Psyker Landshark

Iris Ascendis

Post for this will be up by Wed or Thurs at the latest

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Rudolf Sagramore

&

Ranbu no Izayoi

That evening, the smell of food cooking drew Rudolf to the safehouse's kitchen. One of Ciradyl's staff, moved over from the previous safehouse, walked hurriedly away from the kitchen, murmuring apologies towards whoever was inside.

Upon peeking in, Rudolf would behold a strange sight to his eyes: Izayoi manning the stove, an apron laid over her usual kimono as she simmered fish in a saucepan. She glanced up upon hearing footsteps, raising an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem? I requested that the previous occupant vacate the kitchen." A beat. "Are you hungry? I'm making several portions."

For his part, the young man took a moment to blink, as he reconciled the scene before him with a few expectations that had just died. Of all their number that might have been crowding the staff out the kitchens, he had to admit he'd not expected her, even after beginning to learn of the woman behind the legend properly.

"Ah, no, none. I just..." his hands raised high in surrender, as the savory odor continued to pull a void in his stomach closer to the forefront of his attention. "I guess I didn't expect to see you back here."

Even if he'd denied his appetite, after the days of travel they'd taken in returning to Kugane he could tell the lie would have soon been revealed once that empty stomach became vocal. So instead, he stepped through the partition, and rolled up his sleeves.

"If you're making a lot, is there anything left you could use a hand on?"

Izayoi resisted the urge to give the boy an exasperated look at his obvious surprise upon seeing her within the kitchen. What did the Edrenians think, that she feasted on the blood of the fallen?

"Surely this can't come as too much of a surprise." She groused as she checked the fish. "Someone had to keep my family fed, and my husband, gods bless him, was useless in the kitchen." Izayoi moved on to the soup, waving Rudolf off.

"Go, sit. I'm nearly finished here as it is."

"Be that as it may, this has been a long journey back for all of us." the young man offered quickly in reply, clearly electing not to force his way into whatever workflow she had left. At certain times, the greatest virtue to offer was in accepting generosity, rather than demanding parity in every moment. "Etro knows, if any of us are due for a rest rather than taking on another task, you'd be high on the list. Things were definitely touch-and-go."

He made an effort not to unintentionally take a patronizing tone on the subject-- honestly, even he might have begrudged it, were the positions reversed. Few things grinded at the gears more than being considered, even remotely, as "fragile" to those that lived by the sword.

He pulled a nearby stool free, and sat on his haunches with crossed arms.

"Being too injured to fight and too injured to perform menial tasks are two entirely separate afflictions." Izayoi retorted, giving the miso a brief taste before nodding in satisfaction. She quickly plated up two portions of rice, miso, and simmered mackerel onto individual trays before carrying them over towards the small kitchen table.

"Eat. I will leave the remainder for those who are currently absent." She took a pair of chopsticks and began to dig into her own meal rather noisily. Evidently, table manners were something that had never quite stuck with her.

"Thank you."

In Rudolf's mind, there was a little more granularity than those two options, but he wasn't about to get bogged down in it. Instead, he offered a silent word of prayer in thanks, took up his chopsticks, and began to eat as well.

Perhaps ironically, the young man claiming to hail from a hard-nosed warrior village ate almost elegantly by comparison, systematic and precise as his utensils cut through and portioned simmered fish into bite-sized chunks.

"This is good," he said between mouthfuls, appreciative smile on his face. "Really good. Where I'm from much starker flavors are customary, but this is a really nice balance. Gentle, almost."

The slow-simmered mackerel's savory-sweet flesh, with the salty tang of the miso coating both fish and rice, was a far cry from the Sagramori and Shilagean shared fondness for pickled and spiced meats, drowning in invigorating brine, cayenne, and at times char. A warm hug as opposed to a slap on the back.

Another bit of light shed upon her, that burned away what he'd believed of a spectre before they met. A warrior of her skill and renown, surely, would have eaten food that was supposed to make you strong. Right?

He had to admit, his curiosity was piqued now, and everything he learned about the woman before him seemed to make her a little less scary and a little more real. Had he not been paying attention to them, he wondered if he would have acted so swiftly, there on the dunes.

"What kind of useless in the kitchen was he?" he asked, after swallowing the last of the fish.

Would he have still done the right thing, were he still terrified?

