it's the lioness that hunts

Now that Lachesis pointed out the mine's condition, however— Tsubaki doesn't think that its particularly hurting of bounty though. But, truthfully, this is his first time in a cavernous mine! He'd thought the conditions were a result of his own pitifully novice state but— is this considered lesser or more than the average cave deposit?

"Wonderful names," Tsubaki comments and he's reminded of the beauty in international exchange. "That's the beauty of humanity, isn't it? Our countries may be lands apart and yet our mindsets are similar… Perhaps it's not culture but, rather, the essence of parenthood? A promise is aptly put. Through the deliberation of her name, I prayed that my daughter would feel the presence of our love unto her, even in the days of my absence."

A bittersweet sensation washes over them. It does not last for long, as a shimmer catches their eye— a flash of a gemstone, certainly! Tsubaki sets themselves to retrieve it, pickaxe carving into rock, until an odd sound reverberates faintly through the cave's passageway.

"Lachesis?" Tsubaki calls out, his tone heightened with hesitancy. He ignores the stone that tumbles down to his feet. "Is everything okay there?"

It wasn't untrue, even though she had not called it out to him just yet. To hear he had only found coal was disappointing, for the sake of this daughter Lachesis would never meet. Better that he keep his focus, then, on what mattered - she could take care of herself, if the only obstacle was a few irritable animals.

"It's a lovely red color - I think I've gotten quite lucky! I believe rubies are rare, are they not?"

She considered the corridor ahead of her, took a moment to regain her bearings before taking another step forward and finding the rush and screech surround her once more, buffeting her from all sides with the veritable stormcloud of wings.

With a little huff of frustration, Lachesis stepped back, carding fingers through her hair in frustration, forcing herself to laugh the sensation out and hear it ring against the walls of the cavern.

Lachesis bit her lip, exhaled long and slow through her nose, listening to the crunch of dry conifer needles beneath her horse's hooves as they meandered closer to their destination.

Her points had been, summarily, dismissed, regarding both magical interruption and the veracity of the festival - it shocked her briefly that none of them questioned even remotely that such a location could even be the source of anything, or that it could hold celebrations to the turn of a season that seemed like a distant dream.

Her fingers tightened around the leather bridle, and Lachesis looked down at her hands, eyes narrowing a moment. There was little to say that even this moment was not a dream.

"You may call me Lachesis," she replied, instead of voicing this, too. "Should the worst occur, I will be by your sides. However, in the event that this is a festival in sincerity…I should like to enjoy ourselves, don't you think?"

When the red-haired professors asks about the voice from the dream, Uka thinks back to what he heard. "It wasn't a voice I recognized. They said they were working on a project, and that they didn't care that us being here would make someone else upset. Honestly, now that I'm thinking about it... really doesn't seem like they were trying to keep us out, were they? Not the way your queen's spell was, professor."

He, too, was an illusion-crafter.

Lachesis' mouth shut and her eyes narrowed, listening thoughtfully to the woman's disparagement of being played with - it had felt that way, hadn't it? That it was a game, that they were being shown one end of many, but whether or not it was compulsory to meet that end or to find more entertaining circumstances remained to be seen.

"I suppose to any who had been directly addressed it must have felt personal. There are only so many voices that one can hear in one's own mind." It ruffled her to think of even one other soul taking root within, let alone others. Her glance flashed curiously over to Tsubaki, quiet for a moment, before;

"While I don't believe that it is a barrier of some kind, the thought is a sound one. It could be of some equivalent, even if I don't believe its purpose was…at the very least, it's worth remembering that we were invited. If we were meant to be kept out, then that would contradict intention. No, it does seem as though we are wanted, but for what purpose."

The path wended along the cliffs, and in the distance she heard the echo of gulls against the froth of waves.

The lighthouse was drawing nearer, sky as grey as the sea below it, as the drab streaks of forest they had left behind, and even the sterile earth beneath their feet. It strained credulity to believe that any fruit came from this island, named so after a toxin, let alone tropical.

"Have any of you heard of this Herald of Spring festival before? Or known anyone else who has attended?"

