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Well. Things had been… eventful since Phirra’s arrival, certainly. A goblin and his entourage making her entrance look boring, something happening between the girl and the half-dragon, and now a young man… woman… person had just teleported in and collapsed on the floor. At least it wasn’t boring, she supposed.
Of all the Knights, it seemed only herself and three others were human. Of those, one was a giant who never left the side of another. Phirra wasn’t going anywhere near either of them any time soon, not unless she had to. That only left one. Following that train of thought, it wasn’t a difficult decision to approach them and strike up a conversation.
“Our Mighty Lord has assembled quite the collection, hasn’t he?” She asked them, using the title ironically, though in fact she was more than slightly afraid of him. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, saying “I think you missed my introduction, I’m Phirra Darnos, and probably the single least likely person to kill you in this room.”
You mean aside from me, right?
Emerson would have voiced the thought out loud if able to, instead what came out was a strangled cough as the startled mage's meal tried to force itself down his windpipe. For a moment she struggled for air, some rare colour entering his face from the strain, before rational thought reminded him that she was indeed a wizard, and magic soon forced the obstruction down its proper path. With embarrassment and unease fighting each other for dominance, The Prodigy offered an awkward laugh as he sized up Phirra.
“Ajeshna?”
It was the first thought that came to Emerson upon looking at the dark skinned woman, although it was perhaps a foolish assumption. Still, if true it was a big comfort knowing that someone else from a foreign land was among the Knights, even though Emerson herself had lived right on the border. Truthfully, the mage had met extremely few people from the faraway land, but Aurelius had often spoken of many acquaintances he'd made among their artificers. The world of magical research was a strangely close knit one.
Having at least enough social grace to realize studying the woman so closely was probably rude, Emerson put down the fork she was holding and extended a hand.
“E-Emerson Pèlerin. How likely is least likely though? I don't think L-Lancelot is gathering a bunch of pacifists.”
Quietly the mage cursed the tremor in his voice, but it couldn't be helped. She was still recovering from the choking incident, still frightened, and most importantly still exhausted. There would be future days to work on his solid “Knight of Evil” reputation.
Phirra shook the offered hand, saying “Least likely, for me, is about 100% if you attempt to do the same to me, 100% if you attempt to do so towards another Knight, whether successful or otherwise, though if I would kill them, I’m probably also okay with you killing them.” Phirra took a seat next to Emerson as she spoke. “Outside of those situations, it’s a solid 0%. And yes, I am from Ajeshna, though it was a different country when it was my home.”
Emerson was definitely an interesting character to Phirra. Stuttering was not, in her experience, an effective way to convey capability, especially when surrounded by nearly two dozen of the most dangerous people alive. However, Emerson had been invited here, by Lancelot. Obviously they had some kind of use to him that not just anyone has. Useful enough to be worth going out of his way to contact and cater for them. More interesting, though, was the fact that Emerson had accepted the invite. Every creature that had attended had their own motive, few of them noble, yet Emerson did not strike Phirra as the villainous type.
There are many ways to learn something, and the easiest is to ask questions. As such, Phirra asked a question.
“So why accept Lancelot’s invitation? I don’t think a single person in this room is here just to be part of the fan club.”
The directness of the woman caught him off guard, and Emerson quickly shoved some food into his mouth to buy some time to think. It wasn't exactly a situation that could be summed up easily, the invitation wasn't even initially meant for her, and she was sure Aurelius would have felt much more at home with these people than his pupil did. Still, would the truth even be worth telling? In any other circle professing to being a murderer wasn't exactly something one could do casually, but Phirra had already thrown around the possibility of killing like it was no big deal at all to discuss. Mulling it over a moment longer after swallowing, the mage tried to explain the situation as simply as possible.
“I killed the person that the i-invitation was meant for. If I didn't become Lancelot's friend I would be his enemy right now. Accepting... accepting seemed like it was the better long term strategy.”
You could almost hear the click that went off in Phirra’s head at that moment, like when you finally realize the answer to a particularly tough puzzle, and suddenly the whole thing seems easy. It completely explained Emerson’s apparent lack of self-confidence - someone forced into this kind of situation was bound to react differently to someone with the security available to refuse if they wanted. In fact, it seemed likely that there were others out there who had also received invitations but had declined.
“You’re probably right about that. I can’t see many places holding out against Lancelot for long, and though I don’t know him very well, these kind of leaders can be very black and white when it comes to who’s on whose side. Still, it isn’t especially safe here, either. But, like I said, as long as you don’t cause me or anyone else any trouble, you have nothing to fear from me.”
Phirra decided it was about time to head to her quarters. She stood up, saying “Well, I guess I’ll see around, Emerson. I quite like you, so don’t die for the time being, if that’s okay with you.” And with that odd comment, Phirra left for her room.
It was nice enough, certainly. Obviously an effort had been made (though more likely by a servant than by anyone of importance), but it wasn’t to Phirra’s tastes. Apparently, though, Lancelot was aware of her… abnormal requirements and made sure to include a balcony. She moved her Ether Harvester, which been left in her room as requested, onto the balcony, set it running, then went to sleep.
For Emerson’s part, she quietly finished eating after the artificer had left, embarrassment and unease both replaced by a pleasant tingling spreading across his body. Phirra… liked her? The notion of course carried no romantic context, but the mage had never heard another person enjoy her company during his brief childhood on the streets. And the sort of enjoyment Aurelius derived from her company made her skin crawl rather than tingle.
Maybe… maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
The Prodigy was of course exhausted, but this new interaction had awoken a desire to at least try to get to know some of his new peers. The least frightening ones at least. While he was confident in his ability to defend himself, Phirra was right in that being here was dangerous, especially for a normal and quite fragile human. So quietly, not trying to stare too intently, he swept his eyes cross her remaining peers, and caught a certain soaking wet man quietly making his way from the room. Looks could be deceiving, but he at least didn’t seem too bad, even if he wasn’t as outright welcoming as Phirra had been.
Set on her course, and confident he still had the energy to make an escape if this turned out to be a horribly misplaced judgement, Emerson quietly set after the soaked individual. As quietly as an urchin slipping after a mark.
