#keguard2023

[arcaeda]

this is just like minecraft — guard team

@aimlessarchery [ let’s get to chopping wood baby! ]

caeda can feel the eyes on them, on all of them. for whatever reason, the villagers of rusalka do not trust them a single bit. hateful, disdaining gazes... that surely would not last the whole time they resided here in the village. she has been in this kind of pitfall before— all that can be done is try to gain trust from them again. this is not her first time working against such unfavorable conditions, though it would be easier on her if she were not the only one trying to curry the favor of the villagers.

looking around at what remains to be done, she notices a distinct lack of people at the chopping block for limber, and a pile of wood that needs chopping. after approaching the man seemingly in charge of the whole operation— tired and taking a break it seemed— she readily gets to work to help.

but not before spotting one of her teammates nearby, the name python coming to mind. she approaches him with a disarming smile. seeing as he was doing nothing at the moment, he could probably help somehow. “python, would you like to help me chop wood for the village?” she lowers her voice then, to keep from the villagers hearing her. “we must gain the trust of the villagers, helping them out should do just that.”

[aimlessarchery]

live perth reaction

Patrol your companions’ quarters [Max 4 muses per thread] - Restore 1HP to houses per post - Can now talk to Perth during this task

Forsyth no longer looks as much like a knight prepared for burial. His armor was stripped away to give medics access to the mysterious wound in his side, leaving him in bandages and softer clothes. The new infirmary patient look does little to settle Python's nerves. His eyes fall to the bump of gauze beneath Forsyth's shirt, now thankfully free of bloodstains. It sits right about where the knight's cuirass thins out along his side. The shaping provides easier access to the straps used to don or remove the armor—and also provides a small opening for a blade to slip through. "I'm always tryin' to tell you that armor of yours isn't impenetrable." He folds his arms across his chest, speaking down at Forsyth's sleeping form.  "Running me ragged with your reckless shit even in your sleep now...you're somethin' else, you know that?" A chance to turn the tables and be the one scolding him for once could've been fun, if not for the way Forsyth remains silent and still through the affair. There's no furrow in his brow, no playful upturn to his lips even as he opens his mouth to argue—just an impassive death mask that hardly resembles the man from the waking world. Python sighs heavy and low, squeezing his own forearms to stave off the cold, ugly feeling in his stomach at the sight. The door creaks open, drawing Python's attention away. His fingers twitch minutely toward his hip where his quiver would usually sit, only slightly relaxing when he recognizes the figure in the doorframe. "Oh. Hey Caeda." His hand moves again, this time in a wave at the wrist that functions as both a greeting and a dismissal. "If you're here for the evening patrol shift, don't worry about it. I'm covering here 'til sun-up."

@arcaeda

[lionsword]

Stop Having It Be Broken- Team Guard

Wall/gate repairs with @arcaeda and whoever else would like to join!

Roy wasn’t used to this sort of manual labor, but he was willing to do his best. He sat on the ground, studying how a broken piece of a wall was constructed, imagining it without the splinters. He looked to the rest of the wall, which was intact, and figured he could make a piece patched in to fix the gap.

“Oh, hello Caeda.” He smiled at her, lap full of the broken piece he’d just taken off. “The wall needs quite a bit right here, but we can probably get it done within the day. I figure that replacing what’s been broken can be fitted over like a patch and then nailed in, or maybe we just go bit by bit?”

His hands stayed busy as he chatted, sorting what was salvageable from what was only suitable for kindling.

“It’s kind of nice, having something to do that isn’t all battle.”

[ofdusk]

farming simulator

Help out with chores in the village [Max 2 muses per thread] - Tending fields, mending clothes, drying herbs, etc.  - Gains 1 point for public opinion for every 1 post - Chance to gain information every 5 posts @fabledoath

It’s hot. 

Sweat beads at her forehead, daring to run down her temples. She has already tied her hair back in a futile effort to help her case, but it does precious little against the heat of the mid afternoon sun through the village’s glass ceiling. It’s probably worse outside, but it all this movement doesn’t help.

Corrin fists her hand around a clump of weeds, yanking it up with a grunt. They have been placed in a field of crops she only sort of recognizes -- there are few harvests in Nohr, and even fewer fields on which to do so -- that spans on for a good mile.

She wipes her brow, tossing the pile of roots into an empty wheelbarrow and turning towards her current company. He’s a student she recognizes from the campfire, though the similarly distrusting looks that he receives from the other workers would have told her that too.

