a mockery of the notion that the Five Thrones indeed went to the five greatest nations in the land. Everybody knew it, too. In truth, King Rouis had not been blindsided. He had planned for this moment for years and, by warning Horik of the Doge's treachery last night, had revealed himself to the Eskandish Emperor as a good-faith actor. Their enmity had been only half-falsified; the two did not like each other, but they now found themselves in the same position and how unexpected it would be for two ancient rivals like Perrence and Eskand to ally.

Penny, seated across from father and Jean Lascand, as was only proper for the only woman in the carriage, leaned over and peered out the window. Jean could be trusted, she had been told, but he did not know the truth of her relationship to the king and matters were still best kept that way. It was awkward enough that Carmille, Yvette, and Madeleine were along. Carmille, in particular, was ever so sweet, but she was sharp too: she noticed things. Penny had made a joke of it: that eight-plus RAS level of hers was paying dividends! She could practically feel them wondering, though, and she had honestly begun to wonder - herself - how long she could keep this up. She could see them outside. She practiced her royal wave when one caught her eyes, stifling a giggle, but it was all an act. Gods, even that Tan-Keoulean girl is here, and she hates me, Penny thought, I know it.

"Your majesty," Jean began, and Penny's attention was pulled in his direction. "I hope it is not imprudent of me, but I had thought to ask -"

She didn't even feel the buildup of energy, but the gunshot was starkly audible. "Your highness, get down!" the girl shouted, but the bullet was not meant for him. It took a moment, but the carriage lurched to the side precipitously. Horses squealed and reared up. Immediately, Jean threw open the carriage door and Penny could feel him draw energy to himself. A split second later, and he leapt over to where the coachman sat. To Penny's shock, a dead body rolled off of it and was immediately trampled by the carriage as Jean struggled to get control. From the forest came more gunshots: Magusjaegers, the girl thought, but there were dark-clad figures as well: leaping out of trees, emerging from the roadside brush, and... With a crackling groan, a massive tree fell across the road up ahead.

Jean struggled to deflect the two shots aimed for him as they arced and curved around his barriers. "You!" he shouted at the trio of Carmille, Yvette, and Madeleine, "One of you take the reins. I'm needed in the fight!"

Then, Penny felt it: father drawing energy to himself. "Papa, no! You're too valuable!" But he leapt out of the coach and into the action. Father was a leadvein, she knew, and he was using those abilities presently. He slammed into a black-clad figure with fantastic force and absolutely shattered it. Shots came for him, but he was already on the move. Not all were so skilled or so fortunate. She saw two guards go down. Jean took a bullet in the shoulder and let out a yelp, struggling with the reins. The carriage was still going quickly. The horses were spooked. It was going to crash!

Penny gathered her crutch and dove out, softening her landing with a kinetic self-draw. Sellswords poured out of the woods and one came straight for her. She put all of the kinetic energy she had drawn into a shove and sent him reeling, fighting down panic all the way. There were still the assassins, she knew. They hid their energy so well. They were quick. She grabbed a sword from the roadside and flung it at one in a kinetic grasp, certain she'd scored a hit, but it seemed to go right through him. She blinked, nonplussed, but another volley of shots rang out. Penny drew in every ounce of energy that she could from her surroundings. She filled herself with it and let out a colossal burst. Trees swayed violently. Some cracked and fell. A maelstrom of rocks, sticks, and debris hurtled into the forest. This was unreal! She could die! Father could die! Yvette, Carmille, and Madeleine could die!

When she looked again, however, she saw the Tan Keoulean girl. She saw her at work and she realized that her own skills paled in comparison. "Sons and daughters of Perrence!" She shouted, "around your king!" If they could protect Rouis, then Eun-Ji, Jean's uncle (Zeno Lascand), and the trained soldiers would be free to attack. The next thirty seconds could decide everything.


Marlijn Vaanse

Location: The northern border of Ersand'Enise

Interactions: Karim Nazeri @Theyra, Pan Yimu @TheMushroomLord, Anesin Bjelke @Noxious



A day that had started with meeting Leon Solaire could very end up being Marlijn's last day alive. It had happened so quickly: they'd been riding along in the warm glow of camaraderie - the Eskandish, at least - singing war songs and talking in indignant, excited voices. Aside from the presence of some foreign allies among their escorts (she recognized Yimu in the baggage train and Karim on horseback), it had felt like those stories of the old days, and Marlijn - for all that she was no warrior, had grown up on them nonetheless. Lady Anesin rode beside the King and, though he was not Marlijn's king, she was nonetheless awed in his presence. A mountain of a man, he had sat astride a mighty thunderhoof, belting out choruses under the light of four moons.

