Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

Desrium walked off from the shrine just about at the same time as when the stairs started to rise. The entrance to Cleotaire's chamber sealed with a defined thump and tremor. In time the slab-key and geodes would be covered again by the desert winds, which even now blew idly. The long grass of the savannah leaned slightly and rustled, and Desrium's red light washed over the ends of the straw colored foliage.

He found his tracks and looked up to the shade in the dotted sky. The red glimmers that were his eyes erupted into the night, unmissable to Pyranex. A bloom of crimson on the ground that reached out in all directions, hovering trails. And then he started to run, leaving behind his streaks of light. He trundled over his previous impressions on the landscape. Amazingly, he could feel the Life Bringer's presence nearby as he sped across the thriving plains on his way back to the dunes. Faint though she was to his magical sense, the Stalwart Paladin was roaring across the open at his absurd speeds, and he still detected her powers at work. Intermingling with the crashing underneath his boots, there were other sounds, rumbling, clattering.

The potholes he was smashing into the rock underneath him were sealing immediately after he stepped off in his stride.

It was like this for some time, but Desrium ultimately left the range of the desert queen's influence. He kept his word, though. She melded the damage he had done for as far as she could, and what was left over was rendered nigh unrecognizable as footprints. It was more like a trail of craters, as if the stars themselves had fallen in a line in the Asterian desert.

It was easier going back for the Storm Gryphon. The desert night was cold, and he was very much adapted to dealing with it.

By the next sunrise, Desrium, Andruil and Pyranex were at lord Antar's palace.




Sunrise on the other side of the Razors; it's been quite some time since she last saw such a thing.

Deckhands were already jogging back and forth across the decks, the next shift taking over for the night crew. Crates were being wheeled around, lines of rope were being coiled up and hoisted on strong shoulders. The drumming of boots on sturdy wood. The ranger felt a certain inexplicable pit in her gut as she listened on, this symphony and the lyrics of orders being barked from man to man.

Baaz was leaning against a workstation near the dock where The Dreamchaser was being serviced. As she had suspected, the mission to bring her back to Daaven served another purpose. The ship's reception was a session of well-needed repairs, some polish and buffing and a whole bunch of cargo that needed speeding along the route to Dhul'Valen. Nothing like Daavenian resourcefulness making the most of even the most spontaneous developments. She felt for Dole and his private collection of things. Baaz really did hope he had some masterful plan on how to handle his souvenirs.

As for Baaz herself, she was out of uniform, both desert ranger and domestic. She stood out among the dock crew and the active soldiers that were about to board their sledders and voyage off into that grand smelter. She had a simple, pale yellow dress on, her pants underneath its skirt, and her boots upon her feet. Despite looking positively civilian, she braced against the cabin with a grizzled quality about her. Though there were many precautions against the sun, her complexion was tanned. Fresh bruises discolored patches of skin on her arms. Small cuts were light scars that frequented her appearance.

Baaz had seen her reflection in the cabin window, and there was a moment of disbelief that she had changed so much. The desert wasn't something that stayed in the head, it left its marks outside as well. Her crewmates on The Dreamchaser always looked the part of sled-ship runners to Baaz, but when it came to herself...

She guessed every ranger shipped out had this reaction sooner or later.

The cabin door opened at long last. Cassidy, Elisa and Roundha stepped out in fresh uniforms, conversing among themselves. Cassidy, being sharp as ever, spotted the odd one out first. "Didn't think I'd ever see you wearing a dress," she said flatly.

Baaz held her arms apart and then let them fall to her sides. There she was, plain as ever. What did Cassidy want her to say? She didn't have some witty retort raring to go. "This is it," was what she said instead, and Cassidy must have found that so lackluster, "probably the last time we'll see each other. I've already said my goodbyes to Jhotan and Luther, had a long discussion with Dole earlier about whatever it was that popped into our heads at the time, I even parted with Trist on somewhat respectable terms. Somewhat."

Cassidy's air of impassiveness was absolute. She crossed her arms and gave Baaz an expecting look. Sled-ship crews were broken up and reassigned all the time; it was the nature of the job. She understood Walgruuf was only a first timer but a final goodbye seemed a bit superfluous to her. Elisa was the opposite, giving little regard for the routine and rushing her former crewmate with a tight embrace.

"The machine room is going to be a lot more lonely," Elisa said.

Baaz chuckled. "Maybe they'll get you someone who knows what they're doing in there."

