Oso

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Mentions/Interactions: Ezekiel @helo

She inhaled through her nose, held it for a moment, then spoke with measured clarity. Her voice was soft, her control returning.

“They’re located in the back corner of the hold, just behind a stack of cargo near the main ventilation shaft.”

She didn’t look away from him, didn’t blink.

“They’ve been sedated. I administered something mild to keep them unconscious and still during the transfer. It was the only viable way to bring them aboard without detection.”

Her fingers folded neatly in front of her, the gesture practiced, composed.

“The curse came from a fortune teller in Sarlona. A woman we tried to help, who responded with spite. Her pride led her astray and she died for her cruelty. She called it a blood-binding. It presents no symptoms at first, but over time it depletes the body’s strength. Quietly, persistently. They’re deteriorating from within… The very blood in their veins is killing them.”

She glanced to the portal, then back to Ezekiel. Her voice, though still soft, became even more deliberate.

“I’ve tried everything I know. I can’t stop it. But you might be able to.”

Her lips parted slightly, then pressed together again for a beat before she spoke once more.

“My name is Liana...Liana Vestra”

The smallest of pauses passed between them.

“If that makes any difference.”

She stepped aside, leaving the path open. Nothing else moved in her expression but her eyes, which remained glassy and full of restrained urgency.

“Please. I need you.”

---

Ezekiel. The portal hums softly beside her, golden light brushing the corridor like morning sun. It should feel warm, but It doesn’t.

She stands still, not pressing, just waiting. Her hands folded. Her voice soft. Her tears real… or close enough to pass for it.

She has told you everything you asked for. Every word precise. Every tear perfectly timed.

You sense no lie. And perhaps that troubles you more than if you had.

You feel the weight of her gaze. Not hostile, just desperate. But also… expectant. As if some part of her already knows the outcome.

Behind that door, there might be the dying. Or a lie. Or both. But here, in this quiet moment, all that matters is one question.

Will you follow hope... or caution?

The decision is yours.

It’s time, Ezekiel. Make your choice. Who is it that you wish to be?

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Bastion

Race: Warforged
Class: Warrior
Location: Airship; Top Deck - Bar
Interactions/Mentions: @PapaOso Talis, @FunnyGuy Wendel, @Tae Meiyu, @princess Phia, and everyone else at the bar.
Equipment:

equipment

☼ Tower Shield
☼ Greatsword made of Glacium (A material as hard as steel, yet formed from eternally frozen ice.)
☼ Titan Chain – A reinforced tow chain housed in his left palm, functioning as a powerful grappling hook.
☼ Aged Leather Satchel
☼ Worn but cherished scarf
☼ Maintenance Kit .
☼ Heavy-duty rations (for companions, not himself).
☼ A delicate glass figurine of a bird—an old keepsake.
☼ A locked, timeworn journal—contents unknown.

Attire:
☼ Etched and weathered plating with bronze accents.
☼ Fitted harness for carrying supplies.
☼ Worn scarf
Gold Balance: 39 gold
Injuries:
☼ None, but signs of past battle damage remain.

“Don’t hang up on it too much, Bastion. The lass might have spilled it with how fast she was moving.”

Bastion turned slightly to look at Wendel, eyes glowing steady. He gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment but said nothing. Then he looked back down at the glass. The water sat perfectly still, untouched.

The lights in his optics narrowed, the soft blue edges drawing in as if squinting at something only he could see. A stillness came over him again, quiet and thoughtful, but not entirely peaceful.

Something was stirring behind the glow.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen...”

Meiyu was standing now. Moving away. Her tone was light, but Bastion didn’t fully register the mimicry or the reason behind it. Just that she was leaving, too.

He watched her disappear down the same hallway as Talis.

Then he looked around the bar. Wendel was still there. Gears was cleaning a glass. The pretty pink-haired girl named Phia and the others were chatting themselves. It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t empty.

But he felt alone.

