YOUR BFF!

She's up and back on her feet with a swiftness that nearly takes Diamant aback, any discomfort she may have felt completely obscured by the bright smile on her face. Part of him wonders if she was simply forcing it—brushing off the matter to assuage his own concerns, but it would be rude for him to call that out, when he didn't have a full understanding of her thought process.

(Something tells him he never really would.)

And so, he moves on. "...King," Why was she so convinced he was a prince? "Although, Professor is preferable. But, I see..." He hums, "I've been told I have a striking appearance—it's not often I'm confused for someone else. But in this steam, I suppose anything's possible."

To Sharena's question, he shakes his head, mind still stuck on her overly aggressive greeting. "I'm fine, hardly left a scratch on me. You have, erm, quite the kick though, don't you? I don't know who it was you were expecting to see, but if he's here, and has threatened you in some way..."

She smiles. She really hopes he just lets bygones be bygones and forget everything that happened.

...Doubtful that he will.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah yeah yeah." She scoffs and waves her hand. "It's all good. You just looked like him in the steam, but you're nothing like him. He ki— Committed arson." A pause. Oh, my gods. Why did she jump to another bad crime! It would have been better to stick with murder.

"But, like, seriously, it's all good. He's dead. He got caught in one of his own... fires. You know, when he committed... arson." Somewhere far away, she can feel Kiran's disappointment. Ugh. It feels terrible to lie to Prince-King Diamant too.

Okay. Time to change the subject.

Sharena does a squat, and when she stands up again, her hands are on her hips. "Thanks though, Professor. My legs have always been stronger than my arms, and even though I've been swinging my lance for years, I still see more improvement in my speed than strength. But I also climb a lot, so... that might have a lot to do with it. So, uh, go easy on me in class, if I'm not on the same level as everyone else!"

she is studying the field with a scarlet, granitic apathy when a sudden nearby outburst from a sparkling voice redirects that attention closer at hand. a young head of blonde, all but bouncing on her feet and eager to pick up conversation, easily presuming her another contestant.

it is not that she minds, precisely. however . . .

"i am not competing." the misunderstanding is erased with a brief headshake, wherein her gaze returns outward again to the field where the next participant — twelve — has stepped up to take their post; in doing so, nel half-turns to reveal the lack of a number posted to her back. but rather than the student themselves she examines, it is the weapon in their grasp. an iron javelin by all appearances, the same as the one in this girl's hand beside her and every other who had gone thus far.

the atmosphere about the perimeter quiets in anticipation, and the contestant steadies themselves over the placement mark hatched into the grass. she too withholds further remark until the gathering has released its breath.

the young man throws— . . . and the spear flies far, thudding solidly into the distant board only a few inches off center. tension dissipates into clapping, sighs of awe or concern, mutters of admiration or envy.

"i am overseeing as a judge," nel finally turns to the girl again to continue in the midst of it, looking to her now properly. and those same inscrutable scarlets trace her too, as though considering something. already, number thirteen is being called, and her decision must be swift.

"i would ask you to assist me." her tone has sharpened slightly, but keeps its level volume — not surreptitious to be a whisper, but just above, difficult to overhear in the tumult of the crowd shifting and changing in the moments when one competitor steps down and another takes their place: friends, classmates, and loved ones swap; the crowd is for a few fleeting moments mutable and uncaring of its surroundings. "when it is your turn, feign injury. let them escort you away."

thirteen takes her place. the crowd begins to quiet again. nel does not know this student, nor she her, but there is no time to say more. she impresses upon her only the heavy intent of a held gaze, somber and impenetrable. "i will come find you then."

A glance over her shoulder at the competitors, then back at the woman. She really shouldn't throw her one chance away in the competition... but she also would hate to let her down! And she seems sincere.

And Sharena isn't one to just turn away from someone in need.

Applause erupts from the crowd, when the thirteenth contestant throws her spear. Sharena gives the stranger a small thumbs up and a bright smile. "You got it! Leave it to me," she chirps. Then, with iron spear in hand, she trots over and replaces the previous contestant.

A deep breath. She really wanted to try her best, but... she'll have to try her best in a different way for some other thing.

