LADY LORD.

She does not like hurting people, although she would be a fool to think it never necessary. A good ruler does not need violence to control -

(but she is not a ruler yet, merely a girl, a Queen, a child.)

A professor of the Academy. She turns the words over in her head, strange/familiar/known, and tries not to have her own eyes water from the blinding lights she is accustomed to. Two steps for every one of Nel's, and she lets the other command their exploration until something catches her eye.

On tiptoes, she leans up and over the older woman's shoulder, pointing to a particularly bright section of ruin and rubble - decorated in faded purples-and-reds, flickering faded neon lighting, with a few broken machines amidst the rubble.

"D-do you know what that is?"

She's young, but that doesn't mean she is to be underestimated - she is, after all, a precious queen of Haven's.

Humming to himself, Azama trots back, freshly filled watering can in hand. He had hoped to find Andres in here again, but no such luck today. How vexing that the man has made himself scarce! Alas...

Duty calls, in any case.

"Alice, was it? What do you think of your stay at Argent, so far? No one has been treating you poorly, have they?" They had better not. She is a guest! One who is guarded round the clock by folks no less than Bishop rank (hey, that's Azama right now~!), but a guest nevertheless.

If he remembers their supposed mission any...

he shows no sign. No, in fact, the man looks to be quite at home here, chipper as ever and settled - comfortable.

"How does Haven compare?"

He hands her the watering can and hums some more, heading back just a short ways to grab another.

At least he does not insist upon incongruent things.

Still, the question gives her pause - and it shouldn't, should it? It should be easy to answer; she feels the pride, yes, and the uncertainty, too, the not-enough, the foot upon the edge of a perilous cliff.

"It is home," she answers, simply put, when the overhead lights of the greenhouse spend too long buzzing in the space of silence.

"No one has treated me poorly - it would be unbecoming of them if they did! Indeed, if someone were to..."

Then what? Another little huff escapes her lips as she reaches for the same stepstool she'd used the day prior, dragging it after her to position it beneath dangling planters.

"W-wait, you know my name, but I don't know yours!"

..but she doesn't, and perhaps there is nobility to be found in that concession, too.

Arrival is a word that sits in her head like a distant alarm, buzzing discordant between her ears. This is strange territory, is it not? The line of familiarity and unfamiliarity wears thin, between herself and the other woman, between herself and the world around her.

(She steps into Nel's shadow, and lets it swallow her.)

"I am -- I'm fine!" she half-chirps, half-chokes on the words. Really, perhaps her lack of knowledge is a boon, as it allows the other to ascertain things for herself. Yes, surely! "No thanks to those who saw fit to cuff me, as if I were some criminal."

The words leave her lips, and she feels, again, shame, although the idea is formless. Following behind the other, a little stray duckling looking for guidance where there is none, she finally tilts her voice to ask --

"I...I didn't catch your name. It would be unbecoming of me to not ask."

She trusts that the other will not let her come to harm.

Still, she shimmies down hesitantly. Legs fold beneath her, and then she edges towards the edge - the end result is that her drop is less of a hop like Nel's and more a tentative slide. Even as she drops, she makes a little noise, the fall shorter for one taller -

"U-uwah!"

An embarrassing squeak, but she lands well. Brushing herself off, she looks back and forth. Shortcuts, yes, of course - certainly, she should know her own area. This...is her area, yes?

Certainly.

The streetlights match the harsh buzzing in her brain, and yet nothing sharpens into focus. She looks back, and forth, and back again, blond hair bobbing with every motion, frizz flying.

"Yes, o-of course I do!" she blusters. "I merely need to collect myself a moment."

(...it doesn't take any special level of observation to tell that she very much does not.)

(Her head swims.)

A huff, a little bounce of golden curls, and she accepts the proffered hand with delicate nobility. A "Kh--!" falls from her lips as she stumbles over the slab, her footing only secured by Nel's gracious offer. Flustered, she releases the other's hand once she's back to the ground.

"Thank you," said with earnestness if naught else; "I..."

Her brow furrows, nose crinkling. Her tongue pokes out from her lips - decidedly unladylike, were she to be aware of the habit surfacing at all - as she thinks.

