#thyrosus

TOA Electric Sheep thread continued from here

“Ah...” Shaken by these events, Pia can’t help but sit down when Lorenz pushes her into the chair. It hurts so much, she’s never been shot before. Panic runs amok through her mind—why is this happening? Does the military want the Schwartzes that much? That they’re willing to kill for it?

Pia looks to the Verne archivists, an innocent party in all of this, here because they volunteered their time and expertise. And then to the AIWOU unit behind them, unmoving in spite of the commotion. Rex... no, L-431475... she can’t imagine how he is processing this. He would return to his original mission, but to turn against his creators...

“No. I must do this.” Tears streaming down her cheeks, Pia pushes herself up again, returning to the terminal. Her good arm pulls out a drawer, searching for a portable terminal. They can take the Schwartzes and flee. They might not have a chance alone, but with him...

On the computer, she pulls up a new window. Assign Administrative Access. Plugging the portable terminal into the computer, Pia shouts back at the others, “Bring me Rex! I must do this!”

Soren picked up Rex and approached Pia, holding the metal dog close, as if it was real. "Inactive, hm? You'd better explain why he moves when we aren't here, and why you lied to us about it." He held Rex out to her, but stayed close enough to snatch the dog away if she posed a threat.

"I couldn't tell you." But the jig is up, and there's no time for any of this. Pia sighs.

 "Yes, there is an AI in there. But he was there before the virus manifested," Pia adds defensively. "This is L-431A75. Esteemed archivists such as yourself should know the historical significance of Laelaps."

“Now give him to me. Please!”

As important as that name should be to them, it doesn’t ring any bells. Soren acts curiously surprised, wary of blowing their cover even though they were likely to part ways imminently by the way Pia hurried.

"Laelaps?" He handed Rex over, watching her closely still. "He'd better be useful."

For the first time, you see the AIWOU's camera eyes look directly at you. Seems like you've offended him.

Soren folded his arms, used to dealing with a stubborn dog. “Don’t give me that. The only trick I’ve seen you do is ‘play dead.’”

"He will," Pia promises, snatching the AIWOU out of Soren's hands. She pulls out cables from the drawer, wincing through the pain as she connects L-431475 to her computer.

"A portable terminal." She hands him a large, somewhat-heavy metal box with a keyboard on it. "And a universal adapter designed for AI transference." Yet another cable, shoved into Soren's hands. "Get yourselves into the Schwartzes and flee as far as you can. So long as you're in those mechs, you'll be safe in there. And, if worse comes to worse, those Schwartzes still have their AI compatibility intact. Laelaps will be able to fight for you."

A message already appears on the portable terminal:

[L-431475] This will be difficult in my current form. [L-431475] But if you lend me your aid, I promise that I will protect you.

“Alright. We don’t have a lot of options, and Pia has confidence in you.” Soren adjusted his grip for a more comfortable hold on the cable and portable terminal (Lae-Laptop?) and looked to Pia. “You coming?”

If she wanted to go out with some heroic sacrifice, he wouldn’t stop her. In fact, he didn’t much want to trust the AI she’d given them either, but if this Laelaps could save their lives, that was all he cared about. It wouldn’t make sense for Laelaps to not fight alongside them for his own self preservation considering it coincided with their own.

By the high alert status of the building, they didn’t have seconds to waste.

playing hot potato with @thyrosus​ but the potato is leicester’s future

The meeting blows almost two hours past its allotted time.

There’s a part of him that wishes he could pin the blame on Gloucester and Edmund, how they always have something to say, an opinion to push forward, some lasting remark they want to linger in everyone’s minds. They were the same as always. It’s Claude that needed to adapt to the situation, take charge of his discussion, direct the conversation. But he couldn’t. Not when the discussion was on how exactly inheritance would work for a Federation’s king; every suggestion worse than the last, more deadly than the last, and all Claude could see in their ideas was blood and ‘rivals’ strangled in their cribs.

“Let’s pick up this discussion tomorrow.” Claude stands. They stand, bow, leave. And as they leave, he’s left shaky and weak-kneed. Adrenaline abandons him as soon as the meetings end, leaving him a shell of the brilliant leader in that room, empty, inept. Claude didn’t handle it well. Judith will tell him as much when she has the chance. A petulant thought crosses his mind, she wouldn’t understand. 

