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FunnyGuy male Member

STATUS: "Wake up to reality..." 5 yrs ago
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10 yrs ago
I saw you see me see you!
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In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 5 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Miris


Race: Changeling
Location: An unremarkable jungle
FLASHBACK


“Ooh! I think we’re getting close.” Minerva faced Miris with that playful grin of hers.

“We’re almost out?” Miris’ eyes held a glint of hope as time had become so hard to keep track of at this point. She thought she’d get through this jungle in three days, but it was taking so much longer. Had she underestimated its vastness, or were the roving patrols and Minerva’s guidance causing her to wander in circles?

“Out? Tch, I’m good, thank you, but not that good.” Minerva shook her head before vaulting over an old moss-covered log. She had expected to hear Miris accomplish the same, but nothing was coming from the young changeling. “Hm?” Minerva turned her head and came to a stop upon noticing that Miris had quit walking.

“You just said…” Miris’ accent faintly bled with her frustration. “You said we were close.”

“We are.”

“But you just said we're nowhere near getting out.”

“Yeah, that's what I said.”

“...” If looks could maim. Miris wouldn't want her dead, but a loose tree branch falling on Minerva's head would have satisfied her.

“Those aren't the same thing, Miris.”

“Minerva…”

“You serious?” Miris stressed the question.

“Minerva…” Minerva not answering right away only made things worse.

“No… no way.” Miris didn't want to believe it.

“You’re fuckin’ with me right?”

Minerva’s eyebrows rose, but her smile never faltered, mostly because she hadn’t heard this tone from the girl yet. In truth, she was just trying to hear more of how Miris spoke when she wasn't hiding herself.

“Minerva!”

“No, of course not! Sure, I throw stuff at you, trip you now and again, steal your stuff, ate your berries that one time-”

“Those were my berries?”

“They were so good! Anyway… what I was trying to say is, leading you to the other side of this lush place is my top priority.” Minerva explained, but then the shifter's smile quickly became uneasy. “But… we are taking a different route than the hastier one.”

“What…” Miris inhaled through her nose.

“Relax,”

“Relax?!”

“Yes, so that I can explain. If you’re angry, you’ll only hear the parts that don’t matter. So be a good girl, and relax.”

A few beats passed between the two.

“Alrighty!” Minerva clapped her hands together. “Yours truly made the decision to have us trek across this fine jungle, safely.” Minerva let go of her smile and quickly held a hand up to stop Miris from replying too soon. “I know. You think you're a badass. You think you can hop, skip, and flip your way through all those pesky patrols and all this nature.” Minerva shook her head with displeasure.

“I can handle myself just fine.” Miris vaulted over the log in front of her, closing the distance between them. Their eyes locked briefly until Minerva rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Your version of fine doesn't stack up. Not here. Not even in most places out this direction. Beyond the jungle is the desert. Beyond the desert are the pirate-infested seas. Beyond that is… I don't know, it's probably much worse.” Minerva poked Miris’ chest, forcing a flinch out of the girl.

“Consider yourself my pupil in this jungle. And I'm gonna make sure you strut out of this place better than ‘fine,’ you hear me?” Minerva nodded, prompting Miris to do the same.

“Fine.” Miris muttered while taking the lead. She wasn't happy about what she thought would've been a shortcut taking nearly as long as walking around the jungle itself, but she couldn't argue with the results. Aside from that patrol… and Minerva had practically walked them into it on purpose, so they hadn't truly been in danger once. Which begged an uncomfortable question. How much worse was the route Minerva had chosen not to take?

“Better than fine, Miris. Better than fiiine” Minerva sang.

“Oh shut it.” She turned to smile back at Minerva. “What’re we close to, anyhow if it's not the other side?”

“Oh yes! Follow meee!” Minerva darted past her, sprinting and laughing as she took the lead again.

“Of course it couldn't be simple.” And with that, Miris was chasing after her.

“You’re gonna love it!”

In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 14 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



Mr. Deacon

Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Fit
Interaction: Bleedin’ Edin
Mention:


Alexander rose as soon as King Edin requested it, adjusting his jacket as he stood tall before His Majesty.