Without really knowing why, Bastion reached up. His hand found the scarf wrapped around his neck, fingers brushing the fabric like it might help him remember something more clearly.

Then, slowly, his hand moved lower. He placed it over the golden sun etched into his chest, fingers tracing the lines gently, fondly. The paint was faded in places, but the mark remained.

His optics dimmed.

And for a moment, he didn’t move. He didn't speak. He just...was.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

---

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions / Interactions: @Tae Kali, @princess Lottie, @PapaOso Milo

---

Cassius gave a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. Just release.

“Believe me, I’d love nothing more than for us to make that smug little dickhead disappear. Maybe even make a game of it. Bet we’d have lots of fun.”

His jaw shifted as his eyes flicked toward the spot where Milo had stood.

“But he knows something. Something I need before I turn the artist’s ribcage into a sculpture of my own.”

He paused, the smirk slipping.

“I’m not myself tonight, Kali.”

His voice was quieter now. Rougher. His gaze wandered without meaning to, settling again on Charlotte across the room. He didn’t even notice it until it was too late.

“Feels like I’m not in control of my mind. Or my emotions. And I hate it.”

He clenched his jaw once as he looked down, letting his eyes meet the ground below as he waited for her response. Was he even ready for whatever she’d say next? Or maybe he just wasn’t ready to be alone with the feeling.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

---

Location: The Bridge of the Stormrider
Mentions: Scratch / Val@Apex Sunburn
Interactions: First Mate Duren Reiss, Chief Deck Officer Callandra Venn

---

The wind was strong at altitude today. A clean current from the south kept the Stormrider humming like a songbird, her elemental ring pulsing with steady arcs of red and orange light as she soared through cloud and sunlight alike.

Captain Jovik Cindralis stood at the fore end of the helm, one hand on the polished wood of the wheel, the other flicking through airspeed and altitude dials built into the arcane console. His white hair was swept back, catching the light just so as it moved in perfect, effortless disarray. The sun kissed the fine trim of his officer’s coat, gold embroidery tracing sharp lines across his broad shoulders. His green eyes, keen and impossible to lie to, scanned the horizon like they always did: calm, calculating, unbothered.

They were but a day away from Sharn. No storms, no dragons, no bullshit.

Yet.

"Starboard drag on the aileron three looks a little lazy," came a voice from behind. "Pullin’ left by a hair."

"I’ve got it," Jovik murmured. He shifted the wheel slightly, muttering a short Draconic word under his breath. The elemental ring responded instantly...wobble corrected.

First Mate Duren Reiss stepped up beside him, arms crossed, half-squinting into the wind. Scarred, stocky, and carrying the vibe of a cantankerous warrior. He wore a red bandana tied tight around his shaved head and had the kind of gravel voice that came from war cries and bad whisky.

"By the way, Captain...you know we’ve got a godsdamn Karrnathi general in the mess right now? Just sittin’ there. Eating our food. Like he didn’t spend twenty years sending undead after us in the Wroat campaign."

Jovik didn’t look at him. Just adjusted a flow stabilizer rune and replied dryly, "Former general. And it’s not our food. He's passenger, which means he paid for his meals."

Duren let out a long, annoyed breath. "Doesn’t sit right, Cap. Feels like lettin’ a pyromancer nap in a hay barn. You remember what those bastards did. The smells. The screams. All the boys and girls we left in the mud. And now I gotta smile at one like we’re trading sky-pear punch recipes?"

"Wind’s shifting," Jovik said instead. "Roll pitch three degrees to port, up one on vertical lift fin. We’re catching an airstream."

Duren obeyed without missing a beat, hands moving over the secondary controls like a pianist playing from muscle memory. "You didn’t answer me."

"I did," the captain replied. "The war’s over. You don’t like it? Maybe I don't like how it all turned out either. But clinging to the hate that fueled it is how it starts again."

Duren gave a bitter chuckle. "You sound like my therapist. If I had one. Which I don’t. Because I kill problems, I don’t talk to them."