Few steps back. A small hop. Sharena rushes forward and throws the spear. Simultaneously, however, instead of stopping herself like any other person, she jumps forward and towards the ground. To the majority of people, it should look like she's about to take a nasty fall — her tucks her legs into her chest just as her shoulder makes contact with the ground — and to those same people, it looks like she did.

Letting the momentum carry her, Sharena tumbles forward. When she stops, she's on her back, and she lets out a pained — maybe a little forced — cry of pain. "OUUUGHGHGhhHH! Ow! I've HURT myself!" Some onlookers rush forward. Good, it's working. She'll add on a little more.

"OH! THE AGONY!" Sharena rolls onto her side and holds her stomach.

"Where does it hurt?" A medic crouches down next to her.

"EVERYWHEREEEEE," Sharena moans. When they start to look panicked, she hurriedly adds on, "But, like, not in a 'dying' way, but in a 'I-need-to-go-to-the-infirmary-to-rest' way!"

It's not hard to spot him. Average height — for now, she believes he's gonna hit a growth spurt like their dad did — blue hair, and a face she's seen for her whole 18 years of her life. The second she does spot him though, Sharena leaps over the table in the dining hall, her voice echoing when she chirps: "Alfonse!!!" And then she wraps him in a hug, tighter and bigger than any other hug she's given before.

"Boy, am I glad you found me! I hope Kiran wasn't too worried. I was worried for a second I wouldn't be able to get home. How's Kiran? How's Mom? How's Commander Anna?" The next thing she says is more hushed, like a whisper, "Listen, did Kiran summon another hero while I was gone? Because if they sent them home before I was able to do my interview with them, I'll be angry!" Cheeks puff out when she says that, and eyes focus on him for an answer to whatever shenanigans Kiran has been up to.

Nothing beyond the ear-splitting, though numbingly familiar, call of his name prepares Alfonse for what comes next.

“Sha—“ She knocks all of the wind out of him in one go. “—ron?!”

Alfonse gasps, his ribs leading a fruitless revolt against the only tightening grip of his sister. One after the other, his feet stumble as he frantically searches for purchase; the ground seemed to only get dizzyingly closer. The prince barely manages to keep upright, though his arms come to wrap around his sister. It’s a weak hold, compared to hers. His mind reels; the words his mouth form are a half-step behind his thoughts, and miles behind his sister’s. “Found… have you been stuck—“

Then comes the onslaught of questions— Alfonse should have known to mentally prepare himself for the barrage.

“Kiran is fine— Mother is quite alright—“ (‘You correspond with her more than I…’ he fails to manage,) “— and the Commander fares well with her business…”

A wince. ‘Well’ was perhaps not the most adequate of words to describe Anna’s dealings, as fluctuating as they were. The Ylisse branch of the company had performed its fair share of wonders within Askr, that much was certain; still, the Order’s chronic budget deficiency demanded much more of them. With heroes bound by monetary contracts, and their numbers only increasing in recent times, it was a steadily growing cause for concern. Perhaps he should write a letter to inquire after the state of affairs in his absence… though he suspects it’s not what Sharon wishes to hear in this moment.

As he gathers his thoughts, his sister leans in— her voice is low, almost secretive. What she says next gives the prince pause.

If he sounds like Alfonse and speaks like Alfonse, then he's...

"...An Alfonse from another world," Sharena finally says quietly under her breath. Her grasp on his shoulders loosen, until hands slip down his arms and to her sides. Smile remains but with a tinge of poignancy. "You're a different Alfonse than mine, right?" She sighs. She got ahead of herself. That's embarrassing or as Kiran would say... cringey!

"...Well, you're still my brother, even if you were born in a whole different world!" Demeanor brightens, as Sharena clasps his hand in hers. A pause. Her shine dims into the poignancy again, when she gives him another hug, this time brief, even though she hugs him tightly. "It's been kinda lonely without you. Any version of you."