"The matoi in my kingdom's culture is symbolic for protection. Long ago, they were the rallying standards of commanders on the battlefield. Eventually, they evolved into the banners flown by firefighters, signifying the presence of flames. When one sees the matoi soar, they are immediately notified of incoming calamities, and those sworn to protect them from it."

Tsubaki closes his fist around the coal. With more pressure, with the outside presence of fire, even an ordinary rock could power a kingdom. He thinks, briefly, about how they should have asked Katerina if she needed a resupply. She generously offered them lodging, after all, no humble the circumstances.

“They are emblematic of support, unity and, to me, the presence of change.” After all, the calamity they exhaust is the catalyst for transformation and rebirth, the departure of stagnancy for progress. “That is what she means to me.”

He's almost grateful that they are speaking through distant, raised voices and cavernous echoes. There is something bashfully vulnerable about admitting their genuine thoughts aloud, as if he's offered Lachesis a platform to bear witness to his heart. He loves his daughter undeniably and has always been terribly, perfectly doting but—- to give one more than a surface level glimpse of his thoughts is just so— embarrassing!

But perhaps Lachesis is the right person to gush about this with, comes another smaller whisper in Tsubaki's mind. He becomes certain of it as she speaks reason to her daughter and nephew, a truth that resonates deeply— strongly, uncontrollably, and wholeheartedly— within him.

"I understand. My daughter's birth bestowed me with truth." He shares, "Through her, my vision cleared. I knew my purpose and what I symbolized. It dawned upon me, what it means to protect—" Their grip upon the coal loosens, "—And the definition of family…"

"Or something like that!" The tense atmosphere is broken as his voice returns to its usual airy quality, followed with a laugh. "I just love her to bits!"

They decide to pocket the coal for now. If they cannot scrounge a gemstone for their daughter, then they could at least aid their host in replenishing their power source. A lighthouse, after all, requires a great sum of energy.

She hummed a sound of agreement, the corners of her eyes creasing fond and warm. Her steps had retraced themselves back to the exact crevice they had entered from, and continued forward following the marks that he and his pegasus had made. From his initial suggestion of a competition, it seemed clear that he was the type of man who would not take so kindly for her to trail behind him and offer suggestion - that would have been against the spirit anyway, no matter that she had found her prize and it rested comfortably in her pocket.

"How has your search come along, then?" She lifted her voice, determining from his reply which tunnel to venture down before continuing with a grin, "It's quite the large mine, but we may not know how much of it has been quarried and plundered."

It was mostly a tease, a little prod - she hoped that he found something, regardless. If not for himself, then for the love he shared with his daughter.

"You know," Lachesis said, veering along a separate path, deeper into the impenetrable dark, "I believe that our country's naming conventions, or at least, the reasons we choose names, feel rather similar. We don't have quite the same poetic word for such a symbol as a matoi, but Ares, and Nanna - and Diarmuid as well, my eldest, my son - they are all classical names, the names from our myths and our legends of folklore. Warriors all.

"My brother, he is the height of chivalric competency, and of course he named his little boy for a god of war. Nanna in some stories is the wife of a great Crusader, and Diarmuid a shining exemplar of men. I think," she added softly, fondly, "that the best we can do is give a child a name that is a promise - not something they need live up to, but a gift that we give to them, an assurance for how the world may be."

Or perhaps that was yet the fanciful girl in her, who had dreamt of a family in whole, while staring at the back of her brother as he rode forth on campaign.

The stones clattered underneath her feet, and the light of her spell guttered just enough at the shift in the ground, and Lachesis turned, and coughed, stepping lightly over a small crevasse, and finding when she lifted her gaze and the light once more to be rammed by a wall of dozens of flashing eyes, the screech of bats and the buffer of wings against her face familiar from the last time she had explored the depths unknown.

It takes a well-trained tongue to keep excitement at bay. Quietly, Tsubaki's smile simmers into something more mild as he patiently listens. Lachesis speaks of her daughter with a fondness that resonates within Tsubaki. Their gaze flickers sheepishly away, back towards the abyssal paths winding before them. Nanna— Lachesis's daughter, they quickly learn to identify— is present with her at the academy. This is where they diverge.