“Can you pass me that watering can?” Not that she knew properly what to do with one until twenty minutes ago. “This chunk looks untouched.”

[ulircursed]

for forever

Patrol your companions’ quarters [Max 4 muses per thread] - Restore 1HP to houses per post - Can now talk to Mairenn during this task

     Even looking still as death, Edain’s hands are still warm when he grasps them.

     That unchanging fact keeps Andrei’s anxiety at bay as the weeks bleed into one another without a single sign that their allies are close to waking up, while the outside world around them is met with one trouble after another. At the very least, inexplicable injuries notwithstanding, all of their allies are still breathing, though that is small comfort given the circumstances. Despite making a conscious effort to spread his patrolling among the four houses in somewhat equal measure, he cannot help but return to this house, this room, more often than any other.

     (He’d promised to try and keep her safe.)

     And it is here that he stands again, after yet another night of exhausting battle, after the chief had seen them making their usual patrols to check on their companions (they weren’t wounded by outside forces last time; what could they possibly do against a power beyond their reach?) and made a cryptic offer, one that loops endlessly in his mind, even now.

     Be with them forever, peacefully and happily, in a world free of pain...

     ...Why wouldn’t he want that? A world without all this pain and bloodshed. A world with Lady Sister, and Father and Edain, and whomever else each of them would choose to complete their family, without a single one lost. A world where conspiracy and the greed for power never touched any part of Grannvale.

     A world where he’d never had the choice to tear his family apart.

     “You’d want it too, wouldn’t you, Sister?” Andrei asks the sleeping figure before him, doing nothing to hide his desperate, anguished expression in a room without waking, judging eyes. His hand trembles in hers. “Even if it’s only a dream... If it’s one where nothing had gone wrong... Wouldn’t we all be happier for it?”

     He isn’t sure how long he stands there in silence, as though awaiting, begging for an answer, before he startles at the sound of the door behind him being pushed open. Hastily withdrawing his hand, Andrei turns, blinking at the familiar face that appears through the entrance.

     “Ah... Lady Caeda,” he greets, not quite meeting her gaze, for fear his thoughts might be laid entirely bare to anyone who sees him, “You— you are here on patrol as well, I take it?”

@arcaeda

[fabledoath]

A Hoonter must Hoont

Starter for @lionsword

It's dead silent.

Ashe did think it's a bit of a shame that they had to do this knowing the villagers don't like it, but what is there to do otherwise? They needed at least a bit of protein... The question he'd asked himself a couple weeks ago comes back to him. How did the villagers even manage?

Though, maybe this week Ashe is starting to get an idea. He may still be wrong, but if the villagers aren't eating anything... Don't they need to? If they don't, that answers why they don't need meat, but... how does that work exactly? And also, then what are all the fields for?

It's no use. The more you learn, the less you know.

But back on topic...

Ashe finally speaks up after a couple of minutes of searching. He keeps his voice quiet, as to not alert any prey... not that there seems to be any in sight. Like at all.

"... I haven't gone hunting here before, but it's awfully empty, isn't it? Is this normal? Obviously I didn't expect to just look and see an animal instantly, but I can't even hear a bird. I know we've only been here for a few minutes, but... It's eerie, almost."

[ashenprofessor]

Chop, Chop. Get to it

starter for @diadic

Assist with chopping wood [Max 2 muses per thread] - Gains 1 point for public opinion per post - Gains 1 bundle of timber per post - Axe rank grants multiplier for thread [C or higher = 2x yield]

It felt good to leave the oppressive vibes of the village to walk in the calm shade of the surrounding wood. The trees were dense and impressive in size. Granted  an axe by one of the village woodsman, Byleth and Lief were sent to aid with the maintenance of the village. 

“Done much tree felling before?” Byleth enquires. They somehow couldn’t imagine a young royal having much in the way of experience with tasks typically done by their subjects. Then again, from what they knew of Leif, he wasn’t a typical royal. The former mercenary wouldn’t be surprised if they were in fact an expert woodman. 

“Not what I expected when finding out we were on guard duty. However, I suppose that improving the defences if the village will make our job simpler” Gazing at the nearby trees, Byleth looked for a suitable candidate for felling. “Which tree should we start with?”

