“When you fell, I couldn’t think straight—“ Lene admitted, finally turning around to face her dear friend “I couldn’t hit my shots, I cost the team their lives!” Even if everything wasn’t directly her fault, she felt responsible for it all. “I don’t think I could pick up a bow again, at least not for missions like this.” She paused and takes a deep breath before turning to continue her walk in silence.

And that she did.

“When I heard you’d fallen too, I was sick with worry.” She confesses in turn. “I felt terrible enough abandoning that village in Silesse, but if I lost you… I don’t know what I’d do.” 

As more of Nordion comes into view, Laylea thinks of all the places she loves. The market, the square, from here she can see the tailor’s that’s always so nice to her. Agustria might be a complicated mess of politics, but she adores the people. 

Her question makes him give a sheepish smile. "I think we're settling, at least for now. Ike and I recently bought a house near here and that's why I picked up this part time job. I want to get us some new furniture while he's away on a job." Usually he'd simply refer to Ike as 'his partner' and leave it at that, but he's already spoken at length of the Greil Mercenaries and even mentioned Ike by name so it naturally comes out now.

"We came here on our own actually. Ike wanted to travel and I asked to come with him, but I suppose we still came together. I couldn't have come here on my own. I don't think I would've lasted the trip. I've also met many good people since arriving though."

Rhys picks up his measuring tape and takes note of the length she gives him.

So, the dress would be a couple of hours… “No need to rush on my account. I’ve still got a bunch of shops I want to look around today. Maybe I’ll find some more clothes that need adjusting.” She laughs. “It’s been lovely talking with you. Well, ta-ta!” 

Lene sighs "I haven't been gone for long... I can't say I'm all too surprised..." She keeps a steady pace until Laylea brought up a good point.

Her eyes are ever peeled on the horizon, waiting for the towers of Nordion’s castle to peak out. 

Lene tilts her head to the side, looking over at Laylea as the waled "Is that so?" She asked, raising an eyebrow "You sound like youve taken the path often" Turning to look at her with a teasing expression "How often have you done that?" And without her! She would love to do anything like that.

“I hope Ares was able to visit.” Laylea ponders. “He’s been at the academy for so long, it’d be a shame to get so close and not visit home.” Ignoring that she herself didn’t get to visit Darna on this trip.

"Then– Let's just try our best to make it there on our own. We could take some shortcuts here and there to keep a low profile" Lene gives a small wink "I remember some still! Despite always being so busy" but they couldn't go empty handed, so this time she made sure to leave the bow behind. She stared at it for a moment, as if the fight was still fresh... before turning back to Laylea.

The journey to Evans is as smooth as promised. Literally, the roads were rather well maintained, even when the carriage drove through the middle of a forest. They wanted to go sightseeing, that’s what Laylea had told them. They’d heard there were some beautiful scenes near the mountain range. 

“Do you know the path through the mountain range?” Laylea asks Lene as they depart from the city. “If you follow the river, you’ll eventually reach a valley that takes you all the way up to Mackily, or even the outskirts of Augusti. They post a guard or two up there, but they’re the sort that wouldn’t recognise an intruder if they tapped them on the nose.” 

That's when a familiar face ran in, quickly scooping her in a warm embrace. "Laylea..." Her voice quivers, tears forming "I.. I thought I had lost you" that fear lived strong in her heart. She saw Lex for a brief moment before the enemy had swiftly brought her down. She should get the chance to thank him for everything.

“I’m much better.” She says. “The healers here are rather good, aren’t they?” It felt like there were more healers running around each town they visited than she’d been expecting. A good sign perhaps, that the people had ways of caring for themselves. 

“What about you?” She questions. “We could get an official escort to Evans, but after that we’d be on our own. Any trouble, and…” She shakes her head. Not when they were so close to the end of their trip. 

He shakes his head.

"I've more a sense of responsibility than that. But the last two weeks have felt tense, to say the least. I feel like I'm melting, in more ways than just one."