Tsubaki roams down the rockier path. Stalacites carve the walls as he, now unmounted from Homura, treads with hesitant, yet attentive steps.

"Her name is Matoi; She does not attend this academy." Odd, Tsubaki thinks, as a twisting sensation wrings inside him. They find themselves pondering; Would Lachesis think lesser of them now, knowing they position they've taken abroad despite the sacrifices? "Rather, she is currently serving as a keystone figure in Hoshido's defensive forces. Many herald her for her limitless talents and natural battle prowess, but to me—"

He readies his pickaxe, eyes locking partially upon a sizeable boulder, "—She is simply perfect."

The pickaxe swings down upon the rock structure.

"She is my daughter, after all." Another swing; only rocks tumble. "And what more can a parent ask for than that?"

Brows dip into concentration. He searches, again. "You understand, don't you? The love we give, as parents."

A key figure in defensive forces was a lot of words to describe a soldier, but the weight and heft of them imagined a noble position such that she remembered her brother and his Cross Knights, those who kept post against the border to savage Verdane and protected the Kingdom from the threat without - a distraction from the threat within, but one that could not have been avoided, for her brother's honor, for the king's.

Lachesis finally emerged in a small alcove - short enough that she need crouch, shoulders pressed inward, but the light from her spell shone forth, and her gaze alighted on a pile of debris which might have been leftover from previous mining attempts. She nearly glanced away, pushed herself back through the passage, but for the glimmer that caught her attention, brought her to kneel and dig her hands through the scree and dust to find an immaculate ruby, vibrant and fiery, uncut, unpolished, but seeming to glow from within.

"Perfect," she said aloud, parroting Tsubaki's statements. "Yes, I quite understand. I have two, you know - my daughter Nanna is here, with me, and her cousin little Ares, but my son, my eldest, he is back home."

It felt strange to refer to Agustria in such terms - or rather, not the terms, but the wistfulness, as though it were a place that she missed and not its people.

Standing, she pocketed the ruby, dusted herself off, and pushed herself back through the crevice into the more open cavern whence they had entered.

The quarry presents itself like the ones Tsubaki had read about in Nohr. Unlike the glittering Hoshidan springs, where one must dive deep into warm waters to pan out gemstones, the ores of Baile are protected in a dark, cavernous maze.

Homura gives a pensive huff as they approach the deposit's entrance. Gloved hands idly smooth down her braided mane to calm her as Tsubaki nods at Lachesis's words.

"Of course. You know, I'd never imagine we'd be mining on our vacation," Tsubaki adds in and he titters, at last, with the aid of Lachesis's amicable demeanor. "My eyes are quite set on acquiring the perfect gemstone for my daughter! It's been a while since the last time I've mined for gemstones, but no worries. I'll excavate with graceful aplomb!"

Not that she did much of getting her hands dirty in such a manner, but her eyes brightened at Tsubaki's challenge, at the mention of family of his own, and her head whipped around in a flurry of golden hair draping around her shoulders.

"You as well?" Her steps did not stop entirely as they ventured further within, the light of her spell breaching the dark and allowing her clarity on the whole glittering affair. "That's precisely who I intend to find something for - my daughter, Nanna, a student back at the Academy."

There were stakes now, weren't there? To call it a competition was formality at its height, for what mother could allow another's daughter to be at the receiving end of a lesser gift?

Her hand dragged idly along the wall as she ventured deeper, finding it stabilizing to the vastness of the network - and illuminating, in its own way, opening before her a path that led towards a nook she would not have noticed before.

"What is your daughter's name? Is she here?"

"Wellllll, in my dream, there was a lot of fire and smoke... when we landed, an angry mob took over our ship. Every other boat in the docks was burning." Uka couldn't remember if their ship was burning as well. "And the village was in chaos. It was like..."

Uka trails off, unsure on how to describe it. Someone from his homeland would understand if he talked about disciples of shadows, but something tells him these people would just look at him funny.