Of course, he was correct about the verdict given to Duke Vikena. It was what had to be done to ensure the fool remained alive. The man was a pawn, yes, but a pawn that had navigated to the end of the board without anyone realizing it. Tonight… tonight was not when he’d topple the king that stood alone without his queen.

When Roman Ravenwood’s trial was mentioned, Alexander simply nodded along before saying, “We all see, Your Majesty. I fear Caesonia could use more examples of what that looks like. Wealth and status will crumble against the might of your sword of justice.” As much as he wished to, he did not smile at the prospect of seeing Roman Ravenwood removed from the board. He had some level of respect for the man’s way of thinking, but he needed him gone like the others who had proved to be an obstacle.

“For tonight, go enjoy yourself. Listen to what my court is saying... Especially about me. And keep your eyes open for another matter as well. Caesonia will require a queen again, eventually… Birth, beauty, obedience, usefulness. I trust you understand the qualities worth noticing... Be discreet, Mr. Deacon. But do not be idle.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” Alexander offered a brief bow before turning toward the rest of the ballroom.

What will be my first move?


In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 19 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Miris


Race: Changeling
Class: Part-Time Fighter
Location: Port Verge, Lhazaar Principalities
Interactions: EveryoneMentions:

Equipment:

Attire: dark brown trousers, sleeveless leather jerkin, leather bracers, red scarf, and sturdy leather boots
Gold Balance: 5GP
Injuries: His pockets
Current Persona: Malikendor of the Shifting Sands


From the tavern to the docks, Malik walked alongside his ragtag group of companions. It might have been hard for anyone to notice, but he made sure to get a mental headcount to ensure everyone had reunited safely. The lead had been acquired and the two hours granted had come to a close. In the time after the purchase of the needed metal, Malik took the time he had left to check some of the equipment stored in the bag of holding at the tavern. Though not filling, he snacked on the rations kept in the bag. He could have used the five gold pieces he had left for something warm to eat, but he felt better saving it.

How did Minerva acquire so much gold with what was left by Wendel? Malik had wondered while sifting through the bag, but the more he wondered, the less he desired to know. He was very well aware of Minerva’s moral ambiguity, and in a place like this, she was bound to commit some spree of chaos. Still, her methods were tempting when faced with little to spend with. Malik could have asked to be compensated for covering the costs of others, but mentioning it felt unneeded.

The pier the group set on was a stubborn thing, remaining sturdy despite its crooked form. At the end of it, lounged the three pirates who had escorted them to Prince Dane’s chambers just this morning. Malik barely paid them any mind, already prepared to filter out most of what Beckett would say for the information most valuable to him. There was also the vessel behind him to take into account.

“Mercy,” he thought aloud but too quiet to note. It was a nearly worthless thing by the look of it, but it was theirs to trust on the open seas. He scowled at the vessel, knowing Prince Dane offered it with a wicked grin.

His attention returned to Beckett once he tipped over the crate and revealed the captive within. Malik’s eyes were glued to the goblin, named Trin. The look of his sorry state softened Malik’s expression, as he found himself staring at a tangible reminder of the kind of cruelty harbored in Port Verge.

With Beckett still a voice in the background, Malik stepped forward, his gaze affixed on the glowing mark the goblin attempted to poorly cover. His mouth opened to speak, but he stopped himself… He winced as he heard a disembodied shriek only he could hear. It was unintelligible, but he felt the intent of it.

He was being ordered to stop.
In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 19 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Miris


Race: Changeling
Class: Part-Time Fighter
Location: Port Verge, Lhazaar Principalities
Interactions: Meiyu @Tae, Corin @Lava Alckon
Mentions: Phia, Menzai, Bastion, Tommy, Arya

Equipment:

Attire: dark brown trousers, sleeveless leather jerkin, leather bracers, red scarf, and sturdy leather boots
Gold Balance: 61GP
Injuries: None.
Current Persona: Malikendor of the Shifting Sands


The eyes of the Valenar elf took in the environment of Port Verge as he walked with Meiyu and Corin through the notable hubs of the pirate island. He had his own prejudice against pirates, but being here only confirmed his opinion of these sorts. Smiles were not only used to disarm, but to exploit traits other places might reward. Trust and good faith were absent here, but Malik would not allow such a place to alter who he was in the slightest.

