NagafenOfIlivikitty

Obelia has been rather amused by his statement, slightly surprised by her own humour at his words. Yet such a man to exist, one who is this kind and this stern with the usage of weapons or fighting against another who is threatening his life, well, it's quite an amusing scenario to her. But in a country where swordplay is not exactly out of the ordinary, her home taught her that to fight isn't always for defence but sometimes just for the thrill of it. Her mind feels slightly troubled by that, her lips falling from a smile even as Ken tried to cheer the mood. But she has moved to his side now, hesitant but a clawed hand tracing the pommel of her blade with a slightly quiet glance around her. She will protect this oddity of a man, if for the very least, to see that his hearts kindness lives long enough to keep being so. --- Langley's eyes widen as Noel, far more confident then she's ever been, grins lightly at Andy's response. She leans down and slips a finger under his chin, soft as she can tilting his head up. With a whisper into his ear, after her own brown eyes watch his, she whispers. 'You like her? Like as in find her a good friend? Or~' With a slower, lower whisper, Langley's mind racing in quiet confusion and panic, hesitantly reaching out for the both of them but her hands pausing halfway, unsure truly of what to do. Her eyes are a bit troubled, but she looks on as she trusts the both of them, not that she isn't nervous. But now, Noel smiles as well, continuing her sentence with soft breathes against Andy's ear. 'Or maybe, you're starting to notice the fact she looks a bit nervous when I'm talking to you. Or how about the fact you're the first guy she's ever let her in her house. Or... how about the fact she's flushing red... and trust me, it's hard to make her blush..' She grins indeed, while confused; Langley's cheeks do burn crimson. --- Carrie's eyes shoot awake and she shivers as her body lays there a moment, rather limp among the sheets. She groans to herself, a bad dream fading like the echoes of the day. But she just rubs her lips, feeling their rather dry. Glancing to the side, with a slight sigh of exertion, she leans over and, still tired, takes the jug of water, tipping it to her lips and letting some pour along her mouth. She puts it down after a moment, rubbing her head with a slight wince at the tired feeling in her bones, yet she also smiles. Why, she supposes is because she got to Pravna safely. That's something in her head. With that thought, she stands and glances to the bathroom, before with a yawn and stretch, heading for the door to have a good, long shower. --- Zwool's eyes take in the rather large doors of the library but now he just heads inside, a hesitant desire to forge onward. He is slightly taken aback by the large degree of books dotting the library. With a slow gape to all in front of him, he glances to a side shelf, slightly aware of people around him but losing his train of thought, he is now focused on just glancing over the books, touching their spines and searching for a random one, any that might distract him for a while. He is unsure why, but he feels a distraction would be quite good.

Obelia’s eyes are quiet as she listens to his want to not use such a weapon. Her heart brightens at his morals however much she feels annoyed that he cannot raise a blade to another. Her eyebrows rise in slight surprise though at his mention of combat magic. ‘You can fight..? I...’ She does slightly calm yet with the mention of Lucinda, she nods hastily, a sudden glance back to the room. ‘Do you think she will awaken soon?’ --- Langley’s eyes go a bit wide at his statement, though she seems quite happy over such a simple statement. She doesn’t annoy him. That’s… apparently quite pleasing for her to hear. She slightly sighs but smiles a bit too, a glance to Noel with an almost mildly triumphant look. ‘Hear that? Not annoying.’ With a slight smile back to the guy, she feels her heart brighten too. Regardless of what has happened, Noel’s slightly twitchy lips indicate some humour is reaching her too, despite things. She opens her mouth to speak and yet what she says makes Langley’s cheeks start to burn and her eyes widen again. ‘Not annoying. Huh. So you like her enough to defend her?’ Noel’s eyes flash with a slight curiosity as she glances to the rather nervous Andy. Her gaze softens slightly hearing the tremor in his voice. But it remains piqued with interest. She folds her arms and stands with a slight slant to her form, leaning back as now Langley coughs once or twice. --- Carrie’s rest continues on and yet with her sleep comes quiet troubles, hidden dreams. She shifts once or twice amid the blanket and yet see’s quiet images in her head, her parents far off in her head, out of reach. A slight shiver passes through her body as in her head, the night-time of dreams grows and she feels herself alone, silently alone. She curls tightly into bed and sleeps deeply, but not comfortably. --- Zwool’s eyes take in the surrounding area, the bustle of people around him living their lives. His eyes glance upward quietly, observing with silent wonder the shield like bubble around the city glowing amid the light. He chuckles at the glints it gives, the simple amusement found in observing the unusual. But as he walks, he blinks with a slightly absent smile, surprised but intrigued by the large tower now in view. Like a hand reaching for heaven. He just wanders to it, quiet but curious, allowing said curiosity to take hold for a moment. He wanders ahead and looks for the door, a quiet hesitance as he prepares to enter the tower.

As long as people live who believe in what he believed, in hope and love and optimisim, there will always be hope that his dream and the dream for a Canada everyone wants to live in will come true. Always.

