TO PREVAIL.

Roll: 1, 1 = 2 rabbits spawned! Roll: 1 = 1 wolf spawned!

Not good. (It was tricky enough protecting the harvest when it was only rabbits appearing every now and again; but her eyes travel the dark, picking apart the individual shapes, and she finds their conclusions are not quite so ideal.)

Selena attacks Rabbit E with FORBLAZE: Roll: None. AUTO-HIT. (BLINKERS) Rabbit E: 0/1HP

Could she assume the cause of the wolf’s appearance? When Forblaze is cast, removing, again, a rabbit from the field, she sees the canine not too far from the body, and it only makes logical sense. “Wolves,” she explains simply, and then: “Or rather, just one, but it was likely attracted by the rabbits.”

"I'll handle it," she calls as soon as she hears the word. She knows what to do; how to stop its force from reaching anyone. The wolf veils itself into the nightly fog, aiming for the girl but finding itself with the company of her sturdy shield. Its howl comes closer and closer. Even if she cannot see it immediately, she would be remiss not to hear the clank of her armory colliding into something. She's heard it more times than she can count.

Surprise colors her face, albeit brief. She waits for it to fall back. When it finally does, Edelgard prevents it from a second attempt.

Aymr glows onto the shadows of Selena and Celica.

after all, it's probably one of the most fascinating things the island has to offer.

the giant woman reminds linhardt of the goddess, but in a metaphorical way than anything. she doesn't resemble depictions he'd seen before (and he'd seen a bunch), so the natural assumption is that this deity is unique to the island.

that, they believe, is a reasonable place to start, given that the implication seems to be some manner of divine guidance that directed its inhabitants to settle here in the first place.

a few questions arise, obviously, but linhardt doesn't have the opportunity to muse on them before some one redirects their thoughts.

they greet her with an eye roll. it seems setting matters little to her. they bite back a snarky remark promising that they don't know what she could possibly ask of them.

“why not just ask me for my opinion?” he responds with a frown. “i'm certain you, too, possess the basic experience with visual metaphors that means i don't have to spell it out for you. it is rather obvious.”

Perhaps, in the moons to come, Baile would remember the benefits of Emperor Edelgard. Until then, this world requires the hand of a girl who will move mountains.

Edelgard unveils a leather-bound book stuffed underneath her left arm, now swinging it between both of her hands. "Tell me. Do you recognize this? I assume not. It was made for me. If it is knowledge I seek, I will get it. Therefore.." Pressing her left palm onto its cover, she stares at it intently: "What I need is history. Give it now."

The pages of the book begin to glow, casting a light onto the princess's face for a few seconds. As soon as it dissipates, she opens its pages with cursive written text. She stretches her arms out so as to allow the both of them to view its contents.

(The evidence of this emerges in a singular loaf of bread: accepted without question, but curious in its shape—as though it were transformed.) Selena nods; offers a, “Thank you,” before finding a place on her person to keep it safe but accessible. (She chooses not to linger on it, seeing Celica’s haste in handing it over to begin.)

“Indeed,”—on the note of that which remained (and likewise, that which could be remembered). It was only their first hour, and all that had announced itself were those two; but there was no guarantee that they were all that could be.

(Rather: Selena would wager that there were far, far more.)

“Understood,” spoken to Edelgard—no title affixed, simply the name on its own. (Lyon would request the same thing of her, once-knight thinks to herself, and that it is not her own royalty means she can listen and obey.) In exchange for the girl’s address, she offers her own: “I am Selena.”

(The hour thus passes and little occurs, dim lighting scarcely marking parseable shadows upon the ground.) It is in that darkness that eyes sharp catch the scarcest movements:

Roll: 2, 1 = 3 rabbits spawned!

“More of them,” Selena remarks, and Forblaze is already igniting—

Selena attacks Rabbit C with FORBLAZE: Roll: None. AUTO-HIT. (BLINKERS) Rabbit C: 0/1HP

—and the first of three is removed from the situation, leaving just two more: one each, and Selena laughs lightly at the late recollection of Edelgard’s earlier remark. One darts away from the body of the first; the other has already vanished somewhere in the fields.

Unusually bold, the rabbit seems to ignore her as it meanders towards the crops, nose twitching. Celica kneels down, and the rabbit barely squirms as she hoists it up, legs dangling. It hangs comically from her hands, and Celica can't help but smile. "Who's a chubby bunny?"

In the pale moonlight, its eyes seem massive, and Celica finds herself questioning their mission yet again. It was so cute! Maybe she could let this one go?

Suddenly, the rabbit twists, body rolling as it nips her fingers, legs pistoning out to kick against her face as it squirms out of her hand. She yelps and drops the rabbit, and it scampers free into the field.

