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[SOLDIER First]

"Oh, quiet. Even if I were to make such a claim, the truth would hardly be an insult, General."

"Ah, of course. Younger and stronger... and yet I seem to recall you being quite unlucky with women, a problem I was very much unused to. Youth isn't so great, whippersnapper."

Damon then looks to Iris as she makes her bold statement, quite unamused once more. He's very good at quickly switching between moods, it seems.

"In Mir, disobedience of a soldier was tantamount to treason. I would not hesitate to leave you behind if I thought we would benefit from your absence more than your presence."

[SeriousConcentrate]

Ariston snorted with a shrug.

"That's true. I would have thought appearance and prestige to be more attractive qualities than experience."

The general flipped his hair in a manner most unmilitary to emphasize the fact he was significantly less grizzled than his old friend and mentor, although his bangs immediately settled over his forehead once his hand was out of the way. Jokes aside, he felt he ought to step into this situation.

"This isn't Mir, though. There isn't one of us without our peculiarities in this team - take Alain, for instance. Perhaps it's just changing times but I've never met anyone who acts quite like her. Or Sacha. We indulge both of them their quirks, and let's be honest Damon. We don't have many people on our side. With Typhos giving up, we ought to at least give miss Baker a chance to prove herself."

It was a naive argument, but to be fair it was Ariston's naivety that got the pair of them in this mess in the first place; no one was going to mistake him for someone with great instincts. Especially as far as women were concerned. He didn't understand any of the ones he was traveling with.

[Blade Master Model 42]

"...Er, do?" In her former life, Yilda had been something of a champion of wasting time. Since her death, however, she'd gotten used to simply waiting. Letting time pass with no real activity. With neither a place nor family to call her own, there was often very little to do. And she did not consider those around her family. "I don't think I have any input for you." Without really thinking about it, she allowed her left hand to drift up to her neck.

[SOLDIER First]

Damon looks down at his frame - larger than Ariston's despite their difference in strength - gestures at himself, then looks to Ariston and spreads his arms with a smug smile.

---

"No, Ariston. As much as we need numbers, I refuse to fight with someone I cannot trust to act without hesitation or questioning me. Questioning us. Such as, for example, rushing a beast thrice her size with a knife after explicit instructions to run the hell away."

Damon then gives his umpteenth sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"_{What I wouldn't do for just one. Damn. Break.}"

[SeriousConcentrate]

Ariston was no slouch at 6'5, so anyone looking at the pair of them could be forgiven for thinking the people of Mir were giants in general.

"Oh please, we all know the blacksmith had to let out your cuirass around the paunch once or twice old man, but this right here is all lean muscle."

Pythias knocked his left knuckles against his own chest a few times to emphasize his point. Damon quickly brought the conversation back to Alain, and the general nodded.

"I don't think Alain intended insubordination. She's not a soldier like us; she'll learn discipline sooner or later but she's just... excitable. She sort of reminds me of a cat with an overlong tail that's always in the edge of her vision and she can't help but chase it every time it moves, but I think she might have learned her lesson about biting off more than she can chew after I hauled her out."

At least, he hoped she did. There was a reason he insisted on vanguarding the party.

"If you need to rest, I found a hammock in that building over there. It might do us all some good to take a few moments to collect ourselves before we settle on a new destination anyway."

Pythias hadn't actually heard what Damon had muttered, but he was accustomed enough to the captain's body language that he knew what that particular combination of sigh and nose-pinching meant: he was fed up with everyone's bullshit.

[SOLDIER First]

"Oh, so now you aren't embarassed to be smaller than me."

Damon smirks proudly at his incredibly clever and demeaning insult, then slowly remembers his present company, and the smile dissolves faster than one can blink.

"You know what? I will go do that. Take a rest, I mean. Now. I could use it, right now, at this moment. Thank you, Ariston, everyone."

He nods and marches off in the direction Ariston had indicated without another word.

[SeriousConcentrate]

"OK. Take it easy, Damon."

Ariston stood aside to let him pass. It was a shame that ended; it had been... good. The military macho posturing had become something of a joke between them.. when was it? Before he was promoted to general? It had to have been. Funny how the good parts were more of a blur than that one razor sharp, crystal clear failure. He sighed and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck, before turning to Iris.

"He's a good man... just rough to get to know."

[Nerjin]

"Charges? I seem to recall picking you up off the floor several times in the past two engagements. If anything, Captain, you are my charge."

Iris seemed to enjoy the byplay, if only because she imagined this brilliantly crimson-haired woman (you could do so much with a pigment like that!) was feeling territorial, because of her presence. Well, it might even be true. Even in these times, social constructs still had to be maintained.

She gave Sacha a nearly invisible smile.

"And, which one are you? I have several names, but no where to put them.

...Also, as an aside, is your hair color quite natural? It's been a long time since I've beheld such a shade of hearts-blood-red...like the cup of a rose...ah, yes, I could paint you too, if I found just the right light..." She said, drifting a bit.

Ignoring the Captain momentarily Sacha is quite happy to respond. It had been far too long since someone had offered to paint her. The fact that no one had offered didn't matter. A prophetess deserves to be captured upon canvas.

"My hair color is, indeed, natural. I wouldn't mind being painted. One with such beauty with both physique and skill would likely do quite well at capturing myself upon a canvas. Name the time and the place. As for who I am... I am Sacha, an ex-prophetess."

Damon stares Iris dead in the face, without blinking. When he speaks, and gods does he speak, it is without a trace of malice.