[lockpicnic]

fruit salad (yummy yummy)

Forage in the forest outside of the village [Max 4 muses per thread]

- Receive 1 basket of random resource (berries, nuts, mushrooms, herbs, flowers) per post

- Low public opinion increases chance of unknowingly gathering something poisonous

@asphuxia @litaum

“This way! I bet’cha somethin’ real tasty is waitin’ for us just down this path!” The thief wasn’t really sure why the church wouldn’t just give them resources to use or even share with the village, but she wasn’t going to complain about getting to stretch her legs and eat whatever she could find! “I’m real good at livin’ off of nothin’, ya know? So I’m suuure we’ll be fine!”

She wanders deep into the forrest, only occasionally looking over her shoulder to make sure that they were still following her and hadn’t decided to ditch her. The two seemed nice enough, though she knew that sometimes she was a bit too reckless for most people’s tastes, but she liked to see it as…her knowing how to live! Or even on how to get things done in a very quick and efficient way!

Once they’re deep enough, the trees hiding the village which they had just come from, Patty drops to her knees and starts rummaging through the first, very obviously empty bush she sees. “Have you two every gone berry pickin’ before? Not that it’s hard, ya know? But it helps to know the difference between what ya can eat and what’cha can’t! One time, back home, I ate this weird lookin’ fruit I found— guess what!? It was a bug! But that probably won’t happen this time.”

Oh dear.

[litaum]

to step as one

Patrol your companions’ quarters [Max 4 muses per thread] - Restore 1HP to houses per post - Can now talk to Perth during this task

Her soul tells her it is not one’s fault (for she is but a singular person, the village pulling them all in every which direction), but the heart speaks volumes of wonder. Was it those foes? Was it something she did not see? She does not know the answer to that. It is a grave oversight regardless, but she will not dwell on it. She wishes to prevent such mistakes from happening again for the sake of those she cannot speak with right now. That, and she has come to care for those she now stands by.

It is best to make this journey with a group— Byleth, Corrin, and Roy. All people she knows are reliable, allowing a tiny smile to sit upon her face despite the concerns. If she does not show optimism, she fears nobody else might. The last thing she wants is to see any happiness wiped. “We can do nothing about what has already occured, but we can stand tall in the here and now,” she begins with a triumph to her voice. While Elice is not one to shy away from her thoughts, the passion she feels is stronger than ever.

She must keep this up. Elice clasps her hands together, taking in a deep breath. “.. How shall we begin? I’m concerned for what the medic has told us, but..—” Her words drift, eyes slightly downcast.

@lionsword @ofdusk @ashenprofessor

[asphuxia]

@ganglotte sent:

She thinks she is dreaming at first.

         Surely the Eir she sees among the crowd is a mirage, an illusion created by whatever is wrong with the village. Ganglöt had not thought it would be so easy to find her; she did not want it to be so easy to find her.

         Did she ever want to find her at all? Why is it that she feels she would have rather not found Eir at all, that she would have been more content with the idea of revenge, of Eir?

         There is no time to think of such things now; Ganglöt pushes through the crowd (which is not a very difficult task, as they part for her), until she is right behind Eir, scythe in hand. Now, I can do it now, I must do it now. Eir will not even know who had struck her.

         Ganglöt tenses, ready to swing; she knows just where to strike the princess. How many times had she watched Hel strike down her own daughter? How many times had she watched Eir fall, studied the slow arc her body made as Death stole over her face?

         It is different, though, to do it with her own hands. It is easier to watch. It is slower when she watches.

         “...Eir.”

         It surprises her, her own decision to speak. A million taunts and threats teeter on the tip of her tongue, but she does not voice them. Instead, a demand spills forth:

         “You will come back from this moon’s fiasco alive. I will not permit you to die by anyone’s hand but my own. …am I clear?"

It had been a moment of sordid naivety for Eir to believe that the dead would not return to life.

The blade makes itself known to her before she needs to witness it, the bold flirt of death with her soul a well-memorised dance. It is a presence none are wont to forget, and the regent least of all; from the distance, she registers its knife-bright edge parting crowd and soul alike. The world itself seemed to quiet around her— the surrounding chatter but a buzz in the air, so remote and isolated, one could have imagined it. Within that brief void of all else, the thin space between nonexistence and reality, it was as though life had begun to kneel in death’s presence.

At the end of the scythe, Eir stills. Within the moments it takes for her to compose herself, flowers wilt and blossom beneath her feet; the sovereign’s affinities at odds with her. Softly, a sigh disguised as an exhale escapes her— drawn out and slow, lest her fear might crawl once more into the hollow of her soul. It takes all of her strength to resist the anger that rolls over her in waves, the threat of viscera so palpable in the air. It is unbecoming of her, she knows; so far removed of all of her true mother’s grace and sensibility, so deeply entrenched in the constant need to survive. At the sound of Ganglöt’s voice, it takes just a little more not to recoil.