The stroll was quiet between the three, with few words exchanged amongst them. It may have been focus or a lack of wanting a needless confrontation, but the silence gave Malik time to digest the situation he found himself in.

The airship. Crashed after a sudden attack by agents wearing Karrnathi colors. Mysterious on its own. The vessel requires repairs, and we have only a single route to address the issue.

The shards. Slivers of what can naturally be assumed of a greater whole that have embedded in those I find myself with today. Wendel was the first to discover it, on the airship. It is likely connected to the attack. The only thing of note about these shards is their high visibility to magical detection methods.

His new companions. Besides the sharing of these shards, I grow weary of them. I am as much of a stranger to them as they are to each other, yet they have grown quite close. Individually, they are likely capable in their own right, but as a group, their lack of experience together shows. I will do what I can to keep them focused on the best courses of action. As the Traveler guides me, I will guide them as well.

Prince Dane. He tests the constitution of others with his words alone, and he was quite effective towards the few I am most concerned for. His bargain is disgusting, but not unexpected from a ruler of pirates. What he desires on Cordain will need to be our insurance in the event our arrangement takes a turn.

The Crew. The transition from Minerva did not go unnoticed. I notice the way they look at me. The way they question my existence among them. Malik glanced at Meiyu, recalling her amused reaction to seeing him and how often she had been mentioned in the journal by both Wendel and Minerva. How much do they know? How much does she know? Time here threatens the others, so I must use every means while I remain to get us off this island and away from these strangers.

When the three finally discovered a suitable exchange for lead, Malik spoke up to challenge it. The offer of 20 gold pieces for the amount of lead prescribed by Meiyu was knocked down to 16. He was no stranger to haggling since it was a matter of social custom within the Valenar bazaars. It just felt like a crude game rather than establishing a fair price as part of a casual interaction.

Malik looked at Corin first, then Meiyu, before internalizing how to go about this.

“We’ll get it all here and now. There is no guarantee another merchant carries this quantity or if this bargain will remain as it is by the time the others make it here.” Malik directed calmly as he began digging into his satchel. Corin claimed he would cover the cost of himself and Phia. Malik raised a questionable eyebrow, but what he might have asked did not leave his thoughts. The bigger concern was the Yuan Ti woman. He did not know how many gold pieces each person in the group held, but allowing them to be indebted to someone he knew cared little for the lives of others would be irresponsible.

“Alright. I will cover the costs for Arya, Menzai, Tommy, and half of Bastion’s.” He nodded at Corin before his gaze landed on Meiyu. “Meiyu. I request you cover the cost of Bastion’s other half and my own. I will bear his debt and, naturally, my own,” Malik offered firmly while knowing he had accepted the serpent’s first coil around him.

“How remarkably chivalrous of you, Malik,” Meiyu purred, her golden eyes gleaming with dark amusement as she flipped a heavy coin in her palm. “I shall do it, but my gold comes with a very specific clause.”

She leaned in slightly, her smirk sharpening to a lethal edge. “When you pull out that little journal later, you are going to write a very pretty entry directly to Minerva. Tell her that the little ‘debt’ she claims I owe you lot is officially settled... and that she is now indebted to me instead. It will give her something delicious to lose her mind over while she wonders exactly when and how I intend to collect.”

Malik’s eyes had widened slightly at the mention of the journal and leaving a message specifically for Minerva.

“Fine… It’s a deal,” Malik agreed through his teeth. She had already seen enough. Her request was invasive, certainly, but one worth conceding for the sake of the mission.
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 22 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Mr. Deacon

Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Fit
Interaction: Bleedin’ Edin
Mention: Lorenzo, Alibeth

Alexander dipped his head in acknowledgement to Edin before answering. Fighting back his grin was the hardest thing he had done today, but he knew he would have to express his pleasure of earning so much at a later time.