She releases him. "But, like, you gotta tell me everything about your world and your Order. What's it like? What's your Kiran like? Are they even named Kiran?"

a kiss to make up for an argument

a dominating kiss to end an argument 

a gentle kiss to ask forgiveness 

a kiss against shoulder blades as arms wrap around from behind 

a kiss against the shoulder after waking up beside each other 

a kiss to distract

a kiss against tear stained cheek

a kiss on the brow 

a kiss where they’re both covered in blood

a kiss after one muse has killed for the other 

a kiss after one muse has injured the other 

a kiss between enemies who should be fighting 

a kiss between exes who meant to walk away 

a playful kiss to make the other stop rambling 

an adoring kiss because the other is rambling 

a kiss to end sexual tension 

an angry kiss 

a tearful kiss 

a kiss to prove a point 

a hesitant kiss 

a kiss from one muse who should be afraid of the other 

a kiss from a muse who the other should be afraid of 

kisses scattered along hardened jaw to try and sooth 

a kiss as if trying to answer a question 

a kiss between furrowed brows to try and comfort 

a kiss from someone the other didn’t think thought of them that way 

a kiss that says thank you 

a kiss on the corner of the mouth,  hoping for more but expecting nothing 

an exploratory kiss,  testing the waters between them 

a kiss on the forehead of one who is starting to fall asleep 

a kiss against the cheek after discovering the other is napping 

a platonic kiss just meant to express overwhelming emotion 

a kiss to comfort both parties

a kiss stemmed from relief 

a kiss to make the other believe professed feelings 

a possessive kiss to remind the other who they belong to 

a possessive kiss to show the world they belong to each other

a kiss stemmed from jealousy 

a kiss to make someone else jealous 

a biting,  passionate kiss 

a kiss against the neck which feels more like a bite,  teeth bruising skin 

a desperate kiss as if they are convinced they’ll slip through each other’s fingers 

a kiss to make each other feel alive 

a kiss stolen away in a corner,  ignoring crowds 

a kiss after being pulled into an alley to have a moment to themselves 

a kiss after grabbing the other’s arm and pulling them back close 

a kiss to convince the other to stay 

a kiss like they’re trying to convince the other to love them 

a hopeful kiss in the rain

a desperate kiss in the rain 

an angry kiss in the rain 

a possessive kiss in the rain 

a playful,  happy kiss in the rain 

a passionate kiss stemmed from previous heartbreak in the rain 

a kiss in the rain to make up like it’s a damn romcom 

a kiss in the rain filled with the foreboding of a goodbye 

a kiss to make the other stop being stubborn 

a kiss after treating a wound 

a defiant kiss 

a kiss between partners in crime in front of someone they hold captive 

a kiss to anger a third party 

an adrenaline filled kiss shared after committing a crime 

It takes her several tries, plucking a note from the box, skimming it briefly then dropping it next to the box, before she finds her question for the advice box. When she does, she returns the other questions to the box, and opens her note, anticipation fluttering in her stomach like butterflies.

. . .

Smile fades. A frown appears.

Nobody had a suggestion for a party location? This world must be worse off than before! Kiran once said (after pressing them) that a good party needed a) balloons, b) pretzels, c) a dog in a clown costume, and d) a dance off. (Kiran called the last one "dance dance revolution" but from the way they described it, it really just sounded like a dance competition).

Professor, if you’re seeing this… no you aren’t.

(Tacked below is a question cleanly ripped right out of a workbook. You hope it isn’t one of the academy’s lent resources…)

Two armies, Red and Blue, of unequal strength are to face each other on the battlefield. The Blue army has the manpower of 3000 men, 1700 of whom are archers equipped with primarily longbows. The Red army has 5000 men, but only 890 archers equipped with shortbows. The rest of both armies are composed of foot soldiers, and no mages are present. The battlefield is composed of a distance 1000 yards long. When the Red army came within range, the Blue army commenced fire. For the purpose of this exercise, it is given that the average rate of fire and range for a longbow is 6 arrows per minute and 200 yards. The rate of fire is three times that of a shortbow, and twice the range. The Red army spent an average of 60 seconds to cross 100 yards. The probability of success per archer of both armies is considered to be 1/6. Using the following keys, calculate the effect of the arrows on the charging Red army. Then, state which army is victorious in this scenario, and justify your answer.