Their eyes match, then, firelit and comfortable, melted brown or molten amber.

Her eyes don’t leave Diamant’s. Gazes melting into each other, was that an expression?

“Verdane next week, isn’t it? Never been there either, but the climate can’t be too different from Agustria. Maybe we’ll finally have weather we can all enjoy.” 

She finally breaks eye contact, sitting up and stretching her arms. If she lay down for much longer she may just fall asleep. 

“Lene!” Laylea wraps her fellow dancer in a tight embrace when she wakes. “You’re alright, thank goodness.” Laylea wipes her tears quickly, a mellow smile washing over her face. “Sir Lex saved us, brought us back here- oh don’t scare me like that again!” 

When her heart’s calmed, Laylea glances out at that vast lake again. Off on the other shore would be the land the two of them now called home. “We’ve been through so much this month.” Too much. A painful reminder that winning the war had not been enough to bring peace to all parts of the continent. 

“I would like to see Agustria at least once before we leave.” She tilts her head in Lene’s direction, hoping she feels the same. As affiliates of Garreg Mach, they shouldn’t. But would they truly be blamed?

Lene has dealt with nothing but problems since theyve arrived, and it honestly broke her heart. Would their home be nothing but a source of conflict for as long as they continued on living?

She had to adapt. The new gear stayed close to her as her only sense of safety, and that's when she heard it − it sounded like a familiar

It couldn't be, she didnt want to believe it, not right now. It activated something deep inside her, for a moment the world went quiet, and her body moved on its own. She pushed passed the larger red haired man, almost to roughly than she originally intended.

The brigand wasn't given a chance to react. Her blade pierced through him, and she stood there for a second to long "i need..." her voice was barely above a whisper "i need to check to see if she's ok" her lips quivered.

protest, redirection. Anything.

His voice is stolen before he can find it, before he can argue against arrogance.

Arrows fly and blood spills and he reacts without thinking turning without seeing, not really, and his head still pounds from where he'd been struck a week ago and in the dense forest he can hardly see but he yells, hoarse,

"Laylea!"

but there is no time to spare, is there? Not on desperation, and not on hoping — in the absence of decisiveness, there is no do-overs. So he grips his sword, and he steadies his breath, and he peers around the terrain as if nostalgia can guide him. His mount shifts restlessly beneath him. The pressure of the forest feels heavy, and he sees, he sees, he sees

he sees

nothing at all. Despite his desperation, despite his anger and his grief and his surge forward, the sniper he swore he'd dove for seems only further from his reach. The sole solace is their lack of retaliation, trapped in close quarters with him as they are.

Perhaps this had been a terrible idea. Perhaps they should have heeded the warnings. Perhaps the forest did not want to be disturbed. But it was the legendary spirit forest, and this was Laylea’s first time properly exploring Verdane. Of course she wanted to see all the beautiful nation had to offer. And despite their struggles last week, Laylea was confident, overconfident, that the bandits of Verdane would pose no threat. 

What she hadn’t considered, of course, was that the bandits knew the forest. For as dense as the trees grew, so thick that even the best of horses would stumble, there were lines of sight long enough to shoot an arrow through. And with the thick canopy obscuring the sky, it was impossible to notice even a glint of sunlight reflecting off the arrow, until it struck her in the stomach. 

Even when the second arrow came, Laylea could not see the archer who fired it. She staggers to the nearest tree, glancing around desperately to find her allies amidst the sudden chaos. They cried out her name. If she stayed here, she’d be a sitting duck. If she moved, she’d be an open target. But if she could just reach them- 

The arrows dig into her as she walks, towards where she thinks the voices are. Her breaths are heavy, and the pain overwhelming. 