Chefs were often their own worst critics. Izayoi was no different. Even as Rudolf praised her cooking, she compared the flavor in her mind to previous examples of her food, to say nothing of the same dish she'd sampled from other venues.

The verdict was poor. Six months of no practice resulted in slight overcooking. The texture was just a tad dry, and she'd used too much water with the rice. Mushier than it should have been. Izayoi frowned as she ripped through her meal nonetheless.

Rudolf's inquiry brought her thoughts back to her immediate surroundings, and she raised her head.

"I asked Isshin to prepare rice but once, on a day where he had no house calls and I went to fish." She reminisced wistfully, lips quirking ever so slightly upward in spite of herself. "I returned to witness him scraping burnt rice out of the pot somehow. Foolish man. Before we wed, he largely subsided off eating from the village inn's kitchen." She raised her soup bowl to her lips, taking a brief sip before explaining. "My husband was the village doctor. Without him discovering me on Atsu's outskirts, my death on the mountain five years ago would have been one in truth."

"I'll admit, its falsehood was a hell of a shock." he joked.

Similarly, he brought the bowl to his lips, but paused before the liquid could reach them as a detail stood out in his mind.

Atsu. A village at the foot of the mountains separating Edrenian Midgar and Ospreyan Aitsuragi. Close enough to have seen a village doctor discover the bloodied, beaten, and broken war hero before her final stand had claimed her, and return her to health.

One that Valheim would return to, six months before now, and burn to a crisp. Searching for her, last known to be in the area, and by happenstance just up the mountain, searching for medicinal herbs. Raze it and rend it to the earth... including one such inn, big enough for two bumbling foreigners to accidentally fall down a wine cellar, just a few weeks ago, when Valheim came to sweep the area once more.

He set the bowl down, and looked at the wistful samurai before him... No, at the widow, fondly tending to the old flame in her breast. The small, all too rare smile on her face— maybe the last she had left to indulge. He knew this look, all too well.

She was there again, for a moment. Memories of simpler, fonder times, transporting her back to a moment that could coax a grin out from behind even her stern scowl.

He wanted to ask, to confirm the sudden deduction, to apologize his tresspassing even, but seeing that...

"Still, for as confidently as word of your death was spread, he must have been a superb healer." he continued after the beat, fishing for any straggling clumbs of rice with his chopsticks idly.

He couldn't. He wouldn't dare bring Valheim back into the picture, not when this talk afforded her some form of respite from its long shadow. He didn't have the heart to rip it away from another.

"He was." Izayoi confirmed, still practically somewhere else at the moment.

"Isshin received his education in Kugane. Atsu was his hometwon. He'd returned to the countryside upon tiring of city life and lacking the funds to establish his own practice within the capital."

Five years passed in her eyes in a blink. Five years of peace, joy, love, all gone in one afternoon. Izayoi took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing herself back into the present. Focusing on what was in front of her would center herself. She resumed her meal, occasionally looking up out of the corner of her eye.

The boy was oddly well-mannered in terms of handling chopsticks and eating, especially for an Edreni. Especially for an Edreni monster hunting vagrant. She hadn't seen table manners like this outside of samurai that weren't upjumped peasants like herself.

Finishing her soup, Izayoi studied Rudolf intently for a moment, suspicion in her gaze.

He nodded along with her as she spoke, content he'd made the right choice. For someone who wore tension around her like a second layer of her robes, he had no way of knowing what kind of good the trip down memory lane had done in truth— But at the very least, when it ended, it was on her terms, set aside with a calming breath instead of snarl or spittle.

For someone like him, even doing that much exceeded par.

"Well, I understand it isn't my place to say, but..."

He studied the liquid in the bowl for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully in paying respects.

"Even if he couldn't find funding, I think it's a good thing he found y—"

As he looked up, he found himself under the microscope in a way he had forgotten to be ready for. Her piercing gaze had returned to her in the wake of her reminiscence, and she'd quite squarely turned it onto him.

What happened? Why's she staring? I got carried away, didn't I? What do I know, I'm the child of her enemies back then. I shouldn't have said that. Am I gonna die?

He tracked her gaze closer, finding it locked to his right hand at certain moment— and glanced between her and the chopsticks about three distinct times to make sure he wasn't going crazy.

"Oh. Uh... Am I holding these weird? I tried to copy you and Ciradyl's grips mostly..."