r = range of weapons

sa = speed of attacker

tfz = time in firing zone

rf = rate of fire

np = number of projectiles launched per weapon

wf = number of weapons firing

trf = total number of rounds fired

e = probability of effective rounds fired, which render an enemy incapacitated

nc = number of casualties

1000 yd battlefield

Red aggresses Blue

Longbow rf 6 apm, 200 yds Shortbow rf 2 apm, 100 yds

Red Army sa 60 sec per 100 yd, would take approx 600 sec or 10 min to cross whole battlefield

1/6 success rate (hit rate)

This implies the Blue Army doesn't move, so they only have the opportunity when the Red Army is 200 yards away to fire their longbows. If all archers involved have a 1/6th success rate, then that's a likelihood of 1700 arrows that will land within the one minute opening that they have since the Red Army clears 100 yards within one minute, so we can assume 1700 x 6 arrows are being shot during this window of opportunity.

The Red Army has about 3300 men left, the majority of which are infantry melee soldiers, which is more than the amount the Blue Army started with, even if every single shot the Red Army took against them missed.

The 1700 longbow archers wouldn't be able to do any close-range combat, so they have at best 1300 men who can fight off the army that has already breached their defenses. That's more than two enemy soldiers per one Blue Army soldier that they had to deal with for people who can fight at that range.

This world doesn't seem that different from hers. New faces to see. New friends to meet. New memories to make... but nothing that tells her outright that it's a danger or that she should definitely bounce from the monastery and book it.

So, where's the harm in joining a competition!

Yeah, no, she won't be accepting any offer to be a retainer. (Oh, but that might be a good way to make a guaranteed friend. Or, is that an imbalance of power and an ethical dilemma?)

Anyway, today, she's gonna try her very best and kick some butt! Most importantly though, she's gonna have fun.

Each participant takes a turn throwing their spear in front of the crowd. Some wind up, some take a running start, and others calculate the wind speed and angle of the sun. Like, she gets it, that stuff can affect a throw. But it's not that bright out, and the wind is, like, a gentle breeze!

A glance around her, before she focuses on a person a few feet from her, on the edge of the crowd of participants. Skillfully slipping through the crowd with her iron spear in hand — everyone's throwing the same kind of weapon — Sharena reaches the other person and chirps, "So! What's your special technique to win, huh? And when do you go? I go..." she twists her head and pulls her shirt to look down at the number pinned to the back of her shirt. Number 14. "Soon."

The steam was meant to be therapeutic—good for one's health, and an effective stress reliever. Even Brodia had its share of saunas and hot springs, though not to the extent Elusia had been known for them. Nor were they facilities he ever had the time or interest to visit. (And some of those areas in Brodia, he recalls with much guilt, had been formerly Elusian territories.)

Visibility diminishes as the steam grows thicker, and once he's only a few steps into the room, something promptly slams into his jaw and sends him reeling back in a mix of pain and surprise.

Hand goes to clutch his face, adrenaline rushing with a spark of indignation. "What in the—"

"Augh...!"

There's a sweep at his legs that sends him stumbling, and the oddly precise kick to his kneecap threatens to knock him over entirely. But Diamant was better than that, and not so weak; his assailant may have had the cover of steam to their advantage, but when a long shadow sweeps towards his head, he's quick to grasp it.

His grip tightens threateningly, digits pressing into damp skin, and he quickly realizes it's an ankle—rather, a leg. Steam disperses a bit, and he sees that it's a young woman's leg.

"AH!" Sharena yelps when he grabs her ankle, halting her momentum and holding her in the air for a good few seconds. Her head is inches from the ground as she dangles there like a rabbit caught in a trap. She twists and stretches her head to look at... Diamant?

Oh... Oh!

Oh.

Nervous giggle leaves her when she flashes a sheepish grin up at him. "Heeeey... fancy meetin' you here," she says. He releases her, and she hits the ground with a thud and a "Oof!" But she's back on her feet in no time. She rolls back over her shoulder, tucks her leg in, sits upright, then stands up with fingers combing frantically through her hair to smooth it. Or, as much as it could be smoothed. Humidity does a number on it!

