DANDELION.

i've had a lot of thoughts on perne's combat style and his whole deal with fighting in general for a While now and never thought to bring them to words until now. i also wanted to build a solid case for my thoughts instead of letting them wander too far and i think i've got a lot of it down. fair warning: i get very insane about this. like 'i start citing base stats and growth rates' insane.

tl;dr: he utilizes a very fast and defensive style; he usually fights in self-defense and focuses on dispatching his foes more often than slaying them, until he joins the liberation army, where he grows more assertive and actually starts going for kills.

regnalastra​:

“this hardly explains a thing.” ayra mutters to herself with an exasperated tone. she unsheathes her sword regardless, for all she knew how to do in this sort of situation was fight. perhaps sigurd would have been able to figure out a peaceful way to deal with a dragon but she was not at all like him.

a familiar stance is taken as the dragon settles down on the ground with another loud roar, tail whipping through an entire building. the damage to the village this thing would do if it were not taken care of would be catastrophic; she finds herself growing annoyed with the knight that insists the dragon not be hurt.

yeah. maybe in a fantasy land where everything magically goes well.

“try not to get hurt.” ayra tosses, at least in her dictionary, affectionate words his way before charging in the direction of the dragon. if he was a knight of seiros he’d be able to handle himself hopefully…. otherwise she’d lose what little faith she had in the church left.

the cold steel of the killing edge in her hand is soothing enough that she handles the right flank with grace even as the knight shouts at the both of them not to hurt it.

she manages one strike against the leg and the dragon stumbles from the wound, however it pops right back up and snaps at her with it’s teeth in retaliation.  she clicks her tongue in annoyance, dodging out of the way before her arm can be bitten clean off.

she doesn’t pay attention to what the other person does, only hopes that he’s competent enough to take advantage of the opening she’s given him by charging ahead first.

       SHE'S COLD AS WINTER, Perne thinks, but she handles her blade well. In a strange way, she reminds him of Troude, especially with the sharpness of her swordsmanship. The thief smiles to himself. Someone like Troude… yeah, he can definitely work with that.

       "You too." Perne shoots back, though he doubts she's heard him, what with the way she charges at the beast. Her strong and swift strike causes the dragon to bow forward with a responding bite. She dodges, her feet as fleeting as the wind. All the while, the townspeople around them continue to shout in horror.

       Perne huffs. Impressive… but he's not about to let himself lose to that display. Not when there’s a dragon that needs killing.

       He charges from the other side— the dragon's blind spot— and uses his sprint to power the strength behind his sword. Perne thrusts his blade as deep into the creature's neck as he can, grunting with effort at the thickness of its scales. The thing lets out a great roar, thrashing and twisting its body. Perne barely manages to pull back his sword and roll out of the way of the dragon's fierce stomping.

       The great beast rears itself back, standing on its hind claws. A ball of energy glows where his jaw is unhinged. It was charging an attack— and a big one, by the looks of it. But it was also leaving its chest open and exposed in the process. Perne looks to his companion and nods.

       "Let's go at it together?" he says, though he doubts he needed to. She seems quick-witted enough to figure that out herself.

illeoneardito​:

@pahndelion ; Sword +1

“Watch out!”

This thing is hairy, huge and hefty, but thankfully, not particularly trained in swordsmanship; that ends up being Roy’s saving grace as the agile youth ducks to avoid a heavy, barbarian-like swing aimed squarely at his chest, before withdrawing a safe distance away from the unlikely opponent, using the Sealed Forest’s plentiful trees as cover.

When his lord father and the Pheraean knights recommended that he travel overseas for studies, to learn new things beyond Elibe’s potential and broaden his horizons more than ever before, this is probably not what they had in mind.

“Watch OUT I said!” Roy shouts again, an extra note of desperation in his voice, as the monkey stretches out its long, muscular arm and throws the sword it’s wielding at one of the Knights akin to a spear; the man only barely gets himself out of harm’s way in time, and the blade ends up embedded in another tree. Unfortunately, before anyone can get a hold of it, the animal reaches and retrieves it first. The damn thing is fast for its size.