“My advice, Your Majesty?” His eyebrows rose with the question, expressing his deliberation before his eyes drifted toward the ballroom. “We stop treating this as a scandal…” He then looked upon Edin, meeting his eyes.“We must remember that scandals are remembered because those involved insist they are. What occurred was simply an unfortunate disagreement between a Caesonian nobleman and his king.” Alexander nodded, still kneeling before his sovereign.

There is no queen to stop me, now.

“Duke Lorenzo is nearly out the door, and if anything, removed from your presence. He’s foolish, but he won’t dare return to bring upon shame a second time…” Alexander looked toward the guards stationed in the vicinity. “Isn’t that correct?” He looked into each one of their faces before once again returning his gaze to Edin

“Your Majesty, do not order an arrest. Do not call for further punishment. Do not speak of the incident again. Then, when our guests arrive, they will find a court that has already returned to music, mingling, and ceremony. Make them see that whatever disruption has been whispered about was handled so efficiently that it barely deserves mention in the face of the King of Caesonia.” Alexander shrugged, a smug smirk not etched on his face. “In other words, make it boring and not worth uttering. And you can only accomplish such a thing if you show it has not bothered you in the slightest. Forget the duke. Forget his words. These things are insignificant to your majesty. Lorenzo Vikena has already punished himself… Let history record that King Edin did not need to.”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 23 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire:
Interaction: Calbert
Mention: Charlotte, All the Damiens

Lorenzo remained quiet as Calbert spoke with the softness comparable to the fluffy tail of Charlotte’s cross-eyed cat. In a way, it calmed his nerves, giving him nothing to fight against. In the place of opposition was submission, and he was not one to bully anyone, not even the count who had taken advantage of his family for over a year. Continuing on this warpath was not beneficial to either Charlotte or himself– that much was true. Destroying Calbert, as he desired, would grant him nothing of consequence, while making another family suffer. What of his wife, his daughters, his son… People he held no ire toward.

Lorenzo’s heart ached, urging him to burn the name Damien down with its proudest bearer, Calbert, but he would not be scorched alone. Maybe if he hated him more, he could go through with it. How much more? How much more could he hate this man? The one who used the death of his wife as a blade against his jugular. The one who forced him to ostracize himself and his daughter from those they called friends.

Yet the same man, wearing the same face, with the same voice, spoke to him with a lathered tone. Whether it be honey or feces smeared on his words, Lorenzo would never accept them. No man– No father, should ever accept them.

He could hate much more; he knew it as a wave of heat washed over his skin. Like a second wind that reminded him, he could go further.

How much more? Lorenzo had the answer now. It was so close he could grasp it if he wished to, but Lorenzo Vikena was not Calbert Damien or Edin Danrose… not in this moment. Not today… Today, he grasped mercy because he knew what his fire would burn. So with sharpness, he replied, not to wound, but to threaten.

“Stay away from me.” The hate was thick on his tongue. “Stay away from my family, or yours will suffer. Do you hear me, Count Damien? You may see me as prey, but we both know what happens when the animal you hunt is only left with the option of defending itself or its offspring. Now, go!”

In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Mr. Deacon

Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Fit
Interaction: Edin, Violet, Charlotte, Kazumin, Olivia, Cassius, Roman, Kira
Mention: Lorenzo, Calbert, Alibeth


Towering double doors parted, and from the receiving hall stepped the man who would, without hesitation, mark himself as being perfectly on time.

Lateness had its advantages. To arrive with everyone assembled and expectations settled was to arrive unexpectedly. To keep others guessing was a pleasure Alexander Deacon had never quite managed to outgrow. Besides, how could anyone honestly believe he would remain home while every player worth watching occupied the same ballroom?

“Caesonia Royal Advisor, Alexander Deacon.” Alexander shot the man announcing his entrance a lazy frown before raising his eyebrows. There was a brief stammer before, “and Vice President of the Black Rose Trading Company.” Only then did Alexander nod with satisfaction, wrapping himself in an air of controversy.

