love is blue.

A careful, watchful eye is cast on the nymph, curious as to where they could possibly be going with this little rant. It certainly wasn't everyday creatures of the forest stopped him to muse about witches and their rocky relationship with humans nor his obvious disdain of those humans. Still, he let them speak. Observing. Analyzing.

Snrk--!!

Despite the unfavorable topic, their comment about ' smacking sense into them ' elicited a startled breath of air to leave his nose in the form of a laugh. He hadn't heard that one from a nymph before. Shaking his head, he reached over and dropped a hand on their head, giving a brief rustle of hair. "Yeh got that right."

Either they revered and avoided him or sweetly requested his company for a night. Though, he suspected many of them largely didn't care about humans and their strained relations unless it directly involved them and their homes. A wise decision. He didn't want to have to step in if things got messy.

"We can sense the presence of magic in this area," they explain lightly, matter-of-fact, "and heard some less-than-pleasant remarks while exploring the village." Which is what prompted their initial observation (and irritation). "Rest assured that we intend no harm. Elemental witches are akin to our children, so we care deeply for their well-being. As for treats..."

While they found little of interest in the town, they're always prepared with displays of their abilities. They cup their hands in front of their mouth, blow air into the space formed, then spread their fingers wide—-a myriad of brightly-colored butterflies take flight, fluttering around them.

"Yeah, I'm free, I'm free!" He's definitely not free, there's a pile of paperwork waiting for him and he owes at least two mission summary reports before combat training this afternoon. But it's easy for Haruki to forget about boring work when there's something more interesting being offered.

Before anything resembling a sense of duty can assert itself, Haruki is on his feet. He bounces in place, clearly eager to follow, or start, or whatever it is Kyouka has planned--but having no idea what the next steps are, he's left with trying to contain his excitement instead. Learning how to stab Jono? This is going to be fun! "You've gotta be pretty strong, huh? Jono's really hard to land a hit on with his Ability, but you can, and you're not even a Hunting Dog!"

All of that said, when it comes to landing a hit on a target like Jono, it helps to have a minimum of three swords at one's disposal.

Kyouka nods and leads the way out to the training field that's been recently spattered with blood. She stops and stares at the stain, uncertain how to proceed since she's never acted as an instructor before. After some consideration, she turns and faces the puppy. "...see if you can dodge this."

When he stops to think about it, nothing Guinevere tells him is all that surprising. Not really. Part of him had hoped Arthur would burn all his belongings to ash, maybe then the king could have a fresh start with the old ties gone, with better people to support him like Guinevere. But then another part of Mordred dreaded that happening because a clean break would mean Arthur--and now Guinevere once again--being gone from his life for good.

If he weren't so indecisive, if he weren't such a coward...

When Mordred lifts his head, it's to give Guinevere a tired smile as he leans into her hand. "Thanks for the offer, but I think... whatever Arthur's done with my room, let it stay that way." At this point, whatever its state, it is more grave than living space, disturbing it wouldn't feel right.

"But you know, it was a lot easier to convince myself what I needed to, when I wasn't being given all the information." The only kinds of lies Mordred has ever been good at telling are the ones he tells himself. In contrast, Guinevere has proven to excel at shining a light on them, making the truth difficult to avoid when it's in front of him plain as day. And he loves her for it regardless of how uncomfortable that light may be.

It's that affection that compels him to take her hand then, a gentle, chaste kiss placed upon fingers. A gesture befitting a knight to his queen. "Sorry for making you get stuck in the middle of this mess. Still, I am really glad to have you in my life again."

Recent revelations have created some awkward tension between them as the king recontextualizes ever interaction they've ever had; she's certain it won't last much longer, however. Arthur has a soft spot for her, and this hasn't dulled his affection—-maybe it'll even increase now that he understands she's been acting of her own free will the entire time. Now that he has no reason to feel guilty and restrained.

But that's not a subject Mordred needs to hear about, so she brushes such thoughts away for the time being.

Who is this strange girl... He's starting to get nervous with the way she's staring at him, especially while he's still stuck in this pit with dusk approaching. The last thing he needs is his fox fire on full display while he's vulnerable and trapped.