Izayoi continued to subject Rudolf to her unwavering stare for several moments before she deigned to speak.

"You are surprisingly well-mannered at the dinner table for a mere monster hunter." The samurai said simply before returning to her meal. Once she finished the last few bites of her mackerel, she continued.

"One would almost think you were raised with, or at least trained in noble manners as I was." She rose, starting to clear the kitchen table of both Rudolf's and her own plates and bowls. "Am I to assume you hail from a family of recently-disgraced knights or retainers?"

Crap.

He'd never needed to police this before now. So often, the roasted or grilled meats and vegetables from the village never really brought the old habits out of him, skewered and carved to be eaten by hand anyway. He'd not even thought of the way he ate to be something to draw anyone's notice. He'd already been burned, almost literally, once before by trying out his "playing dumb" card...

"I'd appreciate that, if I didn't feel like it's put me on trial." he began, before following up, probably a smidge too quickly, with "No, my family hasn't fallen from high standing or anything like that."

Much the opposite, as a matter of fact. Cutting off their disgraced excesses was sure to see them rise further. Not that the world knew of him. Last he'd heard from Earl Demet, the going story was that he'd fallen deathly ill, bedridden for five years straight by some plague brought home from the war.

"Sir Galahad mentioned this in brief when we first joined, but Sagramori're more than just monster hunters— that's simply the most common trade for our skills, especially with the onset of Blight."

He too rose, reaching for but being a little slow on the draw for his own plate.

"We're chiefly swordsmen. Midgari initiates often winter with us to embed within the crucible— others from the village have even risen from sellswords to peerage upon battlefield merit before. It's probably those nobler types that rubbed off on me." he half-explained, half-lied-by-omission.

It wasn't lost on him how close this story was to the truth of things, through the focus of a different lens. Hopefully, that'd serve to make it more believable than the opposite.

"I'm a skittish guy, really. Polite eating keeps people out of my face."

A beat.

"Usually."

"Hn." Was all Izayoi said in return, giving him one last hard stare before moving to set the used dishes aside and start plating the remainder of the food into lacquer boxes for the others. "Curious, how I've never seen or heard of your sword style during the war, then. Off with you, you've other things to be doing." She dismissed him brusquely, turning away.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

Even through the sudden darkness and paying attention to the knowledge his weapon was enchanted, Renar hadn't taken his eyes off Thrinax ever since the beast started moving. It approached, its head rearing back, and-

Oh. Oh, damn it all. He bit back a curse, quickly diving off the hilltop and unceremoniously tumbling down a way before he righted himself into a slide. There weren't any chances to be taken when it came to a threat of this magnitude. The knight glanced up to see his sudden surge of movement pay off, as the hilltop was bathed in dragon's flame.

Right. First things first. Take stock. What was he working with?

Fortunately, it seemed Thrinax's opening move hadn't killed anyone among the Roses, or even seriously injured them. Very good. Everyone was regrouping, with the exception of Gertrude, who was high in the air on her broom, and Fionn, who'd evidently hitched a ride. That opened possibilities. Ones that would be difficult to coordinate considering they were out of speaking range, but Renar trusted that Fionn would take opportunities as they came.

"Gerard, Fleuri." Renar picked himself back up onto his feet, poleaxe brandished in front of him. "With me. We're missing Fionn, but he's in a better position to deal critical damage. All we need to do is keep Thrinax's attention long enough for the others to strike a decisive blow. Remember, it isn't stupid. We can't simply survive. We'll need to pose a credible enough threat to stay engaged with, lest it have the opportunity to shift its attention."

He surveyed the immediate area, mapping a route forward in his mind.

"Forward, and keep to cover as we approach. I don't doubt that a dragon has better night vision than we do, but Merilla's change in conditions may benefit us more than it does Thrinax."

@Crimson Paladin @HereComesTheSnow

Bleach: Rise Of The New Generation

Nakajima Ageha

So she'd put herself ahead of the pack already, considering the inane questions the rest of this rabble were babbling. How many people he killed? What idiot kept count? Why he wore a mask? Who cared? What his Bankai was? If he actually told them, he didn't deserve to be a captain.

