i'll stay with you. i can, right?

A small gasp leaves him as a smile settles. The flower is gratefully taken and he hums as he tucks it just above his ear.

Of course at their secret, he covers his mouth and chuckles. "For a special occasion indeed yes?"

But the market will have to do for now, though it's hard to call that a loss. After all, Maria has extensively researched the sweet treats on offer, and after all of this has come to a conclusion of tremendous satisfaction.

"What kind of cookies and cakes do you like, Darios?" With one final brush, her skirt fans out behind her as they tread the familiar path past the gardens. "I like... hmm!"

Will he tell her if he knows her favorites first, though? She turns her gaze toward him from the corners of her eyes, knowing and playful.

drawing closer to maria, they stop just short of sitting, instead twisting to lean back against the wall with a sigh. throughout their years, yuri has learned there is one thing they can always trust in this world: people are essentially selfish. so when maria says, i’m right here, the scariest part of it is its truth.

it doesn’t take a doctor to tell they’re sick and it doesn’t take a genius to know with what. they just tilt their head and direction and smile, a somber glint in their gaze. yuri knows she’s telling the truth. it would be easier if they didn’t.

“why don’t you ask?” is what they say in lieu of any confession—though it may as well be one in and of itself, in that strange way that yuri never says the things they mean. would they tell her anything if she did? honestly, they’re not even sure. “a strange boy appears from nowhere. you don’t know where he’s come from, only that he’ll disappear again and all you’ll be able to do is wait for him to come back.”

Why don't you ask? --would he answer if she did? And just how many years had it taken him to tell her his favorite sort of cake, again? Maria presses the backs of her knuckles against her lips, but she cannot hide their curl, nor the soft affection that searches for that glint of somberness.

"Hmm..." Her hand pulls away from her face, just a bit. "Well, it's easier for you if I don't, right? And besides, my questions aren't that important." It doesn't take a wealth of thought to realize that Yuri keeps a lot of secrets.

"Plus even if you didn't answer, you'd remember that I asked, wouldn't you? People remember the things they don't do." Right -- how many years had it taken him to tell her his favorite sort of cake, again? At least two or three, if she recalls correctly. And Yuri had remembered. (Of course, she cannot claim it was without annual help, but even then.) There are enough things in this world to pile up and weigh them down without questions she doesn't need the answers to.

"I already know the things I need to. I know that that strange boy helps strange girls who are too short to fetch their ribbons, and that he can forgive her when she steps on his toes; I know that he looks for cats for crying children, and--" Pulling back her sleeve, she reveals a flash of silver worn dutifully and daily. "--I know that he's my friend. I know that he'll find me when he needs to, and maybe even when he doesn't."

A hum. Her heel pivots absentmindedly against the wall, right to left and left to right.

"...Do you want to know something about disappearing brothers, Yuri? They think you think about the places they go without you, and all the things you haven't done." Maria shifts in her seat there, a hand placed by each knee as she leans forward, leans in, and whispers: "But the truth is, you think about if they're lonely, if they're hurt -- if there's something you can do for them when you see them again."

To my new friend Maria,

It's not too much at all—as long as I can ask for your favorites, too! Maybe I can bake some of those for tea? As for me, Sweet Bun Trio is probably my favorite... it goes great with a cup of Albinean Berry Blend! But I also like fruit tarts, cheesecakes, sorbets... Most sweets are fine (I'm much pickier with regular food, and sometimes I might sneak the things I don't like onto a friend's plate) but you can't go wrong with chocolate or strawberry. And—

!!! [some flowers, some sparkles, all bouncing around the margins here] That makes me feel so much better!!!!! [yes, there are precisely as many exclamation points] You have no idea, really. And from the sound of it, it seems like you're really good at talking to people. [another little doodle of Maria's head here, smiling sweetly, with a few more exclamation points by her] I think I know why.

Me, I'm usually terrified of it. [a flower ✿ , presumably a headshot of the writer, and there are gloomy squiggles scribbled around it] I even get a little anxious when I get letters from back home. I'll write back and all, just not so much about the things I like.