Then, the first bullet had struck and Kejser Horik had been thrown from his mount. A half-dozen others had been either struck or thrown. With a splitting crack and a tortured groan, a great tree had plunged to the ground ahead, blocking the Godsroad. Cobalt was a well-trained horse, though, and he did not panic like some of the others. Marlijn brought him around and scanned the trees. Shouts of alarm and anger went up from the group and one runaway carriage seemed beyond help. One of the foreigners had pulled a weapon and was ready for what came next, as was Owain and Marlijn's heart pounded with relief that her brother was alright. As for the king... He rose and dusted his clothes off. From across his back, he pulled a pair of mighty broadswords, each meant to be two-handed but wielded one to a hand by the massive figure. Lady Anesin, too, dismounted, and Marlijn could feel a colossal intake of energy from her direction... or was it the king's!? Black-clad figures poured out of the trees.

King Horik launched himself at the enemy with a truly ferocious speed that caught even Marlijn off guard. "Death for the Death God!" he roared, and behind him rose a chorus of battles cries from the sons and daughters of Eskand.




Location: Outside the Storage Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 09:47 // Interactions: Vincent, (Ionna, Dallas)



Lysandra had noticed a great many things over the past couple of minutes: the cheerfulness of Akaia even with that 'soup' to eat, the way that Dallas marshaled the others, how strong Ionna was and how... very truly childlike. Then Vincent was smiling at her and she was arching an eyebrow: not hostile but also less-than-won-over. She was about to move on when she noticed him freeze. It would've been comical were he not carrying her solar panel charger, extra headset, and spare batteries in the crate under his arm and also were his face not genuinely terrified.

It was a spider.

Lys stopped, turned, and rolled right up to it. "Oh nooo," she chirped in something like the 'baby voice', "my little eight-legged friend: this is certainly not the place for you. Tsk tsk." She reached up with one hand, delicately holding a finger out, and let the scared little arachnid settle gently onto it. She'd always had a soft spot for spiders, ever since she was a girl, and perhaps that was why so many of her creations superficially resembled them.

The critter clung there to her fingertip and Lysandra was glad that she had mastered the art of one-handed wheeling. She shifted her body weight, leaned judiciously, and rolled over to the edge of the garden. "Here you go, little miss or mister." She rested her finger gently on a broad, rough-skinned leaf and the eight-legged friend scampered off with a bit of coaxing. Lys brought her hands back to her wheels, turned, and rejoined the group. "You okay?" she asked Vincent, eyes darting pointedly to her crate of valuables. "I can take that if you need a moment." She patted her lap. "Got a spot right here." Lys didn't mock him, fun as that would've been. To be honest, she wasn't quite sure why she was being so nice or what had come over her. Was this how Cerise felt every moment of every day? It was one helluva drug...

She blinked and regarded the others. A couple had turned her way. "What are you looking at, galoots!? Don't you have a van to be loading?"




Location: The Telescope Room @ The Crows' Nest // Date: February 23, 2057 // Time: 09:40 // Interactions: Erik, Ajax



Lysandra did not answer the questions put to her right away. Sometimes it was more important to know where they were coming from first. As Erik stepped up to the telescope and occupied himself with peering through it momentarily, she glanced up at Ajax and narrowed her eyes in concern. "You seem even more brooding than usual, Trenchcoat. Something up with the Cerbs?" She paused. "You think they're using us as cannon fodder or are they trying to lure you back in?" Furrowing her brow, Lys glanced Erik's way for a split second. Even he seemed a little bit... more concerned than usual.

“Perhaps," Ajax replied, "Or they come to us to do a job that they couldn’t, and would rather not spend more resources...” He paused, eyeing the ground momentarily. “Or lose anymore; feeding the city.”

Lys pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow. "So, option one, basically." She backed up a couple of pushes from the table and grinned impishly. "Don't worry, big guy, I got your back." She winked and let the smile fade. "But as for the threats..." she settled her hands in her lap for a moment, not sure what to do with them. She shrugged. "There's lots. Mostly thralls - the usual assortment of melee weapons, but a couple have guns." She twisted to glance over her shoulder at Erik. "Only saw a couple of grimes, but they're usually in the dark or enclosed spaces. You know the drill with those by now."