“Diamant!” She cries out in relief when she finally finds him. Just a few steps more and he’d be there to protect her. Just a few steps more and she’d be safe. Just a few steps- 

The sudden impact of an axe knocks her off her feet. She presses her hand to her side. Blood, too much blood, gushing out of her alongside the splatters from the arrow wounds. A man stands over her, silhouetted against the leaves. He must have heard her scream… or maybe he’d always been waiting in ambush. He mutters something, a gloat perhaps, but Laylea can barely make out the words. He raises his axe… 

“I’m sorry…” She mumbles. She’s terrified. She doesn’t want to die here. Not in Verdane. Her vision fades, and she speaks her final words, praying that someone is there to hear them- 

“You’d better keep Lene safe. If anything happens to her, I’ll never-”

She rolls onto her side, staring into the welcoming fire. The reds and orange flames dance about, illuminating the room in a warm glow. Diarmuid too, seems to glow, Laylea can’t help but give him a soft smile. 

“And I liked wandering around Tirnanog. Both there and here, the people just seemed so happy.” Despite the… troubles, it felt more joyous than the Jugdral she’d grown up in. 

Diarmuid shifts position, withdrawing his hands from the flame to plant them behind him. He leans back on them, supported on his wrists, and then a bit further, settling on his elbows. From this position, he can tilt his head back and find Laylea's gaze with his own eyes, amber-brown and low-glowing. His hair flips out of place, dangling slightly behind him, far from its usual careful styling.

There's something in his eyes, a little bit behind the warmth of them — nostalgia, perhaps, fleeting but earnest.

"Hm...neither isn't an option, is it?" he laughs, again, an echo of the crackle of flame. "Likely the cold. Although I'm without a mount at the moment, I've always found it easier to ride through snow than sand."

“I wouldn’t call it a secret, I am fond of the desert. I prefer outfits that flow freely, but they don’t offer much warmth. I’m afraid I would have frozen long before we reached Sailane if I hadn’t been prepared.” 

Her gaze flicks between Diarmuid and the fire, the light bringing out all the brown hues in her eyes. Though it’s a simple conversation, it feels special.

...it feels fruitless. Still, he tries; he's distracted from his paltry efforts when he's spoken to, and he turns his head, freckled cheeks illuminated by soft firelight.

"It's a strange feeling," he admits, smile broad and a little bit lopsided. He raises one finger to his lips in a 'shhh' motion, and accompanies it with a tilt of his head and a wink, as if the strangeness of it all is a secret for just the two of them.

She rolls onto her side, staring into the welcoming fire. The reds and orange flames dance about, illuminating the room in a warm glow. Diarmuid too, seems to glow, Laylea can’t help but give him a soft smile. 

“And I liked wandering around Tirnanog. Both there and here, the people just seemed so happy.” Despite the… troubles, it felt more joyous than the Jugdral she’d grown up in. 

When recovering from frostbite, they said, it’s important to warm yourself up slowly. If you rushed straight for the sauna… Laylea didn’t remember the full explanation, but it would be really bad. So for now, she was lying on a sofa in fresh clothes, the nearby fireplace gently warming her. 

It occurred to Laylea now that they never explained how slowly one was meant to warm themselves. Maybe she’d try the sauna in… an hour? That seemed fair. 

But for now, she was content to lie there, making pleasant conversation with whoever came by. Which now happened to be that blond lad from the liberation army. 

“Are you enjoying the trip so far?” She asks. “Besides the… you know…” The knowledge that aid is already on the way to the village they abandoned does a little to ease her. “I’ve never been to Isaach or Silesse before. They’re fun.”

The pinch of warmth the blood trickling through the too-thin furs of Miklan’s glove made his skin sizzle raw. Shit, it was cold. The battle was doable—but with a growing numbness that weighed down his limbs, his strikes will be too sluggish to carve out the remaining grunts.

He breathed out a steamy breathe of fog. They gotta finish this. Quick. When Miklan’s mind buzzed to call out to her, Laylea shrieked out Sharena’s name.

He snapped his head over. With her boots dragging slush behind her and Fensalir hastily stabbed into its sheath, Sharena’s unconscious body hung limp from Laylea’s shoulders as the dancer drew near.

