We've all gotta do what we gotta do to get by in life

When he makes it to there in the end, arm's length away from the closest of the trio, he stops, eyeing you all with either suspicion or wariness as he trudges.

"the people..." Lene trailed off, she cant help but to agree. Something about them really rubs her off in the weird way.

Though while they waited, Lene caught the stench of blood nearby- It wasnt strong at first, but It was enough to cause Lene to turn around. Her eyes widened- she quickly tried to hide her expression as she spoke loud enough just for the other two to hear her. ".... I think that's him." She spoke slowly, and once she got a clear look at him- she couldn't stop herself.

Whether to keep an eye out for Basil or someone else.

"He'd likely return, just later." Otherwise, the father wouldn't have been waiting so expectantly. Or so Zasha'd like to think- surely the island isn't so large that he can't go searching for someone who doesn't return home for days. With a shrug, "Maybe so his father is too tired to lecture him for too long."

With luck, a kinder word might do wonders. He lets a few moments pass in silence- contemplative. The other two were more talkative than he was, he can already tell, but now's a good a time as any to ask something that's been bothering him for a while.

"I haven't been here long enough to know, but is this festival an annual activity? Or is this the first time people from the monastery have been invited?"

She never had to deal with something like this- a parent waiting for a child to come home. Though for Rome it seemed like a normalized nightly routine.

"I also havent been here a very long time... I was wondering how an island like this isnt getting any help- Are they too prideful to ask for some help...?" Lene mumbled, wondering how people from the church handle the idea that most have lost faith for someone else. Who, by the way he was described- is easily winning over.

"A pleasure to meet you." Eirika curtsies and inclines her head. She's had to purchase a pouch to carry some things with her, which now rests around her waist on the same belt that carries her rapier.

That was all she was thinking about before Eirika asked her question, knocking some sense into Lene, as she awkwardly chuckled. "Oh! I've been staying at this district." She looks at the large building behind her. "This is the church, theres a library inside, I just left it so if you wish to enter they should be happy to let you in" Lene assured her.

See it prosper, huh? “About that,” they’re quick to jump off of, giving a cursory glance around, “I heard that Baile was supposed to be...” A pause as they press their lips into a flat line, finally landing on, “...fertile. Blessed and bountiful lands and all that. Doesn’t seem like it’s been that way for a while, though. something happen?”

“Ah, yes.” Rome’s expression turns sadder for the topic. “We are not exactly sure how it came to be but... over a decade ago, we started having slightly lesser yields. It wasn’t the sort of thing that felt cause for concern at first; not all years shall be exactly the same after all. Life ebbs and flows just as the water does on our shores. “But as it kept continuing that way, it became apparent it was only continuing to decline. Oleander Isle’s bounty comes from the Goddess’s blessing, as this island is an extension of her own energy and self. Much as I hate to say it, I fear something must be weakening the Goddess herself, but since this has never happened before, it is difficult for us to fully understand.” He looks northward off into the distance. “You cannot see it from here, but in the northern forest, there is a tree. That is the Tree of the Goddess. That is the gift she left us, the closest we can be to her power. When the Tree does well, so does the island. But it too has been weakening for reasons unknown, even as some of our followers watch after it in there. We live in truly troubling times...”

Over a decade ago? Surprise flickers briefly over their expression before they school it back to neutrality and shake their head. It’s a lot to commit to memory: poorer and poorer harvests, fading blessings from the goddess, a tree in her name...

...do they not believe in Sothis, then? They’ve never heard of a Tree of the Goddess in any of their studies, but for as much as Yuri’s got street smarts and then some to spare, the opportunities they’ve had in their life have lagged far behind their peers. There’s only so much to be learned raiding the libraries of Rowe—and then, later, the classrooms and libraries of the academy and Abyss.

“Sounds like a good time for a miracle,” is what they say. Clearly whatever blessing the goddess’ spared for them has run out. They follow where he looks off toward the distance and shrugs. “Well, if this Ketil really does have any to spare, that is.”

Their gaze turns back to him. “But I don’t know what you expect your son to do about it either. If he’s friends with the mayor’s kid then he’s...what, fifteen? Sixteen? Must be some blessing from the goddess to be putting all that on his shoulders.”