And then, in a moment of genuinely pleasant surprise to Ageha, she actually got a real answer and a compliment. She hadn't been expecting one. The entire intent here had been just to make herself known to the captain, at the very least. Ageha resisted the urge to display any smugness about the matter. There was no point in ruining any inroads she'd made because she somehow couldn't control her expression.

Kenpachi moved on to...ah. The meathead. Should have figured he'd be interested in the Eleventh, too. That...wasn't the worst outcome, really. He put up a real fight, and it was better to have an actual challenge to beat on than a human speedbag.

Back to what mattered, Ageha ran through Captain Kenpachi's criteria in her mind. The basics she already cleared easily. Strength? She had Shikai. That put her above the majority of the pack of cretins she'd graduated with. The will to fight? Oh, in spades and more. No, what mattered was what he was looking for in seated officers. She didn't intend to be an unseated pleb for longer than was strictly necessary.

Of course Ageha fought for something. It was what had motivated her to push through her family's training. Through the academy. Spite. And the desire to make her wreck of a childhood worth a damn. To be useful in some way. If she didn't go down this path, all the nonsense, idiocy, and borderline abuse she'd endured would have all been wasted in the end.

She narrowed her eyes, noting the alluring smell of grilled meat and fish wafting in the air and pushing past it. Later. There were more important things at hand.

"Then I'll just have to prove my worth. Now or at a later time, Captain?" She left it up to his discretion, of course. There was a fine line between displaying bravery and an insubordinate demand.

Iris Ascendis

Yeah same, I don't think I can really drag out the chapel scene for another round.

Bleach: Rise Of The New Generation

Nakajima Ageha

Sometimes, life was a bad joke. Like the idea of pushing your one and only hope of relevance so far past the breaking point that she decided to abandon all ties with you instead. Or, more pertinently, right now. When it turned out the strongest man in Soul Society and the head of the military was evidently an alcoholic buffoon. And a slob. Charming.

Ageha resisted the deep urge to react in any way, her expression stony as the speech ended and the crowd began to disperse around the festival. She could spy Abiko, from the academy, giving her a brief wave off from a distance away. A curt nod of acknowledgement was given in response, though her lip curled in slight distaste at his choice in company. Nonetheless, she continued on, her goal in mind.

There were other squads she didn't have a problem with joining. The Second and the Ninth wouldn't be objectionable. But if Ageha had a choice? She wanted the Eleventh. Frontline combat appealed to her. And so did the squad's culture. Live by the sword, die by the sword. There was a problem? You settled it through strength and skill. The cantankerous spirit of her Zanpakuto rumbled agreement at the notion, and Ageha swiftly tracked down the masked man serving as this generation's Kenpachi.

"Captain Kenpachi," Ageha snapped up into a crisp military salute. "Ageha, Squad Ten." No need to muddy the waters by bringing her noble family name into this. "I'll get to the point: what are you looking for in those who join the Eleventh?"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Ranbu no Izayoi

Led by Eve, Goug eventually made his way back to the Kirins, grumbling in both irritation and concern the whole while.

"Ack, couldn't have saved me some strain on the ol' heart, kupo? Thought I was gonna have to find me way back to Edren on my kupoin' own for a moment there."

Unable to travel too much farther for the day, the battered and exhausted Kirins made camp on the dunes.

When sunset came, Izayoi cleared her throat to get the party's attention before beginning to speak.

"I said I would explain, and I shall. That foe we faced used the corpse of the man who taught me the sword. And his skills, somehow. I am not so blind as to not recognize my own sword style, especially when used by the one who taught me to do so. The one I killed."

Fifteen years ago...

On her eighteenth birthday, Izayoi awoke to see her master looming over her. She blinked, one hand already reaching for her blade before the man stepped back, shaking his head.

“Not today, girl. Come. Morning meal is ready.”

“Master? You…made breakfast?” He hadn’t done that in years. Not since she insisted on taking over meal preparation duties, at the very least. She followed him out of her tent and into the harsh desert sunlight, wincing slightly.

“Eat.” Was all he said in response, sitting himself down at the fire where he partitioned out a bowl of rice and a grilled hare for each of them. Izayoi could only sigh and acquiesce in response, sitting down and reaching for her pair of chopsticks before starting to dig in. Of course he never bothered explaining anything that wasn’t relayed to swordplay.

“There’s a reason I took over cooking for us, Master.” Izayoi said between bites, a slight glower on her face. “It was kind of you to do this for my nameday, but please don’t do this again next year. The rice is mushy and the hare is half-burnt.”

