...do not lose yourself to hate.

What a strange world to return to.

Naesala watches the horses in front of him with a slight tilt of his head. He has lied before about his ability to speak with non-laguz birds, but he's never claimed to be able to speak with all animals. Apparently, though, this is not a case of only him being able to understand these creatures, but rather they've gained the ability (and necessary sentience) to speak to all beorc and laguz alike.

It's not surprising to spot Leanne amongst those trying to calm the horses down. They're wild and upset, and Naesala cannot say he blames them. These beorc hardly have asked their opinions on anything, anyway.

"Leanne, is that you?" he greets in the ancient tongue. "Have you seen dear Reyson yet? He's arrived with me."

He comes up next to her, a smile on his face. It's good to see someone else familiar; he's feeling more at ease now.

"Well, if it's my opinion you're looking for, it's been too much of these beorc getting what they want and not listening to what's being said."

She can't even understand their words that well which seemed only to frustrate the poor things more. Still, she would persist!

Soon enough, a familiar mind is upon her, calling out to her even. "Naesala!" They quick to one another's side and she smiles softly. "Yes, I have."

Ah, goddess, the joy that filled her heart could see it burst all at once. She'd like nothing more than to regale her time here but they've a job to do.

In his travels, both with and without the Shepherds, Libra has seen many things. He has fought alongside small children whose young hands were forced to bleed and crack against the hilt of rusty blades. He has marched alongside a Taguel and a Manakete, opening his heart to their wisdom and their suffering. He'd even learned to understand the cries of a wyvern, taught through Minerva's expressive eyes and gentle acceptance. But this, he thinks, is new.

A delicate woman stands within the chapel in the early mornings, looking as if she's finishing up her prayers. Rather than the pointed ears of a Manakete or the long ears of a Taguel, she has beautiful wings tucked against her back. A swan's? A heron's? Whichever it is, if either at all, the sight is a lovely one. Perhaps if the hour were later, the sight might even inspire a nonbeliever to offer up prayer.

"...Forgive my intrusion." Libra approaches with heavier steps than he normally manages, if only to keep from startling her. "I hadn't known that there would be others who would be willing to offer prayers so early in the morning, even before the break of dawn. I'm certain the gods are pleased."

Prayers are offered up all the same, or at least well wishes given.

The cathedral was one of many places where she felt at ease. That her presence might soothe such burdened hearts did bring a small smile to her face.

"It is good. The day starts brighter." Almost as if it beckoned a better day for them all. She turns to face him with a smile. "What prayers for you?"

"Brother!" For all that Leanne was adamant she come to the monastery to expand her own horizons, she had dearly missed the certainty found in her brother's presence.

It's almost too much and before she's even caught him within her arms, tears see fit to stream down her cheeks. It was difficult to acclimate to such an unfamiliar place with so few faces she knew. She felt so troubled relying on those whom she did, all the more now that they had such heavy things weighing so readily on their minds. She was tired, but as her wings settled around Reyson, she felt some calm wash over her heart.

it's late enough in the day that he is finished with his duties. returning to this place is somewhat enjoyable, if only for all the ways it's so very different from home, and he enjoys the work they give him here.

it's a familiar voice that breaks him out of his thoughts. he'd been spacing out, if he's honest, too lost in his own reminiscing but his sister is not someone he would dream of ignoring.

he is always overjoyed to see her. he relaxes into her embrace and wraps his arms around her back, carefully, instinctively mindful of her wings in a way that only other birds often are. his own wings come to wrap partially around her, as if obscuring the family reunion from any who might pass by.

when he greets her, it isn't in the common language of the beorc, but in the ancient tongue that is their native language.

"I've been doing my best. The people here... it's just like had been said. It's daunting to fit with the rest." Leanne closes her eyes tightly, glad for the wings that alway seemed to protect her when she most needed it. "Is Fodlan just as you remember it?"

It's her turn to try, and his turn to be supportive. He can do this, he can not stick his foot in his mouth. She looks at him with those eyes, and he knows she gets the terror he felt.