"Heyyyyy, Prince Diamant. Or, I guess it's Professor Diamant. Or would you rather go by Professor Prince?" Red cheeks highlight the sheepish grin. She doubts he really would, but she's trying to avoid getting on his bad side. It really sucked being on the other end of his sword, so she can't imagine being the one student in his class he has it out for.

"Sorry. About that. I thought you were, uh...." Sharena trails off. Where were Lifonso and Thraronica when she needed backup the most! "I thought you were some... person — guy, man —that I used to know. Or met once." Blink. "Twice." Or was it three times? "I think." Too many times.

[ wipe ] sender wipes away receiver's tears [ hurt ] sender hurts receiver with words [ lonely ] sender finds receiver alone in a dark room [ wounded ] sender patches up receiver's wounds [ crying ] sender finds receiver crying [ help ] sender runs to receiver when they scream for help [ nightmare ] sender wakes receiver up from a nightmare [ dying breath ] sender talks to receiver before dying [ hold on ] sender pulls receiver into their arms [ anger ] sender takes their anger out on receiver [ argue ] sender gets into a heated argument with receiver [ scared ] sender scares receiver [ sick ] sender cares for receiver while they are sick [ palm ] sender places a hand on receiver to stop them from doing something [ fight ] sender gets into a physical fight with receiver [ comfort ] sender tries to comfort receiver [ blood ] sender notices that receiver is bleeding [ collapse ] sender collapses into receiver's arms [ pressure ] sender puts pressure on receiver's wound [ slap ] sender slaps receiver in the face [ panic ] sender helps receiver through a panic attack [ lie ] sender catches receiver in a lie [ sobs ] sender sobs uncontrollably while receiver holds them [ hiding ] sender finds out that receiver has hidden an injury from them [ death ] sender just died, receiver finds out [ chin up ] sender lifts receiver's chin to stop them from hiding their tears [ fears ] sender talks to receiver about their fears [ scream ] sender screams at receiver [ coping ] sender teaches receiver some coping mechanisms [ loss ] sender is there for receiver after they've lost someone important to them [ needs ] sender asks receiver what they need [ bullet ] sender takes a bullet for receiver [ bruises ] sender finds bruises of unknown origin on receiver [ rainfall ] sender finds receiver out alone in the rain [ hospital ] sender wakes up in a hospital bed and finds receiver sitting by their bedside [ intrude ] sender walks in on receiver treating their wounds [ calming ] sender tries to calm down receiver [ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got [ rescue ] sender carries receiver to safety [ clean ] sender cleans blood off of receiver's body

So much for a quick rip.

Instead, Sharena is slow with how she pulls off the bandage--meticulous. Had time been allowed any chance to rekindle the fires of what had been lost, she has come to undo that process, surgically unzipping and re-opening the pores of his pain. There is a Sharena--not his, but a--dampening his professorial coat with her tears. Like any younger sister would to her big brother, she cries. But this is not for the same reason. A breakup, a bad day, a scolding from father... Any and all are preferred to the harrowing sense of guilt shooting up his ethereal nerves. Nerves that aren't even there, but can still be felt like thorns growing in between plates of armor. They exist in the gaps between hardened layers over the heart. He abandoned her, turned her away--and even if it wasn't him who hurt this Sharena, he has hurt another.

He wants to laugh. Fate could not be any crueler.

The sheer difference in size makes it easy for Sharena to hug him while seated, but that does not stop Lif from abstaining at first. His hands are poisonous. They grab the hilts of swords designed to cull the living and bleed dry the sacrificial lambs laid upon Hel's--or Thorr's, or whoever's--unholy altar. They are unclean. Lif wonders if they even remember how to be tender anymore. Because after all,

'Even if our world were to be saved, as we wish it to be...'

'It would be no place for us.'

Silence drapes over them like a shadow. Seconds? Minutes? An hour? Lif does not know how long he waits. Only when the slow stutter and mumble of his otherworldly sister comes to a complete stop does he stir.

Perhaps he is right. Perhaps he has no right, not to touch or help or even love her, after soaking his hands in the pool of Askr's demise. Ask anyone sane, and they may say that for once hoping to barter another Sharena for his--another Alfonse's mind for the small trickle of healing his would receive--he should earn her scorn. But the heart is not sane, nor does its beat ever truly stop. Not even in the husk of a corpse.