"Maybe." Elisa stepped back with her arms still on Baaz's shoulders. "Wouldn't mean much to me if they're boring."

It was Baaz's turn to give a hug. She squeezed Elisa and then stepped over to Roundha, taking his hand in hers and giving a firm shake. "You take care of her. Find some outpost for the two of you to get stationed at or something. I don't want you losing what you have over a reassignment letter or something."

"Noted," Roundha responded with a grin.

"So why did they call you back here?" Cassidy inquired, convictions unswayed. Baaz looked to her and gave the most honest shrug.

"I don't know yet. I'm told Urlox will be free to speak with me later today, but by then you'll already be back on the dunes."

"Right. In that case, I guess..." Cassidy shuffled in place.

Baaz shook her head. "It's alright, Cass. I know how you are. Believe it or not, I'm not a fan of words either."

"You're a good fighter. I respect you for that," Cassidy told her. "But fighters don't do what they do because they enjoy it. They don't do it to keep friends."

Baaz held out her fist. "It's all in the job?"

Cassidy brought her knuckles against Baaz's. "And only people with the right stuff can do that job."

With a smirk, Baaz replied wryly, "If that's the case, you've got the stuff to be Daaven's best and finest. When can I expect you to settle down and start training recruits?"

"When I've learned all that I can from active duty. It'll take a while. It most likely won't happen at all." Cassidy's answer was dry and mater-of-fact as ever.

"Then don't let me hold you up."

Baaz looked between the three and nodded. They nodded back, Elisa and Roundha saying their last goodbyes. Cassidy only flicked her wrist and gave a thumbs up. The closest thing to saying she believed in someone that she could bring herself to expressing.

[The Kingpin]

"It must have been quite the trial," said Antar as he sat at the head of his court, again alone save for the Manticore. The beast's wings were notably covered in what appeared to be spikes, though closer observation would've revealed that they had a fibrous, hair like texture to them. The Elven Lord had the beast resting its head beside him, and his hand was absently scratching and rubbing the back of its neck and shoulders. It was an odd sight to see something so big and normally intimidating reduced to a rumbling, purring lump. At his feet, a large box lined in a kind of velvet was filled with several large, black feathers.

The Knight was silent for a while, not sure how to describe it. "It taught me much," he said finally, glancing over at Desrium.

[C S]

"I would imagine every trial teaches those who brave them. Success means to confront what seems unbeatable, and be victorious. It is much to ask for, but I take it that is what makes it a trial," Desrium replied. He was sitting in a meditative pose, but hadn't let his mind flow into a trance. It appeared to make him more contemplative, or insightful, as Cleotaire had said. "I was granted a new title by the Life Bringer," he stated afterwards, "Desrium the Stalwart. A paladin, she said I was."



With her peace made, Baaz walked down the central path of the outpost compound. Home Base, like Syrakina in Valenhad, was on the very edge of the Asterian desert. The outpost was located outside of the last treeline before the green ground turned tan and brown. It wasn't much to look at all things considered. It was erected with Daavenian principles through and through. First of all, there was a wall on the Daaven-side of the facility, the Boldrim a blue-hued haze far off past it. The palisades formed a semicircle up to the docks, at which point they shortened in height and were more recessed away from the loose sand, keeping the land bound harbor clear. There weren't any towers, just a central flagpole that flew a giant green and silver flag.

Seeing as Daaven's only water harbor rested atop the city's lake, Home Base's dock varied very little from that model. It was a lot bigger, granted, but aside from the scale, the sand-pier was just a long boardwalk spanning across the fence diameter, divided up into sections by wharves extending out into the sand. There were many wharves, but not all of them were used to service vessels. Some of them were designated shipyards, and some of those few had the scaffolding indicative of a new sledder in the process of being built.

The buildings were the bare essentials of a military installation. Home Base, evident by its distinction as Home Base, was still very much an official headquarters rather than a free-exchange trading hub. As such there were the living amenities for the staff, training areas where rangers on-site could stay sharp with their skills, and security fortifications such as watchtowers and ramparts. In a way, this place defined by its use of logs was a little slice of Daaven away from the mountains and trees.

Baaz reached the gate and the guards opened it for her. She picked up her luggage case -- which just looked like a small wooden chest that was wider than it was tall with carved handles on the side with the latches -- and headed out onto the dirt road that wound its way out of Home Base. All she had on her was a spare change of clothes, her tricorn, and her sling-bow disassembled and packed away inside the case. She was not provided with a supply of bolts.