In turn, Rome’s gaze turns back to Yuri as well. There’s a discomfort that sets into his expression as the man tenses, but he looks to consider their words. At last, after a tense silence, he concedes, “Yes... I see your group’s point. Perhaps it is too much a burden on a child so young. This island’s state has burdened us all. But still...” Another pause before he shakes his head. “I shall try to have a... lighter tone with him when he returns then. Set to right where we might go, and see how that conversation takes us. I don’t know how it might, but scolding him might only push him farther in times where we are all already too troubled. It’s odd, confessing such things to you all, but thank you for letting me sort my thoughts all the same.” The man clasps his hands in prayer. He seems to mutter something quietly to himself. Just then, the three of Zasha, Lene, and Yuri feel a surge of energy move through them.

Alarmed, Yuri shifts to take a wary step back, eyes widening a fraction as he glances between the two strangers accompanying them. But the explanation follows a moment later—

“It is not much, but I prayed for a blessing from our Goddess unto you. That one is the prayer of courage.”

Lene looked out into the scenery, the night sky and the darkness that came with it was oddly peaceful "It's getting late... Shouldn't you rest? We can stay awake a little longer and see if he shows up" She felt bad to volunteer strangers.

"Are you terribly sure?" A yawn escapes the man then unbidden. He awkwardly clears his throat. "…Perhaps I have been wearier as of late, staying up for him each night. If you are so sure, I shall entrust this to you then. You have my eternal thanks." The man puts a hand over his heart and bows before he returns inside.

Up ahead, the church's silhouette looms in the dying rays of the sun. There's been few people along the road, most from Baile but a few fellow Garreg Mach students as well. She will be happy to find rest here but she wonders how much time she's lost while being on the road. The festival is only days away.

As she draws closer, she realizes a woman with green hair is standing outside near another building. She's the only person she's seen thus far and she looks as if she's also from Garreg Mach.

"Hello!" Eirika waves as she approaches. "Are you from Garreg Mach as well? I'm Eirika."

Lene brushed the ends of her pony tail, letting her thoughts wander before she heard someone call out to her.

For a while, he remains silent. The other two were voicing what his thoughts were (or adjacent enough), that there wasn't really a need to interject, and besides.

He's not sure if he should bring up the gossip from the morning- in the end, it's not really relevant, even if he'd like to ask a question to the supposed most powerful man in the church here.

"Still seems like a lot to put on one kid," Instead, off-handedly, he inserts himself into the conversation. He's not liking the way the church is shaping up to be, but he could not deny that they had answers. "But what's the ... Ketil von..."

He doesn't bother trying to finish. "... have to do with him?"

"Ketil von Gottselig," Rome finishes for Zasha, trying to enunciate it a bit clearer and slower this time. "He's a charismatic man, admittedly. If you've yet to meet him or any of his followers, you likely will soon in your time on Oleander Isle. "But yes, I should properly explain. Ketil claims he has a way to save us all and this island's health. Many people, including the mayor, seem to believe in this, but as you can see, the island hasn't quite recovered under his care yet. If he truly does have a solution and the Goddess's blessing, that would be fortunate, but..." The head priest hesitates, clearly unconvinced. After a moment, he starts up again. "My son Basil has been acting out. Basil himself strongly has the Goddess's blessing within his magic, but Ketil's rising popularity means a growing number of people who neglect the church, thinking Ketil's word is the Goddess's. Basil strongly distrusts Ketil, but I'm afraid if he doesn't rise to his role here, he is only giving the people in Baile more reason to put all their faith in Ketil. Yet still he disappears for long stretches of time without a word..."

Well, now that's more interesting.

"How long's he been claiming this?"

Rome stops to think about it before he answers decisively, "For around fifteen years now. That's when he says he was gifted the power to perform miracles himself."

A lot longer than he expected. The next question he would ask, though he holds his tongue:

Rome shakes his head. "I have not. I've heard some people claim it to be true, such as he has helped bestow magic to those who are not born with it, or he has helped grow some things to a smaller scale, but nothing to the degree of a full miracle. "…But I presume it may be out of kindness for my position. Since he is pulling faith away from the church, I cannot blame those for not wishing me to see anything. But Baile is my home too. I wish to see it prosper once more just as much as anyone else does."