Celica flushes, inspecting her finger. The bite hadn't drew blood, but the teeth marks on her hand and footprints on her face had stung her pride. Brushing away the dirt, she stands, resolving not to be distracted again. She pivots, throwing her dagger towards the movement in her peripheral, and is rewarded with a dull thunk as another suspiciously hare-shaped loaf is pinned by her dagger.

With the glow of her axe guiding bright, all she can find is empty grounds. A sigh leaves the budding emperor's lips, beginning to think that it's acting as a hindrance more than helping. How ironic. How peculiar. Oh, this is its purpose. Yes, a world where this destructive axe pushes away instead of near. As she is given the bread in her free hand, there is no proper way for her to extend gratitude or surprise. Instead, she offers a small smile. She'll remember to ask on it later.

She spends countless minutes searching, head down and attention drawn. Readiness turns into a shake of the head.

"I'm unable to find it," she comes to admit. "I wonder if it left." If that is the case, it only means they must wait for it to return. She knows it will. They always do. She peers up at the sky and takes a long breath. Even here, it hits her lungs the same exact way.

Instead, she sits quietly atop her horse, at ease, even as she is looking off into the shadows and seeking to make out their shapes. Very little comes to announce itself, and for that, she is glad; but she could also not slack. (Ease and comfort do not come at the expense of precision.)

Roll: 1, 1 = 2 rabbits spawned!

Case in point: there is a rabbit, she sees, faintly visible where the moon highlights its fur. There is no hesitation in what Selena does next.

Selena attacks Rabbit A with FORBLAZE: Roll: None. AUTO-HIT. (BLINKERS) Rabbit A: 0/1HP

(Fire, like of the vision and the fields, only this time, it is only controlled; and when ash settles on the ground beneath, it does not continue its ignition.) One rabbit scurries away, but the light reveals another now headed towards the fields proper.

“There’s another one,” Selena announces, tracking the thing with her eyes, “headed for the crops. Approximately—” (settled between patches of carrots and potatoes, it darts its head about, sniffing the earthen produce; and then pauses to look at the mage, upstanding—)

She lifts her head in its direction: “—there.”

The rabbit hears her, head moving to keep her focused in one large black eye, but under the moonlight it seems to relax, not sensing her as a threat, no weapon in her hands. It returns to its work, sniffing and pawing at the tilled earth again. Celica kneels down, trying not to meet the animal's gaze. She draws her dagger from her side, questioning what she was about to do.

She had been prepared to fight for the defense of these people and their livelihoods, but surely one rabbit—

Before she can lose her nerve, Celica looks away and brings the dagger down, drawing upon the Earth Mother's power. The rabbit does not bleed, its green vitality running up and down the blade until what she holds in her hand is no longer a living animal, but a loaf of bread, vaguely lagomorph-shaped, still with her dagger driven through its crust.

"— I suppose there is none for me," she says in bland jest as she eyes the bread being passed between one another. A raise of the brow morphs into a semblance of light-heartedness. Her voice is quieter than usual. "It's fine. Don't pause for too long. Take note of the sound they make— Of any other creatures you hear, too. Their footsteps are different."

Perhaps her experience with hunting will prove more useful on this trip than she had thought.

The past serves as a reminder of the past; a proprietor of the self. Not once will it now, nor ever, be able to predict the future. That remains only in the hands of each person. She tells herself this often— She reiterates it now. It is simple to see when an intuitive heart beats warnings and when the voice echoing in that dream leaves behind goosebumps upon her eyes opening. It would be better if this image was hers alone. She has already seen the depths of the world.

Finding herself deep within the island's heart, Edelgard stands small against the large mural. In truth, she has little interest of goddesses. What intrigues her most are the smiling children and the direction this supposed goddess points towards. With how central of a space it is, she can easily envision many people leaving their mark on these very grounds. Now, though, they are nothing more than forgotten.

"Linhardt," she calls plainly as she strides over to their side. "There you are. I admit, your presence is a surprise." With a purposeful pause, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "You must know what I'm here to talk about. It's quite simple for me to keep asking again if you refuse." The Imperial heir gestures with her right hand towards the mural at large: ".. Starting here. It's obvious what this is meant to depict, no? Compare it to where we now stand."

"Anyone with a decent enough grasp of magic would be able to activate the orb," she hummed. "That alone makes it something we don't want lying about."

And since Prince Alfonse and the Summoner were here, she was certain that some form Askran magic was floating around too. She herself had called on her own magic of closure here as well. The question was then, how much latent magic did the orb contain, and if they crushed it, would that latent magic explode. Possibly not... Which brought the question... what was the best way to deal with this?

"There are two ways we can deal with this," Thrasir finally said. "We could crush it, yes, though that may well just activate it anyway, or we can simply activate it and summon whoever it has decided it has latched onto, and then I can send them back to their world by closing their connection to this one. In that instance, the orb would simply disappear as it would be used as the supply of magic to reach across the rift."