"Try it sometime."

"I’d rather arm wrestle a lich."

Jovik finally glanced his way. That damned smile. The one that turned barmaids to poets and smugglers to loyalists.

Duren groaned. "You’re probably right. As always. Doesn’t mean I’m listenin’, but you’re right."

They fell into a practiced silence, the only sound the whirring of the arcane core and the rhythmic hum of elemental fire in motion. The ship swam like a shark through the sky, graceful and deadly.

A light tap of boots against the deck announced a third voice.

"Captain?" It was Chief Deck Officer Callandra Venn...sharp-featured, brown-haired, and unflinchingly competent. "We’re getting some anomalous readings from the cargo hold. Energy flux in a small radius...not dangerous levels, but enough to trigger a core ping."

Jovik tilted his head, thoughtful. "Send Engineer Airresh to investigate."

Callandra hesitated. "Sir, Scratch is on his break. But...I can go find him, if you want."

"Please do. And let him know I owe him something fermented for the trouble. Maybe even an extra lunch break, if he's feeling greedy."

Duren snorted. "What about the girl? She's not allowed in the hold anymore. Shouldn't be allowed onboard at all in my humble opinion."

Jovik’s lips curled again, just slightly. "We both know that if Scratch is going, Val’s going. I’ve stopped wasting time trying to keep water from falling downhill. Can't run from your shadow."

Callandra gave a sly nod. "I’ll make sure Airresh is with her the whole time. Should keep things from catching fire."

"Much appreciated," the captain replied, already returning his focus to the heading readout.

Callandra turned and left, and after another brief period of that same practiced silence, Duren spoke up again, quieter this time.

"…Are you sure we can’t have a ship rule about necromancers? Like… toss ’em overboard. No trial, no fuss."

Jovik just smiled and shook his head...then adjusted the altitude ring by a quarter degree.

The Stormrider kept flying like she was born to chase the sun.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Gears

Interactions: Wendel @FunnyGuy, Val & Scratch @Apex Sunburn, Bobi

Gears was on her third round of polishing the same damn glass. Not because it needed it...it didn’t. But because her hands needed something to do. The movement kept her hands busy and her thoughts from drifting too far down memory lanes she didn’t care to revisit.
She didn’t like giving ‘em the chance.

So she scrubbed at a nonexistent smudge, eyes drifting absently toward the front of the bar...until the distinct clink of coin on wood snapped her right back to the present.

She looked up just in time to see Wendel...who, bless him, looked like someone had just handed him a golden ticket and a nap...sliding two gold coins her way like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She blinked. Once. Then twice.

“Well now,” she murmured, lifting the coins between two fingers like they might flutter away. “Either this is the best mead you’ve ever had, sweetheart… or I’m gettin’ tipped for my radiant personality.”

She gave him a soft smile. Not her usual teasing one...no, this was warmer. Real.

“You ever figure out which it is, you let me know. I’ll keep the good stuff pourin’ just the same.”

She tucked the coins away without another word. If the man needed to feel generous today, she wasn’t about to get in the way of that little bit of peace.
She then turned her attention back to her lovely, if not a bit odd, coworkers.

Vallena was already launching into food requests, talking about the honey and fruit in the cargo hold like she hadn’t been expressly banned from it.

Gears arched a metal browplate.

“Honey and fruit, huh? I betchya’ I can cook something up for you darlin.”

She looked at Scratch with a wink as he placed his own order...egg sandwich, simple and to the point. Then came the follow-up, casual but not really:

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to put everyone’s bill on the Captain’s tab?”

“Now see, this is why we can’t have nice things.”
She handed him the drink. “I could technically do that, sure. But I like my job. I like my pantry. I like my life.”

She leaned in just a bit, lowering her voice.

“And explainin’ to Jovik why I charged half the liquor shelf to his name on account of ‘a little joke’ just doesn’t feel like the hill I want to die on today.”