"This the ride back to Daaven?" she asked the suited carriage driver a short walk from the outpost entrance.

"This is the only ride scheduled for this time," the lady holding the Frondfoot reins replied.

"Fair play," Baaz replied, earning a tip of the woman's pointed gray cap. She then went around to the carriage door, opening it before thrusting her case up onto the seat with a grunt. The case had to be heavier than all her things combined. Baaz then climbed up the steps into her cozy ride and pulled the door shut.

The carriage's seats could have sat six people by the looks of things. Baaz's ferry home was a personal arrangement though, and so she rode alone.

[The Kingpin]

"A fitting title," stated the Elvish Lord with a nod as he scratched loose one of the pitch black feathers. A moment of examining the feather revealed it to be in bad condition, the monarch twisting it in hand until he held it root first. He took aim, tossing it much like a dart at the fire, which crackled in response to the kindling. "Almost as good as any artefact. A title you can carry with pride, and one that will earn you great respect wherever you go," he added.

"What of you, Andruil?" he asked as he shifted his attention to the Knight. "What did you think of your trial?" he clarified.

Andruil felt the question could've been answered with his previous statement, but he knew there was reason for the King's inquiry. He was interested in learning more. "It was a mental test...to see if I was worthy of leading my people, if I was required to," he stated, noticing the smile in the King's face, and a glimmer of what seemed like recognition in his eye.

"Indeed. The Trial of Kings. Legend has it that those who surpass that test are destined to one day rule a kingdom. She tested me in much the same way, once. I was a young man then, Perhaps your age, perhaps a couple of years younger. I was a man who was rebellious, ignorant of the customs I was expected to know, and uncaring for tradition, as most young aristocrats tend to be. I was also arrogant. The son of a King, who himself was the son of the First King. I felt untouchable, unquestionable. My father's advisors warned that if I was not guided to the right path, I may one day bring the kingdom to ruin. I had a brother, then. And he was to become King if I could not," explained the Sovereign.

"In response, my father called me to his court. He declared that I would lose my birthright unless I could prove to them all that I was able to carry the burden of my station," he continued. Halting his grooming for a moment, he signalled for a servant who had just entered the chamber to approach. He was carrying the familiar ornate pots and the small porcelain cups, setting them down between the King and Andruil. With a respectful bow, the servant departed a moment later.

"I was furious. I wanted with all my being to defend myself, to argue that I could meet and surpass the expectations of everyone in the room. But I knew better. My father was a strong and experienced king, and I but a boy known to have an ego and a disregard for all our traditions. If I tried to question it, I would simply make my situation worse. So I bowed, and acknowledged my father's command, and left the chamber," he continued, pouring himself a cup of the dark drink, and then one for Andruil. "I spent two years learning in the temple. I read every tome on our history I could find, I studied the roots of all our culture and traditions. I learned the hymns and rituals of our religion until I knew them all by heart. And then I returned to his court one day, and did the one thing no one expected me to do," he said.

"The trial?" asked Andruil, taking a sip of the bitter, spicy, earthy drink.

Antar nodded. "I had grown up hearing my father tell us time and again of the Trial of Kings, the one his father had taken when he first led his people into the desert, that the Abirus-Sahari challenged him to in order to prove himself worthy of staking a claim in the heart of the desert, where only they, a number of ancient Human and Elvish tribes, had dominion!" he exclaimed. "I walked up before him and his advisors, and announced that I would be venturing into the desert, armed with my sword, my bow, my Warral, and a satchel with two water skins. I told them I would find the temple of the Life Bringer. I would complete that which my grandfather had done millennia before me; the Trial of the Life Bringer. I would complete it, and I would return with a token of the Life Bringer's blessings; an object that would be a vital ingredient of the Eye of the Afreet," he told him as a rumble sounded from the Manticore, which promptly brought the King to scratching its back once more.

"At first, everyone laughed. It was a thing I will never forget. I stared my father in the eye, and lifted the satchel on my back and dropped it in front of them. They saw a tome strapped to its side, a book of Thimeyran history and lore from my father's library, written by my grandfather. It was the only written account of the Riddle of the Life bringer. They all went silent. As silent as stone. It was a book they all knew well, because they had done their best to keep my grandfather from ever releasing knowledge of that place to the rest of Thimeyra, for fear that treasure-hunters would try and find it and bring the Life Bringer's wrath down upon us," he said.

"They are not wrong," said Andruil, Antar nodding.