She bit her lip, well- he seemed genuine enough, just an older man worried about his home and his son. Anyone would be just like him. Lene originally wanted to ask about Beatrice, but... perhaps tonight isnt the best night for that.

What is interesting is the man standing outside the clergy house, looking this way and that in the darkness. They step out from their own shadows, curiously following where his gaze turns as though they might find whatever it is he seems so worried about. There isn’t that familiar crawl of unease up their spine as they approach—and Yuri has learned to trust their instincts more than most—but they still don’t let their guard down.

“My, what are the three of you doing up so late? Is there something in your rooms?” he asks out of worry. “Or perhaps you have some other reason you can’t sleep?”

They blink, and another turn of their head reveals another pair nearby. More folks from the monastery that were assigned to stay here, they suppose. Not Yuri’s residence, though; they wouldn’t know the first thing about what is or isn’t in their rooms. They just shrug and offer a faint laugh. “I think the anxiety on your face could wake the dead, my friend.” A shake of their head. “I’m just a night owl—don’t worry yourself sick over it. But what on earth are you up to at this hour?”

A pause. A squint. “...and why would there be anything in our rooms?”

Rome’s eyes widen as he takes in Yuri, able to better look at them as they come forward. “Oh! So you’re not one of the guests but... a friend of these two?” He appears sheepish at this or perhaps the comment Yuri makes about his anxiety. He wipes the back of his hand against his forehead, but the worried creases remain. “Pardon my comment about the rooms. I thought there might be something our guests might not like about them. We keep things humble in this clergy house. I am sure Garreg Mach Monastery has more comfortable accommodations...”

Yuri stifles a snort. Goodness, well if only he knew.

"Is he a party animal?" Lene asked as an attempt to lighten the mood a bit "if he does this often then staying out a little late shouldn't be too concerning... Does he go alone? Maybe with some friends?"

"Party animal...? Good heavens, I certainly hope not," he replies. "He's been spending a lot of time with the mayor's daughter, Holly. If that's all it is, that would be fine. They used to do that a lot, and Holly is a good girl with altruistic aims. But... I worry Basil is only using her as a way to find excuses to stay out longer." He seems to debate something internally before he adds: "Not to speak ill of my son to complete strangers. But I confess it's difficult to speak of these matters to my clergy members. They see him as the miracle of this church. It's in times like these he *should* be here to give them confidence."

To this extent, he wasn’t exactly sure what to say until the nun spoke once more, having addressed his previous inquiry.

"If you want to try, go ahead. YOU at least won't get chewed out by Reverend Mother," the nun sighs. Just then her eyes widen. "Ahhh! It was my day to prepare supper for everyone! She's going to smite me! See you later!" The nun runs off in a hurry.

“I see… thank you for your time…”

The Altean prince stated, offering the nun a slight bow before noticing that she ran off. Was it normal for a person of the cloth to run off in such a hurry? He wondered that for a moment before ultimately deciding not to comment on it and instead, focused on what he had learned.

Reverend Mother… he had not heard that name before and yet, he wanted to know more. It seems like he would not be able to ask much about that, however.

“She said something about a Reverend Mother… that name seems unfamiliar at best.”

Lene stared at her silently. She didn't know how to respond to her wishes, She didn't seem like the type to believe 'you will one day' sentence. Yet she still wanted to give her hope.

"…Does everyone treat you like this?"

She nods. "Both my ex-fiancé and the people here." She cradles her bloody hands, fingers tracing the cuts to staunch them. "I was sent to become a nun as punishment, but I was hopeful it might reverse my fortunes. But if I am to take this forever here, perhaps I must escape…" She flushes suddenly. "How ill-composed of me to burden you with my thoughts! Please forget you ever heard it."

"I see… I am glad you still tried to make the best of your situation- And…" Lene was a bit reluctant, but gave a small nod "…Okay. I'll forget about it." She helped her up, watching her carefully to let her start, as if she didn't want to overstep

"Thank you." She approximates a graceful curtsey in her gratitude. From this, she is able to realize something. "Ah, it looks like my cuts have stopped bleeding. Allow me to try and help properly now." And she at last starts to tidy the books, returning them to the shelf alongside Lene.