“Impertinent girl.” Her teacher huffed in response, finishing his meal with no complaint. “Follow me when you cease complaining.” He stood, setting the bowl and utensils aside before picking his sword up. “I will wait for you out on the dunes. Bring your sword.”

___

Ten minutes later, Izayoi stood facing her master out on the desert dunes, each of them holding a sheathed sword in their hand.

“Ten years.” Her master drawled, his gaze looking down upon her from a distance. “I have trained you for ten long years. Ever since I found you in the wreckage of that caravan.”

“Is this going somewhere?” Izayoi huffed, rolling her eyes. “Or are you growing sentimental in your old age?” Ignoring the fact that the pale, blonde giant of a man looked near forty at worst.

“Tell me,” He continued, ignoring her complaints. “Have you ever wondered who exactly attacked that caravan? Killed your family?”

“...Master?”

“This is my namesday gift to you, girl. The truth. I attacked that caravan. I put your family to the sword. Every last one of them except you.”

Izayoi’s breath hitched. Her pupils dilated. The grip on her sword went slack.

“You…this isn’t funny, Master.”

“I am not lying to you, girl. You lived through sheer coincidence. Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t have found the so-called bandits I told you were responsible? Had any existed, we would have tracked them down within mere days.”

“Then, w-why did you-”

“Spare you? Train you?” A cruel smirk crossed his face. “It amused me. I wanted to see what I could make of a random child that crossed my path. To see if she could be forged into a hunter. A predator. It fills you even now, doesn’t it? The hunger. To bite down on my jugular. To feel the warmth fill your mouth and run over, even as you drink deep. Good. Good…”

Izayoi’s expression went feral, and she reached for her sword with a wordless scream.

___

She was going to die. Worse, she was going to lose. Izayoi had endured hellish training and combat for ten years. Her master had been practicing swordplay for at least twice that time. Oh, she was swifter than him, certainly. But not enough to make up for his advantages in reach, strength, and combat experience.

“Traitor! Murderer! Monster!” Izayoi howled as her series of strikes were all parried before she was forced back on the defensive again, desperately guarding and evading.

“Yes, YES!” Her master cackled in glee, nothing but joy in his eyes. “This is the battle I have wanted for so long! The challenge! Dig deeper, girl! You can give me more! I trained you better than this! Must I force it out of you?!”

His sandal slammed into Izayoi’s gut, creating distance between them as he sheathed his sword. Her eyes widened. She knew what was coming. In sheer desperation, she sheathed her own blade. They met each other’s eyes. They charged. They drew.

___

Izayoi stood over her master’s dying form, her sword raised in both hands.

“What’s wrong, girl?” The man rasped, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Finish it. Ignore any sentiment you have left. I killed your parents, your siblings. The boy screamed for mercy, you know.”

“...Boy?” Izayoi blinked. “I never had a brother.” A resigned sigh was the only answer she received. Her grip on her sword slackened. “Master…don’t tell me…”

“To be caught at the very end.” He smirked ruefully, closing his eyes. “How clumsy of me.”

“You lied?” She spat incredulously, hurling her sword to the side as she knelt down, trying to press against the deep gash she’d put into his chest. “What in the Mother’s name is wrong with you?! Why would you ever try to make me think you killed my family?”

“It was the only way you would ever face me with all of your might. Girl. Izayoi. I have wanted to die since long before we met. This empty, ephemeral world has never held a single worthy hunt for me. Nothing to provide challenge. Substance. You were my last hope. To craft my killer with mine own hands. You are not as I am. You would never have agreed to face me with all you had without sufficient motive. Without sheer rancor.”

“You’re insane.” Tears began to flow from Izayoi’s eyes, unbidden. “This is…this is the worst namesday present I’ve ever heard of. You can’t just die on me. Not without making up for this travesty.”

“I can only thank you. This is all I have ever wanted. To die in one last, worthy battle. The only one I have ever had in my life. Hear me, my apprentice. Endure. Survive. Live. For the rush of blood, for the time between the seconds, live. For whatever reason you forge for yourself, live. Carry what I have taught you, and take what you will from this world. That is the last gift I leave you…” He trailed off, his voice quieting as he took his last breath.