"My grandfather had settled for making one copy of the book, for his descendants and successors to know their past. Everyone there knew the story. They knew the trial was nearly impossible, and most people died long before they even reached there. Those who did, often failed or even died to the Life Bringer's trials. So they knew that if I was serious, I would probably not be seen again," he stated. Andruil was not surprised. Desrium, with all his might, had been mangled by the trial, and the Knight knew for a fact the former Champion of Moria was resilient to the point it boggled the mind; it was why Valenhad was so concerned about him leading an army.

"Reluctantly, my father let me leave. He knew it was not his right to deny me. The Advisors had authority on the approval of such a thing, not him. And they were eager to dispose of me. I had slighted them in the past." he continued with another sip of his qahwa.

"But you approved of my trial without their consent?" asked the Knight.

"As my grandfather's trial was approved singularly by the ruler of the Abirus-Sahari; one who had taken the Trial of Kings himself. This trial is a test of judgement. Those who succeed earn the right to judge a person's worthiness of taking on that trial themselves. My father had not earned that right, as he never was subjected to it himself," explained Antar with a smile.

"So I departed the next day. And spent a week searching for it. I had spent several years in my childhood traversing the desert with Abirus-Sahari caravans with a close friend of my father's, so I knew where the oases they went to for their water were. And where there is water, there is game. Eventually, I discovered where the temple was, and I met the Life Bringer. She told me that a trial of endurance was not what I needed, for I had earned her respect in that regard simply by reaching the temple on my own and surviving as I did in the harshest reaches of the desert. Instead, she wanted to give me a trial of the mind; what the book and the Abirus-Sahari called the Trial of Kings."

[C S]

The Stalwart Paladin listened intently to Antar's account. This was a historical tale that Septimus would have appreciated, and Desrium made a note to inquire about his liberty in sharing this knowledge, but more than that, he felt his story could shed some light on what it was Andruil had endured upon Cleotaire's seat of judgement. The knight's hesitation to describe it in detail spoke to some pain he felt, and Desrium would not be the one to ask about such a thing. Through Antar, he saw a way he may empathize with Andruil, and perhaps Andruil himself would come to terms with his realizations.

[The Kingpin]

"So what happened?"

"I was shown a version of my future. I was the Qa'id. I had the absolute power I thought I deserved. My people came to me with matters that concerned them. At first it was little things. Unfair prices in the markets, wild jackals hurting children within the walls. They grew graver as time passed. Soon I was trying to settle the matter of a man who had swindled several people. Each story was stranger than the other. One had bought a house of him, but had found with time the house was uninhabitable, because the contract stated a pole in the middle of the house would remain his possession and he had hung dead animals from it until they rotted. A nobleman had complained that he had sold him a dead steed when he had purchased a living one, and that he succeeded because his wording had never specified," explained Antar. Andruil looked surprised.

"He argued that what he had done was deserved, because each of those men, in turn, had swindled his father into poverty, and he had died of starvation when the man was young. This was his revenge, tricking them as they tricked his father, because my judges would not dare punish them all. Angry at the insult, I sentenced him to spend the rest of his life in prison for his actions. It turned out later that those he had swindled were indeed responsible for killing his relative. They were of many tribes, and whoever tried to avenge him would risk the wrath of their kin if they acted directly. So in a sense, this man, Bunwas, had been right in his actions," explained Antar.

"Clever. It must have been a difficult discovery," said Andruil thoughtfully. "But of course that was not the entire trial," he added.

"No, it was not. But it was a glimpse of what was to come. In the trial, I married, and had a son. Hakeem was a weak boy, but wise and patient, and loved to learn. I was proud of him. He was loved by all, and with his help, I built Thimeyra into the jewel of Aster; wealthier than any kingdom, and stronger than most. In his learning and his patience, I learned more of how to rule a kingdom than I had ever learned from my father or tutors. My life was as perfect as I could ever hope for,"

The Knight listened patiently, noting that this seemed almost too good a 'life' to be called a trial. But he said nothing.

"Until one day, when Hakeem was taken hostage by a traveller from beyond the desert. The traveller wore black, his eyes like blood. A sorcerer of great power, and one who had destroyed entire kingdoms beyond our borders. Before I even knew what had happened, the Sorcerer was walking through the doors to this very court, with Hakeem in chains beside him. He offered a wager; that no one in my kingdom could solve his riddle. If it was solved, my son would go free, unharmed. If not, not only my son, but the whole kingdom would die. He pointed to that window, there," he said, gesturing towards one of the narrow slits in the wall at a higher level of the chamber; meant to be a defensive position in case the palace was breached. "He told me to look at the lake, and tell him what I saw," he explained, before pulling up one of his large sleeves, exposing one dark grey arm, up to the elbow, his hand stretched wide.