Four months later, the desperation in Shahid’s eyes still haunt him, the bits of blood and hair that clung to the cliffside where he fell. 

Four months later, Claude still wonders if some part of him tumbled off the cliff after his brother, still clinging to him as their bodies shatter against the rocks.

-----

On a horse, Claude feels more like himself than he has been lately. Not a duke or a king or a leader, just a man recklessly galloping through the grasslands of Riegan territory, leaving his partner in the dust. They outpace the wind itself, blowing through his hair and past his cheeks. The drumming of powerful hooves fill his ears. The scent of clean air, and miles and miles of open fields around them, as far as the eye can see... at last, his heart remembers how wondrous this world could be. At last, he’s just Claude again.

It’s been some time since he’s had the time to go on an expedition himself. With the war quieting down, apparently they’ve become more like picnics, what with everyone using them as an excuse to get away and relax for a bit. Who could blame them? The saddle suits Claude better than those hard, ancient chairs, he thinks, and between Shahid’s death and the discussions for the Federation, he’s glad to be reminded of what the sun feels like on his skin. 

His heart aches, knowing what’s waiting for him back at Derdriu. If Claude was alone, would he run away like he daydreams about? Just asking himself that, maybe that’s why Lorenz offered to come.

Making it past the first round, gaffes and giggles included, is already more than Maria had expected; at the same time, she knows that her friend’s goal is naught less than the victor’s crown, and so she is determined to do all she can to give him cause to smile when their dance is through.

[ 5 , 2 , 8 ] = 15

...It does not go as planned. The effort she puts into her artful, giggling twirls sands the steps from the grain of memory; where she once reveled in joy and flourish, she now tries too hard to be the best that she can. Ambition, it seems, is something much more gracefully worn by her siblings. 

Their dance this time is better, yes, but only just. Still, she does not fail to wave to their opponents with both hands as one pair exits the stage and the other enters, and she spares a moment to happily (and encouragingly!) flex for Forsyth even as she sticks to Lorenz’s side. Ah, dance is a tricky thing when not solely for the joy of it... 

@thyrosus @ulirblood @sheerempathy

Titania, in all honesty, gets it. One of Lord Acheron’s men was not just killed, but in quite the brutal way, too. The knight had only a single glimpse in passing at the corpse, but that was enough for her imagination to fill in the literal gaps in the man’s body, and while the sight was nothing unusual for her, it was still far from what one would call pleasant.

So she gets it. The guy is probably... emotional, for lack of a better word, and he has the right to be.

Still... one of the students accompanying them on their visit to the man was a nobleman native to the Alliance, and his face expression told the rather perceptive Titania quite a lot in terms of what they could potentially expect.

And the frown did not paint a flattering image, to put it mildly.

Once they arrive at the residence, Titania takes a seat next to the others. Though the monastery had filled her in on what little they could, she is till a fairly fresh newcomer to Fodlan; and so, she resolves to - at least for now - allow them to do the talking and watch over the situation should anything get out of control.

It had been her hope when she’d stowed the odd paper in her pocket that it might prove useful later, but to think that it had been a key for these strange, unlikable doors... Katarina could but hope hers would prove to be similarly useful to R’wena’s. The key sat light atop a curled finger and tight beneath her thumb, gray eyes searching the area near the door for a similar lock--

--but the door opened unceremoniously, offering nothing more than a faint hum and passage into darkness. As if that was somewhere she wanted to go back to... Still, the once disgraced tactician stowed the card away for safekeeping, hesitating a moment before the threshold. A quiet breath... and nothing, save for the following sigh of relief and disbelief. No shock just yet, though that clearly meant little until they’d all passed through. 

“Oh...” Stood half in shadow, Katarina looked back to her companions. A knowing glance shared with Ares, and she turned her attention to the other two. “Lorenz, Linhardt... Be careful entering the room. When we were in our last groups, they used some kind of magic to hurt us when we walked in.” Not that there was much they could do about it, but it was better than being taken unaware. 