Izayoi stared down at the corpse, the midday sun burning down upon her as she beat her fists against it, sobbing.

Izayoi refused to say anything further on the matter after that, turning in early for the night with nary another word.

___

Days later, with little else in the way of options, the party returned to Kugane for the moment to regroup, recover, and plan their next move. With Ciradyl and Chisaki's aid, they made their way past the Valheimr checkpoints once more and met up with Hien in a different safehouse, this time in the western section of the city.

One summary of what they learned later, and Hien groaned to himself, holding his head in one hand as the other rapped his knuckles against the low table they all sat around.

"This is...a bit much to take in. However, I trust your word, especially that of Izayoi and Lady Ciradyl. I'll admit, I would have liked to employ your collective services for longer. But I've no hold over any of the lot of you." He rolled a map of the continent out across the table, pondering.

"I'll be frank: Edren is less of a going concern than the other two nations. It still bears strong leadership and signifcant military force.
Drana Asnaeu's ability to withstand a full-scale invasion in search of its crystal is my foremost worry regarding this scenario. Were I the one looking in on the opposite end of this situation, it would almost certainly be my next target. Unfortunately, reports from my informants say Valheim's been reinforcing the southwest border for weeks now. You'll not be able to get ahead of them on foot, and we've little access to ships. What captains are in our pocket are already occupied with missions of their own and, hm..." He paused, rubbing his chin.

"Give me a day or two to make some inquiries. In the meantime, the lockdown around the city has eased up, and Reisa herself has been reported to have left Kugane for the moment. Take some rest, you all have more than earned it."

SPIRITUM

Kalina Kovalic

Even Director Veld of all people wanted the princess treated with kid gloves, huh? Fine, Kalina would acquiesce. Not that she gave a damn, but orders were orders. Regardless, once she helped everyone patch the truck up as best they could, Kalina took the wheel once more, giving the engine a few brief revs to test it. Probably wouldn't give out on them anytime soon. Probably. Chassis was still a going concern, but as Gerard opined, there weren't any better options available at the moment.

"Pile in." Kalina grunted to the others. Once they'd all done so, she got them back on the road, not going quite as fast as she had been the previous day, but still enough to maintain a decent pace.

"Does it matter?" She pitched in to the conversation about their chances of making it to Dunbarton without further conflict. "We'll handle it. Besides, the closer we get to a city like Dunbarton, the better the chance that airship gets in the range of AA."

Kalina glanced up in the rear view mirror to where the princess was sitting, tactlessly barreling forward in the conversation.

"So, Princess. Any idea who wants you dead this badly? As I understand it, you're no one important in the line of succession."

Rise of Rasalhague

Jaromir Zhu

"God damn it!" Jaromir cursed as he ducked into cover the moment he realized they were under attack, his pistol drawn. He tried to draw a bead and get a few shots off, but the range of the firefight was such that he didn't land anything. Didn't matter in the end, considering the pirates bugged out in a Leopard. One that hooked up to a JumpShip and got the hell out of dodge.

...Wait, that last sequence of events didn't add up. What the fuck? Considering the current state of politics and their employer, Jaromir's first line of thought was Kurita or Lyran plot. It made sense.

That train of thought lasted about as long as it took to examine exactly what the pirates had left behind. To keep up with the metaphor, the revelation that they were transporting ancient Mech parts shook the train slightly, but didn't derail the theory yet. Bizzare, but combined with the JumpShip, it raised questions. Questions that were fit for people that were actually paid to give a damn, admittedly.

"Right, now comes the good part of the job." Jaromir grinned slightly at the thought of loot, before glancing over to the CO.

"How much salvage rights did our contract state, anyway?"

Iris Ascendis

Iraleth Kyrios

Iraleth afforded the professor no further words, waiting until he left the chapel before she returned to a kneeling position, contemplating what the man had just said to her.

This notion of letting Umbralists be went against everything she personally believed. What, were they supposed to wait until after the tragedy had occurred to stop it? Iraleth wasn't so selfish as to risk the lives of others just so she could feel better about not having possibly killed one that had done no wrong. And yet...

Yet that's not on her, she wasn't even born when things went wrong.

She grit her teeth, scowling. No, it didn't matter. This was duty. This was what had to be done. It was, wasn't it?

Iraleth returned to her prayer and meditation, yet Professor Alto's words never quite left her head...