"Your arm?" asked the Knight, somewhat confused.

"An arm, thrice as tall as any of the city walls, with five fingers outstretched on its bare palm, spreading and closing. It rose from the lake, pointing the sky, palm facing directly at the palace," corrected Antar.

"What did it mean?" asked Andruil.

"We will get to that," stated the sovereign. "He told me that that arm would be our riddle. That we had to decipher its meaning, and had five chances to solve it correctly. At first, I asked my advisors. One said that it was a herald to the end of days; that after five years, the end of all things would come. Another advisor, the one you know as the Storyteller, said it was five centuries. Another advisor insisted that it was not the end of days, but the number of people who would die in our city before the time for our riddle had come to an end. And with each wrong answer, the Sorcerer severed a finger from Hakeem's hand and burned the wound shut. Eventually, only one finger remained."

"Horrible," responded Andruil, surprised at the dark path this trial had taken. This sounded more in line with what he had experienced. "What happened then?"

"I silenced my advisors to keep them from continuing, and went to the dungeons," said Antar. "I went to the cell of Bunwas, which was a pit filled with Warrals. In there, he had a drum, a mirror, and seven bones. The guards told me he had asked for the drum and the mirror when he first entered the hole, and had managed to befriend the Warrals by playing on the drum and showing them their reflections, rubbing the bones with some of his food and holding them out when they got hungry, so that they would attack the bones instead of him," elaborated Antar.

"This Bunwas sounds like a fool. Surely the drumming would aggravate them?" questioned Pyranex, interjecting in the conversation for the first time.

"Drums can sound very much like the sounds of a mother Warral. They can resemble calls of affection if played correctly. Warral tamers use drums in order to calm them," explained Antar.

"Intriguing. This Bunwas is a man of many talents," said Andruil.

"Indeed. I called to him from across the moat separating him from the walls of the pit, and asked for his help. He refused. He told me that the Warrals were friends of his now, and that he was happy here," continued the monarch, earning a short laugh from the Knight.

"I told him the story, and he said that I had sentenced him to a life in prison; a disproportionate crime, simply because he had hurt my pride. I could not argue that. I agreed that I was wrong, and had been a fool for letting my anger cloud my judgement instead of seeking the truth of the matter. I promised to free him, and return all his belongings, if he would solve the riddle. He said that it was not enough. That if I made a mistake in the past, and my advisors had been so blind as to let it happen, that I could not be trusted to not wrong someone else as I wronged him. He asked that I make him one of my advisors, so that he may see to it that my pride does not hurt anyone else," he continued.

"Steep demands," said Andruil, listening intently as he sipped the bitter drink.

"I agreed without hesitation. He asked for a long board of wood, and a triangular block of stone to be put into the middle of the pit, along with a sack of bones, lined with metal plates polished to look like mirrors, to be suspended until he told me to release it. When I asked why, he explained that if he tried to leave the pit, the Warrals would rip him apart, so he had to devise a plan to escape them. I told the guards to get what he asked, and he assembled his escape with what I gave him. The board was put on the triangle, right in the middle, and the sack was suspended over one end of it. He then stepped on one end, playing his drum all the while to keep the Warrals content. Then he told us to release the sack. It fell, struck the board, and he flew out of the pit and landed next to me as the Warrals attacked the sack of bones."

"It worked?" asked Andruil, surprised.

"Indeed. I then led him to the court, where the Sorcerer sat with my son, and showed Bunwas the Arm in the lake," continued the King, before looking to the three guests in turn. "He thought for a few moments, then raised his hand, holding out three fingers. The other arm descended, and the Sorcerer disappeared. My son was free, and had regained his fingers. I looked at Bunwas, completely amazed, and asked him what the riddle had meant. Do you know what he said?" asked Antar, smiling, the hint of what could have been a moistening in his eyes visible.

[C S]

"I envision images of the palm trees I have seen in my ventures into the desert," Desrium offered. "However, I am at a loss. I see no logic with the fingers, if that is the case."

[The Kingpin]

Andruil was stumped, shaking his head. "I don't know," he said, scratching his head as though it would help him think. Pyranex said nothing, preferring to listen in.