Walking forth, he remained subtle, only allowing his eyes to wander the forms and faces of the guests in attendance, while his feet carried him toward Edin.

Edin. A king without a queen, and Alibeth was his perfect counterpart when she wasn’t proving to be an obstacle.

He caught sight of Lorenzo and Calbert first. He thought the two deserved each other, and so his eyes moved on. Then there was the ragtag group of scoundrels that were too nosy for their own good. He flashed them a smile as his eyes met their faces. He offered the same smile toward Roman Ravenwood, as difficult as it was to do so. Roman was a formidable player who always seemed to place himself right across the board from him. The last person he let his eyes linger on for a considerable moment was, of course, Violet Damien. She mingled with Kira Mapenzi, whom he was sure was playing coy. I’d be careful, girl. That one bites. The playful thought fed into his expression as he offered a wave in their direction, making sure his eyes drank in the sight of those crimson irises he enjoyed so much.

When he reached Edin, he could only assume that something the king found distasteful occurred. Edin wore his emotions the same way he wore that crown. There was no hiding them.

“Your Highness!” Alexander beamed before performing a bow. “I apologize for my lateness. My wife required my assistance at our home. She could not make it tonight, but she requested that I deliver her appreciation for your wisdom, strength, and
judgment. The Deacons will support the crown, as Primitus wills it.” Alexander did not rise. “Tonight is the beginning of something important for Caesonia, and I am eager to witness how Your Majesty seizes this opportunity, the gods have graced us with.”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire:
Interaction: Calbert
Mention: Charlotte


When his fist made contact, he didn’t relinquish the power he threw into it, yet he found unexpected resistance. Lorenzo had never been much of a fighter, but he was also not raised to be the man who acquired the title of duke. It’s no wonder he wore the honors of it so proudly. So, witnessing Calbert, with his much larger stature, holding his fist and preventing the destiny he had chosen for himself, pieced things together.

Count Calbert Damien. Always interfering. Always preventing. Always leashing him like some sorry dog that didn’t know where to piss or shit. And like a dog, he walked Lorenzo across the ballroom floor and away from the man he had bared his teeth at. Calber knew what was best for him. Imagine an entire year of that. An entire year of listening to a man below your station due to something as dirty as blackmail. He never told Charlotte about it.

We need more time to grieve before we return to Sorian.

The balcony of our estate is still being ‘inspected.’

Isn’t it nicer here? Veirmont is the best duchy in the world!

Lies.

And now all Calbert was doing was moving a searing hot kettle from one burner to another that was nearly as hot. He felt trapped in his own flesh, walking along and listening with nothing to say to either Charlotte or Calbert while they conversed as if he couldn’t speak for himself. What next? "You may have to put that beast down, Charlotte."

Lorenzo was not completely out of sorts, seeing as he waited for Charlotte to veer away before speaking up, his voice straining with emotions that could harbor deadly intent.

“Count Damien, you will not talk to her that way,” Lorenzo snapped, ceasing his advance toward whatever destination Calbert had in mind. He turned swiftly against Calbert’s sturdy frame, uncaring if the other man lost his balance. All that mattered was that he could face him now. With a pointed finger, he continued. “You will not fill her head with such nonsense. You will not trick her into believing I am her responsibility! You… YOU act as if you care, but you’re nothing more than a malignant tumor. A PARASITE that compensates by preying on others! And for what?! Do not think you have me beneath your thumb. Charlotte is MY responsibility, and if you mistake that, you will see what happens when a duke cripples a **** of a count. Unhand me!”
In 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕 → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire:
Interaction: King Edin Danrose
Mention: Charlotte, he's too whacked out to consider the others.

yearn

/yərn/
To have an intense, deep, or overwhelming desire for something, especially for something that is out of reach, lost, or difficult to obtain.