Instead, Eir straightens her back, irons out her posture, and breathes.

“… You seem to get ahead of yourself,” she answers, countenance serene— yet her once gentle tone unsheathes naught but a blade’s edge. It is with a strange inflection that she speaks, a veil of apathy drawn over a voice otherwise warm with compassion. When enough of her had been ripped away, stolen from her very fingers; when her identity had been washed away like blood— that was when Eir had discovered true emotion. That was when she began to harden and grow sharp, not at a loss of love for the world, but an important part of her heart— at the loss of a soul. At Ganglöt’s mercy, she had lost all she had ever loved and never known. Now, the handmaiden is at hers, and Eir is all but Hel’s empathetic, merciful death. “You mistake me for someone who will bend to you. You believe I remain the sweet girl you bring to slaughter.”

When she turns to face the other woman, gaze falling first upon the scythe, her visage fixes an expression she has never felt nor worn. Eir wants to gasp for air, to cry out for someone, anyone. She wants to grab her mother’s handmaiden and weep into her arms, to beg for lives past— what they had once shared. Eir wants to plead for her adoration even when it had come in the form of a blade against her neck. But ultimately, she does not, and she discards every intent to surrender herself to her memories. Sapphire eyes are steely, restrained; and when they meet Ganglöt’s, one could almost claim them cold. Then Eir smiles, icily, in a manner that is hardly a smile at all.

“No, Ganglöt. Let me make this clear. I will not die by your hand. I will not lose what little I have left.” Is it for herself that she says these things, that she dares not flinch nor cower? The life of which her mother’s soul sustains tells her everything but. There is a deafening roar in her ears, her heart a rebellious creature within the confines of her chest. Each word is a struggle, barely withheld in its simmering anger; even so, Eir manages. She speaks carefully, deliberately— letting not a single syllable understate her emotion, her rare expense of fury. Well-buried within her voice lies a pain so carnal and thinly contained, it threatens to rip through her throat. It is the truth that spills unbidden from her mouth. “Not to you, not to Hel, not to anyone. Take care that it is not you who dies at mine.”

It registers, mere seconds late, what she has said after she says it— and Eir finds that she means each word in their entirety. At her side, the arcane reaper is an intrusive presence. It aids only to cement the sovereign’s every impression, to justify all measures of her caution. Ganglöt’s eyes betray her approach, speaks for her every intention gone unsaid; Life’s queen knows better than to hope for anything less. It is Hel’s handmaiden, after all— and she knew best those she once loved.

As her voice leaves her, so too does her anger; Eir draws back, quieting her heart. It aches in its wake, praying for reprieve— it is too much, too much. All but a pride born of deaths not rightfully hers begs her not to falter, to finish just as strongly as she had started. It is with that same pride that she rolls back her shoulders, and her eyes do not begin to water. It is with that pride that she ignores the hollow emptiness that pools in her heart. She has never felt so fragile, so vulnerable in dignity. The quiet tremble of her hands come to a decisive halt.

“… and before you manage kill me,“ Eir leans towards Ganglöt, voice low; the words leave her lips barely more than a whisper, a final warning, “you will continue to address me as ‘Lady Eir’.”

Then she leaves Ganglöt as the handmaid has always been left— behind.

[oceansgaywaves]

Casting Call (Team Guard Epilogue)

“Forgive… me… Keranes…”

The sun is rising. Light spills over the hills, trees, buildings, until it meets the dark in a crashing golden wave. The two, reunited at last, form an indescribable color that overwhelms the world in a flash of pure emotion.

As quickly as it blinded her, Azura soon rubs the blindness out of her eyes. The world had changed, revealing its true colors like a painting cleaned after a century of dust and dirt. Buildings lie in weathered ruins. What once was a field is now forest and brush. A long-abandoned metal contraption, warped and rusted beyond recognition, lies half submerged in dirt and grass.

Pain rushes to her temples and she falls to her knees, adding one more dirt stain to her student's uniform. Her head hangs forward. All of the energy drops out of her like water flowing through the bottom of a flask. My mouth tastes horrible. I love it. She smiles, and overwhelmed tears rain to the ground.