"The hand in the lake asked 'Are there five people of shared convictions?' Bunwas responded to it by saying 'No more than three,'. I bowed to his wisdom when he told me, and he was made an advisor immediately. I had a house built for him of the finest marble and metals, he wore jewel encrusted robes, and sat beside me in my Court, on the throne I once sat, advising me in the ways of ruling. He became my son's tutor, guiding him in everything so that he would be a greater king than I. With that, the Trial ended, and I was awarded the Life Bringer's blessings. I had passed the Trial of Kings," concluded the Qa'id, the Knight clapping slowly, filled with admiration.

[C S]

Desrium ruminated on this before he eventually nodded his helm. A trial where the intention was not for one to prove how great they were, but to humble their self and heed the wisdom of another. It was a harsh punishment that Antar had incurred in his prideful ways, but it had brought him to his lowest point and he overcame it all the same, just as Andruil had. Just as he himself had, as well.

What a peculiar thought it was to the Stalwart Paladin. To face one's self in such a way, without actually doing battle with one's self.

[The Kingpin]

"The story was more than a trial and a lesson, however. It was to guide me in my future as well. Do you know when this trial happened?" he asked. At the Knight's curious look, the Qa'id continued, "Five hundred and two years ago. Five hundred to the day our isolation was breached. And the three of shared convictions, that Bunwas spoke of? One of them is in this very room. Another is an acquaintance we three share, and the reason all three of us are acquainted. And the last, has passed on. I mourned him greatly once I returned to my court," he continued.

Andruil looked at him with wide eyes, realisation striking him. "And the Sorcerer was..."

"Eredar himself."

[C S]

"Then that means the Life Bringer is uncanny in her own way." Desrium was saying this to himself just as much as he was telling the others his conclusion. "Whatever her connections to time are, I can say that she is unaware of their implications. Though your trial foretold Septimus, Jiier and I five-hundred years ago, the Life Bringer had no recognition of Septimus and I when we approached her," he said to Antar. "This knowledge is all your own. This is why Septimus has an Eye."

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

Situated on the outskirts of Brodudika, the inn Pamela had chosen was a wonderful fit indeed. Without the need for other normally necessary expenses, she was able to use a significant portion of her reward money to secure herself a spacious suite at the top of the structure. With wooden floors and walls and almost everything a traveler could ask for, it seemed more like a log cabin than a simple room at an inn.

The red woman sat at a table situated not far from the bed, a small cup settled between her palms. The only source of light in the room was a small bedside candle, casting a lazy haze - even the curtains were drawn to prevent the unwanted invasion of the sun.

Although she had become well acquainted with such luxury, she could not shake her natural inclinations.

...Even in the presence of questionable company.

[C S]

Questionable company did not ask questions.

Not out loud anyway. While Dahnae sat opposite Pamela with her cup held to her lips, her eyes moved about in their sockets as they had been for some time now. The only word that registered to her thoughts was, "Fancy." She wondered what it took to get such arrangements for herself. Her answer was, "A lot of letter deliveries."

She drank her tea in a most unorthodox way. Though she held the cup to her lips like any person would, she drank by dipping her tongue into the drink. Repeatedly. While her eyes did laps around the room.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

After some time, Pamela made a thoughtful sound.

"I had assumed you'd be the energetic type, never without something to say," the red woman stated calmly, taking a sip from her tea. "I mean, you did follow a stranger to the outskirts of town and into a secluded room. Either you do not put much thought into your actions, or you are quite confident in yourself."

She smiled.

"Or both."

[C S]

Dahnae's eyes stopped their pacing and her gaze settled on her company. She pulled her cup away from her mouth and said, "I didn't see you put anything in the tea." With that, she went back to drawing droplets by her tongue, but only for a short time. She added, "I've been walking around alone for a long time. I'm kinda always expecting weirdos around, so I'm not easily surprised."

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"There's a difference between surprise and getting into a situation that's way over your head," Pamela replied, absently stirring her tea with a small spoon. "There are a lot of things that go bump in the night, I'm afraid."

[C S]

"Are you propositioning me?" Dahnae lapped from her cup.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

Pamela raised a brow at this, her expression a mix of mild surprise and annoyance.

"I think you've missed the point of what I was trying to say."

[C S]

"I say we should just stay friends. You look nice and all, but I don't think I like other girls like that. Also, you smell like blood," responded the girl in the heavy coat.

[Turbo Tyrannophonic]

"There's a reason for that," the red woman replied simply, choosing not to address what else the girl had said for the sake of her own patience.