…

…

Seconds went by, yet the moment never felt as if it were passing for Lorenzo. The feelings he held were indescribable. Not even “rage” could adequately describe it. All of the force needed to pull from Alexander's vile strings had propelled fire held deep within to a place the duke’s mind had never reached. And as uncharted and unfamiliar as it might have been, he dug his feet firmly.

This was not what was supposed to occur. This is not what Lorenzo wanted. He didn't need to look at Charlotte to know she was crying. The tightness of her embrace gave it away. So many eyes were on him and Edin now that one might believe the space between both men was the exact center of the ballroom, yet so close to an edge. Advancing meant to suffer a steep fall, perhaps one even neither of them would recover from. A blade or two would await Lorenzo at the bottom, whilst spools of pride would escape from every wound made by the impact. This is not what Lorenzo wanted.

Edin smiled.

“Have you forgotten your own words, Duke Vikena?”

Edin stepped forward.

“You speak boldly for a man who began this indecency himself.”

Edin pressed.

“Do not look at me as though I created what came from your mouth.”

Edin manipulated.

“You heard him. Did Duke Vikena tell me to keep Lady Charlotte as my north star? Did he warn me of lingering eyes?”

Edin lied.

His gaze returned to Lorenzo. “You placed your daughter……………………………………………………” There was nothing left to be heard, because Lorenzo did not want this. He did not want the situation to unfold in this way. He did not want to press this ugly issue in the here and now.

“.....…….”

Edin’s voice lowered “........................................”

Lorenzo’s face began to lose its redness.

“................................................................................................................................................................................................................”

His shoulders relaxed.

“.............................................................................................................................................................”

Even as Edin took one more step closer, the furrowing of his brows weakened.

“If you claim to be her father, then you had best start acting like it.”

It didn't matter what Edin said.

“And the four of you would do well to remember where you stand before you look upon your king with accusation in your eyes EVER AGAIN.”

It didn't matter how he said it.

The moment might have erupted further… Lorenzo no longer wanted what his mind and body once called for. He did not cry or frown. In fact, his expression was rather unusual. A painter would both love and become unsettled by his stillness

This would have to be ended now.






























































































































































































































But just like “rage,” the word “want” failed to satisfy what Lorenzo felt.

“And if you value your lives, you will not make me say it twice,” Edin said this before the unthinkable happened. Finally, the moment shifted for the man trapped in his indescribable state.

The world itself might as well have held its breath. The duke stood anchored and rooted to the ballroom floor beneath his feet. The wax-coated surface beneath his feet seemed to pulse beneath him with each beat of his heart, drumming a violent rhythm that would cease. Power coiled up his very being, guiding the path of promised momentum. One breath drew in every ounce of the strength that could be mustered. Even if you framed the scene, anticipation would fail to be captured. Inhibition and doubt were reduced to mere strangers!

With explosive vigor, force erupted! Lorenzo's arm surged upward, cutting through the air like a lightning bolt! And if the world truly had held its breath, it would have lost it from the breathtaking impact of his fist meeting its mark.



In Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron → 2 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Miris


Race: Changeling
Location: An unremarkable jungle
FLASHBACK


The jungle’s atmosphere felt heavier by the time late afternoon rolled in. The humidity had settled fully into the earth now, making the air thick enough to make every breath feel like effort. Sweat clung to the back of Miris’ neck beneath her pale braids, making her reconsider sporting such lengthy hair. In time, the mud covering her boots became an indication of how deep she had traversed this vast jungle.

All the while, Minerva appeared to be perfectly in her element. What had started as the shifter stalking from behind now became Minerva being the trusted guide leading the way. Minerva remained several steps ahead of Miris, weaving effortlessly through roots, hanging vines, and uneven ground with the same irritating ease Miris envied. The deeper the two traveled into the jungle, the more natural Minerva seemed within it.

Every step, sway, and pivot was observed by Miris, despite Minerva occasionally making fun of her ‘assessing.’ It took little time for Miris to begin mimicking Minerva’s footfalls and gait, while knowing that the effort it would take to reach Minerva’s gracefulness was a steep climb. Shifters had heightened senses, better balance, and their physical capabilities were widely praised. Regardless of how annoyed she was by Minerva, the shifter was capable and an example for improvement; however, there was something more that Miris was missing.