Play it cool, Liekki, she's just a kid, kids can be distracted easy--

"Ah, that? That's just a little sample of the kinds of trinkets I make, see? You know how those RGB lights are all the rage these days? I like my lights a little softer, so I craft items like so to sell folks. Wanna see a finished piece?" He hopes his little spiel will distract her enough to ignore that the fragments of light in question flitting around him don't have any obvious source. For good measure, Liekki begins to rummage through his bag. A few of his creations are broken, but he sets them aside to be repaired later, instead pulling out a miniature lantern that's unharmed.

He holds this up for the girl to see the rosy pink light dancing inside. "Pretty, isn't it? Help me out of here and it's yours. For half price?"

So she doesn't call him out on the obvious lie, and she accepts the distraction. That is a pretty lantern, as a matter of fact; however, it's hard to say if she can afford half price when she doesn't know the full price. "...you can have whatever money's in my purse," she decides. All the grocery shopping is done for the week, and the remainder of her allowance is for fun things anyway.

What a dutiful child, even if Shinobu finds such things annoying when they are expressed about his well being. Now that the boy isn't fretting over a mere bump on the head, the priest sits back at his desk.

"Seems you have been lucky when dealing with the elderly." Or maybe Shinobu himself was a stubborn old man. Regardless, he sighs settles down, back to telling his stories. "But very well. Back to our little edo ghost story. Yagorō found Rui, or Kasane as the villagers called her, to be rather hideous despite having shown pity and nursing her back to health. Perhaps Rui was lonely, or she had mistaken that pity as something deeper. She asked him to marry her. Yagorō agreed, not out of pity, but out of greed. She was the sole inheritor to all her father's land and money. And he wanted it."

As the story continues, Snow sneaks back to her human and curls up in his lap, and he pets her absentmindedly while he listens. A curious individual, he's always been attentive to the tales others share—-especially from cultures besides the one he grew up in. It's a comfort that when city life overwhelms him, he can take a break at this shrine, listen to whatever Shinobu feels like teaching him.

They sighed at the memory, now melancholy, && leaned their head on the window's that faced the street.

❝ Mm...yes, just dessert &&...some water with salt, ❞ Fresh water just didn't satiate Lovecraft in the same way saltwater did.

They remained silent, looking over the menu with an unchaning expression. She'd said something about parfaits && the cafe carried chocolate. Yet, their mind was still populated by memories that grown somber over time. The loneliness that they'd been feeling from before made them feel like they were being dragged beneath piles && piles hof hot sand.

That was, until they briefly caught a glimpse of the girl sitting across from them. She was a member of the Armed Detective Agency, but Lovecraft was much, much older than she was. They felt it'd be strange if they, a grown adult, allowed her to pay for whatever she ordered.

Kyouka usually eats here with Atsushi, and he always handles the bill; she should know if they get a discount, yet she hasn't bothered to check—-oh well. If she does, then Lovecraft can be pleasantly surprised when the time comes.

In the meantime, a non-Lucy server is quick to bring them glasses of water and say she'll give them a few minutes to look over the menus. Kyouka places one on her side of the table, then picks up the salt shaker and sprinkles a plentiful amount into the other cup, swirling it around before she passes it over to them. They can stir it more thoroughly—-or add more salt—-if they want.

Her attention shifts to the dessert section, head tilted thoughtfully. Does she want her standard fruit parfait, or does she want to try something else? Working in the office above, she has ample time to sample each option; there's no rush, so it's okay if she falls back on her familiar favorite most of the time.

Lunae nodded her head occasionally as if she understood the things that Pyrrha was saying, trying to be helpful and attentive despite her lack of knowledge. As long as the outfit was functional and comfortable, did things like style and how garments were fastened really matter? As long as it wasn't riddled with holes or hanging off of her in tatters, clothes were clothes.

Theo and, now, Pyrrha would likely disagree with her on that matter, however.

"I don't know how much Asher told you about my line of work, but flashy clothes are a bit..." She didn't want to disparage Pyrrha's decisions, but flashy clothes were more Theo's forte. He always wore such brightly-colored 'out there' designs that it was just what people expected of him. Meanwhile, Lunae prioritized comfort over style and only dressed up when absolutely necessary. "Let's just say standing out wouldn't be very beneficial to me."

At the mention of Asher, Lunae let out an exasperated laugh. "Hardly. I wouldn't be surprised if he has more embarrassing stories of me than I do of him." It seemed he was always coming to her rescue -- helping her when she was at her lowest or in some sort of pickle. Normally Theo fit that role so it was odd having someone else to turn to about her problems. Not a bad odd, though.