Obelia's eyes watch Ken's own with a rather quiet expression, his opinion easily as valid as her own, more so seeing as his life is the one on the line at the moment. Yet with a slight hesitance, she nods in answer, hesitant to leave his side at this moment. Instead, she speaks with a rather calm tone, however much her body is almost willing her to panic. '..Look, I will… well, I'll check on the managerial staff, ask them if they can call the town guard or the like to investigate. And how do you mean not alone? Lucinda is hardly awake; you cannot hope she can defend you to well. Unless=-' Caught by a sudden thought, she takes out her knife, hesitant but handing the rather shape blade by the blade, her armoured gauntlet protecting her hand quite well, over to the priest so he can grip the handle. 'I know you do not believe in the wilful harming of others... but in case they enter the room as I check, please, something to defend yourself with, Ken.' She awaits hr response, not sure he can really talk his way out of a combat scenario with an assassin. --- Langley actually chuckles, surprised by his dash down the stairway. With an absent sigh she blinks at his confused words but at the mention of the word dog, half of her wants to reproach him for using that term but half is simply quiet on the stairwell. She knows that it could be three possible people and indeed Ms or Mr Santru might be coming to chat with her absent parents unawares or something. But she knows in her heart who is most likely walking along the pathway. She turns her head to the window and inhales a large quantity of air, seeing the rather stiff looking but tall girl walking along the pathway. She is even quietly annoyed, her friend looking far cooler now then when they'd departed. Maybe that thought is harsh, she thinks but to her it's true, the tall Anri seeing so much more confident in her step as finally, she reaches the door, a hesitant but strong knock coming to the old wood. Langley sighs, a small glance to Andy but not saying anything, simply moving, exhaling and gripping the door handle, twisting and opening it, her own gray eyes meeting Noel's calm brown. 'Didn't know you were still... well, here, Noel.' --- Noel's eyes trace her friends and she sights fear, sadness even a bit of hope. Truly, she wonders, her friend is scared to face her. She sighs and looks away a moment, not wanting to stare Langley in the face, rubbing amid her furred hair with a quiet sigh. 'Yeah, well, didn't exactly note you advertising you'd come home, Langley.' She shoots her friend a silent look, an accusing one. Langley coughs at that, a glance away. It feels tense, uncomfortable in that moment. They both stood and for a moment glanced away from one another, quiet. '....You got a boyfriend?' 'You got cute looking?' Both of them try to say something to lighten the tension and yet both go red at that moment, the tension killed temporarily as the inflammatory nature of their statements collide. Langley responds first, slightly agitated. 'He's... look, this is Andy. Andy, this is Noel Isamu Santru. She's my..' She is hesitant but she finishes her words, determined to. 'She's my best friend.' Noel's eyes roll with a small annoyance, unable to not soften slightly at her friends words. She sighs and holds out a furred hand. 'One, I suddenly become cute looking now, Langley? And two... good to meet you, Andy. She as irritating as I remember her?' Noel flashes a toothy smile at Langley and while Langley hisses in an almost playful anger, her heart is beating slightly less fast. --- Carrie coughs once or twice and lightly glances around, needing to sight an inn. Anywhere she can lie down for a while, just a while. She sights one along the street, a rather worn looking one with chipped paintwork and a slightly fractured sign labelled 'The Mage's Gamble'. She smiles once and then heads inside, ignoring the rather musky smell, the sight of several people in varying degrees of flashy clothing, worn rags and simple overalls mulling over wine glasses, downing ale or unconscious and drooling over wooden table tops. She dashes to the front desk, to the side of the bar area and taps a bell, some people quite out of it coughing or startled awake by the sound. She shies away from the absent glares resulting from it. A slightly tired looking woman in a long, dark overcoat glances with a curious gaze to the rather wobbly Carrie. 'Drank too much this early, hon?' Carrie is hesitant to get annoyed, just wanting a room. She shakes her head and asks. 'How… much for a room, how much?' The woman raises an eyebrow and then gives Carrie a once over, making her hesitantly blink. She chuckles once, tired amber eyes looking to Carrie's own. 'S'okay, little lady, we got plenty. You'd think in a city like this, business is always booming. Guess the smell or something...' She glances around, her eyes trained on some of the more out of it looking 'customers' and sighs, a slow glance to some fluids littered across the floor. '...I hope that be ale. Ah well.' She turns her eyes to Carrie, who by now looks unsure whether to be sick or to collapse. She tosses a key to Carrie, a firm glance there. 'One night free. If you wanna stay past that, you either help me out behind the bar, kid or you pay the full amount, 30 coins for just the room.' Carrie just nods a slightly quiet glance as she takes the key. On a rather rounded piece of metal at it's end, the number '23' is engraved into the gray material and she dashes or more rather, hops upstairs, issuing a few laughs from the bar patrons. They are silenced by a dark glare from the barkeep, her eyes trained on them quite like a weary hawk. Carrie pants rather quietly and as she reaches a door with the number 23 marked in metal on the wooden door, she slips the key into the lock and enters the room. It's quite empty, though a full jug of water and a glass cup is by the bedside, the only luxury in a rather empty room, filled with just a chest of drawers, a shower adjacent and a bed. She dives and trips over the bed, sighing as she lands rather softly, admittedly but takes the jug to her lips, drinking a copious amount of water. After half of the jug is gone, she sits back and breathes a moment. Tugging her cracked glasses off her face and setting them on the tableside, she shivers, eyes closing and falling immediately to sleep. --- Zwool's eyes glance quietly around. The inn is rather full and he has no want for a room, just... to say something. He is feeling rather scared at this point. He knows, he thinks he does, that this is the right thing to do. This is the only thing he can think of. He steps hesitantly forward and in front of their room, where not long ago he'd been quite stupid, he raises his hand. He lowers it though, fears overtaking him. Is this right? Is it ever right to bring up the past, however recent it is, when it's full of pain? Find someone. Carrion had said that. Find someone to be with that you care about and that cares about you. So, isn't that the best form of apology? Living your life and becoming someone who you can be proud of. A few moments later, Zwool is quietly hugging his wings around himself, silent as he steps outside the inn, glances around and with a slow breath, heads to the northeast. Why, he has no idea. But maybe that's the best way to start something new. With a step into the unknown.

With a slightly quiet once over of Ken, Obelia's eyes almost double checking in fear he'd just crumple if she looks away too long. But his words are surprisingly astute even considering the situation and she hesitates, hard pressed to not agree with him however much she oddly feels she wants to yell at him to stay out of sight and safe. It is born of an annoyance and panic, making a friend and then worrying they will vanish as soon as you take your eyes away. She is hesitant but listens to him well, nodding and her voice goes quite calm a moment, slipping into an unusually professional tone herself. 'From what I gather, we need to give this one little room to manoeuvre in. Stay in the room, Ken, don't let yourself get close to the door or the window and above all, keep awake and alert. If you want I can stay in the room with you, or I can patrol the corridors, question some of the people around the inn and see what they've gathered.' However, her instinct roars at her to not move from him, that to leave him alone is tantamount to loading another bolt into the assassins bow herself. --- Langley's eyes are weary and the only thing she's removed from herself is her cape, leaving the body armour and dress on however crumpled they are. She is rubbing her head with slightly weary glances around the hallway as she steps down the stairs yet as she glances back to him, smiling slightly and tip toeing her away around the thought of how cute he looked all cleaned up, she calls back to him with a slight grin. 'Hey, I'm not even halfway down the stairs yet, I ain't got not idea what we've got to cook. But now you're all dry and the like, you can come with me and look if you like.' She smiles back and begins to descend the stairs again, leaving him to his answer. --- What do I do? Noel's thoughts are conflicted and from Aret's she has passed along the field bordering his home, taking a left from the path leading up to the weary old house he crafts his work within. This path goes along the outskirts of town yet leads her quite a bit quicker along the outlying areas, the Aokkoa house not far off. Aret's advice is ringing in her ear and however much she doesn't want to admit it, she is slightly angered by the fact she knows it's the best way to prove to herself that's she grown strong is to see what the person she has trusted most bar her parents thinks. Her best friend. But she is slightly unnerved. That boy from before, was he… she shakes her head and with a hasty glance along the path notes that the distance is no longer stretched so far, coming closer to her destination and to her answer. And now, not long is left for her to decide whether she wants said answer or not. Her feet trudge along the path, crunching small twigs and rocks underfoot. --- Carrie's eyes are tired now, but her feet managed to run at a few points along the slightly tree strewn path. And at this point, she realises that maybe doing that in excitement as she'd noticed the enchanted dome draw closer and as such, running while focusing on said enchanted dome while paying no heed to the ground, snagging a foot on a tree root that's especially overgrown, hissing as your leg twists and your whack your ankle against the still kind of hard ground and then having to ust limp/hop your way to your destinations entrance is something she maybe should've thought through more. With that having been said, she slightly smiles, a small, tired one at the rather hazy looking individual nodding once to her and allowing her through the gateway of Pravna. She notes hazy with dismay as not only is her mind not really able to draw on much to nourish itself, stomach empty and water running on a similar low scale, but her glasses are cracked at the lenses, her sigh having been overly audible at that moment of realising the world is now a bit more 'exaggerated' looking. She keeps them on as she limps, simply down to her eyesight not being stellar in comparison to even a fractured vision. She smiles and is soon hopping/limping through the city streets, looking for an inn, her clothes dirt encrusted and slightly ragged, glasses broken, foot injured, very hungry yet with a sizeable amount of gold. 'Come on, conveniently placed inn…' she murmurs as she glances around the street, looking for even the cracked world view equivalent of a hanging inn's sign. --- To dream is not just human. He is smiling in this vision, a myriad of unseen smiles felt across skin that's not his. Not being him makes people happy, ergo, he is happy. But when he tries to open his eyes, to see himself, the good feeling stops, the smiles vanish. And he just hears selfish in his ears, over and over accusing him. He tries to plead with the voices, to stop, that he can change yet they accuse him again and again and all he can do is cry and plead and beg as they grow louder and louder, drowning him in their anger. And he screams, shooting up from earthen floor, drenched in sweat among his fur. Zwool's eyes are wide and filled with silent tears but he wipes them quickly, finding his wings curled snugly around him, yet now they unfurl as if they match his sentiment, to be away from his own body. His hands shake and as he looks at them, he see's them as only having caused hurt. Carrion, he thinks. Did I love you? Or did I just want you too so much… I believed you could? He smiles a bit. But his eyes are burning and he wipes them again, not able to combat though, the larger flow that comes. Bad dreams are not just for humans.