"I know what you're trying to say, but that's not right." Try again Ike, you sound like an asshole. He slows his speech down for her. "My name is Leanne."

Leanne's smile dims and her eyebrows pinch together. It wasn't right after all.

"My," she points to herself. Me... was also herself. "My name is Leanne." She repeats in full.

"My name is Leanne." She repeats once more, faster, with a nod of her head to Ike.

A pause and knees drawn in to be a resting place for her head. "There are so many words to remember," she says slowly. "Telling what's right for one sentence and not for another is hard." She had to learn.

The roof was still patchy here and there, repairs not finished but in progress. The residuals of great turmoil stayed in the soil. Of the plants that had been there during that time, many had fought incredibly hard to return to the splendor they now found.

"This is a nice place to relax, isn't it?" Leanne's finger brushed over the small pigeon's head. On their tour, she naturally had so show off the place she enjoyed spending so much of her time. "When you need to pluck your feathers too, it's easy to let them be used here."

At once, Leanne turns. She spots someone else and it feels... light, warm. She smiles. With all that had been going on, what a refreshing presence to meet. She goes to speak before pausing. She had been trying her hand at reading more of modern tongue. Some words were important to start using more... she could only hope she was using them right.

"We have not met." She leads. A curtsey is offered, the pigeon on her hand looks to her before holding out his wings as well. "My name is Leanne."

He can understand why it bothers Leanne, though.

"You are helping, in this way," he confirms quietly, "We must all do our part, but our parts need not be all the same."

His words are punctuated by a coo from Cranberry, looking more cheerful now with another humanoid being to interact with. He flits over to land on Leanne's shoulder, talons gentle, and Andrei gives the bird a fond look before motioning to the others in Leanne's hand.

The mature pigeon - Cranberry - seems eager and she can only hope to return a fraction of such joy. Her wings flutter just slightly. "Entertaining this one is easy," she says, voice tinged with the gentleness of a hymn.

Leanne's hands hold steady to keep the smaller Cranberrys steady for Andrei. "We do need to name them... what say you?" She has never been too hard a person to cheer up, all the more when surrounded by such delightful little ones.

"You used to be very much the same," Andrei reminds him, a slight smile ghosting over his expression at his pigeon's obvious distaste.

He turns at the sound of his name, expression still softened with humor, to see Leanne approaching with her own charges in tow. His brow creases slightly at the sight of her — they hadn't known each other so long for him to be certain, but it feels like there's something heavier, darker, behind her usual bright smile.

"Many are... worried. Garreg Mach," she pauses. It weighs on her heart once more. The symphony of pigeons is overwritten with the memories of the month, the worries, the fears, the hesitations and all.

She holds the young pigeons up. She's never been one who could hide her intentions well. She smiles despite it all, it was over after all. Many worries had been cleared but some... some remained, some were new.

Words could hardly describe the relief, the joy, that overtook her when she learned of a program that might allow her a break, both from the feeling that nestled over the monastery and the terribly dark walls of her room.

Indescribable as well was the smile on her face when she saw just who was partaking as well. "Andrei!" She calls softly, walking over with two chicks held in her hand.

"The birds... " The presence of them calmed her. It saddened her to think that such friendly little ones were hardly able to help out.

Perhaps Leanne's heart was better than his.

"You don't need to apologize. We both made choices. Second guessing ourselves won't do us any good." Saizo hoped it would go without saying that he'd step between her and as many demons as needed to if it meant keeping her out of harm's way. "You didn't get hurt, did you?"

To Saizo, how the rest of their group felt about demons didn't entirely matter. They wouldn't agree all the time, and it was foolish to believe so. What never changed was the fact that he could not think of anyone better to help seal the Honmoon.

"No... you made sure of it." The burden on her heart was hers alone to carry. Sympathies running too deep were eventually going to lead to a time where she froze again. Was she meant to call upon them all the time?

Saizo is quick to stand and she can hardly call his name out before he's gone to grab their notebooks. "A water," she says softly.

"It is important to curb such behavior lest it becomes a habit," he explains to Leanne, patting the mare on the neck as it obediently takes a step back, "It would be... problematic, if they form the mistaken belief that blond hair is edible."