There is clear exasperation in the sigh he lets out as he withdraws a few steps, catching up with another Knight that had come to this bizarre mixture of a search mission, rescue mission and battle. As their eyes meet, the pleading in Roy’s gaze makes it clear that the prince is well and truly out of ideas right now.

“This monstrosity has the strength of several trained men. I’ve no clue how we’re meant to subdue it without doing it harm. At least it hasn’t managed to climb on a tree yet, but…”

           IT'S AWFULLY DIFFICULT TO GET his wits about him when he's fighting… well, whatever the hell this orange thing is. The panicked shrieks of the fire-haired student with him certainly isn't helping either. Perne grunts as he rolls onto the ground, his thief's speed allowing him to dodge the blade that's meant for him. It stabs through the trunk of the tree behind him, and he winces at the dull sound— that could have easily been him getting splintered. 

          Quickly, his hands reach for the hilt, but before they even have a chance to grasp the ends of it, the creature returns. It's surprisingly dextrous for its size, swatting Perne's hand away and ripping it from the tree in one fell swoop. The thief dives to the opposite side, using all four of his limbs to swiftly make his way near the bushes where Roy stands. 

          He doesn't see why they can't hurt it, especially when it was doing its damned hardest to hurt them. A swift buck to its head would fix things. But he has a job now. A real job, with real instructions, and a real salary that would get cut if he fooled around too much. And, more than that, he has a student to babysit. His usual style wouldn't cut it, here.

          He mutters a curse underneath his breath as he gets into a fighting stance, unsheathing the sword that the knights demanded he carry at all times.

          "Yeah, it's strong…" Perne nods, panting through his words, "but it ain't the sharpest tool in the shed. I reckon we could get it back to its owner if we outsmarted it."

          He turns to look at Roy, then back to the sword-wielding beast. He sighs. He always disliked bringing kids in the frontlines; they were always more of a liability than anything useful. At least Tina could steal things from afar with her magic, but this guy? He looked greener than the Dakia grass. If he went anywhere near that thing… well. Let's just say only one ginger biped would survive the fight, and it wasn’t the one enrolled in the academy.

          "Listen, I've got a mission for ya, kid— distract that thing. Keep its focus elsewhere." he lifts up his sword, "I'm gonna try and disarm it."

          It’s a stupid plan, he knows. But it’s also pretty stupid how they can’t hurt the thing— it just might cancel it out. Before Roy can even hope to protest, Perne sets off, entering the forest clearing where the beast roamed about. It roars as soon as it sees him, and lunges at him sword-first. Perne grits his teeth as he just barely parries the thrust. The creature lets out a low rumble, then uses its weapon to slash at his legs.

          Perne lands on the floor, his sword falling out of his grasp. His eyes widen; oh gods. This guy is NOT distracted. The thing stands over him, its legs keeping him pinned onto the ground. Perne groans. Suppose he deserved this for underestimating him.

          The creature lifts its sword over its head, going for the kill. Perne winces. He hates babysitting.

      IT'S ENTERTAINING TO HIM, the way she grows red with anger. He wonders if she knows how little sense she makes— hearing her say she'd rather be taken by the Loptr sect makes him think that she's just as much of a nutjob as they are. But that's not to say that her feelings are entirely unjustified. Her mention of Salem brings a thoughtful hum to his lips.

      "Ah yeah, I'll admit I didn't really think about gettin' ya home…" he says with a nod, "but, hey, ya got back home eventually, right?" he wags a finger at her, "Don't think ya'd be alive to see that day were it not for me keepin' ya in line."

      Perne adds, "Besides, ya had a talent for stealin' shit. Ya helped a lot of people with that staff of yours! Ya probably stole enough shit to feed a family. Ain't that somethin' sweet?"

      He waves a hand, signaling the end of the discussion. Perne's not in the mind to argue for such things, anyways. It doesn't matter whether or not Tina thinks he's some villain— all that matters is that he did what he could. And he'd say he did a decent job of it, all things considered. But perhaps the Tahran is too young to understand nuance quite like that.

      Hearing her comments, he certainly thinks she is.