Obelia's eyes are suddenly wide and seeing the bolt, she doesn't hear him a moment. Obelia instead grabs her knife from the side drawer and acting as if on automatic pilot, she runs with armour clanking, her ankle still sore but not really mattering at the moment, adrenaline driving her to leap downstairs, pushing past several angry and startled customers of the inn as she pushes the door yo the garden open, running over to Ken. Her eyes are narrow and as she reaches the priest, she is unusually firm, grabbing his arm and glancing over him, a once over for injuries. She then exhales slightly, Ken unharmed. But she glances to the bolt in the grass, taking it by the shaft and tugging it out, looking over the arrow. She notes the angle at which it had been buried before and glances to the roof. '...Ken, get inside. Right now.' Her eyes are rather cold a moment, knowing that now is not the time to embellish anything she needs him to do. --- Langley's eyes blink tiredly once or twice. She sighs, rubbing her forehead as she hears his nervous voice, slightly cursing herself inwardly. Does she really just make him nervous? Well, regardless, she shakes her head yet realising after a moment he couldn't see that due to the door being in their way, she hastily calls out to him. 'No, no, Andy it's fine! I just... I needed to know it was you in there. Take as much time as you need, I'll be downstairs checking for food.' With a slight hesitance, remembering the events of yesterday, she just heads to the stairs, rubbing rather messy blonde hair, taking the steps warily. --- 'HA!' A crash of blades is followed by a pant from the girl of this piece, twisting her body out of a rather firm stab from the elder guy. Girl and guy is a simple term for the two, both more then just that. The girl has long, tied back hair, dark yet she also has a muzzle, her lips squared as she guards a swing from the side, while her rather jagged blade takes the hit exceedingly well. Her form is clothed in a set of red clothing, loose and form fitting as she lets out a cry, twisting the blade under his, pushing the guy, a tall, elder wolf, his fur tinted with slight signs of gray, back slightly. His face goes quickly from surprise to determination and he suddenly launches his leg out, knowing her blade may not have enough time to shoot down and strike the clothed fur. But her eyes almost glint, having seen him try this move before. She notes his leg twist, trying to differentiate, to attack her waist with the hit and send her whole body to the side but she suddenly lets her whole upper half go slack, bending herself backwards and letting her blade fall away from his. His leg passes right over her, her back arched fully and as he tries swing forward, his sword heading for her stomach, she brings hers up to a curved arc, reaching his own. The tips slightly press into each others fur and her stomach hurts slightly, the blade not piercing the skin too deeply. Aret's control is too good to allow himself to clumsily kill his student in practice but luckily for him, Noel is not so clumsy as to stab him through the stomach, more control in her poise then there was at the beginning. So both wince rather slightly before with a rather drawn out chuckle, Aret just draws the blade back and tilts his head, amused. He rubs his hand over the touched spot on his stomach, himself just wearing a rather large pair of ragged brown overalls and pants and slightly sighing, Noel stands straight, touching the contact point o her stomach, ears flicking once or twice in annoyance. 'Getting sloppy, Noel.' Her eyes flashes angrily at the man next to her yet as his eyes seem softer then his words, she just rubs her head, asking with a weary tone. 'Well, next time I'll make sure to perform a riposte on you instead of adopting a fancy position or something, Aret.' 'Master Aret.' She raises her eyebrows with a slightly firm glare at the man, a look summing up the phrase 'are you serious'. He sighs and lightly puts the blade of his away in a scabbard attached to his back, the rather worn but sturdy metal fitting it's holding place easily. 'Youth of today, no respect.' 'When I'm feeling in the mood, maybe I'll call you sir. IF I'm in the mood.' Noel's eyes are slightly more tired, weary. Aret doesn't fail to notice, asking on it as she sheathes her blade. 'Something up?' She snaps her eyes upward as if the question is a trigger for her anger. He however has lived too long to let simple anger deter him from a line of questioning, standing his ground with her. After a moment, she just rolls her eyes, a slight rub of the back of her furred head. 'I heard a rumour, spreading fast. Rumour that a girl with blonde hair was sighted entering the town. With a boy in tow. Didn't believe it for a while.' Yet her eyes sadden slightly, a pain in her features. 'Well, I didn't till I took a walk 'bout midnight or something close. And saw her. Langley's back, Aret. And guess she got a companion or something.' It's then Aret blinks once or twice, realising what's troubling her. A long time ago, Noel was distraught because her friend thought she wasn't strong enough to come along with her on Langley's adventure. Yet now, another is in tow with her, making her feel secondary, feel less then what she was. He just sighs once or twice and lightly glances to her. 'First off, you have grown stronger then you were, but your strength may just have no been sufficient back then. You know as well as I that if that same decision had been made now, it could have been different or possibly exactly the same. You dwell on the decisions of the past too much; you will push aside your future, Noel.' Noel slightly growls, a slightly more authentic one from her lips, but she soon sighs after a moment, hugging her own arms with a slight glance away. Her eyes don't want to look to him as she might acknowledge his point. '…Fine. Just.. it still hurts, you know? However good a reason you have for it...' 'I said first off, so I have another reason for you Noel.' With an absent glare, wondering why he paused for her to respond if he was just building to another reason, she folded her arms, watching him smile slightly at her response. Maybe he was just toying with her, a prime past time of his as she'd grown. 'The second is something you now have a chance to examine. You wonder if you're now strong, strong enough to go on an adventure.' She blinks once or twice, glancing to him in confusion. 'Yes..?' 'Then go ask her. If she thinks you're strong enough. And whatever happens, know it is shaped by your choice.' '….' She opens her mouth to speak. But his stare is oddly sombre. For a moment she just glances to him as if this might be a goodbye. Then she just nods, turning and leaving across the grass, their training ground the back of the blacksmiths. He watches her go and wonders on what will occur next. He smirks slightly, knowing the unknown can bring a trifle large amount of new things, before stretching and heading to the back door of his shop, glancing after the now vanishing Noel. --- Carrie, tired from her walking, wonders silently where she could be. She had thought on waking the hooded man yet at the last instance, had decided against it, an odd feeling taking her in that moment. She'd wanted moreover to head for somewhere new, somewhere where she can make a name for herself. She is silent as she walks, having taken an opposite direction to where she had been headed, her feet taking her across worn dirt paths and hand touching battered, young and elder trees. She wonders why she's limping after a time but hazards a guess at a rock she was unawares of her, sending her sprawling to the dirt. Her hooded top is covered in worn brown across it's light purple and her glasses seem smudged. She sighs once or twice and finds that the pieces of food in her bag have dwindled to nothing. She knows silently that food isn't the worst thing to be without, but also finds no water is present within her satchel, something that determines her to keep walking ahead, eyes tired and trying to see civilization ahead. So she's rather surprised to see a tall city, a large dome of energy glowing above it. It is almost beautiful, like a snow globe that's been made for all seasons. She recognises it from stories of Shuthra and of its capital. Pravna, the city of magic. She grins slightly and with a small cough, limps quickly ahead, however far it may be, its existence motivating her to try and reach it before night fall. She's certainly feeling happier now. --- It stings, like a denial of something needed but cannot have. At least, that's how Zwool feels. He just doesn't know why he couldn't be hers. It's a confusing feeling, not sure what to make of it. Did he consider her someone to hold? Does he consider her someone close to a mother, to hold onto him when he is saddened or someone like a love, to hold his hand through times bad and good? He is walking as if on automatic, mechanical. He wants to hit something yet finds Adrian is absent, the source of his troubles, correct? But when he thinks of their happiness together, how they look together, it's not anger he's feeling anymore. More a lament. They have something precious and even as he brushes past others, who've shown him kindness, Ellandra being one. So soon he's outside, in the forest. He's just trying to think despite emotion wanting to urge him to hit something, to cut something. He wants to understand what it is that love is meant to be but Carrion said to just live. He doesn't understand. Is he not meant to, is it automatic? He doesn't really know. So he just sits there after a time, leaning against a tree and quiet. He realises one thing after about a half hour and as he does, his eyes half close he curls slightly and rubs an eye of some fluid that had escaped. He's cut whatever bond he's built and that is probably what hurts the most. He thinks.

