Belle Trydant, MacKensie's mother, was everything a noblewoman should be. Although the aristocracy no longer existed in modern, liberal society, those of the upper class who could trace their bloodline back to the appropriate place - and who had the family fortunes and heirlooms to show for it - still, amongst themselves, recognised and practiced the way of life that was of the nobility of yesteryear. And Belle was a perfect representation of this. She was strong in her own way - in the ways of a traditional woman of class. A staunch supporter of her husband, doing all the little things in the background to make sure that he could go out into the world and conquer his lofty ambitions, shining as bright as he possibly could. He was the sun and she was the moon. Belle could be feeling ill or feeling down, yet still be able to tend to the emotional needs of her children and husband, and still find the energy to put on a brave face, go out into the world and conduct her charity events or formal social occasions with all the elegance and charm she was known for. MacKensie did indeed admire her mother. But, although there were a fair few adult figures in MacKensie's life worthy of respect and recognition, it was Sir Axel Trydant who was MacKensie's sole role model.
It might be that everything about MacKensie could be, in some way, sourced back to the desire to make her father proud. Her discipline, work ethic, self-control, spotless reputation, ambition... Axel Trydant didn't hand out praise easily, but MacKensie was not deprived of his approval. He let her know that she was a credit to the family name and this only made her more fierce in her determination to be the perfect daughter. The beauty and decorum of her mother, with the fire and backbone of her father, and a little something unique of her own to cap it all off. But since being whisked away to another world, MacKensie had been forced to grapple with the fact that she was not perfect. Far from it, in fact. Mytheria had tested her character, her limits and her courage. She had learned a lot about herself - grown in this chaotic but short space of time - but perhaps the most unexpected trait she had uncovered within herself, was that she was prone to hero-worship.
First, Fenna Postma. Right from the beginning, Fenna had attracted the admiration of MacKensie. The dutchwoman was a picture of feminine strength and beauty. Proud and firm, yet at the same time, humble and gentle. In spite of suffering great heartache, being a universe apart from her husband and children, Fenna dealt with everything that came her way with dignity, grace and resilience. Never once did the fire of determination to fight her way back to her family leave her eyes. Just being in her presence was of great comfort to MacKensie and the twenty-one year old looked up to her a lot.
And now there was a second woman who MacKensie had discovered an immediate desire to emulate. Alison Walker. She had connected with the American rogue so quickly, there was just something about her. A certain... je ne sais quoi - a va va voom. Just... so damn cool. Kind of like Fenna with a mix of Zell - a wild description, to be sure, and maybe not quite accurate enough, but it was hard to pinpoint, MacKensie had known the woman for less than a day. Whatever it was about her, MacKensie was detecting the seed of a feeling familiar to how she felt about Fenna.
"But then, this ball of light comes walking into the Brass Monkey..."
MacKensie was taken by complete surprise when she felt the iron grip of Alison's hand on her shoulder, wide-eyed as she was shaken about, forced to do her best impression of a human bobblehead. A smile slowly broke through the shock and she laughed as Alison finally relented, her characteristic nervous motion of tucking her hair behind her ear triggered as she shared her amused gaze with everyone around the table.
Alison asked for more answers and Adam sought to give them, providing a succint account of the most important details. "...So we know where to go next and why we're here, we just need to know how to get home. That's important, obviously.”
MacKensie's lips pursed in a solemn smile as she watched Adam's gaze fall on Fenna for that last sentence. The young man was so caring, always looking out for the best interests of others. His selflessness was a shining light - a moral compass for Second Chance, always pointing in the right direction no matter how the situation turned. Right from the start, when they had woken up in the village of Hommas, Adam had been the first to speak up and let everyone know that they should do the right thing and help the townguard fight the monsters that bore down on them. And since then, he was always - without fail - oriented towards that which was righteous.
What happened next was astonishing. MacKensie was put in suspense when Alison got up out of her chair and stepped back. Then... she vanished! MacKensie gasped a little and looked around half-expecting that the woman had teleported, as their party idiot was wont to do on occasion, but Alison was nowhere to be found. It was barely percpetible under the ambience of the tavern room but her sharp Ranger ears picked up the faintest trace of footsteps go past, behind her and she looked but saw nothing. Then Alison appeared behind Adam with that cool smile of hers and shrugged. "This cloak of mine isn't just for fashion. I woke up with it. Seems to bend light in a way to make me as invisible as possible. It's not perfect. I can still make noise and if I move too fast, anyone with a sharp eye will see it distort. That and I can only use it a few times a day, but hey, I'm not complaining."
Well that certainly answered Adam's inquiry! The conversation continued, Alison showing interest in the Source Comm system, to which, MacKensie chimed in. "I think it would be best if you saw it for yourself," she advised with an assuring nod before Alison went on to explain that The Thieves Guild didn't quite have the same level of amenities for it's contractors. "I see."
James, who had been listening in silence so far, entered the exchange here. MacKensie found herself glad that he did so. James was exceptionally intelligent and his input was always welcome and often illuminating. "...Sorry to butt in, I was occupied when we were presenting ourselves, my name is James Sirius, from Mexico, and I am the current leader of Second Chance, nice to meet you"
MacKensie smiled, not only for his good manners - something that was always appreciated by the frenchwoman - but for his characteristic frown. That was his happy face. And... his angry face. And, well... one tended to get used to it. The man underneath the expression was delightful.
"The Witch Queen," MacKensie began, her voice lowering a little. "She did not only hack the Emperor's message to us. She sent a message of her own." That message was as much for Alison as it was for the rest of them. "All of us were hit with quite a shock when we returned, tired and injured from our mission, to find that message waiting for us. Perhaps fresh eyes on the Witch Queen's words would gleen some new information from it?" She looked at James. "Although, I am not sure if Alison will be authorised for this. Do you think Lucy would allow it?" she was asking James, but then looked to the others too for an answer.