"... Very well."

A piece of Alfonse remains: his arms. They guide Lif's, slowly encircling them round Sharena's back until her hug is mirrored. His hands give a few gentle taps, before they recede into his psyche and it is just Lif's left on Sharena. Then Alfonse's legs push up against the weight of the Revenant so that he may stand. By circumstance, he's gained a significant portion of height over her, but that changes their dynamic very little. He is still Alfonse, solemn keeper of Askr's peace; protector of those he holds dear. This small part of home walks among him, and so as she always has, Sharena receives his shield.

Fingers find a latch by her shoulder and brush past her uniform to hold on. A gentle squeeze locks her firmly in place, pushing her tear-damp face against his outfit in the hope that cold steel and colder leather could provide some sort of comfort. What he wouldn't give to radiate some warmth, though--even just a little bit.

But some things are simply unattainable now. He'll have to accept that fact.

"... What would you like to talk about, Sharena? I... Have the time."

So his presence provides more comfort than he can ever imagine.

In Líf's embrace, the world falls silent, save for the faint sound of a heartbeat. (Whether hers or his, it doesn't matter; maybe they've finally broken the boundary between them, and their hearts beat as one. Maybe it was like this for Líf and his Sharena. Even her Alfonse wouldn't make a deal with Hel just to save her and Askr. There's just no way. Whatever happened between Líf and Sharena, she can't fix it, but she can at least help him heal. Every other Sharena that exists would agree with her, there's no doubt in her mind.

He holds her a little tighter, and she reciprocates, arms tightening around his waist until the only thing she can smell is the stench of burnt ash mixed with bleached bones. Underneath it all, there's a hint of chamomile.

There. She exhales. Tension slips from her shoulders. This is her brother.

At Líf's question, Sharena pulls back sniffing as she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. She doesn't mind crying in front of others, but sometimes, it's just kinda embarrassing. "Uh... well..." A sigh to steady her breathing. Sharena laughs weakly, smile returning to her face. "I don't know, really. Everything. Anything. I want to talk to you about, like, mundane stuff. Like your students or the garden or the food. But I also want to know more about..." she trails off.

Best not to bring up the past or his current state of being after finally getting him to open up.

"I... want to talk about what you want to talk about. But I'm not sure what you like." Probably don't have the same likes and dislikes as Alfonse. "So... what do you do in your spare time now?" Green peers up at him. "And why did you choose to come here?" Did he even have a choice?

as the cold steel of a dagger presses against his throat, forcing him to tilt his head, lyon thinks this is yet another assignment he could have, should have, outright refused. it came with the promise of a short patrol. go there and return. simple. he and the other student would be back in no time.

it flew out of the window the moment they were ambushed by the thieves emerging from behind the snow-blanketed trees. someone managed to grab him and drag him close, which isn't too much of a feat.  &  lyon, in his current predicament, feels... surprisingly calm despite his tense shoulders. he has the means of freeing himself. all it would take is uttering an incantation when reaching for one of his tomes is far too risky.

but at the same time, lyon lacks the same proficiency he has with a tome or a staff, nor does he wish to hurt anyone. not again. not when enough blood already stains his hands.  &  if he strains his neck to look around, none of the thieves seem like experienced fighters. if anything, they don't look like common bandits.

no.

they are nothing more than regular people driven into desperation.

"you don't—"

"shut up!" the gruff voice, belonging to no other than his captor, interrupts.  &  while not drawing blood, the dagger presses even more closely against his throat.

it's enough cause for him to fall silent.

"you! you fetch us supplies and gold! don't even think of doin' any funny business, missy!" the man's hand visibly trembles as he lays out his demands to the young woman. violets flicker to her face.

That would have been the case for this patrol, if it weren't for Lyon being taken a hostage and then demands being thrown at her immediately after.

Green eyes go wide. Jaw drops. What... should she do? They look rough — like they haven't gotten a good night sleep or a full meal — but they don't look like any ruffians she's met.