The singing, the birds, just a moment longer and I would have... She silently thanks every friend she had made in the last few days, and all of the gods she can think of, glad that her injuries were both not quite fatal, and in the end, nonexistent. Had she known she would have faced this kind of peril, she isn't entirely sure she would have agreed to this mission so many weeks ago. Or was it days? She can't remember and doesn't care. Now that it's over, she's glad.

Those birds... Corrin!

Bolting up, Azura whips her head around, matted blue hair flinging bits of grass into the still air. The images of Corrin's last moments flash through her mind. The viciousness, the fury, the wings and beaks beating down on her as she fell to the ground, let out a piercing cry, and fell silent. Where is she?!

Leaning against a wall, Corrin seems to be going through her own cycle of anguish, but that would have to wait. Before she can stop herself with thoughts of awkwardness, of uncomfortable discussions that led nowhere, she sprints and launches herself directly into the body of the now-startled girl, arms outstretched.

Despite Azura's paltry weight, the two of them topple to the ground in a dirty, stained heap. Her tears resume, and she can't help but leave little spotted tracks along Corrin's knight uniform, gasps and sobs traveling with them. She isn't Her Corrin. She never will be. She's faced her own challenges, lived her own life, met her own Azura. But, just for a moment, Azura holds her friend tight.

~🎵~

Eventually, each and every knight, student, professor, and otherwise ally woke up, each with a tale to tell about their wild dreams. Cheers were heard, tears were shed, and dramatic scenes of action and heroism were acted out to those who missed them. Once the fervor of reunion and triumph died down, those with the authority to organize the crowd ordered a triumphant, though tired, hungry, and distressed march back to Garreg Mach Monastery. The "incident" had been thoroughly investigated.

Now, Azura walks alongside the horse she had ridden into the village on. It only wandered a couple of miles along the road back home, and now bears as many bags, weapons, and other items as it can carry. Interestingly, her own bags remained attached, the only thing it appears she took into the village was her lance. And now that she thinks of it, she could have sworn said lance was a lot heftier in the dream...

What did we even eat, I wonder...? The exact memories of the adventure she went on with the rest of her team are beginning to fray around the edges, but Azura knows that she will always treasure the bonds that she made with each and every one of them.

Leif, the firm, gruff, and yet caring man that welcomed her into the group while providing for and protecting them all.

Roy, the kindred spirit whose heart burned bright with determination and hope, despite the daunting odds.

Andrei, the pained man who deserved a lot more kindness than he was given.

Ashe, the model of knightly duty, and always a trusty shot with a bow.

Byleth, the dependable professor whose solemn determination was as great a weapon as their sword and fists.

Eir, the melancholy princess who delivered both life and death to the battlefield, and gave her wisdom to the fiercest of discussions.

Python, the idle archer with a secret heart of fire and a quiver full of retribution.

Caeda, the bright face of confidence and courage who forged a path for the group with equal measures conviction and love.

Patty, the thief who stole luck to their side, and wore her heart on her sleeve.

Elice, the woman of endless kindness, who kept everyone smiling through the worst of it.

Artur, the respectful gentleman with a talent for both magic and conversation.

Est, the sweet girl with a bit of pain behind her smile who flew above the battlefield like an angel.

And finally, Corrin, walking alongside Leo, their hands intertwined. Azura smiles. She's safe and happy.

The road stretches on ahead. It will be a lengthy trip back, but at the end is a comfortable bed and warm food. In the meantime, there's not much to do besides remember and sing.

You of light, burning bright,

A dream lost within a dream,

Face the dark, burdened heart,

All fades in the morning's gleam.

Day by day,

You show your love,

In the fray,

Your strength is one.

I'll love you,

Till we are,

Undone.

A single bubble, like the relieved sigh at the end of a concert, forms on the edge of Azura's pendant, catches a gust of wind, and flies up into the bright sky.

~The End~

[arcaeda]

live greek or die italian

@ulircursed [ chore time! drying herbs anyone? ]

“andrei!” she catches up with him near where the rest of the teams are set up to seat, along with the disdainful eyes of the villagers. with a smile she takes ahold of his arm, dragging him away from what she knows is the very camp that marth is in. andrei too, then, must have some worry for a loved one in there.  it’s crossed her mind to go check on them herself...

however, they can’t afford for the villagers' opinions of them to be any lower than it already is.  “there’s help needed in the kitchen, come on now!” she says this aloud on purpose, to catch the attention of the few villagers that were watching him with wary eyes. this way they would know the both of them were only out here to help.

once out of their hearing range, she lets go of him— though still notions for him to follow for her. “you’re worried for someone in there, aren’t you? i know the feeling well, but we must do our best not to make the villagers doubt us.”