But you know, I haven't been feeling that way at all when I see yours. Instead... I'm really happy, too! [the same flower ✿ , and now it's rife with little sparkles around it - moreover, it is painted a watercolor purple this time] You're just as kind as I remember. Whether I'm reading the words you send me or looking at the pictures you draw, it's like the world feels a little warmer to be in. A little less scary, even. Is that weird? Sorry if that's weird. Anyway!

What I mean is that I might not mind going to Macedon after all. Whether the people are stern or kind, I already got to meet you, didn't I? I know we haven't even had tea together yet, but I already feel lucky to be your friend. Please don't change your mind once you meet me, promise? (Just kidding!!) [yet this is hastily scribbled, squeezed into the margins in like a last-minute addition]

Your new friend (!), ✿

P.S. Yeah! That's exactly it! In that case, I'm already looking forward to reading and celebrating with you—sweets and all. If you're bringing some, I'll definitely bring some too, OK?

P.S.S. You know, I actually don't know. Maybe there's some sort of super-secret network of them... or not. But wouldn't that make for a neat story idea, too?

The other paper? It's folded inward, with writing on the back exclaiming: Open after reading! ✿

Dear my friend ✿,

Sweet Bun Trio? Oh, I love having those at the Ethereal Ball every year! I've never tried making them myself, but it seems really fun! There's lots of room to play with decoration, don't you think? Fruit tarts, cheesecakes, sorbets, and Albinean Berry Blend... I'll remember it all! As for me, I really like lemon poppy cake, Sweet-Apple Blend, and things with strawberry jam, but I also like trying lots and lots of new things! Actually, I'm pretty happy eating anything, but I'm happiest when I get to eat with someone else! (So don't worry about being sneaky, okay? My plate is always open!)

(in between the two paragraphs is a drawing of Maria wielding a fork-sword (quite valiantly), vegetables above and flowers below, smudged with color; she doesn't draw attention to it, but one of the purple flowers is the closest behind her)

I always do my best! And I know I keep saying this, but that makes me really happy! I guess talking to you just makes me happy a lot, huh? The evidence is just irrefutable! And no, that doesn't sound weird! Actually it makes a lot of sense to me! Letters are something you can keep even when the people that sent them are far away, right? We put little bits and pieces of our hearts into them so that our feelings can reach each other even when we can't! So if my letters make things a little warmer and a little less scary, then they're doing just what they're supposed to do!

(the further down the letter one goes, the more drawings of flowers, candies, butterflies, and plants... one among them strangely smiling at what appears to be a bee? the colors this time are softer, brighter, with many splotches of color to be found in slightly smudged fingerprints stippling the page)

Oh! I just had an idea -- what about this? I can order some things from Macedon, like treats and seeds and little things! If we share them, then if we ever go to Macedon together, it'll be a little bit more familiar, won't it?

But even if that doesn't work, (the handwriting shifts slightly here, a princess's most proper penmanship on full display)

I, Maria von Medon, promise that meeting you won't change my mind.

(--and then back to normal again) Well, not unless I feel even luckier! How was that? It's been a while since I wrote all fancy!

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I will feel luckier, because I'm about to make my first guess! Are you ready? Here, I'll wait until you are! ✿✿✿✿✿✿

Are you... the really sweet, really cute, really fun to talk to Bernadetta von Varley?

Love, Your friend who's happy and lucky to meet you, Maria

P.S. It's a plan then! We'll have the very best tea party! (there's a drawing here of Maria's head alongside as faithful a recreation of the other's self portrait as she can manage)

P.P.S. Wow... you're right! What genre do you think it would be? Maybe I just like to read them, but I think it could be a really fun romance! 'How do you tell us apart? Look into my eyes... that's true love!' Doesn't that sound cute?

P.P.P.S. Of course I don't mind! But what about this? I'll look for a special secret spot where we can have tea parties together! That way no one else can interrupt, and we can share a secret! Doesn't that sound fun?

P.P.P.P.S. You can open it now!

While they have been growing closer, it still feels like an almost impossible dream that they might form a bond as strong as some of the other sibling sets that they know.

"I'll have to use almonds for his then," she nods, corners of her lips pricking back up the slightest bit. It really is hard to remain dour around Maria, especially when she gives the opportunity to talk about family.