There was something she admired about Minerva, but she couldn’t place her finger on what it was. It was as though her mind sheltered her from truly taking in Minerva for who she was. Was it self-protection or simply apprehension?

As the two continued on, they spoke less and less. It was not out of awkwardness… it was just quieter. Minerva's teasing had turned into lazy remarks or absentminded humming beneath her breath. Her focus remained ahead and around them, with fewer looks back toward the teen girl.

Did she notice something? She’s… tense. No, she just seems more tense than she is normally.

Even now, Minerva still looked like the type of woman someone could catch off guard. She was just so relaxed and unconcerned, but right now she was less so. Noticing this, Miris opted to look around more frequently and lower her profile as she followed. Then she noticed the insects that had buzzed so proudly overhead now whispered amongst themselves through the leaves. The distant animal calls no longer echoed as frequently as they had. Everything felt wrong.

Minerva slowed to a halt, which caused Miris to freeze just behind her. In fact, Miris nearly ran into Minerva with how sharply she stopped her advance.

“What?”

Miris whispered, but Minerva did not answer, which only served in making the girl far more tense. The shifter crouched low beside the narrow slope they had been following, with her eyes narrowed toward the dense vegetation ahead of them. Miris couldn’t believe how focused the woman looked right now. Some part of her was afraid of it, while another was impressed. For the first time since meeting her, Minerva looked completely serious.

Miris slowly crouched at her side, attempting to listen or see what her genetics blinded her to. At first there was nothing, just as the Traveler intended, but then… voices! They were faint, belonging to men.

“...”

Miris’ stomach tightened as she remembered the tracks from hours earlier. The voices grew louder—clearer.

Miris’ heart began to race, and with it, her mind followed.

If this patrol continues west along the incline, then retreating uphill might provide the safest route, but what if they split into smaller scouting groups? If they do that, then—

Minerva’s hand suddenly locked around her wrist, her grip reminding the girl just how strong she was. Miris suppressed a yelp before Minerva pulled her down and behind the exposed roots of a massive fallen tree.

Boots marched through wet soil only seconds later. Several armed figures emerged through the foliage above them.

Seven… at least seven.

Miris, in her fearfulness, altered her skin tone from stark white to honey brown. It was all she could manage while frozen in place.

The soldiers moved carefully through the jungle while exchanging quiet conversation among themselves. They were lightly equipped, leaning toward being scouts. One of them scanned the area with unsettling attention, and then his gaze settled on their position.

While Miris’ breath went shallow, Minerva didn’t budge an inch. She didn’t even appear afraid, just still while maintaining a tight hold of Miris’ wrist. In a way, Minerva was grounding her with her stillness.

When one of the men moved toward them, Miris instinctively reached for the hilt of her short sword.

Pain!

Minerva’s sharp nails pressed hard against her wrist, demanding her to remain unmoving. When another’s voice called from further ahead, the approaching soldier hesitated before turning to his comrade. Within a few beats, the patrol was moving again, disappearing deeper into the jungle until their voices eventually vanished beyond the treeline.

The pair allowed silence to linger for a minute or more before Minerva exhaled and loosened her grip. Miris did the same, albeit sloppily, as she realized that she hadn’t taken a proper breath during the tail end of the ordeal. While she caught her breath, her skin returned to its proper shade.

How does she do that?

It wasn’t the fact that Minerva could snap into action—or in this case, stillness—it was the fact that Miris didn’t expect someone like her to hone in that way. She shot a look at Minerva, who was already leaning back against the roots, shoulders loosening until she was back to her relaxed state again.

Then she grinned.

“That was so good! Good girl, changeling. And see? Pretty little heads still attached.”

Minerva clasped her hands against her own cheeks.

“And guess what? I was right. There were a few more than seven, but there definitely weren't four. I’m just that good.”

Minerva was shameless and was beginning to wear all that smugness she had on her face earlier. Miris was just silently staring at her.