Were these just some people trying to survive? She glances down at Fensalir in her hand. She could easily knock them out, but they might actually hurt Lyon. And they look... scared and desperate. Fighting can't be the solution here. Just doesn't make sense.

Cheeks puff out when she exhales. Everyone stares at her expectantly for some answer. Kiran probably would have just told her to knock them out anyway, but Kiran's not here! And there's no Alfonse here to reason with them and no Commander Anna to barter with them.

Hand raises. "I can't," she says, a small smile on her lips. "Can't leave him behind! He's my patrol buddy today." When she points to Lyon, the men look at Lyon and then back at her. They clearly didn't like that answer.

The man holding Lyon snarls at her, his hold tightening around him, "We ain't playin', missy! Get some gold and supplies or we'll kill ya friend!"

"Wouldn't recommend that," Sharena says matter-of-factly.

"And why's that?"

"He's my friend! And I wouldn't be able to get him back from Hel easily." They're really just the worst, and Sharena will not let another sacrifice themselves just to defeat her.

One of the men hisses under his breath: "Hell? What the fuck?"

Sharena continues, her eyes still bright, "Nevermind that. Why do you need the gold and supplies?"

The one who made the demand earlier speaks up again, "We just need them! We lost our homes in that blizzard, and no traders can get to our town to trade!"

"Oh... What if we could help you then? Get all the supplies you need without stealing or taking hostages?"

They're all silent when they stare at her, save for the one holding Lyon. "...Like you fancy academy students would help people like us."

that a new emblem ring would show up in fodlan of all places, well the incredulity of such a situation is not lost on her at all. she would have been more inclined to believe it had it happened in elyos, but as far as she was aware emblem rings were an elyos exclusive thing. she'd never met anyone from anywhere else who knew anything about them.

this led to the investigation of the supposed ring of the avenger that many had been gossiping about. an emblem rings that grant you incredible power, but in turn an instaiable urge for blood lust. she'd come to learn of a man trying to pawn this supposed emblem ring to unsuspecting students and faculty alike.

and she'd finally find said man. timerra stays hidden away from sight, watching him heckle a blue lions student with the prospect of the avenger ring. he doesn't give the woman a chance to speak back at all— a true and tried con man if timerra ever knew one. the crown princess moves to intercept him only to find that it was as if the man had disappeared completely.

This gal — way cooler and prettier than any Hero she's seen summoned by Kiran in a while — approaches with a nonchalant, anything-goes attitude she's only seen in Kiran. Maybe she's the Kiran of this world? Would it be weird to call her Kiran outright? Probably.

Besides, wouldn't Kiran know who she is right away?

Sharena pouts pitifully — she can't help it — and holds out her hands for the other. She sniffs. (She is not crying, but boy, does she feel like it). "Yes, please! I thought I could summon a cool friend and emblem outta here, but it got stuck as soon as I put it on!" And she really thought she had the enchantment down pat.

"But, don't break it! I don't want to hurt the Avenger Emblem!" The guilt she would feel if she evicted an Emblem would absolutely destroy her.

"But, like, it's really stuck on there... I hope the Emblem is okay, though. It didn't come out when I tried summoning it..."

Yeah, she heard about that, but there's no way that's true. Doppelgängers are really only a thing in her world! So, it's definitely not possible for any to show up there. If they did, that'd be trouble! And they definitely shouldn't be from her world; when she went to check on the gate she opened, it was closed!

So! Definitely not from her world.

Besides, it seems kind of silly to fall for an illusion when they're somewhere perfectly safe.

A bold thought... but not for Sharena! She enters the sauna and settles in right away by perching herself on the first row and leaning back. First thing she notices: it's hot! Second thing she notices: she doesn't like the sauna that much! (She pushes through anyway, because it's supposed to be good for you or something like that).

Third thing she notices: a new person has appeared. She doesn't pay too much mind to them at first, until she notices a flip of long hair and bright eyes. She sits up. There really are illusions, and they really do look like doppelgängers! A smile appears, and she's about to greet her own mirror image, when, the illusion doesn't keep its shape.