A short series of claps cuts through the air, and the little cleric looks up as her fingers still sift through the goodies. She takes precisely four almonds and only that, leaving the lion's share of them to Altena. There are plenty of other goodies, besides, and she has just placed a spoon next to a small jar of jam when their instructor begins speaking.

"Given your disparate goals," he begins, hands pressed together, "We won't be going through the steps together as a class. Instead, you'll find the instructions at your tables. You may work at your own pace and, if you need any help, do raise a hand and fetch the attention of myself or one of my aides."

"Yes!" Maria answers alongside the rest of the class, reaching for their written instructions and holding it slightly higher for Altena to look as well. "Hmm... Cut the chocolates into small, uniform-size pieces...

"Silly brothers, huh?" But she smiles so gently as she places blocks of chocolate in front of both Altena and herself. "Hee hee... well, I'll still make him some when he comes home, so it's okay." At least she still gets to spend time with Minerva, and for once Minerva gets to just be Minerva. Her world has grown beyond the Whitewings, a traitorous brother, and an imprisoned sister -- now she has Leif, who Maria's lucky enough to know now, and that girl who makes her smile--

"I'd welcome your company," Edelgard says graciously. Her right shoulder flicks up to adjust the towel and prevent it from falling to the ground. "Hm.. It's wisest to check the decks as a starting point. If we assume those in more dire straits were tended to first, that leaves plenty of others left elsewhere." Even so, she wouldn't find herself surprised to see a straggler or two who had been denied its entry. If they could find those people, that would make their journey all the more worthwhile.

Instead of staying in the room they now stand in, the princess teeters towards its arch and points to the stern of the ship. The voices of other aids and crew members bubbles the space; one mumbles about a man with an injured leg and another complains about having to stay on the ship at all.

"They probably want the more experienced medics and clerics in the way back," Maria hums lightly. It would be stranger if it bothered her; though she's worked at the fringes of too many battlefields, her years might count to hardly even a fraction of those hard at work now. And besides: just because the work is less intense, that does not mean it is less worthy.

"--that sounds good to me! Then let's go, Edelgard!"

Though the ship is still somewhat crowded, most who see them (and more specifically the supplies they carry) tend to move aside for them; it takes only a few minutes to make their way there, and as the door shuts behind them, Maria's eyes flit across the room.

Very few attendants, she notes, though at least some of that she can attribute to the tired volunteers coming and going to check supplies and fetch them.

"Hello!" Maria chirps her greeting in a bright but soft voice, waving at those patients with no one to attend to them. Among them a young man snaps his head up, his face pale and his expression plaintive. Subtly, the little cleric tugs on Edelgard's sleeve, pivoting in his direction.

The cliffs overlooking the coast here are tall, but not dangerously so, and a crude set of wooden steps has been hammered into a slope down one side of them. They'd obviously been made by an untrained hand, perhaps a child, but they serve their purpose as footholds well enough. Ronan marches down them without so much as a slip, making it clear that he'd been the one to build them, or at least use them more than anyone else in the village. There was a certain confidence in his step that only came with trust.

"Well, we're here," he says once they reach the rocky shore. It's low tide at this hour, so the beach is strewn with debris - petrified logs, algae, and broken shells, mostly - and pockmarked with tide pools still full of water. Here, too, a low waterfall spills the river into the ocean, and a small bay separates where they stand from the rest of the village's coastline.

Ronan starts to patrol the tidepools, stepping carefully between them so as not to slip and fall in.

"There's usually plenty of fish over here. Most just aren't very edible," he says over his shoulder. "When I was a child though, learning how to catch anything was enough to make me feel like I was doing something worthwhile."

He keeps at the back of the pack now, letting Maria walk between the two of them as Leif minds his own feet too.

“I'm happy enough to be here at all, so...” Every now and then, he glances upwards at the other two in front of him, keeping check of the distance between him and them. “...catching something not edible is fine with me. It'll be your first time fishing, won't it, Maria?”

He's not sure whether or not his assumption here is actually right, but even without the use of her royal title in address, when Leif looks at her, he finds it difficult to imagine her roughing it outside. He imagines instead a delicate hand— one that turned pages rather than hunted, learning through written word over practical experience.

He decides then and there, in his own mind, that she's a Patricia more than a Tanya or Mareeta.