With a slow glance around, her head lifting from the pillow, Langley blinks once or twice to clear hazy vision. But soon she remembers last night, getting home and that... whatever it was. She rubs her forehead and sighs, wondering what it could be yet pushes that aside, a slow cough coming from her as she stands upright and tilts her head to the door, confused at the running water she can hear. She breathes once or twice but stands and realises with a small sigh she hadn't got changed the night before, which had made her clothing feel rather ragged and uncomfortable. She just shakes her head, not wanting to care right now. She moves with small creaks, the rather sturdy boots she wears making slight echoing sounds against the wood. She sighs, this house sturdy but... one that always convinces her otherwise with the amount of worrisome noises it makes. She knocks lightly on the door and calls out, worried for a moment on who it was. '...Andy? You in there?' --- Obelia's body seizes up as for a moment; she doesn't discern the priest among the flowers. But her heart calms down, the rather amiable man quite peacefully sitting down. But this feeling, it’s so hard to shake. She has a small idea, hesitant but leaning her head out the window once she had opened it, calling down to him. 'Ken? I'm sorry to disturb you, but are you all right?'

Langley's bedroom is just across from the guest room yet the doors been left ajar, as if unnoticed or not enough time was put into simply closing it. Her room is a rather soft blue in colour, the light colour layering all the walls and not too chipped as compared to outside the house. However, the wall itself was covered in drawings. Some were ones from when she was small, child's drawings. But others showed her growth in both self and style, landscape sketches and drawings of people with correct proportions. Langley herself is curled tightly into a rather raggedy looking bed and seems either asleep or hidden. However, come close enough and the fact she's shivering becomes rather audible. She is still in exactly the same clothes she wore last night, not having bothered to change either. --- Obelia glances around and while she is hesitant to move, she stands slowly, moving to the room's window and glancing outside. She eyes the outer area looking for him, wondering if he is just relaxing outside a moment.

With a slow thought at his response, her own mind quite tired, she nods at the suggestion to stay and she thinks on who she wants to meet. Yet as he leaves upstairs, she glances into the living room. Something is weird but she couldn't quite place it. It’s something slightly eerie. She walked into the living room and thought quietly on what might have bothered her. Yet it was something that she couldn’t quite see, something feeling off within the room. The clocks ticks continued, metronomic and on cue and she glanced out the window. She freezes a moment as she thought she saw someone ghostly white standing outside, smiling. But as she blinks her eyes once, opening them, the person had vanished from view. She coughs once or twice, a small edgy glance around and she darts upstairs, a slight fear building. She doesn't know why but whatever that was, be it trick of the light or something else, frightens her. She heads into her old bedroom, casual drawings, an empty scabbard, some clothing strewn around her and she darts into bed, closing her eyes. It takes about an hour for her to calm and fall asleep.

Langley sighs and with a slow yawn, she glances back to Andy, rubbing her hair and slowly looking into the living room area. Chairs are slightly scattered but not upturned and a large clock ticks quietly on a slightly dusty looking shelf. 'My parent's just be away at the moment. Doesn't matter, Andy...' She glances back at the guy and then nods upstairs. 'Upstairs, second door on your left is the bathroom, the fourth door on the left is the guest bedroom. Beds should be made as we only ever had... um, never mind.' She was about to say Noel. She is silent a moment and slowly chuckles to herself, at the question she wants to ask. 'How long you want us to stay here? I mean, we can rest up here for a couple of days or we could go in the morning. Your choice, Andy.' --- Obelia's head raises and now she is wider awake, a slow yawn coursing from her throat as she stretches her arms. Yet she is quiet as now, it feels off. What exactly feels off being the environment, making her feel tense? She is worried that someone is close and doesn't know whether it is Ken or not, curiously calling out his name. 'Ken? You there?' --- As yesterday ended, one pair of eyes quietly watched Langley head inside the darkened Aokkoa House, silent from the side as they took a quiet interest in the boy that moved in after her. But then they shut, vanishing from view and soon the area, whoever was watching gone.

Andy's words make her pause every so often and she is confused once or twice at which point his opinion became so important to her. None the less, she raises an eyebrow at his words and with a curious knock of the front door, she glances back to him. 'Eh, my parents are my parents. They aren't regular by any standard but I love 'em and vice versa.' Yet after there is no sound for a while, Langley sighs, a slow glance around the pathway. She then lifts her fist and quietly knocks a small crack in the wall to the left of the door which follows with a small clatter. A tiny key shifts from the crack with a rudimentary ting sound which she quietly catches, a small explanation to Andy. 'We believe the best place to hide something that matters, like a way to get into the house is by keeping it somewhere no one' s really gonna think to look and chipped and cracked paintwork seemed unlikely at the time.' She smiles slightly yet shifts the key into the lock, unlocking the door, opening it slowly with a rather audible creak and heading inside. --- Obelia stirs a bit, slightly confused by something. A shift in the wind to her, but with a week spent with just Ken and the slumbering Lucinda, it had become quite telling when others made their prescience known. Someone, she thinks with hazed glance around, feels close, the tension in the room quite well felt.

Obelia slept well that night, quite amused as well that Ken had no desire for bread the day before. The week had illustrated his love for the stuff yet she rested quite calmly the day ahead, though the pain in her knee swelled during the night, easing slightly as the morning came.