Then she blinked as she realised that Edelgard was walking closer to it. She stopped and reached out a little.

The princess teetered one final stride closer, looking into the orb as if it were a detriment: "Understood. If either option holds the chance of activation, I'd rather we do it on our own volition..—" Before she could finish her speech, the object began to act on its own.

With her hand hovering near the mystical object, a low cloud of smoke began to form around and atop the orb. Edelgard was forced to move herself in reverse and back to where Thrasir stood. "What. I've never seen anything quite.. like this..?"

As the steam dissolved with the cool air around it, a small, young girl stood by her lonesome. Her brunette hair was tied back in twin-tails. Her hands grasped a dagger with a blue embellishments on the handle. She wore a surprised expression, lilac eyes wide and lips colored with empty words. The dagger hugged her chest, looking around with confusion.

Raven stiffened, eyes meeting the Duke’s firmly for a long moment that seemed to stretch on between them, longer than the hours they’d spend here by far, and he felt his breath flare hot as he exhaled with control through his nostrils.

“Of course. Thank you, for the time spent, my lord.”

He lifted the bowl as though in toast, although his affect remained as flat and dour as it ever hand, and he considered the surface - looking for oil in a soup of this kind, smelling for something acrid beneath the onions - before pressing the back of his thumb to his lips and tipping the bowl just so.

The Duke’s eyes remained firm on him, a focus that was nearly unsettling even for someone of his calibre, until Raven set the bowl down softly. The lighting was poor enough that he would not see it was still full, but Raven could deal with that the moment his gaze broke, he just needed the moment.

A beat, a full moment of heavy silence.

She could not reaffirm their thoughts with the Duke around. Edelgard placed her fingers around the arms of her chair and elevated: "If you don't mind, I'm feeling rather tired now. I'll be retreating back to our private quarters. Thank you again for the meal."

The Duke extended a bow, moving only his upper torso as he said, "Ah, indeed. I'm pleased you came around to enjoy the meal. You must crave rest. Please, do not hesitate to find me if there is anything else I can do for you." When he interlocked eyes with her, it lasted only seconds.

She painted a plain smile and lowered herself in return: "We will keep that in mind. Thank you."

It was ironic, perhaps, that the topic of Alfonse's father arose naturally just before Edelgard posed to him that question. It was precisely the sort of thing Gustav would have asked of him, the same sort of challenge his father constantly posed to the prince. In a moment of weakness, Alfonse allowed his expression to falter, feeling his gaze widen in surprise at the words. He corrected it as quickly as he could, but he knew Edelgard almost certainly saw it, no matter how much Alfonse wished his emotions could have remained hidden.

Her shoulders relaxed, if only slight: "I understand. I'm much the same way. You shouldn't hand out trust to simply anyone. Trust, like other things, needs to be earned." The house leader's head raised higher than before. "If you'd like my opinion, it begins by trusting in yourself. If those people you speak of truly mean a great deal to you, prove to them that you have earned the trust they place upon you."

For those who ally themselves with her, she would be doing much the same. That is what made a good leader. "Just so you know, I agree with you. One person is not capable of carrying everything by themselves." As much as Edelgard herself shouldered many dilemmas alone, she had begun to recognize the limitations of solitude. If the world turned its back against her despite it all, she would continue by her lonesome. That was her journey.

"Here," Maria interjects, procuring a small tin from her bag and popping off its lid. "We should put on a thin layer of this before you bandage it -- it'll help keep it from getting infected. Here, like this." Scooping a small amount of the ointment with her fingertips, she daubs it over some of his scrapes. "Just the arm for now."

Then, turning a light smile toward their patient: "You fell forward, didn't you? --oh, excuse me!" Knuckles brush against his forehead, her easy demeanor never dimming.

"...uh, yeah." The man blinks. "How'd you... well, never mind. I fell forward -- might have fallen overboard if my knee hadn't buckled on the way over." His tone may be neutral, but he sucks a bit of his frustration through his teeth. For just a brief moment, rosy-hued eyes flick up toward him, reading his expression. Right -- if he feels like he's just brushed against death out of carelessness, the bruise to his self-security must be deeper than the one against his ribs. Humor likely won't serve him well then... maybe a more light, but still steady attitude.

She'd seen infirmary staff tend to patients with similar injuries before— All she must do is what she recalls. "Indeed," she says in agreement. "Starting with his knee.." Meeting him through eye contact, Edelgard lowers herself back towards the ground and presses a warm hand against his right knee. "I need to know if you can feel this. Does it hurt?"

"No," he shakes his head. Silence. The princess moves to intensify the pressure— as slight as she can— to test if his answer changes. He winces and pushes himself away from her. "Now that.. That, I can feel. Are you that strong or.. Gah..!"