"For the last, what, five centuries? Six, perhaps? For however long, I have been trapped inside of a dilapidated castle with nobody and nothing at all for company except my sole remaining friend in this gods-forsaken wasteland and the corpses of the men who died for my incredible failure on a battlefield, the same failure that ended with us being sealed there in the first place. We did not see the light of day for one single minute since then, until now. I died generations before your parents' parents were ever born. There is not one, single, conceivable way I met you, or fell in love with you, or were made conscious of the fact that you even existed. Do not insult the General and I, or our fallen soldiers, by implying otherwise. I won't ask a second time."

"Come on, Captain. No need to be rude. Give it a bit of time. I'm sure you and her will get along famously just like the two of us."

'And while you're at it stop trying to annoy the assassin and the woman we don't know who has stated she'll destroy things in her way. Honestly, it's like you want to die again.'

"He's a good man... just rough to get to know."

"I don't know about that. I find him quite amusing to keep around, General. He's the only military man I've met in my life, and after, that's been worth respecting."

[Tiruin]

Meanwhile with Yilda

"Let's do something together then! We're always doing something while we pass the time--most of it is thinking! You could also ask the firekeeper to help you and your staff; healers have a unique acumen to them and if this is a firekeeper, I'm sure she could help you out there. Maybe show her your staff?"

[SeriousConcentrate]

"I don't know about that. I find him quite amusing to keep around, General. He's the only military man I've met in my life, and after, that's been worth respecting."

"If I had had any pride left after Karthmere that would have been painful. Damon was right; women just don't like me. I guess he won that one."

He sighed, but it was clear that it wasn't the same burdened sound as before.

[Blade Master Model 42]

Yilda growned. "Help me and my staff?" Yilda cast her gaze down at the azure gem sitting atop her implement. Now that she thought about it, she'd been using it quite a bit. She rolled the staff in her hand for a moment, peering at the dim glow. She estimated somewhere between a quarter and a third of the original power remained. "I don't think I see what it is you'd expect her to do."

[Tiruin]

"Me neither, really, but we will never know if our assumptions are correct if we don't try or ask. And all of that is me assuming things, but it's also that I'd just like to get to know more about you too!"

Alain hoped she wasn't being too intrusive on the nice healer person.

[Dwarmin]

"He's a good man... just rough to get to know."

"I suppose I'll take your word for it." She said placidly.

"If I had had any pride left after Karthmere that would have been painful. Damon was right; women just don't like me. I guess he won that one."

He sighed, but it was clear that it wasn't the same burdened sound as before.

"I've found that to be the case with military men. Discipline keeps you alive, but it makes for poor conversation..." She said, nodding to herself.

"My hair color is, indeed, natural. I wouldn't mind being painted. One with such beauty with both physique and skill would likely do quite well at capturing myself upon a canvas. Name the time and the place. As for who I am... I am Sacha, an ex-prophetess."

"Well, aren't you quite the inveigler? Nicely met, Lady Sacha...as for the art, I could on you start right now. Seems we're waiting for the Captain to finish his nap, anyway. Someone should have told him, that we don't really need to sleep anymore..." She said softly.

[Nerjin]

"If I had had any pride left after Karthmere that would have been painful. Damon was right; women just don't like me. I guess he won that one."

He sighed, but it was clear that it wasn't the same burdened sound as before.

"I just have a hard time seeing you as the type to send young men to their deaths while trying to have innocent women like me burned alive at the stake. To me you seem more a fighter than a military man." Sacha briefly leaned in to whisper the next part.

"As for the luck with women... You just lack the rugged charm our dear Captain brings to the table, eh Pretty Boy?"

"Well, aren't you quite the inveigler? Nicely met, Lady Sacha...as for the art, I could on you start right now. Seems we're waiting for the Captain to finish his nap, anyway. Someone should have told him, that we don't really need to sleep anymore..." She said softly.

"This very moment? I can't see why not."

[Dwarmin]

Iris's smile widened at least half an inch. An audience! Maybe the Gods were kind after all.

"Indeed. Let's just put you right over here..."

Iris led Sacha over to the entrance of the cave, where the weathered brick gave way to rubble, then soft grass. It took a few minutes of putting her in different places before she found one she liked-one that left most of Sacha in soft, dim light.

With no further ado, she reached for a tube on her belt-about the size of a hand fan-and shook it out, revealing an arcane construction about three by three feet, floating in the air. The 'canvas' itself seemed to be made of some sort of energy that was not quite light or darkness, but something different altogether. Whatever it is made out, it is alluring to look upon-it reflects like a mirror, but the reflections are not the same as the world around you. Most of these reflections seem uniquely beautiful, at least compared to reality...

For example, Sacha can see the opposite side of the canvas facing her-it seems to reflect not the tarnished rubble and overgrown grass of a long fallen fortress, but a gleaming main street paved with marble stones. Occasionally, she will even see a flash of steel, and flap of a long colorful pennant, as soldiers arrayed in gleaming armor march by.

Iris promptly raised her hands-her left hand was engulfed in bright white light, and her right in a patch of utter darkness. Their shapes were vaguely like a brush or a candle-flame, fat at one end, tapered at the tip. She then manipulated the canvas in some way, altering the colors of the flames. The bright white light turned a light shade of hearts-blood-red. The dark stayed the same.

"...Now, this will probably not be like the sort of portrait you might have had before, fair warning. I don't really need you to pose, I need to know your frame of thought...your essential being. Try to envision a strong memory, of what made you who you are, and how you wish me to portray you...if you ever knew someone truly and deeply, I can add them as well...such things are rare, of course, for few willingly bare their souls. Even to their lovers...

If you're afraid, say so now. Fear will taint the final working...and, you don't really want to see that. I promise, this is harmless...at least to you. Just a little trick of the light.

...Otherwise, shall we begin?" She asked, her voice gentle and kind.