The memory of exactly such an occurrence in his childhood, unmentionably embarrassing, floats to the forefront of his mind, and he turns away, cheeks briefly coloring.

As though to take his mind off such an incident, Andrei clears his throat, peering at Leanne once more.

"You can... feel what they feel?" He supposes that makes sense, in a way, from one who seems to have a foot in both the world of human and bird, though at the same time, it's difficult for him to fully imagine.

"I can tell whether a horse is content, or frightened, or angry, through their body language," he says wonderingly, resuming the long, steady brushing against the mare's side, "But I've never thought to question whether they can feel anything deeper than that."

As the horse calms, Andrei... hides? Leanne smiles softly. Oh-

To his question, she nods. It was hard to explain. It was just... feel. Like how one touched or saw something. When he explains it for his own circumstances, her smile grows. "All feels." Few things in this world were without feeling, without purpose.

Quickly, the heron realizes she's been leaving him to do much of the work alone. She steps to brush another section but...

"Feels... loved." Maybe that was the "content" he meant. The mare seems to give itself entirely to him. "Andrei is good." She says gently.

“[Mm… If there is anything you need here, let me know.]” A little businesslike for his liking, but it was ultimately the easiest facet of himself to show- especially in the wake of someone he still held affection for. “[Though, usually the monastery has a wider variety of finished medicines than I do.]”

He pauses, allowing an amused huff to escape at her question, at once as meaningless as it is genuine on her part. “[As well as I can be, thank you. If it is difficult to keep up pleasantries, feel free to forgo them.]”

"It's fine." The words are said softly. They don't encompass the feeling she'd like them to. Whether it be the sudden return to her tongue or simply the sense she's lost in his presence; she's choked up.

Too much would like to overflow all at once and none comes out as a result. Her hands hover above a small bundle, her finger tips eventually brushing over it. "The monastery," she continues with her purpose here... though now she thinks she may have found a secondary one. "I meet a lot of people there, but it's easy to get used to them."

Their thoughts and concerns became familiar, the presences like a second home.

"When I come to town, it's different each time." She turns to Sephiran and looks him in the eyes. Her hand extends out.

"Sometimes it's a bit overwhelming." Beorc here weren't like those at home. They didn't know that white wings brought with it hears that heard the woes of each heart.

Could she forgive him for what he'd done?

"Things have changed... people most of all." If he was here, was that not already a step of sorts? "Still... wanting something familiar in it's midst, I don't think that's a bad thing."

Where she couldn't talk well with people, when she couldn't find reprieve from thoughts that were never ending, she'd like to believe these walls might be enough of a shield.

Still, she cannot idly stand by and watch the Princess of Serenes poison herself — Goddess knows what King Tibarn would do if illness were truly to befall her! “It most definitely is not fine! Princess Leanne, you know as well as I do that you cannot consume beorc food,” Sanaki chides gravely, flicking her hair back and doing her best impression of a disapproving Tanith. “It will make you ill! For the sake of your tribe, you must maintain your health.” For emphasis, Sanaki points at the stew, shakes her head, and recites an incantation for a nauseating wind spell*. Not that she knows what the words mean… but she hopes it gets the point across.

As Sanaki continues to lecture the other royal, they had somehow been pushed nearly to the front of the line. Against her better judgement, Sanaki takes another peek at the concoction in the cauldron. Despite its distinctly off-putting odour and indeterminate colour, it has a shiny, gelatinous quality that, inexplicably, reminds her of table syrup and hard candy. Perhaps, appearances aside, it might taste like that as well? For a brief moment, Sanaki entertains the idea with avid curiosity.

She shakes her head, jolting back into sanity. No, no! I’ve already decided against this! “...Let’s just go, Leanne,” she says hurriedly, dropping the honourific in her haste and preparing to turn away. 

She understands Empress Sanaki's concerns, truly she does! It's simply that she must try it at least once! Calling what bubbled in the pot 'beorc food' felt like a bit of a stretch...