Lene stayed by her side until the mess was cleared, It didn't take long, and at least the others seemed to be around. Good, she wasn't alone at least.

She seemed to have the situation in hand, or at least Zasha would like to imagine that she could have the situation managed given that there was no one else in the room but the sister- hard to tell when the door closes again.

But-

"It sounds like someone has a grudge against her, if everyone who speaks to her gets lectured for one reason or another." Zasha comments, neutrally. Targeting her for some reason or another, either out of prejudice or some old injustice- somebody doesn't get the title of 'villainess' for nothing.

"But who is Basil? A friend of hers?"

The priest shakes his head. "Basil is Father Rome's only son," he admits. "He's one of the most blessed of our clergy, but he hardly spends time here. He only comes to sleep. He's no friend of Sister Beatrice, but he is close with the mayor's younger daughter, Holly. She's the one whose birthday is coming up."

So what does he have to do with her? He wants to ask, but there's a line between harmless curiosity and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong that he doesn't want to cross. Not yet, at least.

"Huh." An answer that's a mix of acceptance and disinterest. It's a small world- or island, Zasha guesses- everyone knows everyone, or at least can name most of them. It's not really surprising that the circle of connections reaches back to the mayor so quickly.

"Just another question- who was the one lecturing her, if you don't mind me asking?"

"That's our Reverend Mother. She looks after the nuns we house here in the clergy house. She's our second strongest figure here after Father Rome."

Poor girl.

"I did?" she parrots before she looks down at her hands. "Oh! But don't you understand? You're going to sully your hands with filth! Think of your reputation!" Her sharp words continue, but now the tears that had been building let loose. "Aaack…" Beatrice groans in pain. She takes Lene's hand in the end, but she's leaning forward, as if something's affecting her back too. "I… regret that you must see me in this state. If I wipe the blood off of you with my habit, they'll only call me sacrilegious…! But there's nothing here." She sighs, irritation mixing with her crying. "Nothing but the mess I now have to clean up all on my own…"

"Well, It's fine. I'm only a guest after all-" She gently dusts the woman off as she holds her steady. "You're not in the best condition to be picking up all of these things on your own. Let me help you-" Lene gently helped her stand. A small smile creeps up on her face.

Lene felt bad for her- felt angry for her- but she knew it was too soon to make an opinion that harsh about a community she knows little about.

So for now, Lene kept her thoughts to herself.

Though Beatrice jolts a bit by the gentle touch at first, she doesn't do much more than that initial bristle before she relaxes slightly. "You'd lower yourself to aid me? Even though you're surely Father Rome's esteemed guest?" she asks. "Well… I'd… appreciate… it. Yes." A pause passes though. "…Didn't you come in a group however? Did they toss you aside too?" she asks, not realizing there were people on the other side of the door.

"No matter who invited me here, I'd help. I'm sure…" She hesitated for a moment, she really didnt know these people- but she didn't like how low her self esteem was.

"-I'm sure he wont mind that I helped you clear up this mess at least. As for my group, Theyre by the doorway." She gestures behind her "I kinda pushed my way through… Haha…"

… Even if they won't be here long.

Restless, Zasha leaves his assigned quarters without touching his things, intent of at least learning the layout of the church that would serve as his lodgings for the time being. It's smaller than the monastery- any sound or commotion would ring clear for most of the inhabitants, if they were listening.

"Beatrice! Honestly! How many times must we go through this with you?" An older woman's voice rings out. "The church's patience can only go so far!"

He isn't the only one drawn to the commotion- ahead are a priest and a nun, watching (or rather, eavesdropping) the lecture. They have no intention of interfering, it seems, and so neither does Zasha, listening to the rather one-sided tirade.

It finishes with a slam, causing the eavesdroppers to withdraw and notice his (and others, he notices as well) presence. If they had left without saying anything, Zasha may have done the same- but the nun says something that causes him to pause.

"Sorry. You don't want to get involved with Lady--" She corrects herself. "Sister Beatrice."

"… And why is that?" It's a question born of genuine curiosity, and nothing more. Without this explanation, he may have thought the older woman overly strict, at most, perhaps with a personal vendetta that the sister was unfortunate enough to be the subject of.