Truth be told, Lysandra had spent a good amount of time focused on the terrain, mostly just seeing if it was something she could reasonably traverse. She'd identified three tough spots and that meant Iron Horse but, in practice, there always ended up being a couple of unseen ones. She was just grateful that people here didn't huff and puff and make a big deal of it. If she needed a boost once or twice, she could get one. She blinked once and found Ajax's eyes. There was more. "Thing is," she admitted, "I saw a big steel cylinder... right near the mistle. At least... I think that's what it was." She tucked some hair behind an ear. "I hope, because it if isn't..." she trailed off, wondering if Ajax might come to the same conclusion that she had.

The phrasing of her words clearly caught Ajax’s attention outright. “…If it isn’t, we must be ready… In a dream scenario, we lure it away. Since we don’t have the luxury of dreaming, it should be our quickest members taking the sample...Suppose we might see how your failsafes for my mask stand under pressure…” Were his words of reply before starting off, presumably to his armory.

"Ha. Ha. Ajax," she called after his retreating back. "Better go sharpen your edge some more." She rolled her eyes. Seriously, who says 'must' that much, she thought, secretly appreciating his ripostes nonetheless. Pivoting on the spot, Lys took a few pushes toward Erik, letting herself coast to a stop. "How 'bout you, Gramps? Notice anything?"

He paused and looked up, twisting to regard her, and he was smiling, of course, like he always was. When Lys smiled that much, the muscles in her face got tired. “Just saw most of the regulars. The Provisional Government is giving us a freebie for once.”

She forced a smile back for him, tempted to ask for another look, but she was worried that'd come across as paranoid. Even in the off chance that the cylinder was what she feared it was, she told herself that Ajax was on it. He'd have it covered, and they had numbers now: literally four more people since the last time she'd gone into the field. "Almost sounds too good to be true," she replied, keeping her tone skeptical but light. She drew in a breath and exhaled. They were the only ones left in the room. "I'll catch you soon. Don't get fossilized there, hmm?" Lys turned and wheeled out the door.

The cracked and battered floor tiles caused her casters to shudder as she rolled over them, and Lys made almost a game out of dodging them and sticking to the exposed concrete below. Agility was something she'd worked on extensively last summer and fall and, on top of some mean-looking biceps, it had started to pay dividends. It wasn't in any way comparable to how she'd been before and never would be, so she'd forced herself to finally let go of those unproductive comparisons to a Lysandra who was both irrelevant and not coming back. She darted and slewed from side to side, hair flicking back and forth, fingers light on her wheels, ready to dodge those hated spots of roughly tiled floor.

She kept this up, a grown child and totally unself-conscious, all the way into her room. Lys was a quick packer, mostly because she kept her space organized. Two pre-prepped bundles of clothing, two headsets, four walkie-talkies, her battery bag, portable toolkit... she paused and rolled across the room: Journal. She opened a crate: Dried, dehydrated food. She pulled a drawer out of a shelf: Two cheap little quadcopters for scouting. Soldering iron, pistol... She took a moment to secure her quiver to her wheelchair's leg frame. She twisted around and felt like a contortionist as she looped, tied, and velcroed the straps that held her bow to her backrest. It wasn't much of a backrest, to be honest, but a taller one would get in the way of her elbows while pushing.

It would also get in the way of dressing, which Lys presently did. She kept the black leggings but swapped her loose cutoff t-shirt for something a bit warmer and more form-fitting. And not the boobs-popping-out shirt. She considered the motorcycle armour, but it was heavy and sweaty and she'd need to be mobile, so it went into her duffel for now and she threw her favourite brown leather jacket on instead. Knee pads? she pondered. Yup, knee pads. You can never have enough storage. She also anticipated being de-chaired at least a couple of times, as usually happened, and it'd be nice not to smack her knees, feeling or not. Reaching down, Lysandra picked up one of her legs and slid the knee pad up its length, settling it around her knee, before doing the same for the other one. They weighed next to nothing and she tried not to scowl. So fucking skinny now. Her thighs were like deflated balloons, her calves like twigs. As much as she'd grown used to the atrophy, there were still moments where the dissonance between reality and a slow-to-change mental self-image was overwhelming. She shook her head to clear the thought and slipped on some leg warmers for more pseudo-pocket space. After stuffing her feet into a pair of ankle boots, she clipped her choker around her neck, pocketed her medallion, and grabbed a beanie and settled it atop her head. She took a second to look in the mirror and adjust her hair beneath the hat. She looked better without bangs, she decided, trying to distract herself. Nope, stop, she scolded. Deep breath. Nothing to be scared of. Nothing you haven't done dozens of times before. You've got this. She gathered her bags and the Lysandra who emerged from her room was a much-encumbered one: dressed for a mission but carefully balancing a duffel bag on her lap as she made her way towards the van.