The recited spell sees puffed cheeks deflate and turn into a frown. "Are we locusts and stew our field?" She doesn't think the empress meant that-- no the empress's heart is quite set in Leanne touching none of this.

That is what she thinks.

Her frown gives way to a smile and inquisitive eyes. The front of the line is nigh upon them and Empress Sanaki's thoughts make the stew seem even more delightful.

"Two." Leanne says as she reaches the kind soul giving out portions. Such a kind person would never give out a horrible meal!

Her bowl is held out and the texture as the stew pours in is more akin to mud.

It feels as if he should — as if familiarity should beget ease of association — but there is an ever-present discomfort at the idea of being seen. Laid open, laid bare, and Micaiah is allowed because he has never know anything else but he is not so lenient as to feel as permissive to others.

This is to say — Leanne does not make him uncomfortable, but she does not put him at ease, either. He skirts her gaze with the practiced ease of a stray cat, crouching instead to pick up the note she'd dropped.

The letters loop together. It's really not his business, anyway — he hooks his thumb in the loop of his belt and offers it to her with a small jerk of his head.

"This yours?"

Well cared for hands reached out and held the edge of the paper but she made no attempt to really take it back.

"Fodlan," she begins slowly, her eyes tracing back over the words on the page. Her hands tremble and she's not the strength to still them. The words or leaden on her tongue. Perhaps its fine that they are. "... is safe?"

Once the girl’s breath finally settles, she insists upon a strategy of mercy over might. Although the sight of the light woman suddenly trying to muscle through was unlikely in the first place, the predictable path forces an internal sigh from the Mage Dragon.

Though as much as she may complain (to herself), the bird lady is onto something. The robed man, initially looking ready to bolt away at an instant, turns his head back to face the negotiator. He even goes ahead and…plants a hand across his heart? Of course this is working, despite the speech that barely passes for a child’s speak. Humans, no matter their rottenness, seem to cower at even the saddest displays of kindness.

All of this makes Zephia go for a yawn, raising her hand to feebly cover the exhale. Hopefully this scuffle could end as soon as it began.

Never did she think she could regret something as novel as a hand raise.

Right when their second thief goes for loosening the wallet and coin, a third rogue silently introduces himself from the shadows behind. They push past all three of them compared to this man’s display of shoving past a single child. Zephia would find it impressive, if not for the obvious sight that the purse has disappeared from view once more, the conclusion coming naturally as she lowers her gaze…

…Hell no.

The bandit had not just pushed past her due to covering the exit. They only found it fair to snag a bag belonging to the touring dragon herself. A bag containing something surely more important than mere metals.

Zephia does not even hesitate to grab at the winged creatures shoulders, entirely ignoring how their touched friend feels about getting out-mugged. In her idle gawking, the perpetrator has already slipped out of sight. Better sight will do damn all without a direction to start in.

Her companion said many things in quick succession that left her pondering her mental vocabulary. After a few seconds and little to show, she focused for a moment.

Her purse and... the other laguz's! The fiendish thief that they were up against had been happy with themselves for taking both so easily. Glee in the wake of other's pain, how were so many people feeling such a thing! Leanne is shaken but she'll hardly keep standing idle.

Built for speed she was not. The heights she could reach at the moment were still far too shallow, but there's little other option. If not for herself, then for having dragged her poor companion into these thieves' spree.

Her legs send her up and her wings carry her the rest of the way. She hovered just above the crowd and scanned. However long she could manage would have to be what worked. She couldn't allow them to get away with this.

eating phesant is too unpleasant that purse design is delightful ha! that was too easy to swipe should i get another bite The winged one was such a good distraction the horned one didn't even notice i hope th-

"There!" Argh! What was the word for it. Her voice carried little weight in the first place, being this high up she was sure it carried even less but she needed some way to signal towards that man without giving away that they knew.

"Uh..." She had nothing on her to thrown-- not that it'd make much of a difference. It was... fine.

Much as she'd like to stay in the skies, earlier fatigue forced a choice upon her. White wings carry her down and she waits for her companion to catch up.

"Sniff it out," she repeated back as she began leading the way. "...inn... " That person was heading to one.