What he isn't expecting is a story.

"She's some kinda high noblewoman from Fódlan. But she got chased outta her house after her engagement went wrong. People call her some kind of... villainess? That's what her father said when he dropped her off at the church here," the nun explains. "I don't know anything about that, but she's been a bad luck magnet all the time she's been here."

And a strange one, at that.

"fresh air might help" she mumbled to herself, following along someone who seemed to have the same idea.

She knows that eavesdropping is wrong- but considering how loud they were it must've been serious. So instead of looking at the duo, she peaked though the doorway to see- but it seems she caught the end of the argument, or whatever was happening. Lene thought she excused herself, but maybe the word never came out. She pushed through, rushing towards the woman in the middle.

Upon being approached, Beatrice stares at Lene with wide eyes. "What on..." She seems hesitant as she lies there in her heap. Upon closer inspection, her hands are bloody, cut by the shards of the vase. "Who... are you? How dare you come to me?" Despite the haughty words she speaks, her voice warbles and her lip trembles as she speaks them, clearly fearful in some way.

Despite the way she reacted Lene would give a smile "I'm sorry to approach you suddenly, but my name is Lene... Here let me help you up at least. You seem to have gotten hurt."

Ares echoed it to himself as he met Lene's smile with a raised brow.

"That's a... 'modest' way to put it..." he said, filtering a mirror of her emphasis through his own deadpan that gestured at the Black Knight's near complete outfit with a sweeping glance.

She was only missing the pants he now wore, which his tunic made a fine substitute for on her anyway. It even surprised him just how well it worked as a gown at her height, oversized and improperly worn as it was. All the borrowed pieces looked the same, would obviously look the same on anyone else but him, but something about this was different.

Different from the many looks she'd worn for herself and her work, different still from his respect for how she made each look effortless, and different still from own simple pride in the quality of his gear.

Words failed him again to translate it beyond this gut-deep ache, even as it balled into a lump at the base of his throat and unknowingly reduced his voice to soft mumblings this whole time. He did know it was far from anger though.

That it had become as deep as a trance, however, was something Ares only realized once Lene broke it by reaching for the shoulder of her borrowed cloak. "Yes, of course," Ares answered much more hastily now, almost as quick as he spun himself around to face the wall while Lene changed. "But..."

But where is the fun in that? She knows more than anyone that there isnt anything wrong with having a little fun.

"I was...... just having some fun!" Lene states, handing over his coat which she had subconsciously folded up "I promised my intention wasnt to have you walking around like...... this" She motioned over at him, trying not to crack a smile and break her serious facade. "Thank you for bringing my clothes. Ill change out of your stuff, but the rest of it is in the basket.

“But you're the one who was complaining that he was dense, right? So isn't your problem with him that he's not noticing something??”

After the cat doesn't rebuke him, his hand goes to pet it, letting its soft fur try to give him some sense of calm even as Lene's nerves, without his even realizing it, spread somewhat to him.

“Or is there something else you don't like about him??”

Lene mightve dug herself into a ditch. She awkwardly looked away, poking at a strand of cat fur that laid nearby as a distraction for herself mainly.

"Sorry Leif. I shouldn't be using you as a way to unload my problems." She laughed, that feeling of awkwardness washing over her like a waterfall. Maybe she could divert the conversation? Or would that make the hole deeper?

What he fails to consider is, if he were caught in this situation as a whole, he'd probably be far more awkward than Lene. In fact, he'd be sullen and flustered. By comparison, Lene seemed cool and charming. All to the point Leif doesn't even actually recognize her awkwardness.

So even as the dancer looks away from him, Leif keeps his gaze locked onto her. “You... don't want me to tell Ares?? Even though his not noticing you is what's got you upset?”

Now that she's confirmed his suspicion, the picture painted reaches greater clarity. Ares was the 'dense' one, getting the figurative Princess of Dahna's sands to fall for him.

The people in Seliph's army fawning over Lene's dances would have killed Ares for this. If Ares wouldn't just kill them all in retaliation with that superhuman strength of his.