“But if you've got tricks for telling which ones are good, I'd like to hear that too, Ronan,” he leaves the floor open to trying that purposeful search. “If we find something we can eat, let's bring it back and eat it together. That'll be even more worthwhile, won't it?”

"What makes them inedible?" The little cleric's question floats alongside her, balancing on her fingertips when she stretches out a hand to watch its reflection touch a tide pool. Scurrying around to a wider side of one, nearer to their dutiful guide, she brushes her dress against her legs and crouches. Her gaze settles on the algae, and after a beat-- "Hello, Miss Lady," she whispers, wiggling her fingers at the silent tide, "Or whoever's there!"

With a flourish she springs back to her feet, pivoting on one heel and allowing the other to spin through the air. A wave to Ronan as she passes him, and once she's wandered a few steps further, another outstretched and playfully thrown toward Leif.

"That's right! I've never been fishing before." As far as grand little dreams went, it wasn't entirely off the list, though it rested quite peacefully below a great many other things. Perhaps if she made time for it, she could see that legendary golden fish one day... Oh, but the ocean is too beautiful today to keep plotting for tomorrow.

She laughs as she spins, and she spins as she laughs, a short-lived thing that swings her smile squarely upon the others.

"Yeah -- I want to hear, too! And if you guys are willing to teach me, then it's my turn to be the student again! Right? Hee hee... edible or not, I'm really looking forward to it!"

What does she think? She brings a hand up to the braid at the top, running curious fingers along the weave. It’s beautiful, of course. A style fit for a storybook princess, beloved by all, greeting her people at the Sunday market instead of looking down at them from atop an ivory tower. And to deny the part of herself that rejoices at that simple thought would be as good as conceding defeat, wouldn’t it? A part of herself that she had nearly forgotten, who wishes to be soft and gentle—perhaps because those who loved her first had made their home there. 

Funny, that even the most earth-shattering of tragedies hadn’t managed to stomp out that flame. And so, though Sanaki looks nothing like how she should, she smiles once more and says—

“It’s lovely. You have my thanks. Both for saving me from certain fashion disaster… and for reminding me of something important.” A twirl in the chair sends the chain of roses spinning out around her, and she delights in that, too, giggling as she picks up the pearl-studded barrette she had been eyeing earlier. 

A peal of delighted laughter falls across the barrette Sanaki presents then, a hand loosely lingering by her mouth as if to catch it, but not really. The great fun of styling is so often a fortune bestowed upon those with long hair that she is caught quite by surprise.

"My turn?" There's an evident curl in the cleric's voice as she reaches back to lightly brush her fingers through her hair. She hadn't been quite as storm-drenched as Sanaki, but it certainly bears a bit of the playfulness of wind and water. With a hummed note, her eyes flutter shut in contemplation.

"Hmm... maybe... pulled toward the back, like this?" A fingertip traces backward, pushing aside her bangs and gingerly pulling them to the center of her skull. "It'll really pop right there, don't you think?"

It's nice, having someone else do her hair. As they chat, as her hair is tidied and her bangs are pulled away from her face, she realizes it has been far longer than she'd thought since someone else did this for her. Her chin settles on her fingertips, her lips against her knuckles, the line of her smile tangled with a bit of warmth and heartache.

The limitations he faces here are more worrying; it is all but impossible to keep a ready-strung bow hidden from sight on his person, not to mention the quiver of arrows. Andrei's hand lingers upon the hilt of Professor Lambert's dagger, hidden under the edges of a long green tunic, gaze periodically scanning the corner where Maria had turned.

Rumors surrounding the illness had spurred the villagers' worries about the sudden disappearances, and he is uncertain whether the threat is purely a medical one, or if there is something more nefarious behind these troubling occurrences. But he had been sent here to guard, and he would have to do so in close quarters with his current repertoire.

When Maria reappears, then, Andrei automatically steps forth, serious expression unchanged even as he closes the distance to her side.

"I didn't even get to ask," she tells him softly, watching his expression. "I barely got to say hi before he tried to tell me about his god. I tried to ask, but he kept steering the conversation back to his faith, and invited me to visit their temple."

It's suspicious, isn't it? Round, rosy-hued eyes search Andrei's expression for what he makes of it. After all, a priest approaching the world-weary and those in need of aid is, in itself, not so strange or uncommon; Maria herself is prone to such behavior. Yet it is what follows that bothers her, unease prickling at the back of her neck.