As for the matter of the unrelenting shadow -- well, she’d had enough of that in her life, hadn’t she? Holding up a scarred palm, the mage kindled a modest flame in her hand, its light thrown further over the room’s walls. It was bigger than she’d imagined it to be, in some odd sense of irony, and she looked around a moment. A button behind her yielded nothing even when pressed, except for another quiet sigh as Katarina stepped further in, allowing her teammates passage. 

At this point Micaiah has taken to walking to the Black Eagles classroom, Professor Arvis’s key in pocket, on the first evening of the week as a given.  She’s already put the water to boil downstairs and will go fetch it and a teaset when she’s ready: but first, to air out the room.

It really does get musty with all the old tomes in here, not helped my Micaiah bringing more and more of them in. The notes she and Pelleas had taken on their respective dark and light magic tomes are in a neat pile in the corner and as Micaiah does a quick dusting past them she finds herself smiling at the thought this whole routine is about to become something of a book club.

Micaiah knew little of Lorenz Hellman Gloucester other than that he was a noble of the Alliance as well as friend and now classmate to Elincia; but that was more than enough. She thought Elincia’s judge of characters was one of her best qualities, and so when she had mentioned the discussion the two had had regarding different magic paths and the choices therein Micaiah had been bursting to share her own insight.

She’s already put the duster aside and is scribbling a diagram on the class’s board when she hears someone come in behind her.

“Oh! You’re here early, I haven’t even gotten the tea ready yet. Or… hm, did I forget the time in all my excitement? My apologies.”

Her footsteps echo against polished floors as she moves like a phantom through the halls. Mitama keeps her eyes down, not out of any sort of reverence or favor, but she knows how brightly she stands out amongst the grey. If trailing eyes are to fall, suspicious of her presence, she at least has the training to look the part of the faithful.

The problem with her suspicions is figuring out where to start. The catacombs, for all their secrets, had been quite literally under their feet. While the obvious answer would be to attempt to return, the way was barred, and Lady Rhea had returned to her office as though the events that had passed meant nothing to her.

Her father always did find ways to irritate those in power. It only made sense to follow suit.

Luckily this late, there are few souls about. The bridge to the monastery is near empty as she crosses it and tries to think of an idea on what to do. Though she can make an attempt, she doubts very much she can figure out a way to open the catacombs once more, even if she did find it unguarded. But perhaps there are other secrets within the monastery to be found, hidden where the oblivious do not see them? The statues of the saints or perhaps she can find a way into the Goddess Tower for a proper investigation or-

There is a flash of purple in her peripheral and Mitama’s steps falter for just a second too long. Lorenz. She curses internally and keeps her gaze away as she continues to walk. She does not know why he is up this late, nor why he has found himself in the grounds surrounding the monastery, but she has no intention of stopping to be hounded and find out.

Elincia weaved her way through the crowds at the marketplace, lingering at each and every flower stand. The blooms were captivating, some were flashy and brightly coloured and yet others were soft and delicate. They’d make a perfect gift, what with the Garland Moon fast approaching. Especially for someone she held especially dear.

So lost in thoughts of grandiose confessions and flowery bouquets, Elincia almost collided with a familiar figure. Lavender hair, tall stature and a noble bearing.

“Oh, Lorenz!” Elincia exclaimed joyfully, blushing at how loudly she’d spoken. A few heads turned towards her but she didn’t hold their attention for very long. Sheepishly, she whispered to him. “Sorry, I was just really happy to see you.”

The stall before him was stocked with roses of every shade and shape imaginable. She chuckles softly before stopping to smell the roses. The fragrance was sweet like honeysuckle and brought a smile to the Crimean’s face. They were also Lorenz’s signature, it was really no surprise to find him here. He was a man who understood beauty and elegance far better than most.

An idea struck her!

“Lorenz, are you terribly busy right now? If you are, please don’t let me keep you,” she took another glance at the roses, blooming brilliantly in the spring sunlight. “If you could spare me a moment though, I was wondering if I could pick your brains. I’m trying to gift some blooms to someone and I could use a keen eye like yours.”