      "Ya think I care about what the knights think of me?" Perne says with a laugh, pushing her finger away with his hand, "Listen, kiddo. If they really gave a rat's ass about breakin' the law, I'd say that they'd see more depravity in those cushy noble families they serve more than they do me." 

      He knows whose gold lined their pockets; all he ever did was return those riches to their rightful owners. That Seiros lady they worship would enjoy that, he thinks. 

      Perne gives Tina a smile— one without a hint of strain behind it. "'s not like I bully kids on the regular, anyways. Like I said, I only do that sorta thing when it's necessary."

      IT'S NOT EXACTLY A CONSCIOUS DECISION, walking towards Tina— in fact, Perne finds himself unaware of the fact that he's approaching until the young Tahran threatens to shout. He stops in his tracks, blinking for a moment… before bursting out into a round of raucous laughter.

      "Hey, now!" he says, a grin plastered across his face, "I hardly think that's fair. Didja really think I'd let ya slip past me without sayin' hello?"

      Perne tsks, though it's not the cluck of concern Tina's mother-hen of an older sister does— it's teasing and intentionally annoying. Ignoring whatever protests she may have, Perne nears her, getting close enough to take one good look at her.

      She hasn't grown much since the war. If her little hissy fit's any indicator, then she's still that same sheltered and snotty kid. He always thought that war changed people, for better or for worse. Tina is a glaring exception. Perne huffs. 

      "And 'big bully'? Really? I wouldn't have scared the livin' daylights outta ya if I didn't have to. Ya ought to be thankin' me— it would've been reeeal easy to hand a brat like you over to those sickos in the Loptr church."

      He crosses his arms. He doesn't think she knows how difficult she is to take care of. A kid like her, running off alone in Thracia… well. She's practically begging for the empire to snatch her away. But she's not his problem anymore. He can take comfort in that thought, at least.

Ethlyn laughs heartily as she perches herself on her own stool.  She sits with the perfect posture expected of a princess despite the rather dingy appearance of the setting they’re in.  It’s been drilled into her so strongly by strict tutors that she really has to think if she wants to slouch.

“Hot shots, huh? It seems that runs in the family.”  Sigurd.  Seliph.  Leif.  Altena.  Each of them has left a legacy behind that would make their crusader ancestors proud.  She wonders how she herself is remembered but she does not dare ask.  A fool led into a trap.

Ethlyn orders a pitcher of ale for the both of them to share. She figures she owes Perne at least that for the shock he must be feeling at being coworkers with a dead woman. Though, really, she ought to offer to pay for his drinks for the rest of the time he’s employed here knowing that he fought under her son’s banner.

“I guess I’m used to only parts of Thracia thinking fondly of my family. But ah, I’m sure you aren’t interested in hearing a mother gush over her kids!”

       THE PITCHER OF ALE IS cheerily placed down on their table, amber liquid sloshily lapping at the brim. A hand goes down to his pocket to fetch what little gold he's earned so far. But he soon figures that Ethlyn could more than pay for the both of them— she's the mother of the king, after all. Even if her pockets weren't lined with gold, she could probably put this on Leif's tab.

       Perne helps himself to a glass, gulping down a good chunk of it all at once. Though, thinking on it now, perhaps it would be better to pace himself. He sets it down, and wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist as he responds.

       "Nah, nah. You're good!” he waves a hand, “What's a tavern for if not chit-chat, eh?"

       He can't fault the lady for getting all bright-eyed about her kids, besides. Perne imagines he'd speak with the same excitement if she asked about the Dandelion gang. He puts his hands on his nape, folding his elbows and leaning back slightly as he eases into a more comfortable position.

       "We've got the rest of the evenin', anyways. Hell, we could probably spend the night here if ya wanted." He chuckles to himself, knowing full well of the knightly duties that awaited him in the morning. He’ll get to that when he got to that.

regnalastra​:

@pahndelion [ task board: any skill +1]

she wakes up from her nap in the library with a start, unfamiliar settings all around her. this isn’t the garreg mach monastery, but nor is this anywhere in isaach she’s ever been to. nothing recognizable, except for the vague understanding that this was some sort of village. she tries to ask around for help but…

all of them. all of the people she encounters within the village parrot the same exact generic line. if she didn’t know any better she would say she was stuck within some kind of fantasy story. that would be absurd— but with each villager she talks to she begins to believe it.

at some point she stops talking to what she would come to think are background character knowing it was a waste of time, instead looking for someone from the monastery that could perhaps give her some kind of answer. it doesn’t take her long to find a familiar (enough) head of blue hair also looking just as confused as she imagined she did. she hadn’t talked to him but she knew of him; a member of the knight of seiros. that’s all it takes to get her to approach him.

she could handle being by herself, she just wanted to know what was going on.