How quick he was to invite her away from the safety of others. If she had been any less naïve and guileless, would he have even allowed her to fetch a friend? --would he even be waiting for them now?

Digging two fingers underneath the spiky coil of a weed's root system, he tugged, allowing the motion to fill the space between them before he answered.

"What sorts of herbs and flowers? Did you grow back at home, I mean."

It was not an answer, but it was as close to a concession as he felt he could give at the moment. That she felt comfortable amidst such life came as no surprise to him, and Raven would have been surprised if there was a single thing that didn't feel rejuvenated at her presence, like the tenderness of a small sun.

"Hmm... I was too little to help with the gardens a whole lot the last time I was home," she remarks thoughtfully, eyes drifting toward the broken, spindling ceiling overhead. Then, abruptly, her laughter falls like rain: "Hee hee... To be honest, I mostly watched! But really helpfully. But... I think they grew things like sage, rosemary, peppermint... And there were roses, chamomiles, and daisies in the flowers... Um, hmm..." Eyes squeeze shut, her head tipping to the side and pestling loose earth into the crimson of her hair.

"I think... I told Papa I liked them once, and he said he'd have more planted... It's hard to remember now." When she was older, he would let her help out more with the planting and the tending; when she was older, she might even get to help organize them; when she was older, when she was older, did anything left in that castle still smile at the sun?

The fillings aren't the only choices for variety in flavor. Altena is also impressed with the different types of chocolate. Even the molds all have different shapes. She imagines it must be difficult for each soon to be chocolatier to create the exact same candies as someone else. It's nice to know that whatever she makes will be something truly personal.

"That's what I thought I'd make for my older brother, at least. Maybe my father, too. I want to make something for my younger brother but I still don't really know what it is that he likes." Altena huffs a laugh. "I guess a variety box would be good for him, too."

She didn't know Maria had a sister. It's nice knowing they both have a similar motive for coming here. At first, it seemed everything this time of year was themed toward romance but at least Maria is on the same page she is.

Still her smile warms and grows as she listens to Altena ponder, how she considers what to make and for who. Had any of the other people she thinks of so fondly now been on that expedition? Maybe she might have even run into them! And of course, she knows Leif. But is he the older brother or the younger brother?

(...Probably the younger one, right? It feels like Altena is a little bit taller.)

"When I went to Iz with Leif and Ronan," she begins, already excitedly sifting through fillings and imagining what, how many, for who, "He got some almonds at the general store! He told us--" Oh! That he used to sneak them between meals, actually, but should she go telling that to his sister...? "--that he used to like eating them. It might not be the same kind, but it's probably a good bet, right?"

At Altena's reassurance, however, she pauses in her many contemplations to look back at her and beam.

it can’t be all that hard, anyway, since maria’s given him a format to follow.

“chipmunk was starting to feel hungry,” shiro supplies, wisely drawing from personal experience. it wasn’t unheard of for a growing boy — and rodent, presumably — to wake up feeling ravenous. “so he wrote that down, too. ‘eat breakfast.’”

he jumps back to avoid being smacked by the whistling stick-sword, letting loose a light laugh that rumbles between them.

think, think. what happens next?

“chipmunk got out of bed,” shiro continues. “and went to look for something to eat.” he begins to circle maria now, weapon drawn and pointed at her. slowly, slowly, until he adopts a low stance in preparation of his second strike. “he found himself some nuts to eat. when he finished, he crossed that off his list.”

ffssshhhtt!

the stick in his hand lashes out — not yet in attack, but rather to coax her with a “come at me!” gesture.

He's low to the ground again; he lets her off easy again, though perhaps that isn't the right way to put it. Rather, he allows their story to take the forefront.

"Chipmunk had already crossed two things off his list!" Maria laughs as she feigns driving away his mighty blade. "So early in the morning! And he was very pleased."

Falling back into a waiting stance, her eyes twinkle as she watches him in turn.

"But there was a whole day still ahead of him, and he couldn't keep writing things one at a time only to cross them out right after." The point of her blade drifts side to side, the princess herself half-shifting, half-bouncing her weight from foot to foot as the story plays out in her mind. "So Chipmunk wrote other things on the paper. 'There,' said Chipmunk. 'Now my day is all written down.'"