[aimlessarchery]

2:12AM...Going Back For More Timber

Wall/Gate Repairs [Max 4 muses per thread] - Trades 1 bundle of timber per post - Restores village health

The stiff fabric of Python's new tunic scratches against his skin, pressed in close against his shoulder by the weight of the timber he carries toward the edges of the village. He grimaces, adjusts its position—which only manages to make a different spot scratch against him than before—and trudges on toward his destination. Nightfall hasn't brought any more swarms of nightmares yet, but he's not counting on that luck to continue to hold. And with the walls in the sorry state they are since the last attack, he doesn't trust them to hold either. He drops the bundle of wood into the grass with a long-suffering sigh, brushing splinters off of his shirt. Weary eyes assess the damages. This section has already had its frame rebuilt, but it needs reinforcement if it's going to withstand a moderately heavy rainstorm, let alone an assault. His eyes turn to the students accompanying him, and he suppresses another sigh. "Well, looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Everyone grab a plank—we'll start on the, uhh…" He scans the wall, taking in just how many open spaces there are to fill. "…Just start wherever."

@lionsword / @oceansgaywaves

[lionsword]

Chopping Block [Corrin & Roy]

KEGuard2023 Starter for @ofdusk

Assist with chopping wood [Max 2 muses per thread] - Gains 1 bundle of timber per post

He was getting a little better with an axe. Roy held the handle with gloved hands, taking aim at a medium sized tree in front of him. Chopping wood was more difficult than the simple nature of the task let on, but he wouldn’t give up.

Maybe he could use the help of a friend.

“Corrin, I confess I’m still getting used to handling an axe. This might go faster if we both work together on the same tree.”

They should be able to alternate their swing times and get as much wood as possible that way, right? He swung once and grunted. The exertion was good for training, but he was worried about how much time they had to fortify their defenses and make anything else they needed to.

“Ack, this is quite a workout.” His hands slipped a bit and he readjusted his grip with a grimace. “We have something for blisters, right?”

[ofdusk]

grindr

Assist with chopping wood [Max 2 muses per thread] - Gains 1 bundle of timber per post - Axe rank grants multiplier for thread [C or higher = 2x yield] - Can now talk to Lonán during this task @arcaeda

Restlessness has taken hold of her like a ghost, eyes refusing to shut and fingers possessed to twitch no matter how still she tries to be. They need to rest -- they need to get the walls back up before sunset brings the threat of monsters again.

And so she finds herself back in the forest with an axe in hand. Fatigue fights her every step, muscles tense and unwilling, but it doesn’t matter. Every report that creeps through the town regarding the strange wounds of their sleeping friends, every scratch on the doors of the homes in which they rest -- fear is enough to keep her moving.

A head of blue hair shifts about the trees, caught in her peripheral. Corrin yanks her axe free from the tree with a huff, turning to look at the woman proper.

Brows furrow with concern.

“You should be resting, not out here.” Though it isn’t a proper reprimand. Silently, she understands, no matter how deeply she worries for Caeda’s condition. “...just don’t strain yourself any more than you have to.”

[ulircursed]

of a feather

Taming giant birds [Max 2 muses per thread] - Success related to muse’s Flying rank. E = 50% chance of being injured per post. D = 40% chance. C = 30% chance. B = 20% chance. A = 10% chance. S = 0% - Benefit to team: currently unknown

     The number of suspicious looks from the villagers have increased ever since their allies entered into the dream world. While it’s not anything Andrei is unused to, given his status in the monastery, it’s somehow... different, considering their task at hand. As it is, they can hardly even head in the general direction of the buildings their allies are housed in without the muttering increasing around them.

     Uninterested in provoking more hostility, Andrei decides to head in a different direction, towards the stables that house the great birds he’d seen a few times over his stay in Rusalka. The villagers had told him they were for self-defense, but against what exactly, he hasn’t yet found out. Partway to his destination, he runs into a familiar face, one that he’d seen during their earlier round of introductions.

     “...Professor,” Andrei greets carefully, with a scrutinizing gaze at the other. Nothing that they’d mentioned during their introduction suggests the two have any common ground between them, but he supposes as part of the guard, civility is the best route to take. “Are you headed to the stables as well?” he asks, “With how mistrustful the villagers seem to be at the moment, I thought it best to offer whatever aid we can.” Perhaps gaining some goodwill can keep their sleeping allies safer as well.

@ashenprofessor