Then came that grin from Scratch. That little crooked thing he did when he was about to be a problem on purpose.

And sure enough...right on cue...he threw out a line about her “curvature.”

Her head turned slow, almost theatrically, and her optics narrowed at him.

She rested both hands on the counter, leaned in slightly, and with a smirk just shy of dangerous, she spoke.

“You tryin’ to sweet talk me into gettin’ your sandwich for free, darlin’? ’Cause if so, you better come with a little more heat than that. I’ve had steam valves flirt better.”

Then she glanced at Bobi, the stranger than the average gnome, and added:

“And you, sugar, don’t let him scare you off. He’s just grumpy ‘cause I won’t let him peek at the goods beneath all this armor plating.”

Val was still hanging halfway over the counter when she changed the subject, in the smallest, most sincere little voice.

“You said something about… emotional discomfort? Is something wrong?”

And for a beat...just a beat...Gears’ hands went still again.

Scratch echoed the sentiment, and for a moment, something passed over her face. Not sadness, exactly. Just... tiredness, worn gentle by time.

She leaned forward, elbows resting gently on the wood, and looked at Val...not over her, not through her, but right at her.

“Ain’t nothin’ for you to fret over, sweetheart,” she said, voice soft like worn cotton. “Just one of those mornings where the past feels a little closer than it oughta. Y’know?”

She tapped her chestplate once, lightly.

“But I’m alright. Takes more than a few old ghosts to gum up my gears.”

She smiled at both of them then, wide and bright.

“If you keep fussin’ over me like that, I’ll start mistin’ up my optics and y’all ain’t gonna have nobody to make your food. And I know how cranky Scratch can get when he’s hungry.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

---

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate / Banquet Hall
Mentions / Interactions: @princess Lottie, @Tae Kalliope, @JJ Doe Hala

---

Milo remained pinned, spine against stone, utterly calm in a way that only made the fire behind Cassius’s eyes burn hotter.

“How do you know that name?” Cassius growled low, his voice just above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut through most men’s defenses. “And don’t play stupid again. I’ve killed men for less than dropping those words.”

Milo’s smile didn’t falter. He tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes gleaming with interest rather than fear.

“I have my ways, bastard. But don’t worry, I can tell you’re not defined by it,” he said softly. “But gods, it does make for a fascinating footnote in your life, doesn’t it?”

Cassius stepped in closer, their faces inches apart now, his hand still gripping Milo’s collar tight enough to wrinkle the fine fabric.

“You think this is a fucking joke?”

“No,” Milo said, smile softening...not disappearing, just shifting into something more honest. “I think it’s a tragedy. And like all the best ones, you’ve rewritten the ending so many times you’ve forgotten which version is true.”

The muscles tightened in Cassius’s jaw. His breath was uneven. He wanted to throw a punch just to end the conversation...but something in him held back.

Then, a presence entered the edge of their periphery. Hala.

They approached with an unmistakable air of deliberate elegance, attention fixed squarely on Milo. But neither man moved. Neither man spoke. For a moment, it was like Hala wasn’t even there.

Milo didn’t break eye contact. Cassius’s grip didn’t loosen.

And then...

“Cassius.”

Her voice, soft and careful, sliced through the tension.

Cassius’s gaze twitched, just slightly, toward the sound of Kalliope’s voice.

Her fingers touched his arm...gentle, but brave. The kind of touch you gave a cornered wolf, trusting it wouldn’t bite. Cassius didn’t look at her right away. Not fully, but he did lean into Kalliope’s touch ever so slightly. It was a comfort in an otherwise completely tense moment.

He leaned into Milo just slightly more as well, voice dropping into that low, dangerous whisper, half threat, half promise.

“You’re lucky we’re drawing a crowd.” His lips barely moved. “Guess we’ll just have to continue this later.”

Milo’s smile widened ever so slightly, like he’d just been handed a gift. He looked over to Kalliope with a quick wink, and then turned back to Cassius with the full expression of the man who had come to be known as “Mr. Sunshine”.