Not that she would spoil the rest of it already. How could she? One foot darts forward, and she strikes low, a little squirrel taking advantage of a chipmunk's height. The stick lashes out-- ferociously! -- toward his hip, yet what it hopes to leave is the mightiest, gentlest tap.

"The rest of the day was beginning, and Chipmunk went to his closet and put on his clothes. Then he crossed off--" Thwip! Another bullet crossed. "'Get dressed'! And he opened the door."

There's a twinkle in her eyes.

perhaps going on a rooftop chase with the threat of a strong enough sneeze to send them toppling off the edge hanging over them wasn't their brightest idea. but yuri leclerc is nothing if not a man of their word, or something like that.

“ah, that would be a problem...” they only take a second to think about it, though, before their fingers are unclasping their white cape from their shoulder and tucking the house leader pin away. “here, just lay this down.”

it should be a fine enough cover, they think. if nothing else, aelfric really hadn't skimped on the tailoring of their uniforms. they must be old spares that he'd gotten altered—yuri can't imagine why the monastery would bother with the effort otherwise.

It is enough cover, thankfully; it would be even if she didn't hook one ankle over the other and rest their weight on the tip of one shoe. She can still feel the heat ebbing through the layers of cloth and warming her stomach, but for the short term it's perfectly acceptable.

"Hee hee..." Careful not to bare her teeth as she smiles, the little cleric stretches out one arm, hand lazily outstretched, and lays her cheek upon the back of the other. "Hmm... maybe? But what if it convinces it to scramble?" It wouldn't find the same purchase here as with its claws in tree bark.

The cat, meanwhile, casts the same glance over its shoulder at Maria as she had at Yuri, if a bit more mistrustful. Yet seeing her simply up and lie down, it further turns, slinking low to the rooftop.

"...Mrow?"

"Myao?" Maria parrots back, higher-pitched and softer still. "Hi, little kitty. Do you have a name? Somebody's awfully worried about you."

She holds the candy out in her open palm—a reward for the good children who study hard and think well.

“No matter how many times I return here, there is always something a little new,” Poe hums—Garreg Mach monastery had always been something of a nexus, but she has never seen one quite as bustling as the one here and now. Her mind drifts to fragmented memories of Fodlans prior, stitched together in her mind like a quilt sewn of a hundred cloths; if she looked at a single piece, she could extrapolate what the greater whole might look like, but she herself would never see it. “Elibe as well. How different it is from what it once was. And if I were to go back tomorrow, I think I would find something new, too."

Exactly why her work was never finished. The world was ever-changing—and that meant no matter how many times its course was righted, the risk that it would spin out of orbit never really disappeared. Some would find it tiresome work.

Not her, though. Perish the thought.

"Wow...!" The sides of her fingertips press lightly against her chin, eyes growing steadily rounder. She hadn't thought that Poe was holding anything before, and so-- a magic trick? Or a magic trick? The thought spurs a new bout of laughter, but she saves the question for another time, carefully plucking the proffered treat with a delighted 'thank you'.

"Really? What do they usually say?" Her head tips to one side, a curtain of crimson falling over her shoulder. If this is a question she poses often, then it's hard not to be curious about what numbers may have been offered, and all the other answers in between.

"...hee hee! You really do sound like you have so many stories," words spoken through a marveling smile, eyes glinting the reflections of deep-water blues and red, feathered masks. "How often do you travel, Poe?" Sometimes she sounds like she's been everywhere. "We have a lot of students from Elibe, I think... I've read a little bit about it, but I've never been there... yet!" Another merry laugh. "Have you ever been to Archanea?

"Hmm..." Carefully, she stows the candy into a pocket, lest it melt in the heat of her hand tapping thoughtfully against her chin. "Well, I guess it depends on what makes your heart feel full! I love meeting new people--" The flash of a widening smile there, eyes flitting back to Poe's face ere they drift contemplatively away again. "--but I also love meeting them again, and again, and again after that! And if I had to go so long without seeing my friends and family, then... I think I would be--" I am-- "--very lonely."

Her eyes narrow with a touch of fondness.