"...Like everything went to hell," he concludes solemnly. "And the worst part is, it felt real. I could smell it and everything." Even now Uka isn't certain if illusions are at work here. As a user of illusions himself, he knows just how dangerous it is to have one's perception tampered with.

"If we agree on a word and our minds are invaded, would that interloper not still be able to wrest that free? It felt real," she said, as close to an admission as she would make, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes against the mist. "But that is our mind that led us astray, sheerly from within - it was of no material substance."

That they knew about. It was true that the visions had detailed more smoke and destruction than where they currently found themselves, but there were accuracies prophetic nonetheless - the faces of villagers, the mayor, the layout of the town itself, a disappointment that none anticipating a festival could have predicted.

Lachesis cocked her head.

"For that matter…doesn't it strike as odd? Even though the dream was false, its location was still here, before we even set foot on the island. Do any of us know, personally, those who reside here?"

The path to the cliffs, and down into the mine itself, was as desolate as the march through the forest to get to their destination. Indeed, both felt like a march, one that she had done time and again through landscapes are barren and with a heart empty of anything but her rage, her despair to keep her company.

Her nose wrinkled gently at the path zigzagging down the cliff-face and into the opening quarry, dismounting briefly to guide her horse downward. It was a foolish task, but there was something in her gut that would not allow it to leave her sight. At worst, she would need to send her horse back to the entrance, and move on by foot.

This was not the outlook she should be having for a vacation. The thought had occurred to her many a time, on the ship in between those wretched nightmares, and when they had broken ground, and when they had marched - there that feeling again, that she was on campaign once more, and not visiting a tourist attraction to acquire a unique gift for her lovely daughter.

Lachesis exhaled a rough sigh, then smiled at her companion. "I see the entrance just ahead, Professor Tsubaki. Here, allow me."

Lifting a hand, she called forth the light that expanded and caught along the walls of the mine's entrance.

It's still winter technically, but... To Uka, it looks like it's been seasons since these barren fields produced anything of value. Between this, the mysterious key in his pocket, and that dream...

"Hey, weird question," Uka calls to the three professors walking alongside him to the lighthouse. "And maybe last night's gruel just didn't agree with me..."

There was a sense of discomfort in the air while they waited for their ship to dock. Whether it's the dream or something else that caused it, it seems worthwhile to address the feeling.

"Did anyone else get a super weird dream last night?"

"This all feels rather like a strange dream," she murmured, which did not wholly answer the question. She had, of course, experienced nothing less than a shocking nightmare in the sway of the ship before they had reached port, but these types of experiences were nothing new for her, and for a while she was content to wave it off as merely the turbulence of the passage, in spite of the pointed voice telling her of its deliberation.

Of those she had been assigned bunk, she only knew Professor Tsubaki in passing for his competence at their dance during the Ethereal Ball, months hence, but of these other two she knew even less.

Her eyes narrowed at the passing tree trunks until the smell of salt broke the air, and she turned to see the figure of the lighthouse itself, towering and imposing in the distance, waiting for them.

"What was it that you saw?" Not admittance, but neither dismissal.

I have been told that I’m quite difficult to lead—those words echo in her mind when Poe is finally given the opportunity to look Lachesis in the eye again, and she is still left wondering to what extent that may be true. She didn’t think she believed it, but she didn’t have a hard time believing that someone might say that. Judge, jury, and executioner in one knew intimately that people flustered when confronted with their own flaws, projected and deflected so that they wouldn’t have to face their own truth.

Easier to blame anyone else than oneself.

She’d started this dance with a promise, and while she can’t follow through on it in its entirety, it wouldn’t do to abandon it entirely; with them having made it through the song without so much as a stumble, it went without saying that a reward was due, and so Poe proffers a lily to the other.

“If that ends up being the case, I will look forward to it,” she says with a wink. “But otherwise, I look forward to seeing you again with your new position.”