It was sitting in its usual place, doors open, bags and equipment piled around it. She admired the lift kit, bumper guard, and skid plate that she'd fashioned for it with Erik: a job well done. After a couple of seconds, however, she noticed that there was nobody actually there, loading it. "Where are my galoots?" she muttered to herself, half-audible under her breath. Annoyed, Lys cast about for them, but there was only a distant Akaia being attended to by Poppy and consoled by Cerise for having to ingest that abominable thing that Pops termed 'soup'. The human made a point of avoiding that area, lest she be forced into 'caloric intake'. Pulling up to the open rear doors, Lys clicked her brakes on, hefted the bag, and tossed it inside. She couldn't be bothered with anything else. It bugged her. Her instinct was to assiduously organize every aspect of the interior of the van, but that was a lot of work, she'd need her energy today, and she still had the Immortals to go and load up and her specialty arrows - recently crafted - to retrieve. Lysandra backed away and made for the nearby storage room, where all of the goodies were kept and where she could already hear voices coming from.


Drowning in Drama?


Involved: Penny Pellegrin, Marlijn Vance, Leon Solaire @Jumbus, Linah Aranda @SilverPaw


Penny had tried so hard not to yawn during introductions. She'd been up most of the night doing... things. At least being remembered as the 'sleepy girl' was better than being remembered as 'the cripple', so she'd take what she could get, she supposed.

The script had woken her up. Their Zeno seemed like the type to be aggressively indifferent to decorum and etiquette. It was... jarring, but not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, so maybe Penny wasn't too surprised at having the script more or less thrown at her. It was only when she'd stopped to read it that her eyes widened and she felt herself yanked into a stae of unwilling but undeniable wakefulness. She blinked a couple of times. It was... hilarious. Truly, abominably hilarious.

She was part of a troupe with four others: Linah (thankfully), a Segonese girl in a revealing dress who's name she'd already forgotten, and an annoying Eskandishwoman named Marlijn who was busy swooning over their final member: Leon Solaire. He was handsome. By Ipte, he is beautiful, Penny thought, trying not to steal any more glances. Have some self-respect, she scolded herself. What are you going to do? Throw yourself at him in the hopes that he might bed you? Her cheeks flushed with shame, but there he still was, with an easy, natural grace about his manner and... a body and... that million couronne smile. Immediately, she found herself handing the script to him. "I-it's really something," she stammered, annoyed at her voice. "A true masterpiece."

Marlijn leaned in close to Leon, inviting herself into his space, and she was pretty. By Ipte, she was a beauty that Penny couldn't hope to compete with. She giggled. "Well, I guess we know who'll be the Prince."

Well that much is obvious, Penny thought, trying not to roll her eyes. She glanced surreptitiously at Linah to see what her sometimes roommate might be thinking, but then Marlijn continued."Me," Marlijn chirped. "You've already got your shirt off. Mermen don't wear shirts." There was a twinkle in her eyes and she looked up at him expectantly.

Leon noticed the lack of guys in the classroom. It was a shame more didn't see the value in drama and performance. Not that he minded either way. He was in pleasant enough company and he enjoyed the attention.

He thanked Penny when she handed him the script to look over it himself. Leon was overcome with the urge to cross off parts and add in others, if only he had a pen. The story wasn't irrecoverable but it was awful as is. For a moment he doubted whether he would be able to make it very entertaining. Of course he was going to be the prince, but he does little but swoon over the mermaid the whole time.

Marlijn's suggestion caught him off guard. It was not something he had considered, but it was certainly an idea he liked. Leon made direct eye contact with a smile. "I think you read my mind. You would make a fantastic Prince-ess Charming. Certainly that would be the shake up we need to make this script redeemable." he joked.

Penny hid a sour face. She was literally kind of shaped like a mermaid and had assumed the role would be hers, but that wasn't actually the issue. In truth, she had no desire to be front and centre. It was much safer in the chorus. She'd mainly taken this class for the comedy. She regularly used it to help set people at ease. No, the truth was that Penny was annoyed because Leon Solaire was right there, in front of her, and this little Eskandish - Keep it classy - had thought of an idea that he liked instead of her. Now Marlijn had nabbed the role opposite him and she was leaning in strategically, practically resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Oh Gawds," the redhead giggled, "It's soooo bad. I say we play it as a satire on gender roles. I should be like a muscle princess." She took a step back and flexed the wet noodles she had for arms. "You can like... I dunno. What would you do? What's like... a mermaid stereotype?"