The brigand closed the distance between the groups. He gasped out. “Don’t tell me she’s dead—“ The noble from Isaach would send an arrow flying to Miklan’s throat if he dragged a corpse back to camp.

His own pulse pounded between his ears while a fainter one drummed underneath his index and forefinger. She wasn’t, the brigand sighed.

“We tail it outta here,” None of this was Miklan’s problem—it was his group that dragged him here. “this place is a lost cause. Don’t try to heard any dead-weight stragglers, I’ll slice their throats.”

His eyes darted to a crumpled road, a grunt was blocking the way. If he could take him out; they could make a hasty escape. “Go, go, go—!” Miklan clutched his weapon and lunged at the other brigand.

Miklan mustered all of his strength to slam his hatchet into this foe’s chest. The blow connected and he grabbed the grunt’s wrist, keeping the man pinned. “New girl, follow me up!” Blood steamed onto the ground, staining the snow to a thick pile of brownish slush.

She watched as her remaining team quickly retreated, how allies high tailed out of there.

the voice of a man called to her- a finishing blow to their enemy before they retreat with what few villagers they could save. Lene swallows hard, gripping the hilt of her sword. "right-" her voice was raspy, as if fighting back the tears that would've frozen on her face.

her movements swift- she thrusts the blade through the restrained man. she felt like death itself, having to be the one to end these lives- but they picked the fight... didn't they?

"there" her voice is shaky- before she turns to Laylea "we- we should go too.. Laylea- its to dangerous for us.. to keep this battle going" she sounded defeated, but she knew it to be true.

Laylea looks away from their scared faces. She can’t lie to herself, by running they’re dooming them all. 

“I’m sorry…”

Then she moves, as fast as she can with Sharena on her back. “We’re not leaving her.” She says firmly as she passes the corpse Miklan stands over. “If you want to move faster you can carry her yourself.” 

Lene couldn't help but to smile at that.

she doesnt stay idle, instead turning her attention to the bandit, point her blade at him "your leader is down- yet you still have the never to fight? i pity you" her eyes narrowed, before jumping at the bandit.

the blade plunged deep, the bandit wasn't given a chance to fight back. Lene takes a step back, looking down at the blade in her hand "this is getting a lot easier to handle" lene commented, the icy wind hitting against her skin "another is down! if we keep this up- maybe they'll chicken out" she calls out, looking towards the direction of the others.

A punch to her gut sends Sharena staggering back, her grip on Fensalir tightening as she strikes forward one final time, fighting to stay standing through the last of the assault. Or, she thinks it’s the last, at least. She’s can’t see anyone anymore, so that means she’s chased them all off, right? It’s hard to tell, everything looks like she’s looking at it through a frosted window, white edges at her vision and all. But that’s normal with blizzards, isn’t it?

“No, not yet. I can’t… I just… gotta…” It’s so cold, for a place with so much fire. So, so cold. She’s cold. When did it get so cold? She can’t feel anything, and yet everything burns so fiercely… Is this what Fjorm feels? 

…Ah. Then that must mean she, too, is…

…she’s so tired.

With the last of her energy, Sharena shoves off her heel towards the now blurry figure of the old man distinguishable only now by the striking red color of the blob around him, falling atop him in a final effort of protection. Hopefully enough to keep him warm enough to keep breathing while her friends take care of the rest, and disguise him amongst the bodies of the felled until then. Maybe the pressure will even stop the bleeding for him, if she’s lucky.

‘The felled’… guess she’s one of them now too, huh? She should give the princess of Nifl a hug, when she gets back to Askr. Oh, and prep apologies for everyone else, while she’s at it. She’s two for two on failures now this mission, after all. They’re probably so disappointed in her…

But it goes dark too quick for her to tell.

Sharena has been defeated! Frostbite 12/10.

“We need to get out of this snow.” She says, ducking under the fighting to get back to Miklan and Lene. “Us dancers aren’t meant for the cold, are we?” And without a weapon of her own, they now stood at five vs two, with no way to heal the ever growing list of the wounded. They needed backup, they needed…

Laylea spots him peering down over the top of the cliff - the man she said could travel with them in exchange for his help. “Hey, Tseren!” She yells. “You know healing magic, right? Get down here and help us?” 