“Oh, how I look forward to our next… little... chat.”

Cassius released him with a shove that was just rough enough to send his back against the pillar with a thud, but not enough to escalate or draw additional eyes their way. He turned, shoulders still tight with the remnants of fury, and moved with Kalliope like a storm rerouted. His eyes shifted to Charlotte once more as he walked, even in this moment where the air could be cut with a knife, his gaze craved hers.

As they moved further away, Cassius finally addressed her Kali's gesture, her words, and even more importantly that look. Before he spoke, he forced himself to take a long, deep breath.

"I'd be halfway to the dungeon by now if you hadn't of stepped in..." His words carried a hint of forced sarcasm, but there wasn't a single thing about them untrue. "I would have gutted that fucker, right there, in front of everyone.". Running a hand through his hair, Cas took another deep breath before meeting Kalliope's gaze fully. "So thank you, Kali...I owe you one."

Milo took a moment to breathe in the stillness that followed. He smoothed out his coat with one slow sweep of his palm, adjusted the hem of his sleeve, and flicked a speck of dust from his lapel. Then he reached up, carefully straightening his tie. Only then did he finally turn toward the other presence beside him.

His smile remained, easy and curious as he answered Hala's question.

“Hmm…Am I an artist who creates with my own hands,” Milo repeated softly, “or…do I direct others to make my vision a reality?”

He regarded Hala with a slow blink, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Why not both?”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Mentions/Interactions: Ezekiel @helo

She was silent at first.

And then…she laughed.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t joyful. It was cold. Brittle. The kind of sound that didn’t belong in a place so quiet. The kind of laugh you might hear from someone standing on the edge of a rooftop, staring down into something they couldn’t climb out of.

“Of course,” she said quietly between fading chuckles, voice trembling at the edges. “Of course.”

Her gaze didn’t meet his. Not yet. She just stood there for a moment, breathing in silence. Her shoulders didn’t shake, but her hand rose...slowly, subtly...to wipe at the corner of her eye. And when she turned to look at him again…

There were tears. Not many. Just a few. Just enough to matter. Her eyes shimmered with unshed grief, glassy and golden in the dim light of the corridor. She turned toward the nearby wall...plain steel and wood, curved slightly with the hull...and lifted a hand.

Her index finger glowed faintly as she whispered something low and melodic. Arcane syllables, elegant and old. She pressed that glowing finger to the surface and began to trace, slowly, carefully, until a tall, thin rectangle formed...six feet high, etched like a door in gold light. The moment the shape was complete, the lines flared...and a glowing portal opened soundlessly, casting warm illumination across the corridor.

The air changed. Magic...real magic...swirled around her in delicate threads.

She turned back toward Ezekiel.

Her hood fell back as she did, revealing the full measure of her beauty. And it was beauty in the way a tragic statue was beautiful...flawless, cold, and carved to hold sorrow forever. Another tear streaked down her cheek, catching the gold light of the portal like a falling star.

And then, with all the gravity of a prayer, she spoke.

“Please…” Her voice cracked, just once.

“Don’t let them die.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t reach for him. Just stood there between the glowing door and the only man on the ship who might save lives… or walk away.

And in that moment, in all of perfected stoicism, all she was…was just a girl, breaking.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Bastion & Talis

---

Mentions: Wendel @funnyguy
Interactions: Meiyu @Tae

---

Bastion was still watching the glass of water when Meiyu spoke again.

“You may be the most terrifyingly sweet thing I’ve seen all week.”

His head tilted slowly toward her, taking in her smile, her tone, the way her words curled around themselves like a ribbon. It wasn’t the first time he had been called terrifying. It might’ve been the first time he’d been called sweet. He considered this.

“I do not intend to be terrifying,” he said after a moment. “But... I am glad if the result was positive.”