Penny blinked. "Seashells as clothing!" she blurted, "and a lovely singing voice." She forced herself to take a step in. "Also, a singing dancing crab companion who regularly dispenses profound wisdom in an accessible and charmingly homespun way." She leaned over Leon's other shoulder and spoke with a mock earnestness. "I can be that crab for you."

This was certainly a change of pace from the mornings events. With the abberations on his mind and his dicussion with Carmila, Leon almost forgot this was a school after all. He didn't have a good concept of what a school was, but he always imagined it would involve study like this. Well, almost like this.

Leon gave a out a chuckle in reaction to his company, even for him they were coming off a bit strong. He did want to study after all and if he let them carry on like this, he would find himself too easily distracted.

"Well, as much as a muscle princess would be surpising. I don't think you have the muscle part quite there yet." He chuckled a bit. "Unless you have some sort of illusion magic, I would play to the finer features you have. But don't let me stop you from showing off your titanic strength if you wish to do so." He joked in a pleasant manner.

Leon drew his attention to Penny keeping a welcoming demeanor. "Well I would say you carry yourself with too much grace to be a crab. But if such a role compells you, go for it. It will be a challenge to show off your acting skills to the Zeno."

"As for me, I don't see this role taking me out of my comfort zone at all. I'm not sure whether I should take that as an insult." He joked to the group and left a pause. "I assume everyone is decided on roles? Perhaps we take a few rehearsal rounds."

For her part, Linah seemed quite eager to play the villain, even though it was a truly awful role in this script. Seriana fairly threw herself onto a chair and sighed about how this humid weather was just dreadful for her complexion and how she would never make the Hundrian order's highest tiers with bad skin. Marlijn, for her part, threw herself into the role of Princess Charming. It was, of course, brilliantly ironic. The group had a redhead with a lovely singing voice and another girl who... rather looked like an actual mermaid. Yet, it was to be Leon who played the role. Perhaps that was the only way to prevent the two girls from coming into conflict. It was also a brilliant excuse to watch a half-clothed Leon Solaire strut about the stage - not an image that the Eskandishwoman minded in the least.

For her part, Penny yawned and sat on a chair. She was dangerously low on sleep after last night's skullduggery, but she hoped that things would do go plan, whatever that plan was. Father was much smarter than people gave him credit for, but Arcel was a wildcard and - simply put - Doge Prospero scared her. The fate of nations is about to be decided and here I am swooning over Leon Solaire and ready o be petty with some Eskandish girl, she scolded herself. The definitely-not-a-princess stifled a yawn, blinked, and sat up straighter. When it was her turn for the musical number, she stood.

"I know I'm just a seahorse," she began, "oh prince of the sea."
"But I've lived a long time; might you listen to me?" Her singing voice wasn't great, she supposed, but she was a seahorse and seahorses were probably not known for their singing.
"The land: it is pretty. I know it is green,"
"But the sea's still the best place that I've ever seen."

"I want to be home in the sea!
That's the best place for me!" She singsonged. "And you," she added, sweeping away from him.

"Up top, when you walk, your shoes may get muddy.
Down here? No way! You can always stay clean!
On the surface you have to take time to fetch water.
Down here? Look around you and see what I mean!"

"You know you want to be home in the sea.
That's the best place to be!" Penny shimmied back and forth on the ball and heel of her foot, twirling her crutch like a baton and ignoring a dozen aches for the sake of performance.

"The land is all dusty; the sea, she is wet." Penny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, feeling like the dumbest thing in all of Sipenta.
"And think of the colours: The best you can get!" She pushed off and did a little spin, her dress and hair swirling around her. "I know the girl, she is pretty, my prince, yes I do.
But there are many fine ladies that live here just for yoooouuu." Penny had thought of finishing with a slide onto her knee, facing the audience, arms spread, but that ran her about a fifty-fifty for tripping up and then just being a sad fallen cripple, more likely to draw gasps than applause. Besides, she already felt more than goofy enough. She let her arms fall to her sides. "So... that was something I never thought I'd do with a straight face," she managed, forcing a smile and feeling the colour rise in her cheeks. "Any changes anyone would make?"

In the event, there were none. All of them decided that the best approach was to make this into a clever, ironic, and absurdly goofy social commentary. Long story short, it went swimmingly.
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