It shifts. It shrinks and expands, until it has made something much more menacing with spiky red hair and a single glowing eye. She would know that man anywhere: Surtr. Kiran never allowed Surtr to stay, so he definitely shouldn't be here...!

Instinct moves her forward. Sharena leaps off the bench and lowers herself to the ground, until there is barely anything between her and the floor. Using her arms to keep the momentum, Sharena extends her legs up to bring down the man with one solid kick to the jaw.

She doesn't stop there, however. Surtr doesn't go down easy.

Next she sweeps his legs, then she kicks his kneecap. Pushing herself up onto her feet, she punches him once, twice, in the abdomen, and then finally, she skips back one step and swings her leg high to kick him in the head.

And here she was so sure that gate was closed.

Leaf colored eyes followed her every step until she was just slightly taller than him, did it hurt her neck to look up? Well he wouldn't complain about that, what heels couldn't fix, a bench did! He didn't not expect the shake though, but her smile made it all the better, aw... she was a very sweet girl. "Glad to have you as my teacher then Sharena, i will do my very best."

He nodded at her first note, sure he could try being lighter on his feet no problemo! But the second... he felt a stab to his chest, a reminder of how weak he unfortunately was a sigh almost left his lips but he blinked hard and smiled. "Got it! More upper body strength, flexibility, i'm sure i can achieve that." Hopefully at least the second, what he didn't have of big he could have of agile he supposed... ugh it hurt.

His brow raised at her cut words, he was a g- what? But he simply let her speak her new found words, maybe it was something she wasn't comfortable with, he wouldn't push on that. "Lances are my favorite and best weapon to use, my father taught me how to use them before he passed after all." A chuckle at the reminder of those days. "I guess it still kind of keeps me connected to him. Buuuut anyway, i can use swords a bit too—not as good as lances though."

With that out of the way he took another look at her, she seemed small but clearly held the strength he lacked on his arms if she was able to climb a tree so easily. "What about you, what kind of weapon do you like to use?" And then a candle lit on his mind. "No wait, let me guess!"

But he wouldn't rely on having a feel of her arms, no, he would do it based on her previous movements. Quick, flexible, clearly strong... an axe no as it would cut her speed a bit. Swords or knives made sense, they were lighter—specially the latter. But a lance, even a bow could build up those muscles without needing to carry heavy weights hindering her movements. She seemed like someone who enjoyed having a close feel of things though so close combat seemed to be her thing.

"Spot on! I've trained in lances ever since I could walk. I'm not really the best at using other stuff, but I'm learning some magic! I know..." Sharena pauses, lips pursing together as she thinks. Kiran had several Heroes share their magic weapons with her soon after the spring festival in the first year they arrived. Now, they have her use a teacake tower, courtesy of Talitiu.

Thankfully, she always makes sure to learn all she can about Heroes, before Kiran sends them home or makes them teach another their skill.

"One spell." Fódlan is not Askr, though. Here, she knows one spell, and she will continue to learn more! She'll make Kiran and Alfonse and all her friends proud.

GRuUURhggrRgGgg

Sharena grabs her stomach, head tilting back when she moans, "Ugh... So hungry... We haven't had a real meal in days. I can't eat another bite of cold oats in water, Pandreo." It's just not that tasty! At all!

Snow halfway up her shins, Sharena trudges through it, while she rubs her arms for warmth. Even though she's bundled up and she's met Nifl, a literal god of snow, she still can't stand the cold. It was just too cold!

Beyond the bushes to the side, a non-stomach growl catches her attention. Her eyes narrow. Hand stretches out to stop him from moving. A glance at him, before Sharena crouches — as low as she can with the snow — and sneaks forward until she's close enough to peer through the bushes.

In the clearing is a pack of wolves. They looked like a big family with different ages and sizes and fur colors. The black wolf was clearly in charge, with its head held high and the other wolves politely nosing the corner of its mouth as it passes by them.

And...! "Bingo!" In the middle of the clearing, surrounded by the wolves, was... meat! Fresh-ish meat! Fresh-enough meat! Nothing a good campfire couldn't fix!

Grin painted across her face, she turns to Pandreo. "Check it out," she whispers, "Wolves! And they've got food with them."