So, back to the night before a moment. Langley smiles back at Andy but then hesitated. To tell him what she thought would be tantamount to some sort of social suicide in her mind. She knows that whatever happens, she'll not want him to leave because she had a stupid thought. He's much younger, she knows that and is hesitant because she feels creepy knowing she'd want to kiss the guy, however much she feels like it'd just feel nice if she did. So she just shakes her head once or twice, smiling as best she can back to him. 'It's nothing much, Andy. And you're right, this place is kind of neat. Ahhh, here we are.' A rather rickety but nonetheless, rather brightly coloured building comes into view at the end of a street. It feels like the literal end of the road, just slightly large fields of grass behind it, even further beyond that, just the sea. Its colours are quite clashing, purples with blues with yellows in a stunning mish-mash of the bizarre. She sheepishly grins back to Andy and explains. 'My mom always though, after I was born that there was no excuse not to have some brightness in her lives. My dad suggested we get some flowers or something, but my mom wanted something more... striking. And, well, yeah. Don't let a post-pregnant woman giddy with happiness near some paint cans, I guess.' She smiles a bit more, pushing aside that thought from before and heading toward the house, opening a rather sturdy iron gate and heading up the path.

Name: Noel Isamu Santru Gender: Female (24) Class: (Fighter) Affinity: (Ice) Weapon: Ayalean: A sword forged quite cheerfully by the now elder wolf Anri Aret, when a slightly nervous Noel turned up at the blacksmith and asked for something that would make her as strong as Langley and her family. Recognising Noel might be feeling inferior, for not being taken on the journey Langley embarked upon, he made a deal. He would train Noel in swordplay, further then the practice she'd had with Langley and if she accepted the training, he would forge her blade for free. Months passed and her bones ached, every session making her body weary with each blow she's learnt to parry but she has finally, quite recently as well, managed to land a blow upon Aret with her practice blade. He smiled quite readily that day and while he commented that her training wasn't over, she had certainly advanced far from where she'd started. He forged her a blade, Ayalean, the handle wreathed in the colours of ice and sea, the edges slightly jagged, to allow not a clean cut, a clean death, but to break bone and to perhaps stop death with pain, however futile that gesture may be. It is rather big as a blade and yet thanks to her training and her heritage of sorts, her body that of a dog anri, she is quite able to handle the blade. The edges are indeed rough and jagged looking, for injury and not death, yet it has an odd quality to the handle, smooth and oddly as cool as ice. Aret mentions after he hand's the blade too her it 'matches her element' but at this point, Noel doesn't understand his meaning. Appearance: She wears a rather creative looking ensemble but usually just tells people it' comfortable to wear and easy to move around in. And then just leaves it at that, oddly a bold statement for someone used to being so shy. She's also hesitant about letting her hair down as she feels it would look to long, despite the fact she likes the length, having let it grow since she was tiny, determined to be the anthesis to Langley's short hair. Nation of Origin: Shuthra, Chaldron Backstory: Twenty four years ago, in the village of Chaldron, two anri, a man and a women of the dog type witnessed the birth of their daughter, Noel, safe and of course, crying, into the world. It was quite a happy day. It was also a very sleepless day. Olho Lesley Santru was a woman who had been affected as a child by the blast that had created the rather new, in some respects, race of people called the Anri. Her eyes had been wide when she'd been so tiny; her body now covered in fur and pointed ears at her heads tips. She had laughed and considered it amazing. She did get sad as she grew up though, because even in Chaldron, prejudice has always hidden amongst the quieter people, lashing out at times gone by. Her family had suffered from threats and attacks in the streets from certain individuals. But they taught her, their sacred little daughter, that you sometimes had to take the hits and not sink down to a point where you're as hurtful as them. They told her to be proud and that while she wasn't born this way, she was still beautiful, for being her. She remembers smiling at her parents a lot that day. So Olho grew up proud of herself, happy with herself too. And as it turns out, with Anri being born and filtering into the town bit by bit, there was slightly less of one kind of prejudice to go around. But there were always other kinds of hate lurking around. An example, a physical example came with an anri with angry blue eyes and fur the colour of white, contrasting her own rather fluffy black fur. She was confused by the man called Kero who came angrily to this town and spread the fear that humans would never trust anri, they would be taken as some had been already, to be slaves and servants to those who would not care if they died in their service. And while for a while, Olho was afraid, it was when she'd reacted in fear to a human mother carrying her child, who'd stopped one day after she'd injured her arm practicing the blade, she kind of realised that fear of a race based on generalisation was rather pointless. And it always would be when someone reaches out with a kind intention. She went to Kero and angrily told him that day that his fears were baseless. Yes, there were humans who acted the way he'd described but not every human, not every life reacted with greed and hate. Kero Yuri was not a happy sort of anri or even just a being. His life had been cast into shadow long ago as it was told his little sister had vanished in the forests bordering Chaldron. His parents had moved there after tensions between their neighbours in Pravna and they had grown too dissenting, Pravna back then slightly more heated with the rather recent still growth of Anri. He'd stayed there, young but wanting to prove he could make it in a world that didn't quite understand him anymore and so for a while had worked as a magician, focusing himself on gathering a mastery of fire magic. But it was with the news, sent in one of those discreet letters that his mother sometimes sent, he moved himself entirely to Chaldron, to search for her. It was then the story of the 'Trader of the Forest' the one who steals anyone who wanders into those woods away to become a slave, especially Anri, came to his ears. In blind panic and despair for his sibling, he turned his hate onto humans and yet it was another Anri, not a human who was standing up to him. He refused to forgive the unseen trader but this woman was telling him of the kindness that not just humans and anri were capable of committing, the kindness a good person or a person simply trying to do right was capable of committing in their life, just to help another. He was… resistant at first, to the idea that anyone could be as good a person as that. So it was without hesitation Olho spent her time with him, trying to talk to him when he grumbled he was busy, trying to encourage him to meet new people, not just humans, anri too in general so he could feel more welcome. And slowly, he was wary but relented, curious why this woman was going to such lengths to help him. It was about a year after he'd moved there that he told her about his sister. How she was light and happy, how she could just chat about nothing in particular yet her happiness about any subject could keep you interested even when you felt you didn't want to be. How she could be serious when others were hurtful and how she had a flaw in that she tried to hide away from new people because she was scared they wouldn't like her based on her appearance. The last letter he told Olho, on a rather windy night with the sea air being taken inland by those gusts, the last letter his mother had sent before his sister had vanished, said she was starting to enjoy going outside and that one day, she'd have so many friends here she wouldn't worry anymore about other people. He told Olho with a rather quiet stare her name had been Sally and that was irreplaceable. At those words, an angered look had crossed Olho's features and she'd asked him if he thought she was trying to replace Sally in his life at which he'd stoically replied yes. What else is there? Olho had answered with burning cheeks. He could have taken that a sign. But when she'd leant forward, quietly cupped the muzzle of his face and leant in for a silent kiss, hand shaking at his chin, he'd finally, silently, shockingly understood. Why maybe she'd stood by him. Why he hadn't minded too much. They sat for a long time. And awake, held in each others arms against the morning dew, at dawn. Olho's parents were surprised and then delighted. Kero's were suspicious. Until he'd come home one day, smiling so brightly, as if Sally had never left, as if everything was okay again. And