As much fun as she has with designing, Pyrrha wouldn't follow through with crafting clothes that aren't desired by the recipient; it's rare that she even sews for anyone but herself—-while it's among her many talents, it's rather time-consuming, and there's a lot of other stuff that needs her attention each day. She'll create designs for someone else to make if someone commissions her, though. Anything for a few extra dollars in her bank account.

Of course, she's not expecting Lunae to pay her anything for this. It's a favor for a friend of a friend, and nothing more! Pyrrha's nowhere near as poor and desperate as she was growing up, in large part because she lives with someone who actually cares for her well-being—-so her kindness is not motivated solely by hope of a reward.

A disappointed sigh escapes her about the lack of embarrassing stories about Asher, but it's not unexpected. Even if he's more genuine nowadays, he still keeps up that perfect, polished prince act, doesn't he? She still doesn't understand why people like that mask of his.

Doubt that this cat is Milton begins to rapidly set in. First, because there hasn't been a word spoken by the cat and Mordred knows for a fact the boy can speak when transformed. And second, this particular cat is far more friendly than Milton had been--not that the kid was unkind, exactly, but spoiled brat seemed a fitting description in Mordred's opinion. Add atop both these points the paw now tracing out what seems like letters against his leg...

"You're not John, are you?" He's confident in that assessment now, but nonetheless feels the need to ask aloud. So who, then? Definitely not an ordinary cat, even the cleverest ones can't spell-- "Vi? Is that your name? Or Vivi?"

Unfortunately for Vivi, Mordred has all but forgotten about the cake in his hands, distracted by puzzling out the identity of his odd little guest.

With that settled, they can get back to what's important: cake. Dissatisfied that they haven't yet been rewarded for their intellect, they paw at the other's hand and mew again, eyes wide and pleading as they glance meaningfully at the dessert. It's not the tastiest they've ever had, but it's enjoyable nonetheless—-and everything is even more delicious when shared with an adorable kitten. They're doing this human a favor in that regard.

Elizabeth raised an inquisitive brow, but she decided not to speak, merely looking at the man in confusion. She was much, much larger in her true form && much more beautiful than he could ever comprehend. Yet, for some reason she felt he should have known that && the comment would have been a bit ridiculous.

❝ Do I know you? ❞

The question was sudden, her previous comment suddenly forgotten. If he wanted to dress like he did, that was fine, she wouldn't complain. She just couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity && it was beginning to bother her. Normally, she was put off by strangers, but she'd had the courage to go right up to the man && speak.

Did getting called pipsqueak throw her off so much that she assumed he must not know her? Junior rolls his eyes, exasperated by this turn of events. Well, he supposes he shouldn't expect Lovecraft's kid to be an expert on etiquette and social norms—-or irony, for that matter. Because he realizes Elizabeth is not small and that she might have a big, scary true form like her parent.

(Though to be fair, he called her a random pipsqueak, implying that he in fact doesn't recognize her, and therefore that she might've mistaken him for someone else. But there's no need to unpack all of those semantics, is there?)

Hanging around cafeterias means getting to see all types of people. Tired students, tired office workers, tired employees, blind dates, would-be screenwriters, these kinds of places are perfect hunting grounds for a fox or a merchant. However, any thoughts Liekki has of tricks or trades is thrown out the window by the guy downing a coffee-energy drink blend.

It's not the mixed drink that shocks him (he's seen at least four others drink similar today alone), but the words that follow Liekki's question. The fox does a double-take, eyes wide with bewilderment.

"They're going to what?" Liekki glances left and right, searching first for obvious signs he's the victim of some practical joke television show, and then to see if these supposed tormentors are moving in. When neither seems to be around, he leans in toward the other, voice low, "why not run then, yeah? No one's watching you." He should probably help this guy... and he will, but if he can make a sale in the process, that'd be good. Which is why Liekki adds with a friendly smile, "if you need a distraction, I'm an expert, you know? My prices are very reasonable."

"They've got their eyes on me, even now..." After he drains the last few drops from his drink, Akane's gaze darts around the room, and he spots the professor tasked with supervising him. "Even with a distraction, it might not be enough to escape."

Besides, this stranger should be helping him out of the good of his heart, not to make a sale. A fellow fox, if Akane's nose isn't mistaken. Which means the guy should be extra sympathetic to his plight.