"Hello, Maria," she says in greeting. The house leader turns around at mention of her name with a hint of surprise as she is snapped out of her thoughts. She clutches a pair of gauze in one hand and a small aid kit tucked into the other. "I'm pleased to see you. I did come here to offer my assistance. From what I've seen, they could use all the help they can gather. I'm happy to do so." Edelgard slings a long towel as it dangles over her shoulder. She speaks confidently. It thumps quietly against her back.

"I know," Maria agrees softly, voice dipping into her breath. "I've been looking for the place that might need me most... There's rooms and rooms of them." Small wonder that they had to put out a request for help.

It won't do to look dispirited, though; with so many ailing, it's that much more important to rise above her worry, for it often sparks like wildfire. Instead she points the head of her staff at everything the Eagles' leader has gathered, smiling warmly.

“Good job Maria!” she praised her with a satisfied smile, then she immediately turned back at the remaining foe, a smirk appeared on her lips as she stared at the pray with air of challenge and ambition: he was already scared enough to be put to flee, but since they came with clearly bad intentions, she couldn’t let them go without a good punishment, to let them learn from their mistakes.

“There, there, we still haven’t finished yet…” her hand gently loomed on the handle of the axe and with a firm grip, she grabbed the weapon with fiery decision, pointing it at the bandit with a demanding pose: “You had a choice, but your unlucky companion has decided for you, my friend” she lastly said, a thrust and dash of her whole body as she slashed the axe against the foe’s body, wounding him enough to make him realize he still had the possibility to flee –not before he managed to get back on his feet, of course!

“Take away this ice-man too, go!” she hissed, staring at the poor bandit hastily getting up while limping and grabbing the freezing arm of his partner, still blocked but light enough to be dragged away in the woods, from where they came from. “And don’t you dare come back!” she added as she put back the axe, slowly turning to ascertain that Maria and the little foal were doing better -safe and sound, a beautiful scene to watch indeed. After that, she lifted her gaze just to notice that the small herd of horses –unicorns – were patiently waiting for their member to join their flight.

“I…think that it’s the moment to let it go” she gently said to Maria, softening her gaze as she observed the trust and affection the little foal apparently started to nurture towards her little sister: it was an idyllic, almost surreal scene, so beautiful and enchanting was it. Minerva couldn’t help but feel at peace in watching this, hoping to achieve many more moments like this, with her beloved sister by her side.

Her attention turns back to the two men not for fondness, but for the many words of caution once worriedly impressed upon a bright-eyed younger sister. A rough hand pulls in panic at a rigid arm, soaked in blood and muttered curses that escalate into a frenzied yowl when the frost breaks. Falling back-- one onto his wounded leg and the other into his bed of earth and sloughed-away ice --the duo scrambles away, soon to be forgotten.

A gentle touch at Maria's knuckles pulls her back to the gentleness, the joy they had protected. Seeing that it has her attention once more, the foal happily noses her hand, snout pressed to the side of it. It rubs its face against it, from the tip of its nose to just below its horn, drawing a flurry of blinks from her in surprise.

"Oh...! Hee hee... I don't think I've ever had someone take pets from me before! Is this your way of saying thank you?" With a few affectionate scritches to the foal's forehead and an affectionate brush of its snout, Maria coos at her new friend for a brief and blissful moment. Her thumb swipes across its cheek, cradling its head as she smiles down at it. "You're welcome, little horse!" (It snorts at that, and presses against her palm as she laughs; they both know better, don't they?)

"But you should thank my sister too, okay? I may have protected you, but she protected both of us!" At that, she lightly taps its nose and proceeds to glue herself to her sister's side, arms encircling her in a loose hug. The young 'horse' huffs as if in understanding, following her to greet Minerva as well.

And after that it will reunite with its family -- just like them, Minerva said. Macedon's youngest presses her cheek into her sister's shoulder, eyes wandering toward the herd waiting for their young one to come back home.

"...just like us," comes the soft, murmured agreement. "We'll be together again." We will, she says, because they are not all together yet; one of them still strays so far away from home. And one day they will be able to let it go -- the pride, the hurt, the blood and sin -- because she has seen time and time again that beneath it all, there was always love. But it will take work. It will take bleeding, and scabbing, and scarring, but--