then they too had smiled, knowing what it was Olho was doing to his heart. Two years later, Olho and Kero stood in a church of the goddess, a rather tiny one within the small town and in front of a rather open minded priest and their families, they exchanged vows and wed. They lived together, Olho running a school for swordsmanship, the blacksmith Aret training her since she was small. He was quite young yet the stories of his youth were ones that sounded like fairytales, fighting battalions of soldiers and rescuing the injured. But as time faded those stories, he didn't mind, training Olho with every skill and piece of strength he could, both to help her protect things as well as to give her enough ability to make such a school a viable option. Kero practiced his magic's further, helping locals learn the basic arts of casting and drawing upon energy. In other words, they kept their home afloat by keeping the locals able to defend themselves. It was a surprise then that Olho found one day a woman moved into the town that caused such despisement among the locals. They sneered and hid and cast aside semblances of a kind face to point and harass a woman who seemed so quiet, her eyes not betraying much bar a sadness unexplained. Olho was ready to join in however, finding out that this woman, this Dlareme was the 'Trader of the Forest'. So she ran up to her, demanding the location of Kero's sister, shouting at her even as this woman just stood, shuffled her feet and looked like she was barely able to stand under such times, let alone shout back. She just murmured to Olho she would 'redeem herself' at which Olho snorted, murmuring she was beyond redemption. But it was then that Kero appeared, his features mirroring in some way his sisters, perhaps in a harsher, more masculine way, yet enough of a link that Dlareme went if possible paler that day, as he moved over, silent, knowing who she was. The town's people had gathered outside that day, human and anri, silent and watching. So it was much to their surprise, Kero told Dlareme he only had one thing to ask. Olho was silent, shocked and wondering what her husbands mind was racing with. He asked her if she would bring his sister home. She looked at him, Dlareme's eyes not leaving his and simply said 'yes'. And he stood a moment, his face blank, even quiet. His look was silent as he nodded and left, shivering but just leaving. Dlareme stayed silent and this, this event was not unusual. It was just something which usually resulted in anger, rage; pain never just blankness and acknowledgement. Olho later asked him why he wasn't angry. He told her he was, but she said yes. She asked, confused, why he didn't act on it. And he told her a story of an amazing woman he knows who would show kindness to those who act against the generalisations, the fairytales spread about them and how the 'Trader of the Forest' was just a story. The woman whose eyes he'd looked into, he said in an almost hollow too, was frightened. Not of him. But most likely, the fact she may never be able to live with what she's done. She just sat there, realising that she had cast aside someone seeking forgiveness without hesitation. It was that night that Dlareme, in home she had bought with her own money, her money seeped in bad memories, that she found someone knocking at her door. She was met, frozen, by a quiet Olho who silently asked if she could talk. So, without much way to avoid it, they did. And they did the night after and the night after. And months and nearly a half year late Olho found that the Trader of the Forest vanished. In its place, in her place, was now just a hurt, saddened woman called Dlareme Aokkoa and her friend. For soon Dlareme was working all across town to help those who needed it, knowing she would try and redeem herself, her past. She bore witness to the return of the lion man Garlion, she and her husband were silent and yet one the few that supported Dlareme, surprised at their own actions, when she would tell little ones what had happened to the people she'd encountered in the forest, Dlareme reduced to silent tears and both of them, shocked to find their hands didn't leave hers as she wept. Garlion would be silent but both would angrily nod their heads to the sobbing Dlareme as he harrumphed and looked away, sighs following. The day they both had heard the news, of the defence of Garlion for Dlareme, the gossip that became truth, that they were a couple, they had been inside, resting together as he'd called out the town on their failures to recognise Dlareme's help. When they'd awoken, they'd found a town changed from how it had been. Whispers of guilty followed and when finally, Dlareme returned to the townspeople, Kero and Olho came out, confused but curious. It seems the whisper of yes, to save Kero's sister had become something more. She stood and fearfully, but truthfully told the town of her plan, to rescue those who'd been taken by her. The loudest applause, grins and cheers for this plan came from Kero and Olho, both of them, their friends. Dlareme's smile was returning to her lips and Garlion would remark to her how good it was to have friends like the Santru's. Kero would sometimes lose his temper though. Every time Dlareme returned to the town and it was not Sally, he would rage and Olho would be sad to see him shout at Dlareme, Garlion visibly angry now, love having made him defiant of any who threw their weight at his love. But he would sadly understand the feeling of loss that Kero would find grow in his soul. Olho would hold his hand after each time and he would silent sit with her, wondering. Twenty five slaves were rescued and yet he had not seen Sally. Yet Dlareme would always smile and say she would never rest her soul till Sally came home, Garlion chuckling and telling Kero the same. And Kero, for all his anger, would not help but smile at their determination. But when Olho smiled one day, as he just woke, took his hand, his furry white in black and placed it to her stomach, a tiny beat of something their, a kick almost, he went silent. Then laughed, kissed her brightly and spent the better part of a day smugly saying to people without care he was going to be a daddy. He smiled though, his heart bright and his beloved wife smiling with him. Dlareme and Garlion were the first to grin and hug them, congratulating them, and then Olho's parents followed along with Kero's. So, as I said, twenty four years from now ago, the night of the little girl called Noel Isamu Santru's birth was a sleepless but beautiful one. She was born and she cooed and cried and gurgled and was of course, a beautiful dog anri, making her parents chuckle as they poked her tiny ears. They loved her and they always would, their little Noel. Noel grew with a vibrant happiness, mirroring her mothers. She could though be as shy of others as her father was when he first came to town and it was only with sighs and nudges from her parents, her father slightly more open then he had been, that Noel shyly went up to the little blonde girl called Langley and asked her to play. The grinning blonde agreed and the black and white Noel smiled sheepishly, running of to try things you do when you're little, like hopscotch, tag, sword fighting. Well, the last one was with sticks but when both mothers come from backgrounds where learning to fight was introduced to keep them safe as well as with both fathers, it's hard to not try and instil some liking for fighting with weapons into your children. Somewhat. Noel was shy using a weapon but she smiled a lot, happy practicing with sticks and with Langley, both trying to outdo one another, however shy Noel was, however oblivious Langley could be. Noel showed an interest in making food which was surprising to her parents, neither having been much of a cook during their time. But Noel had a very good eye for ingredients and technique, able to cook quite well at a young age. By the time she was in her teens, she worked part time as a baker for the town, the local baker a jolly sort of guy named Carou. He had one of those moustaches that look like pencils taped to each side of his face tilted upwards and was going bald but was a quite jovial guy, always impressed by the effort Noel put into creating culinary dishes, fashioning the most well cooked meat stews and the most elaborate confectionaries which she adored. And Langley, whose talents she believed lay only in fighting, secretly was awed by her friend's rather unique ability. Noel revelled in cooking but while the attention was great, she just loved to make things that smelt and tasted delicious at the end of the day. Noel grew shy of other children her age but like her mother with her father before her, she was encouraged to go say hi and interact, to not isolate herself in fear of repercussions. This was reinforced when she went up to a human boy in the town yet found he spat at her, calling her inhuman. His parents, sitting nearby, were surprised by his statement and as Noel grew tearful they came and the scolded him, asking him what had made him believe that. He told them and Noel in anger she didn't look the same, she didn't have the same skin yet Noel in a small moment of bravery