“hey, you.” she calls out to him, approaching quickly with perhaps not the most friendly look on her face. “do you know what’s happening here? where are—” just as she begins to ask him questions, a huge shadow flies over them with the sound of flapping wings and a loud guttural roar.

ayra looks up in surprise, startled perhaps a little too easily. “what the hell?” her hand reflexively moves to the sword at her waist as panic begins to spread through the small crowd of villagers

        "WHADDYA MEAN I 'CANNOT HARM IT?'"

        Disbelief turns his voice a slight pitch upwards when Perne echoes the knight's statement. The whole reason why he approached the guy in the first place was to propose bringing the big baddie down. He wasn’t even planning on killing the thing! ...Yet. Whatever the case, that a knight would beg him not to hurt the thing feels awfully off.

        Not to say the rest of this village didn't seem off their rocker. Every person he's asked responded with the same line, again and again. This place was banged up pretty badly, yeah, with scorched hay roofs and dirt scattered all over town— but he doesn't think things would mess them up so badly that they'd start acting like that…

        A gauntleted hand tugs at his sleeve. Perne looks down to see the knight stare back at him, eyes watery and pleading. "Please, good sir. You cannot, under any circumstances, harm that dragon!"

        "The dragon that's been harassin' your people? The same people ya were s'posed to protect?" The thief scoffs, a hand going to the hilt of his sword. "Right. Like hell I'm bein' gentle with that thing. Thanks for answerin', anyways."

        With that, he turns, ready to resume his search for the damn beast. But before he can get too far, he hears something he never thought he would; he hears someone call for him.

        "Who… Oh! You're here too?" 

        Perne swivels his head to meet with whoever called him, and is met with a vaguely familiar face. He thinks he's seen her in… the monastery, maybe? Either way, she wasn't some mindless, soulless villager; or a dragon-defending knight. And that's enough to put him at ease, even if she rocked one hell of a scowl on her face.

        He jogs up to her, "I dunno the full of it, but basically there's this— oh good fuckin' grief."

        A roar cuts his explanation short. A large shadow passes over them, wind from flapping wings blowing through their hair. Perne grits his teeth. All around him he can hear villages scream, their voices same-sounding yet gutting all the same. He sucks in a breath. At least he doesn't have to go looking for it anymore.

        "Welp. There's your explanation." He unsheathes his sword, knees bending as he scans the skies. The dragon would swoop down any minute now. He turns to her briefly, nodding. "You take the right side, I take left?"

        "Please!" The knight yells through the noise, "Cannot! Under any circumstances! Harm that dragon!"

saionofvalflame​:

You watch as the storybook characters play out their scripted lives, day in and day out.  As though fettered, they stick to their routines; they fulfill their roles - or lack thereof. They do what must be done to keep the main beats of their storybook life going. But what happens if something new and different were to be introduced by an outside force? Will they continue on as if nothing happened? Or will they instead break? Perhaps you might be inclined to find out. [Grants Reason +1]

Most people, when faced with being sucked into a storybook out of nowhere, might be shocked, confused, or distraught about their new predicament. Considering what he experienced during the mission to the Sealed Forest in his first month here, such a situation is fairly par for the course for Saias. If anything, this seems tame compared to fighting shadowy versions of their comrades, witnessing infinite alternate realities, or even fighting ice-spitting monsters in a magical school, as Chrom related to him after his first month. There is most likely a way out of the storybook, but what that way out entails, the redhead finds himself unsure.