He watched as Meiyu turned her attention to the tankard offered by Wendel. Bastion observed her drink...unbothered, graceful, confident. He liked that she seemed to say exactly what she meant. He appreciated that kind of directness.

He also appreciated Wendel’s warmth. The way he smiled. The way his eyes softened around the edges like old paper that had weathered over time but still held ink.

Bastion thought for a moment, pondering how some could be so humane to his kind while others were so obviously disgusted by his presence. But before he could even complete the thought, Meiyu spoke again…this time to Talis.

“You’ve got the look of a smuggler. Or a sorcerer. Or maybe just a scholar with questionable life choices… So, little sparrow… what’s in the bag?”

Talis stopped breathing.

Not literally, but close enough that even Bastion picked up on the severity of distress the question caused the dehydrated woman.

She tried to laugh; “Tried” being the imperative word.

“Oh! Haha. What, this?” she said, holding her satchel like it might bite if provoked. “Nothing! Just… books. A snack. Some other boring stuff. Haha.”

She was doing the fast-talking thing again. Bastion had noticed it earlier. Her words sped up when she was anxious. Her eyes darted. Her hands never stopped moving.

“Wendel, want to place a wager? I say it’s cursed. Or alive. Or cursed and alive.”

Talis's almost choked on air as she breathed in deep, her laugh cracking mid-chuckle in the most unnatural way.

“No need for wagers! Definitely not cursed or alive or... anything like that. Haha. Ha. Just a normal bag.”

Her stool scraped back with a sound that made several people glance over. She stood stiffly, the satchel now gripped with both arms like it might fly away.

“I...uh. I need to go. Gotta…uh… relieve myself. Biologically. In a place. That is not here.”

There was a brief pause as she looked around the bar with her best attempt at a normal smile.

“I’ll be back! Probably.”

And then she was off…Half-speedwalking, half-fleeing. Bastion’s gaze lingered on the hallway she vanished into, then he turned back to the group and very softly, to no one in particular, he spoke.

“She forgot her water.”

He reached out and slid her untouched glass closer, just in case. And then he stood beside the stool, unmoving, watching the door…Waiting.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

---

Time: Evening
Location: Damien Estate / Banquet Hall
Mentions / Interactions: @princess Lottie, @PapaOso Milo

---

He shouldn’t have looked at her. He knew better, from the moment he sat down. But of course, he just wasn’t able to stop himself. And when her eyes finally found him, soft and tentative, not unlike the way they were the night before, for a heartbeat of a second all was right in the world.

“Good evening, Cassius,” she had said—just for him. No one else heard it, but he felt it in his damn bones. The sound of it was quiet, almost apologetic. Like it knew something he didn’t.

And then he saw it—that flicker of recognition behind her eyes. The truth settling there like dust on silk. Her posture straightened, but her cheeks gave her away. The soft breath that slipped between her lips, the tension in her shoulders—that was the look of someone preparing to let something beautiful die.

It was the same look he’d seen in soldiers who knew the retreat had already begun.

The moment hit him like a gut punch. And for once, Cassius didn’t know what to do with himself.

He didn’t breathe. He didn’t blink. He just watched as she turned away, slow and composed, holding a ribbon-wrapped box like it could anchor her to the floor. And still, the moment felt like it was slipping through his fingers. A page turning in the middle of the story. No explanation. No warning.

And still—still—his mind tried to make excuses for her. For him. For all of it.

Everything in him went quiet.

Cassius stared down at his hands, flexing them once, slow. As if remembering they were capable of holding something. As if remembering what he wanted to hold.

Then...he stood.

Not out of decision, but out of instinct. His body moved without asking for permission. One foot in front of the other, carried by something heavier than pride, stronger than caution. There was no plan. No clever smirk. Just desperation, plain and unspoken, radiating from his eyes like a heat that refused to be cooled.

He had to say something. Anything. He had to talk to her. He had to—

“Forgive me,” came a voice. Smooth. Curious. Unwelcome.