told him that it wasn't skin that linked people, just the want to do good to others and be friends with others regardless of difference. The boy was still angry but he did seem sheepish, almost embarrassed and walked away, his parents apologising greatly to Noel. She smiled and nodded and as they left, wiped her eyes, believing that this justified her fears. Yet when she told her parents about what she did, whether it was right, her father smiled and her mother, cheeks tinged red at his chuckle, hugged her and whispered yes, it very much was. She was happy the day that Langley's tail grew as she found she had a visible connection to her friend, a bond of race. Yet Langley smiled once as she had said this, the day afterward, hugging her friend and telling her that they had bonds beyond stuff like that, so a tail didn't make or break any connection they both held. Noel had been surprised by the statement, a silent thought that she had sounded so much like her mom and her ideals with that reason. She'd hugged her friend for a long time then and refused to let go for a while, until they both became hungry, which to Noel, became a challenge each time hunger was raised. She headed home with Langley that day and tried to perfect some good fried eggs. They were a bit undercooked but tasted good. Noel grew tall and stronger, eyes bright as she and Langley grew and grew strong. Though as Langley said she had to begin a journey, Noel was torn apart at the idea her friend couldn't bring her along, Langley saying things such as she didn't want to lose Noel or see her hurt, her best friend. And at first, Noel was angry and enraged, saying she was always as strong as Langley and wanted to be given a chance to show she was as brave. But Langley just walked away, determined to not suffer as her mother had done, without the people she'd loved during her life's beginnings. Noel, angry throughout the night, felt upset at seeing her greatest friend leave, having told her to see if she cared when in short, she cared far too much for Langley, cursing and crying her way home. Her parents had tried to ask her the matter, worried about Noel yet found she refused to speak, the answer easy to identify with Langley's journey dawning. But the next day, she was there to see her go, a small smile and a tight hug following her as Langley quietly smiled back to her, some tension eased. The bond between them both had not decayed or been broken, for they knew that however much the action hurt, Langley was acting out of love for her friend, not to make her feel small, insignificant. But Langley was soon gone and Noel, with a quiet smile, whispered a vow. She would become strong, stronger then Langley, then Langley's parents, then her parents, she would become the shield for her friends and family and she would become someone who could protect those who reached out in kindness when she felt fear of reaching out herself. So she spent the rest of that day, her parents worriedly watching her, practicing with the same practice sword that had once cut her friend, swinging with purpose, strength and determination with each cut. Soon, Noel had grown further, weeks passing and anri and even humans turning up in Chaldron every so often. She ignored this. She was happy to see others free; evidence Langley was not only okay, but doing alright. She didn't even notice the agitation her father had whenever others would turn up, as if they weren't someone he was waiting for. But they saw her train, saw her strikes grow sharper and firmer. She could parry very well, defending herself as she wanted. But it was a day when she went into the blacksmiths, to the wolf anri, the old man Aret with his slightly faded fur and his broad smile. He may have been old but he lived quite long, the strange old man. He'd forged Langley's and Dlareme's weapon, the Broadblade, so she asked if he could forge her one, saying she could pay well. But Aret instead chuckled and then murmured just a deal. He would train her. If she proved herself worthy of a personal blade, he would forge her one, no charge. She agreed a silent thought that it sounded easy. It was later as she could barely block sweeping blow after blow, the old man shockingly fast, his cuts coming in with a blunted blade at speeds that defied logic and his age. She winced at a blow to her legs and while he looked sombre in some cases, murmuring bluntly she still had so far to go, he grinned as she limped away. Not out of the injury, that was hardly grin worthy. She was good. She was like her mom in some ways. But something burnt inside her that made her want to go further, further then her mom did. What it was she had realised but she needed time to become focused on it, to become that shield. They trained, each day his blows coming thick and fast, barking instructions, quite literally as she learnt with pain and tiredness to sweep back at a cut to the head and raise her blade in a defensive position. She learnt to use her wrist and not her arm to twist the blade and to keep a firm grip of it as even the mightiest of blows cannot rend you weaponless if your grip is like steel. She learnt to riposte, to curve up with an arc but keep your body side on so the target is smaller, she learnt to use stamping of feet and minor jarring motions to make opponents jump, a split second advantage, or to stand still and motionless, to draw the enemy in a confused sense of well being before dropping a trap, she learnt to defend and to attack in their most primal senses and their most refined. And one day, one fine day as the coastal air grew thick with salt and her parents, Olho silent and Kero curious, watched unseen by her, her senses drawn into the raining blows that she and Aret tried to make upon one another, the clash of dull blades still audible even when dulled, she found that suddenly her blade had landed against his chest, over where his heart would be. It was poised but she had stopped, the sword held there, a death strike ready but unused. She moved her blade before he brought his up, his eyes gleaming and brown as he tried to make her lose balance with a sharp strike and she lunged to the side, her leg darting in and the rather large foot hitting his back legs, her sword moving and tapping his side. She stood then, shaking as he coughed but grinned almost madly, murmuring 'finally' as if a day long coming. She was almost frightened, to have hit him, worried she hurt him. But he shook his head, telling her she was to keep training with him, which she slightly nodded at. But he murmured with a bright smile, eyes glowing with happiness, she had finally touched him. She was finally ready. What she had not seen was first the initial shock and then immense pride from Olho's face, her husbands quiet grin at the strength his daughter had shown against the might old warrior. They both never told her, confident that she didn't need a puffed ego, knowing that she knew they both loved her so dearly. The silence about their pride didn't stop her father looking slightly smug during some lessons of magic, confusing and irritating some of his students or her mother growling to focus on sharper strikes, trying to better her own skills during her swordplay classes. Overnight, she allowed by her parents to stay within the blacksmith. Worried still but Kero oddly trusting of the elder Anri, her mother Olho slightly knowledgeable of what this event marked. She fell asleep to the acid smell of metal and awoke to him, grinning, and those eyes so bright. And in his hands, a jiggered, long piece of silvery metal, a handle forged in icy looking blue and curved up, like a blade from a fairytale of sorts, a grim and yet magical tale. He asked her to name it. She mumbled 'Ayalean' and fell back to sleep. He blinked once or twice, thought about it, murmured 'quite an odd name' but laid the blade next to her sleeping form and left her to rest there. Her sword now and with it, a destiny left for her to find. They kept training, they still train, Noel's fire never quite dying but her father knows, Kero quite silent, she has something of magic within her. She hasn't shown a sign of magical ability but it comes off once or twice, like the feeling of something there unseen and untouched growing inside her heart and her form. She is quite happy though, her sword ability growing, each day, able to match her mom, to land more blows against Aret who wildly encourages her to grow stronger. Noel still takes time to volunteer as a cook and enjoys cooking greatly, fashioning food from the basics of things. She is determined one day, maybe when there are no more obligations, no more slaves to find and no more fights to be had, to maybe cook for people and for her, to create foods of brilliant taste for those who wish to eat. Yet for now, within the town of Chaldron on that coast, Noel Isamu Santru is trying so hard to become not just strong, the best cook, extroverted and the shield for those she cares for, but trying to build herself, to become someone that isn't just built upon the kind acts of others but someone she has confidence in to be herself and be it around others. She still trains and hopes to become someone that she can be proud of.