The… people in the village, or more accurately characters, bustle about the area performing their respective jobs. By now Saias has met several laguz in his time at the academy, so seeing each character’s animalistic features doesn’t shock him so much. What does strike him as strange, as he observes them, is the repetitiveness of their actions. Even if someone does the same job in the same way every day, there are usually differences ranging from subtle to obvious that set each day of work apart from one another. But by the fourth day, the mage can’t find any such tells in any of the villagers’ routines.

It’s like someone took a photograph, like the ones from the ball’s artifices, and duplicated it over and over, only these “photographs” are moving. Is it because this is a work of fiction and these people are not directly in the author’s spotlight? And therefore they’ve been resigned to repeating the same exact tasks over and over? The whole thing is strange and eerie, and Saias can’t help but feel incredibly alone, a single metaphorical splash of color amidst a monotonous grey background, set apart by his freedom of choice.

Except, as he walks amongst the town square’s crowd for what feels like the umpteenth time, a movement in his periphery catches his eye. Turning, the young mage spies a man with dark blue hair, one he hadn’t seen before and can’t recall being part of the story’s routine. And the fact that he lacks animal traits…! Is he from the academy too?!

“Hey! Excuse me, sir, are you with Garreg Mach Monastery?” he calls out, running towards the man. Finally, someone else who doesn’t belong here either! He can’t help the rush of hope that floods his heart as he races towards the man, questions in his throat and a smile on his lips.

starter for @pahndelion

         HE'S GOT THEIR MOVEMENTS DOWN TO A T. Picking up on people’s habits is a little party trick of his, after all. But anyone could do it if they, like him, witnessed the same monotone scene play out for days now. He thinks it's been days, anyways— kind of hard to say when everything looks the same. Perne maintains his position in the village's center, sitting idly at a bench as he watches the same old dance and song.

         There that man goes, carrying a bucket to the well. He's singing something that he doesn't think others can hear— oh, but Perne hears it. But the guy doesn't know that. He only continues singing, tail swishing to the tune. And he’ll continue singing tomorrow, too. And the day after that.

         Perne shifts his gaze further to the left and spots a lady and her child. The kid's going to break away from her and chase a butterfly through the plaza crowd. She won't notice, and will go home with one hand freer than the other. Without fail. Perne wonders if the woman just tilted her head slightly, or just felt the sudden chill come upon her palm as it is emptied, or just did anything different at all, if the kid would've gone home that night. He wonders if she can do anything different at all, really— everyone he's seen so far seems awfully stuck to their routine. Day in, day out, they went through the same movements with a stiff, stubborn vigor.

         It never seemed like they had a choice. And the thought of that kinda pisses him off. Freedom's something that they should always have. Besides, this sort of monotone living makes for one boring-as-hell existence— and as Perne doesn't know how much longer he'll be stuck here... well. He’s just itching to spice things up.

         His eyes return to the plaza. He sees the stall vendors ring bells and cup hands over mouths as they try to sell their wares. They're hoping to gather more customers. But they won't, considering the way the day loops. He sees the same heads flow in the sea of people, hears the same footsteps and village gossip. There's that brunette, limping through the crowd as always. And that young man nicking from a stall— gods bless him. And there's that redhead that's running towards him…wait. 

         That’s new.

         Perne shoots up from his bench, eyes widening as he listens to him speak. Now this is interesting. He takes a moment to take in the sight of him— now, Perne's always a fan of familiar faces, but by Heim is it a delight seeing someone whose features he hasn't memorized. What’s more: the little guy knows the monastery! Could this be the ticket to escaping this monotony? The thief shares his grin, a relieved laugh escaping smiling lips.

hello hello! perney boy here is unaffiliated, so he’s free to go for all the mission prompts! though i’m limiting this only to about 2-3 since i don’t want to add too much to his backlog. please ping me in the plotting channel or dm me here if you’re interested! i’m open to plot for any of the missions but here are some that i’m particularly interested in:

- any weapon +1. it’d be a fun thing to explore, i think. he’d definitely go for subduing the dragon, or even killing it if necessary.