"Of course I am. Any good ruler should be familiarized with her land, after all."

Any redder and the noble's face is sure to become a tomato. Personally, Sonya is intrigued to see if her continued assistance will soften those reds…or make them burst.

"Forward, then," she announces to Alice. But partially for herself as well. They're marching into greater unknowns now, and any type of reaffirmation helps. Even if it is the grip of an imprisoned, frightened child. She can relate.

as sonya, with alice, makes an about-face to start moving back the way they'd come, suddenly both hear a high-pitched scream from the direction the pink-haired girl had run off in. can't be 100% sure, but it sounds like her.

Oh, Sonya most definitely hears the sound from behind. It...almost sounds like it could come from that woman from earlier. But does she need to find out if she doesn't make it her problem?

"We can't leave her!" a rapid turn of emotions -- her hands seek to wrap around themselves, and finding herself unable to, she settles for continuing to hold Sonya's hand.

(The memory of Randal's death is still an open wound, after all, subsumed by her own cowardice.)

Just in case, she flicks her eyes back toward Wynn, nearly expecting the carefree jogging of her to be some fluke. But no, she is still on her merry way, charging into gods knows where.

"The committee seems to be in agreement then," the mage jests in reference to the past decision. Sonya turns her back from the supposed comrade, prepared to travel along the opposite path.

Only then does she remember the constrains currently put on her young companion. She pivots back and starts to outstretch a hand to guide the blonde girl along, but pauses her hand midway.

"I can walk!"

Her cheeks flush darker. This embarrassment is, in its own way, welcome — although she is not possessed of the mind to think it, it is a reprieve from cuffs upon her wrists and the thrum of war.

…Would it?

"Complain she may, but I suppose she does. Amusing, how much patience and tolerance comes with the veil of comradery. Isn't it?"

Alice's face goes red, although the close-to-kindness in Sonya's tone does not go missed.

(And, no, the idea of being lost has not crossed her mind. Or, well — it has, and then been summarily shelved as the others' problem, and then no one knows where we are, which will surely be fine, right?)

"Family." Does the response scratch at Sonya's skin because of its predictability, or from the adorable irony of it all?

"Sounds like a devoted lady," she remarks as she continues their walk forward. Stubborn, too, she keeps her honest feelings to herself. "But then if you're so willing to pass the fortune, how do you explain…this?"

Her free hand splays open in reference to the less-than-favorable road they find themselves crossing. "You wear such pretty clothes in comparison to who currently guides us. Is dressing well not an obligation she deserves?"

...Sonya yet has a point, but she cannot ascertain the answer between layers of not-memory and from where they came. Their guide has run off, though, and so her thoughts turn away from her own ignobility for a moment -

The longer they stand idly about, the more they (and, more worrying, she) have to be exposed to these blinding lights and seemingly endless explosions. Surely whatever base this girl alluded to would be rid of those annoyances.

wynn looks stunned. "wh— she gets a vote?" she looks at alice with a mixture of dubiousness and amazement. "what, haven people get a privilege pass i can't see?" she shrugs. "you sure have a weird way of taking hostages. sure, though, left." she starts briskly jogging.

as they make their way left, sonya notices that they pass beneath the stark light of some enormous display hanging many meters above their heads on the side of a building. it's easily bigger than either of them by several times. an enormous… glowing painting of some kind? it shows a woman that sonya realizes are the same that alice is wearing holding on to a small, haggard child who clutches onto her in return, ' HAVEN ' written out in large script beside them. and more text: ' KEEPING THE PEACE '. beneath that, in smaller text: ' calm. impartial. fair. for the good of humanity everywhere '.

The continuation of blinding lights aside, Sonya is just happy to continue getting a move through this unwelcoming territory. "Ritzy parts," she recalls Wynn describing them as? The stranger looks up, only to see a larger-than-life woman and a kid holding onto one another. A gaudy canvas of some sort, if this really is meant to be some "rich" district.

With her mind still spiraling to register all this, this addition only serves to do one thing. Annoy her.