Obelia's smile is light and nods, ignoring the slight sting in her ankle. 'Well, what was it you needed from down here anyhow? More bread?' She raises an eyebrow, a small smile. She enjoys teasing Ken, she finds, a quiet glance to his eyes as she awaits his answer. --- Langley's smile is light but seeing his own stirs something unbidden in her head. A slight thought to kiss that smile while it lay there on his lips. She is slightly shocked by that thought and then her smile fades, lightly tugging Andy through the gate, a silent wave as she moves through the town gate to a guard that recognises her, silent with her thought. He was young and she was acting like a creeper. Well, great, she sighs to herself; this is suddenly not feeling so happy a situation. She moves through and between the houses, heading to the north of the town, for the area closest to the coast.

Langley's eyes glance back to the guy and for a second she does pauses, hesitant. She hopes silently she's not been driving him up the wall during the trip buttt... with a quiet smile, she states something she thinks is quite obvious, doing so anyway. 'And I see you've grown a bit on this trip. You haven't stuttered in a while and you even have the confidence to get annoyed with me when I'm annoying.' She smiles t that, wide too. Yet she does glance back, the wind picking up and heading back across the town, in their direction. A faint smell, salty in its essence, gave the hint of the sea. She chuckles and looks back to Andy, nodding at his look as if he is saying how much he and through extension, she would like to sleep. It was a rather large mountain after all. 'Well, tomorrow, I can introduce you too everyone... but, for now? The gate should still be open, so we can head inside if you like and look for my house. It's my parents, really, but there's always a spare room.' Without a hint of sadness, pure happiness for now flowing through her body, she takes Andy's hand, calmly leading him on. --- Obelia's sigh is rather audible but with a slight dash forward, she twists her body as she leaps along the stairwell, grunting slightly and feeling a slight pain in her ankle, but landing next to Ken, her armour making an audible clank as now, she checks the priest over with a worried expression. 'You're sure you're okay?'

So by this point, things have shifted quite a degree. With many far from where the last week or so had left them, we focus back first to Obelia, whose form, in a rather dreamless sleep at Lucinda's bedside, is startled awake, incoherently mumbling as she hears a crash somewhere slightly off. She recognises after a moment, the nature of such a sound and with her body standing, still within the armour she's worn since the week before, not really bothered to change. Her hair is slightly messy and even with Ken's company, Lucinda's odd condition continues to gnaw at her minds recesses, curiosity and worry gleefully blending into what is causing her slight loss in general hygiene. She is at the stairs top, glancing down with worry after a moment, seeing Ken all right but a stair broken, calling down to him with a worried tone. 'Ken? You okay..? What happened?' She can gather what may have happened, but since she had exited her home country, the unexpected has its way of working into what people consider the 'regular'. --- Somewhere else, Langley is tired as her foot slips, knee colliding with a rock of a rather sharp indifference to her. She sighs once but smiles too, not really too bothered by it. Enough fights had strengthen her for such falls and with the place she calls home right in front of her, she can't help a small grin, glancing back to the guy who's kept her relatively cheery along this whole journey. 'Andy, we're here! Though you may have already gathered that~' She smirks in a quite innocent way but glances back, rubbing her knee as she stands tall, ready to enter home. The sea is distant but could be seen as they descended the mountain, distant but the only thing beyond this town and she is quite happy, wanting to speak to her friends, the now grown local kids, the parents who'd grown to accept her family. To be honest, anyone with a connection to this place had some connection her as she's grown. But most of all, maybe two things strike her most of all. To introduce Andy to her parents, for a reason that again, eludes her common senses grasp. And second, to find and say hello again to Noel. If she was still here. Hopefully the amount of Anri here is something Andy is cool with, but she is still ponderous, even after all the time spent walking across the mountain, what the boy behind her is like. --- Carrie? Well, she holds a bag of gold in her satchel, eyes tired, not really sure where she's going. She started this as an adventure, yet after some time, she finds she's been wandering without purpose or thought, simply to walk. She heads along pathways, moves across fallen tree stumps, is soaked by rain and chilled by night. She has all the money intact, feeding on scraps of food held within her bag, in a jar she'd procured before she'd departed Lazarynth. So now, with not much surprise and more then a little fear, she see's someone beneath a tree, resting. Her own hood is up, as is the person who is beneath the tall oak. So she is curious for a moment, whether to awaken the person or leave them, in case of trouble.

With a week having gone past, things have changed for three. Three girls who all have had odd moments for the past month, moments they can reflect on and consider that under most normal circumstances, they wouldn’t have experienced such things. Comatic prophets who they have somehow grown close to despite them being pompous and assuming, kicking guild members who appear to have had a daily breakfast of douchbaggery as they grew up in the crotch, meeting the girl who your other sold into slavery all grown up. The layers of absurdity are quite interesting to behold. Yet a week on, things have not changed all too much. The absurdities have become regularity. What was once slightly abnormal for Carrie, Obelia and Langley is now quite possibly the norm from now on. Take for instance Obelia. She waits still, with the priest called Ken for signs of life in Lucinda’s eyes, a wakening of sorts. She had, on that day a week ago, begun what she did regularly now, each day until she wakes up. She simply bakes bread, the same recipe her mother used, so she and Ken have something to eat quite readily while they wait. She is enjoying his company beyond what she thought possible, glad to have found, in essence, a friend. She bakes the bread over the week, cherishing the action that links her to her mother, however far away. She is, for the most part, happier then she’s been. Now, Langley. She has been travelling with Andy across the mountains, heading for her home and her parents, friends. Yet she finds the journey is wary, the cold biting occasionally and the rocks as always, dangerously close to tripping her at the very worst of times. She is smiling too, though. She has found that even through the coldest knights, chatting to Andy about anything that comes to her mind. She remembers as she walks discussing the life of her parents and their exploits as they’d sat to rest, barely able to summon a fire due to the lack of sticks and less oxygen within the air. Yet as they’d (almost quite faintly) talked, she’d smiled a lot, she remembers this, happy to talk to him about a friend she’d had at her village who’d hated seeing her go, her respect for her parents and the pointless nature of Anri discrimination. She knows that these subjects wee a bit ‘heavy’ in terms of what the mood they could draw were, but she remembers being honest with him. She also remembers, as she draws close to the mountain base, the other side, with a quiet flush she’d rather hide, trying to hold him when the nights became frigid, so he didn’t catch pneumonia or something to that degree. She remembers how warm he felt and she ignores that, not wanting to remember the odd feeling at holding him like that. Yet still, she is also for the most part, happier then she’s ever been. Carrie, her days have been quite an adventure. Not the one she really had in mind, less exploring for great ‘finds’, regardless of the fact she knows not what type of great finds she seeks, nor days of merriment and laughter. No, so far, ending up in a fight and being slapped by someone who should wobble with every kinetic motion he makes brings a downer to her thoughts. But, not long after the end of the fighting, no one really notices Carrie quietly leave, her satchel slung and the knife she bought still with her, her direction… any which way. For now, to reach a corner of the continent, she heads west from where she has experienced all of these events, quiet and alone for now. Yet still, she is- well, she’s all right. Hardly anything happy to mull on, but she’s… all right.

Andy's smile makes her calm very easily. She doesn't try and worry about why, but just smiles back, a nod as she darts in and heads a bit further inside, glancing to him with a curious gaze to her eyes now. With a slow sigh, she murmurs. 'I'm sorry for leaving at all. Don't get me wrong, I know you can do fine on your own, but worrying you at all surprisingly troubles me. I'm not quite sure why at the moment.'

'Andy?' Langley calls into the cave, cautious, worried and confused at herself. Such a worry for someone she's barely met. She heads inside and calls out, hesitant but letting her hand fall from her weapon, not wanting to shock him or make him wary around her, not yet again making him nervous around her.

'What it is to me is that death is not so easily accounted for, whatever the reason. But I have no quarrel if they tried to murder you for profit.' Langley turns at that, satisfied she is not longer needed, before hesitantly running back up the mountain path, rushing for the cave. Andy would be all right, she knows this. Right?