- reason +1. perne would love to introduce these npcs to the virtue of free will! and would also love (and have fun) bothering them a lil.

that’s all for wanted plots! as for housekeeping, here’s a list of all the active threads i have so far

- how to succeed in thievery without really trying (w/ julia, leif, deirdre)

- salem mini

- ethlyn mini

i also have a starter i owe someone

all my threads are still waiting on me orz. apologies if i’ve kept you all waiting for too long; ball stuff and irl fatigue have me struggling to write a bit. but i’ll be graduating in a few days which hopefully means i can have much more time to myself and, subsequently, my writing!

we’re ballin’

          HE CAN'T HELP THE LAUGH that leaves him at the mage's request. It's an awfully complicated way of saying he wanted a nice memento to leave the ball with— and yet it's an awfully Salem way to ask. The thoughtful way his eyes fall onto the headbands, and the way he speaks of the wearer's joy… it's very him. Perne finds himself charmed.

          "Of course we'll try! Ya didn't even need to ask." He smiles, taking a pair of cat ears in one movement then grasping Salem's hand with another. For all that they've been through together, he can't recall experiencing something as fun as this. It's pretty sweet that this one happy moment of theirs gets to be preserved, then. He slips the accessory on, fluffing the faux fur with a few brushes of his finger.

"Oh! I got it!" The idea clicks in her head and Silvia slides down into an effortless split with her arms raised up. "Tada! Now you just gotta think of something cute to do!"

we’re ballin’

           BY HEIM, CAN THIS LADY SPLIT. Perne huffs, impressed as she executes the movement with ease. It looks as natural as breathing for her. Watching her flare her arms up and outwards, a dazzling smile on her face as she asks him to make a pose of his own, he's reminded of Lara. He finds himself wishing she were here, too. She'd be thrilled to have a snazzy photo of her own, he thinks.

          Perne inhales. Alright, looks like he'll just have to take a snazzy photo in her stead.

          "I'm 'fraid my pose ain't gonna look as cute as yours," he says, stretching his back and ignoring the groan that nearly escapes him (no… he's not that old), "but I'll try my damn hardest to keep up!"

          His ‘damn hardest consists’ of bending over to rest his chin atop her head, and stretching his arms as far as he can so as to match her length. It takes a bit of effort, and an embarrassing pop of his shoulder, but he makes it eventually. Their hands touch just in time for the artifex's click, and the photo that eventually emerges brings a smile to Perne's face.

          "Well, well, well, won't cha look at that!" He says, holding it up for her to see, "We're formin' a diamond! …I think that's what it called, 'nyways."

“What, me? I ain’t underdressed. The rest of y’all are just overdoin’ it.”

Though the thief insists upon it, he regardless buttons up his vest, and quickly runs fingers down his hair. It’d be embarrassing for whoever was caught in the ball with him, he thinks. And there’s someone he’d very much like to get caught in the ball with. Thus, he puts in a bit of effort... just this once.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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starter for @prhyst!

    THIS ISN'T THE STRANGEST thing he's dragged himself into. A roleplaying game played out in the open for the whole student body to see? Pssh, he's done worse. But as he gears up in faux armor, and straps a dinky wooden sword to his hip, the black paint chipping off the hilt, he thinks to himself— it's probably one of the most fun. He smiles as he finishes costuming himself, tying a cloth band around his brow to complete the look.

    "...And what did you say your character's name was, again?" The student in charge asks him.

    "Troude." He answers readily. Gods, it's hard to say it with a straight face.

    "Right... Troude the hot myrmidon…" the kid scribbles it down on a piece of paper. They hand it over to Perne, a finger tapping on the blank spaces.

    "Anyways, before our campaign starts, we'll need another myrm. Can I ask you to find someone?"

    Perne grins. "Leave it to me."

    His eyes are quick to scan the courtyard their game's situated in, head swiveling as he searches every corner for a familiar face. It's fairly crowded at this time of day, with groups of people sitting beneath trees and lying on the grass. None of them look awfully busy. It shouldn't take too long for him to find his mark.

    After another scan of the area, he catches a head of ginger hair, glowing bronze in the afternoon sun. Bingo! Perne's eyes widen— he knows this guy! …He thinks. He's pretty sure he's seen him around, anyways. In any case, he follows that thread of familiarity, however thin it may be, and walks over to him with a skip in his step.