“You’re crazy!” Is the response. “I’m outta here!” 

It’s about all that’s nice.

“Right.” Sharena merely nods in response to the orders, grip tightening around her lance in attempt to redirect her focus to the effort of the action, or perhaps the cold of the metal that barely peeks through the protection of her gloves to bite at her fingers. Anything besides their far too warm surroundings in what should be a far too cold environment.

The sudden strike to her back almost makes her jump — a start all to reminiscent of the blow she took in the early stages of the prior battle — but fortunately for them all, it takes a far different turn. An almost… friendly one? It sounds like a joke, at least. A kinda mean one considering what it’s mocking, but surprisingly comforting all the same. If he’s joking, then he can’t be too mad at her for not listening before, right? And with Laylea’s words, despite what she’s done to fail them in the past, it brings with it the compassion of two allies…

Two allies she won’t fail again. She can’t. 

“Last time was different — there’s no misunderstanding here. I won’t be going easy on them this time.” Smiling to the group at her side, she snags the reigns of a nearby horse that had been meant for assistance in transporting their various luggage and hops aboard, sending a swift kick to the stead’s side that sends it speeding forward at Miklan’s side. Perhaps a bit too rude and bold an action for her, especially with a civilian horse with no prior combat training to her knowledge, but with the sheer numbers as they are? Every bit of help is valuable.

Rushing forward perhaps a bit too fast, Sharena grits her teeth as steel clangs against the commander’s armor in an unpleasant frequency once, twice, then a third time as Miklan follows close behind. Though nowhere near as unpleasant as the screams of the man whose chest she stabs through on the fourth strike of the cycle — just barely shy of a killing blow had it not been for the unwelcome stab of empathy that shoots through her heart, and has her kicking herself in the aftermath.

She can’t tell if it’s better she still lacks proper blood on her hands for at least today, or worse that she’s left him in such agony. It’s probably best not to think about it.

“He’s almost down! Lene, it’s up to you!”

Lene trembled in place as she was only just getting used to the cold, even with warmer gear on her body.. she just couldn't see herself being able to focus under these conditions.

and of course, since their arrival it seems that problems follow. Lene stared at the others- seemingly ready to jump into action, and she cant blame them "I wish we could fight at least somewhere... less miserable than this" Lene mumbled to no one in particular. She watched as her teammates charged ahead- It took Lene a few seconds to really push herself forwards. Just as she was getting warm.

her team left a clear opening, and she had to take it. With sudden new found strength, as the blonde called out to her- Lene charged forth, blade already darkened by lives that it had to take, but whats one more causality to paint against its metal?

she shivers in place, watching as the large man falls onto the snow. His body stands out amongst the perfect sheet of white around them. "...Haa.. thank you- for giving me the chance to attack."

Everything is still for a moment when the bandit leader collapses. Bandits and villagers alike wear looks of confusion, astonishment, fear. If they would just surrender after such a devastating ambush, all would be right in this world… 

The mountainside descends into chaos. Laylea holds up her arms to shield against the axes flying through the air, but finds none aimed for her or her allies. “Cowards!” She yells, watching as the villagers fall. Deep breath, focus on what she can do.

“There’s a narrow path over there.” She says to her allies. “If we cut a way through, we can lead the villagers down, and block their attacks. Just try and distract them for now, I’ll try and help them.” 

Laylea runs forward to assess the situation. Most of the injured are still moving, thankfully, but their wounds are varied. A child, a child, is able to get back on her feet, a couple are still hobbled over in pain, one is curled up shivering, and one… 

Laylea can’t find a pulse, and closes his eyes with a silent prayer. 

“Do any of you know healing magic?” She asks them, before looking back to her allies. No, no, none of them do. Where was that Isaachian who said he’d help her out?