She doesnt know if Leif is exactly the right person for this, and she has already placed in herself in a position that she cant really escape from without digging herself deeper in the ditch.

"It's a little complicated-" Lene starts, she just thinks that despite everything her and Ares been through that she might be overthinking his true feelings. Or maybe shes overthinking her feelings about Ares feelings about her? Ugh- all this is hurting her head.

Mission Board: Herald — Heavy Armor +1

Standing slack-jawed, she is too shocked by the husk of the grand venue to protest when a mop and bucket are unceremoniously shoved into her hands.

She is still cursing her bad luck when an idea strikes; why not foist this cleaning duty on some student who was there, and find an opportunity to duck out?

Silvia finds the closest student, a girl with green hair similar to her own, and extends the mop, trying out her best innocent smile.

"Heya! See, I wasn't here for the ball, and I just got here, so it would be unfair for me t'be cleanin' up the whole place if I wasn't takin' part, right?"

Well, no point in whining about it now. She's already in here doing the job. At least sweeping didn't take to long- Lene had learned a technique to make the job less of a hassle. In no time she had neat piles ready to be bagged up and throw out, the once messy floor could finally shine through again.

Admiring her work, she decides now is a better time to at least take a 5 minute break, before she felt someone next to her.

Lene turned to face the source of the voice and in that moment she felt as if all the air had escaped from her lungs. She doesn't know why- but something stopped her from being able to say anything. Lene had to look away and shake some sense back into herself.

why does she look.... almost like me

Ares thought he knew the answer, felt the peace of it wash through his head as the door shut right on the nose of that boy's whines with a muffled cry of surprise. Then his sight adjusted to the dim dorm light, and knocked himself stupid with what it showed.

Too stupid to speak, too stupid to think of what he should say anyway, and too stupid to close his mouth before allowing a small and inarticulate little noise to slip out.

His arms were still fine enough, so he set Lene's clothes basket down instead, but his eyes were still stuck in place. Bending low only allowed him an easier time to look her up and down, and count up all the articles of ill-fitting clothing she had buried herself under.

"...Is," Ares started, finger slowly curling up and readying to fire at Lene as a point, "Is that--?"

"Is that my cloak," he was about to say, before stopping himself by bringing that curled finger beneath his lip. Probably the smartest thing he'd done today, along with not letting himself rephrase it into any of the other equally stupid variations that crossed his mind.

"Is that my cravat?"

"Are those my boots and gloves?"

The actual question he should've been asking was, "Is the Black Knight blind?"

Finally he found the strength to pull his eyes off her for a moment, and it was just to roll them at himself. Fingers crept up from his lower lip to pull and rub at the edges of them, concealing his frown while he breathed a fresh pause.

"Oh! Well... Yes I was just sitting around pretending to be you!"

No. That sounded too honest and too sad— she couldn't possibly say that.

"Actually I was going to go look for you but I forgot because of an assignment!"

Ok that was too far-fetched for a lie. Everyone knows that she always leaves her assignments for last minute all-nighters. Lene inevitably clears her throat, and when Ares finally asked his question, she placed her hands behind her back.

Only the most virtuous are permitted? He may be a part of the Holy Knights of Seiros, but to Mauvier, this is just an occupational hazard. He certainly didn't have to prove his virtue to anyone to be handed an invitation to the Herald of Spring festival. The word doesn't fit into the tapestry of him.

Moreover...his name isn't on the invitation. One doesn't seem different from any other. Are they really vetting virtuousness at the proverbial door?

Something bothers him deeper than feeling unworthy of attending; does the herald of spring not belong to everyone? Even if they have tread crooked paths, made a wreckage of mistakes? How many will be deemed unfit just to watch the flowers bloom?

If anyone is watching him, staring, dumbfounded, he does not noticed. His eyes follow the flowing inkstrokes, all of the words blending. What can he possibly do?

"Virtuous" yeah right. Thats probably the worst party ever- gods forbid someone just wants to have some fun! Lene pouts slightly, walking away from the crowd.

She didn't need that anyways- Lene has better things to do.

As she left, Something caught her eyes- someone had gotten lucky enough to be invited! And Lene smiles at that for only a moment, before realizing the expression on his face. They seem conflicted? confused? Perhaps theyre just nervous.