It’s strange how their roles are reversed here. Once the orphan taken in by Perne’s charity, Salem can now repeat that which his benefactor had urged him to do back then: make yourself at home. He doesn’t though, because this isn’t his home, and he still looks to Perne to give the order. Their conversation lulls until Salem realizes that he’s expected to take the lead. At least for now. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Now?” He hadn’t thought that he would be asked when, but he isn’t busy and even if he had been, he isn’t certain that he wouldn’t just set everything he had to do aside to catch up with an old friend. That desire, he realizes alongside so much else since seeing Perne’s face again, is new as well. His eyes dart skyward as if to check that the weather is favorable, not to hide his uncertainty in knowing what to do.

“If you are free, that is,” Salem amends. “Have you come to study, or…?” He looks back at Perne. “No, to work.” He can’t imagine the – former – thief giving up chasing a living for a few musty books. You can’t fill your belly with a book, and Salem remembers how tragic he had thought that was when food ran scarce in the desert. Never books though. There was always a tome in each starving orphan’s hands.

“If you haven’t been shown your quarters, I can take you there first. Unless…” He searches for guidance again. “… you would rather see the dining hall and its charity.”

     IT'S NICE TO SEE SALEM holding the reins, for once. He'd always seemed like the type of guy who wasn't used to taking charge, especially around the time they'd first met. A shame, honestly— Perne finds his counsel pretty useful.

     "Yeah, it's work," He confirms with a nod. Though he made no mention of his purpose here, Salem still managed to figure it out— perhaps he's a bit more of an open tome than he'd thought, "and don't ya worry; I'm free right now."

     A few thoughtful pauses interrupt Salem's speaking, frequent enough that the normally-oblivious Perne takes notice. The thief finds himself amused seeing him try and navigate these things— he's still a bit green, but he's trying his damned hardest. That sort of newbie energy is something he respects. He'll grow used to it in time, anyways. At least, Perne hopes he will. Maybe he just needs a little bit of nudging...

     And so, Perne nudges.

“Do you know them?” Ethlyn perks up quite a bit at the realization. There are few things she hopes for in life more than to know her children are happy and healthy. Having friends and people who care is certainly part of that.

It is strange, however, to think about how each of the Jugdrali she’s run into here in Fódlan are connected in some way to her family. Ethlyn isn’t quite sure whether to be comforted or unsettled by it but when Perne brings up the tavern she mentioned again, she is quick to take the lead again. A drink will help all of this go down smoother.

“Right! It’s just a short walk away. You can tell me more about how you know my children when we get there.”

Sure enough, it isn’t long before they arrive and Ethlyn leads her new coworker to the table she usually sits at in the back. She’s started to become a bit of a regular after particularly long shifts on patrol.

     HE MATCHES HER STRIDE EASILY ENOUGH. Admittedly, he is a bit eager to distract himself from the fact that she is his former employer’s mom who should be dead. That’s a question for another time. And so he follows her to the tavern without hesitation. As they walk, he takes her up on her suggestion of continued conversation.

     "How I know your children…" Perne echoes with a snort, "I mean, how could I NOT know 'em?"

     Leif in particular made headlines with that rebellion army of his— though he was something of a layman, news had never reached Perne and his gang as quickly as that kid's did. His reputation far preceded him. Beyond the fancy title and shiny legacy, what Leif was doing was something of a spark of hope for many Thracians. Rumors of that sort would inevitably spread like wildfire, especially during such bleak times.

     "Ah, but lemme be more specific: I worked with that son of yours during the war," he adds as they near their destination, "Was recruited into his army by a friend and never looked back since."

     They reach the tavern after a short while. It's a simple, almost run-down looking place, its grime-slicked windows aglow with torchlight. Now this feels much closer to his pace! He can hear sounds of revelry buzz from within its wooden frame. Guess happy hour was getting a bit close, looking at the deep blues that bleed into the horizon. He welcomes it; frankly, this conversation would be easier to digest if he had a pint to swallow it down with.

     Ethlyn leads him to a spot by the back. She seems like a frequent patron, judging by the ease with which she navigates the narrow gaps between tables. Perne sits on the provided wooden stool, shifting his weight to accommodate the legs’ wobble. He leans over to prop his elbows on the table.