“Here is the most perfect apple we had access to. I hope it is to your liking.” L’Arachel offered, kneeling down on one knee and holding it out in both palms. Whilst she is tempted to share how it was obtained, she worries that it may serve to validate her earlier concerns, so she remains silent and reverent in front of the equine.

Wordlessly, Princess takes the apple, and moves over to the other horses. A long, drawn out discussion ensues, a flurry of neighs and grunts and snorts, until finally a bunch of sighs signify the end of the discussion and the coming to an agreement.

“After a proper, arduous discussion, we have decided that your offering is most acceptable. You have earned our trust, at least, for now. Of course, whilst we are willing to put our trust in you, we still have to exercise caution in case you will not be able to succeed. The strike will be lifted for riders that we have never had issues with so far. Anyone else shall not be permitted to ride. I trust there shall be no problem with this?” Princess asks, voice stern.

“It is quite better than nothing at all, I say. And besides, if you do not permit someone to ride you, they only have themselves to blame.” L’Arachel crosses her arms, eliciting a snort from Princess.

“Quite right indeed. Well then, if we are in agreement, I shall look forward to our continued partnership. And, if you require a steed, know I shall be willing to oblige the two of you for the assistance you have shown us.” Princess offers, slight relief breaking through the commandeering tone of voice she usually takes.

She bows her hair down towards L’Arachel, and L’Arachel takes it as a clear sign to once again give some proper scratches to her equine ally’s withers, eliciting a pleased sigh once more.

She herself feels her heart bursting with pride; having managed to reassure these horses that justice shall be served. And it shall indeed be served! L’Arachel will make absolute sure of it.

Giving a pleased smile to Princess Lachesis, L’Arachel is most certain now that it was fate, ever so wise, that brought the three princesses together in order to solve this crisis. Hopefully, even after everything is properly sorted out and their equine friends are happy, there can be many more meetings to come.

Zasha wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing it, after all- not surprising given his only frame of reference. For all his job amounted to, war, and the battles it brought, was only profitable, not pleasant, and the tools it favored were the same.

Sharp eyes do not fail to notice how she tears her gaze away from his painting and he does not blame her, whether through its vibrant color palette or the knowledge of what the subject was not to be, it was not a particularly appealing sight.

"Then I'll submit this to the competition, if you don't mind." Even if he doesn't win, it's worth a shot- the prize pool was not small.

"…Thanks for humoring my questions."

Zasha isn't sure if this was something she even wanted to be thanked for, given her initial reaction to the entire situation- but one could never know when or how someone may take any innocuous statement.

They both seemed to have opinions on it that they were either unwilling to share, or uncertain about in some way. The painting looked…like it was painted by an amateur who did not know what he was painting, although if she were being judicious, then all of them looked like that. Some of them, when she walked past the row of them under judgement , had blobs of color and attempts at shape and form which she suspected might have been wyverns, or their eggs, or their riders - others had unsteady lines and open space without much to fill it.

Theirs was the only one that engaged a reaction from her, visceral, from within her gut, and that, she thought, was actually what the experience of being near a wyvern was most alike. It was not a thing that one could merely behold - it was a sensation, to every part of oneself.

Shaking her head, Lachesis inhaled sharply, finding herself back within her quarters much later, and only could then acknowledge that she had, at her most rude, not even asked the young man for his name.

Days later, when the cleric came by with a small pouch of coin, did she learn to her astonishment that their effort had earned second marks.

She did not ask the cleric then for the man's name.

That, she thought, she would earn herself.

It shall be a tricky task, L’Arachel thinks as they enter the cafeteria, full of life as ever, but she shall manage! There cannot be any other option!

Reciprocating the smile that Lady Lachesis has given her, L’Arachel hangs around the dining hall for a bit; if she were to stand right near the kitchens all the time, she would be noticed quite quickly!

Instead, she waits, and brings her plan into motion only when Lachesis has fully entered into conversation with the staff; and how admirable of the princess, to do some proper work for the diversion. Lesser royals would balk at the mere thought.

She moves swiftly, keeping a low profile as she sneaks from the dining hall into the kitchens. Whilst there are no eyes on the green haired beauty, she knows that heads turn towards her quite easily, so she best get to work and fast.