“You knew they doubled back.”

“That’s right.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.”

“Oh don’t you use that tone with me. You figured it out without me having to tell you. Sure, you were still thinking loud, but you caught on.”

“Thinking loud… yeah, sure. More of that nonsense.”

Miris grimaced now.

“IT MEANS, your brain runs faster than your feet. How don’t you get that?”

Miris’ grimace deepened. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she understood what Minerva meant now. She just didn’t know if that irritated her more or not.

Naturally, Minerva rose first, casually brushing dirt from her clothing before continuing downhill as though nearly being discovered by armed scouts was simply an inconvenience. Miris followed, but not without a sigh as she mentally battled her previous conceptions of Minerva. Before, she saw the woman as both careless and reckless. Crazy, even… Maybe she was still crazy.

However, now Miris realized that there was a method behind the madness. Structure? Minerva wasn’t ignoring danger. She was just able to react to it faster than Miris could think through it. She wasn't sure she could do the same, not after everything Wendel had taught her about seeing the bigger picture. How? How could she do both?

Rain began sometime later.

It started as a soft drizzle, slipping through gaps in the canopy overhead while the jungle floor turned slick beneath their feet. The cooler air felt almost relieving after the oppressive heat of the afternoon.

Minerva tilted her face upward immediately, clearly enjoying the weather now.

“Mm. Nice.”

Minerva breathed.

Miris raised an eyebrow at her.

“You enjoy this?”

She asked while flipping her damp hair from her face.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Minerva peered at her from the corner of her eye.

“We’re soaked.”

“Mhm. We are.”

She said in a relaxed tone, taking in the rain with closed eyes.

“And hiding from soldiers.”

Miris tilted her head to the side with a slight sneer.

Minerva, however, grinned without looking Miris’ way again.

“Still alive though, right?”

Miris opened her mouth to argue, but stopped.

Alive.

The truth of the matter sank in. Minerva’s wisdom was not appetizing in the slightest, but it was keeping her fed in this tropical wilderness. It was keeping her alive in this place. Miris wondered if the lesson might stick with her beyond just this jungle, or if this would be a nearly forgotten tale she shared with others in the future. And if she didn't quite know now, Miris would find out in due time.

Each step she took with Minerva as they continued felt more and more natural. Miris was avoiding the same roots and adjusting her footing to the mud that threatened to swallow up her boots. Instead of being several steps behind the shifter, Miris was practically right on top of her.

“Look at you keeping up!”

“Don't you start.”

Her reply was sonically abrasive, but there was a hint of a smile on her face.

“The jungle likes you better already.”

“The jungle doesn’t have opinions.”

“It has its charm. Deserts are dry, the coast is too wishy-washy, and plains are—”

“Plain.”

Miris finished Minerva’s sentence, instigating the first shared smile between the two.

They continued on, eventually reaching a shallow stream cutting through the jungle floor. Minerva crouched down to it, dipping her hands into the water before washing her face and using the water to remove mud from her legs.

“You got a name, changeling, or do I have to make one up for you?”

Minerva asked this casually. How else would she have asked such a thing?

”M-”

Miris froze for a moment, remembering that most people asked names because they wanted something afterward. It could be within minutes or years, but they’d have a name to pin to a favor for as long as they could recall it. Work, trust, or expectations… It didn’t matter, but Minerva was not like the people she had met in her life.

Minerva tilted her head, watching Miris stare off for a moment. She was already past wanting the answer to her question, but Miris resolved herself before she could change the subject.

“...Miris.”

“Miris! Miris… Mirisss…”

She tasted the name on her tongue a few times before giving the girl a nod.

“I like it! It fits you.”

Minerva grinned widely.

“Miris and Minerva. Doers of Things!”

“Yes. Miris and Minerva. The Doers.”

Miris put on a smile, but Minerva’s faded into a frown.

“No. No. Absolutely not. You messed it up! Doers of Things!”

“Ugh…”


“It has its charm. Deserts are dry, the coast is too wishy-washy, and plains are—”
“Plain.”
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