Sonya shifts her head back toward Alice, seemingly not observing the same sights she is. She's their hostage, another tidbit spewed from the pinkette. And this "Haven" terminology…it's been thrown around many times already.

"Family," she says quietly, as memories swim and blur together. Where she's always been, what she's always aspired to.

"My mother has always taught me thusly — 'tis a noble's obligation to give to those less fortunate. It behooves her — us! — to work tirelessly for those in need."

"So? There you go. She's with me, and that's final," Sonya winks and partially tightens her grip, though not enough to strain the girl's skin. "Night side, ritzy side…it's all the same. Now then. Shall we be off?"

wynn, as requested, takes point as they move out from behind the metal contraption and out of the alley, emerging onto a wider street. it runs to their left and right, and wynn, not much more than a step or two in front of sonya, folds her arms over her front, hand to either elbow, as if shrinking from a chill as she looks both ways, lips pinched. "south, south… ugh, which way is supposed to be south from here?"

…Alright, she regrets entrusting the lead to Wynn already.

Sonya huffs out a sigh and overtakes the lady supposedly on her side, directing Alice forward alongside her. Not such a difficult feat when Wynn already drags her feet so close to them already.

"How about, rather than believing in directions we cannot even see," Sonya pouts, "we keep up the pace? Two directions. Three of us. A simple vote."

"Left."

Though before she could humor letting history repeat herself, the exotic mage catches another thing in her eyes. "Really?" she groans, rather audibly at that. Hand on shoulder soon turns to a hand on the side of Alice's outfit. In particular, she picks at bits of dirt and grime from the floor.

"Least they could do is keep their captives clean," Sonya moans, doing what the little one is incapable of doing for herself at the moment.

footsteps in the empty alley announce wynn coming back, and she arches a brow, seeing sonya supporting alice. "uhh… okay?"* it's obvious the sight is weird to her, though after looking between the two, she just loosely folds her arms, one hip cocking. "the coast looks clear for now, though, y'know, i don't super know what i'm doing. are you sure you shouldn't lead? i'm from the night side, y'know. not these ritzy parts."

The steps should have been her immediate concern, but Sonya only spins around once Wynn speaks up. Though one hand lingers on Alice's clothes, pulling out one last speck of dirt.

"Oh, yeah. I'm very sure," Sonya responds, moving her free hand to her hip to match the casual look. "Little Princess here actually swore to no blasting as long as I'm the one watching here. Isn't that right?"

She suddenly finds herself fully grateful for the Mittelfrank improvisational auditions. Not that she is untrained in navigating sticky situations - far from it! - but politics are a wholly different play from this off-script scene. Alice attempts to give Sonya a grateful look for the assistance in cleanliness, before she bows her head, unable to give a proper bow nor curtsy with her hands bound.

"You have…" how is she supposed to deliver this? "A-ah, that is -- you have captured me, fairly, and so I shan't protest."

Sonya fights with mushy memory momentarily - only able to push out the subconscious memory of Wynn out after a moment in favor of other names. "Alice…correct? Listen here, child," she mutters, hoping the use of name belittles the taunting title. "I know you as little as the pink one behind us, but there's nothing I hate more than a condescending partner."

With her other hand, Sonya supports one of Alice's lifted arms, observing the metal bounds across them. "Keep up the act, and no harm will befall you. I'll be sure of that."

How easy it is, sounding like an adult in front of a mere child. Sounding confident when she's not the one restricted in where she can move her limbs. Unfortunately for the restrained, no obvious marking of how the metal has been attached to her is apparent. Rather, no sign of how the shackles were obtained show themselves.

"It is so very unbecoming," she huffs.

"Yeah, yeah. No need to worry your pretty little head about me," she scoffs at Wynn, though faint playfulness survives in her tone. "She 'blasts,' I'll merely blast first. Simple as that."

A bold claim, and one Sonya barely tries to justify. Rather, she retracts her tall stature and bends down toward the restrained girl. "Mm. We'll just have to find out once we're back, won't we?" she hums aloud, blatantly ignoring answering the other's question. Then she bends down closer, as if to prepare picking her up.

"Of course!"