Thankfully, a barrel of apples is right in sight, and L’Arachel starts rummaging through it with speeds one would typically see on a battlefield. But that does not mean she is careless with how she observes the apples, oh no. Each apple is observed quite thoroughly to see whether or not it deserves to be called perfect.

That one is too mushy. That one has a hole in it. That one is way too small. That one has had a bumpy journey to the monastery and is soft in spots.

Eventually, a small pile of apples finds themselves on the nearby countertop; L’Arachel is not a brute that would place them all carelessly on the floor mind you. She holds yet another apple in her hands, one she expects will end up on the pile, when she pauses, giving it yet another look.

It’s big, it’s firm, it has no holes or bruising, and it is a quite pleasing shade of red. L’Arachel is quite certain this shall be their perfect apple! She quickly strikes a victorious pose, before swiftly yet carefully depositing all the other apples back into the barrel.

Her task done, and with a splendid display of stealth (or so she thinks, anyways), she looks around, staying put for an opening before sprinting out when one presents itself. She runs outside the dining hall, conceals the perfect apple on her personage, then walks back into the cafeteria, giving Princess Lachesis a wave.

Once she is certain she has caught her compatriot’s awareness, she walks back outside and takes the apple out again, showing it off proudly the moment she arrives.

"Is that-?"

"Would you say that these are chopped fine enough?" Lachesis interjected, turning her work towards the cleric before the woman could move back into the area where L'Arachel had gone. At the furrow of the cleric's brow, Lachesis canted her head and smiled meaningfully, a universal gesture to go along with it.

"I…suppose. Well. Your chopping is still rough. Can definitely tell your hands were made for different work, Miss Lachesis."

"Too right," she admitted with a laugh, and they continued on.

When time came, that L'Arachel had absconded with their chosen prize, Delia sighed and shrugged, glancing at the little pyramid of apples remaining on the counter. "I guess 'tis a sign from the heavens that it's apple stew tonight, eh? Perhaps a sausage dressing."

"My, your Goddess does grant you the most useful visions," replied Lachesis with a wink, removing her apron and dipping a little at the hip. "Please, find me if there is anything you might need."

Retreating from the kitchens and finding her compatriot was a simple matter, and her expression grew warm at L'Arachel's excitement at finding what she had deemed a most worthy apple.

She cannot see Lachesis’ face, but she can hear her tone, she can feel the press of her lips upon the back of her hand, and she can certainly feel the adeptness with which she leads. Were all good dancers good teachers, good leaders? Obviously not—she had grown up a noble herself, and she had met plenty of peers more than capable of putting on a show and less than capable of thinking about anyone besides themselves. But there is an even strength that Lachesis displays; there are proper manners that speak to an understanding of the laws of give and take; and there is a comprehension of the responsibility that comes with guidance.

Well, not that she needed to put any of that into such concrete thoughts to come to her conclusion. Poe was an expert at passing snap judgements of others’ characters. A sixth sense of sorts.

But Fodlan, for the time that she had been here, was markedly different. Perhaps it was the character of the Academy itself that drew in such fond hands to guide.

The most important place in the world…

The spell began to fizzle and fade, removing the sheer white from her vision in a gradation of color and focus until she began to see the outlines of the floor, the scant other couples moving about while the song came to its conclusion, and finally the shape of her partner.

Reflexively, she gave Poe's hand a final squeeze, gentle, before releasing and drawing herself to stand a little straighter, waiting for her visibility to return in full before dipping into a low curtsey. Her smile widened upon rise, eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the ballroom.

"When you say it like that, it seems as though the responsibility of duty should call to me. I shall consider it, not merely for your suggestion. I have found…a need for purpose, and it is as you say. What greater purpose could there be?

Besides, their words do strike true; Princes and Princesses are quite capable of wrongdoing. True, the wrongdoing she has encountered is more akin to almost letting a Demon King take over the entirety of Magvel, but if royalty can do that, surely they can also mistreat horses.