Cassius blinked—and someone was standing in front of him.

Tall. Blonde. Perfectly dressed and smelling faintly of decadence. There was an artistry to the man that didn’t belong in this world. He looked out of place by design.

“You walk,” the stranger said, tilting his head, “like a man who’s about to chase something that can’t be caught.”

Cassius didn’t respond.

He shifted to move around him—but the man shifted with him. Effortless. Like he was part of the current, not just blocking it.

“Don’t let me stop you,” the stranger said with a warm smile. “I just had to say… you are fascinating.”

“Not the time.”

“I know.” The stranger’s eyes swept across his face. Studying him. “It’s just that I see… scars. Not just on your face, but deeper. Older. Scars of survival. Of guilt. The kind of weight that reshapes a man whether he likes it or not.”

Cassius froze for a beat. Then, with a tone full of tension, he said,
“You always psychoanalyze strangers, or am I just a special boy for this fuckin’ sweet talk?”

“Oh, you’re special, alright,” the man said, almost dreamily. “The silver streaks. The stare. The way you wear your pain like it belongs on you. Not everybody can see it… But I can.”

Cassius’s jaw clenched silently for a moment. He wanted to walk past. Gods, he needed to. But this man wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t shut up. His eyes moved back to Charlotte with need.

And then—just as Cassius started to shift again—

“It turns out,” the man added casually, “being the Scourge of Eisenholm leaves its mark on a man. Does it not?”

Everything stopped.

Cassius’s heart stalled. His breath left him in a single, cold exhale.

The words hit like a blade to the ribs. Quiet. Clean. Deep.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t think.

He stepped forward in one smooth motion, grabbed the man by the collar, and slammed his back against a nearby pillar—hard enough to make a point, soft enough not to start a scene.

“You don’t know what you just said,” Cassius snarled, eyes burning,
“but you’ve got three seconds to fix it. One chance.”

The man met his gaze, utterly unfazed. He looked at Cassius like he was reading a familiar passage in a well-loved book.

“Oh, I'm Milo St. Claire. I always know exactly what I say. And I know exactly who you are, Cassius.”

Milo didn’t flinch.

Instead, he smiled.

Which to Cassius, in that state, in that moment…was just the wrong fucking move.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Mentions/Interactions: Ezekiel @helo

He spoke. A denial wrapped in measured tones. A reasoned refusal, not unkind, but absolute. She listened and said nothing for a moment. But eventually, it was time to speak.

“Ah,” she said simply.

There was a moment of pause in between her words as Liana’s bourbon eyes looked over him as though she were seeing him for the first time.

“I misjudged you.”

Her tone wasn’t disappointed in the emotional sense. It was diagnostic. A recalculation.

“You helped the boy. Without asking who he belonged to. Without worrying about whether the bitch who broke his arm would be punished. There were rules broken then too. But you didn’t stop to report it. You just… acted.”

She tilted her head ever so slightly, studying him anew.

“I assumed that meant you cared more about people than procedure.”

She stepped in, slowly, deliberately, and placed a gloved hand against his chest. Not pushing. Just resting there, like the weight of a single truth.

“But I see now. That wasn’t principle. That was convenience. The child was a victim, so you acted. Here? It’s harder. Riskier. So you choose safety, not kindness.” Her gaze was cool and direct.

“You call it wisdom. I call it cowardice dressed as righteous policy.” Then, she pulled her hand away.

“I’ll find someone else. Someone willing to help the dying without getting so lost in their own minutia.

She started to turn away, but paused...just long enough to glance back over her shoulder.

“I really didn’t think you were going to be the disappointment you’ve turned out to be. But for what its worth… They aren’t contagious. They were cursed. There isn’t a threat to the other passengers… Only to the lives of two people who deserved better. Neither of them even know that they are stowaways. That sin is entirely on me, but it was the only way. Yet, you condemn them anyways with your conveniently placed sense of virtue. I hope your god is proud.”