Their request is the most perfect apple that the two of them have access to, and upon hearing that, a thought in L’Arachel’s mind forms immediately. One that… she is not the biggest fan of, admittedly, but she knows for a fact this idea should work. And if it does not, she shall be quite cross at Soren next time she sees him.

“We shall do our utmost best to provide. If it is most alright with you, I would like to discuss the course of action with Princess Lachesis.” L’Arachel bows before Princess.

“Very well.” She nods, before turning back to discuss something or other with her fellow horses.

L’Arachel, meanwhile, starts moving in the direction of the cafeteria, stopping after a bit in order to discuss her plan with Lady Lachesis.

“Whilst this plan is of… slightly dubious legality, I think it is more than a fair trade-off for the monastery if it means we gain the trust of our equine friends. Besides, they brought it upon themselves by mistreating them so.” She shakes her head, a smirk on her face.

“I am quite certain that the monastery’s kitchen is in possession of a high quantity of apples; most likely our perfect apple ought to be amongst those. If you were to cause some sort of diversion that would allow me to rifle through the apples, we ought to be able to prove our trustworthiness to Princess and her fellow horses in no time!” She says, striking quite the proud pose.

Her eyebrows raised at L'Arachel's detailing of the situation, and after a beat the corners of her lips as well.

"Indeed…yes I suppose that is amenable to me. There should have been a new shipment received recently. We should hurry, before the pies for supper are baked."

She was teasing the girl, if only lightly, but it did not seem entirely that L'Arachel would note this, with her confidence at the dubiousness of the action's morals. In any case, she was perfectly happy to allow L'Arachel to hunt - if her mind went to such extremes for a solution, then her standards would be exacting to find the precise apple they needed.

"Come. I've worked in the kitchens," she said as they walked, along the flagstone paths from the stables and knights hall towards the dining hall; "And many there know me. I would not say that I am…welcome behind the counters," she added with a laugh, "but my presence there would not raise any concern."

The hall itself was abustle, as was usual for the time of day - in between afternoon classes, but not so near to dinnertime that every soul in the monastery would be present. Lachesis tilted her head in gesture, and granted L'Arachel another reassuring smile, before making her way behind the counter, fingers instinctively reaching for an apron.

"Hello Delia," she greeted the cleric there, gathering her hair easily out of the way, in preparation to work. "I had a few spare moments, is…there anything that has a pressing need?"

That was at most of a denial that she would get- and a fair one nonetheless, his canvas undoubtedly holding a very different scene from those of the other painters who still joked with their partners.

He sits back down at the aisle, almost reluctantly, if one could attribute such an emotion to his actions. After all, his palette was still running decidedly short on red. To be fair- his canvas was almost coated in it.

"There's only a little more to add, I think," Which was being generous. Zasha was no artist, and though his piece was clearly painted by an amateur, he had no idea of where to begin to correct it.

"It was certainly… a unique way of going about it." He offers, "I can't say that I was able to follow it all."

What was left was merely covering the edges of blue paint that has now dried, and adding some detail to the figure in the center. He stares at the canvas, doing nothing, for a mote too long-

Then sighs.

"How lucky you are," she said, but it was lighter than anything else she had told him prior to that.

Cocking her head, craning a bit to glimpse at what might have been on his canvas, angled so out of her view, Lachesis considered. His palette was a gruesome mess, and it tightened in her throat to think that the red needed grains of sand mixed into it.

She dragged her eyes away, before she found herself stuck, swallowed by the storm and winds of a lifetime ago, that which had swallowed her dear friends, had nearly consumed the girl that she had been.

The canvas might have looked all the more complete with a knife in its center, but for the first time that afternoon, Lachesis resisted the urge to say so, and simply shook her head.

"No, I fear that I've nothing further to say, nothing that could emphasize the truth of them for you. Even if you do not know anything about them, I still feel that perhaps if you saw one, then it might all fall into place. Although," she admitted with a sigh, "the monastery keeps them, in roost separate from the pegasi, I believe. It…must be said that there are skilled riders here, or so I'm told."