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[SOLDIER First]

”And with our luck, whateve god is at the top will be halfway across the world instead.”

[Dwarmin]

Iris sat down at the fire prettily, in a ladylike way, with an immaculate fluff of her silken skirt. She took the red potion out of her pack, and held it up to the light, or the equivalent. It was the perfect shade of dark red. Combined with what she had taken from Sacha, the summer colors were coming along nicely. She pointed at it with her finger and began drawing some of the colors out into tiny blue flames dancing at her fingertips.

Unfortunately the duos grousing was depressing her. They were already dead, did they have to be dull?

"Oh, what's the point worrying about the floor underneath your feet? If it falls out from under you, there's little to be done about it. Prepare for what you can, suffer everything else as it comes..." She said lightly, drawing a line of red from the bottle like a ribbon of silk.

"How about we relax and enjoy ourselves. We could cook up some Estus soup-this potion should make a good ingredient for one of you. And I used to be a very good cook, you know, which is really quite depressing now that we don't have to eat. Anyway, we could sing some songs! And tell tall tales of our adventures. I could paint some more portraits if anyone is up for it. Surely someone has an instrument? It's been too long since I've heard any music that wasn't gloomy."

It was probably all in her head, but Iris had found that her undeath was accompanied by epic orchestral ballads, one woman wails (that was probably Sacha most of the time), ominous chanting, and sad piano solos. She really wished she had found her banjo before she died...but, the banjo went the way of the fishing pole...

[Tiruin]

Alain walked over and traded off the slim sword Yilda gave her for the rest of the set of her knives, before moving up to the champion and getting that single knife off him--she always kept at least one on her person, in modest but inconspicuous places, like in her boots!

"Poor soul. Must be a guardian or someone important, to stand in a way of something so huge like this. Nothing is usable, even the shield."

Examine Champion...um, corpse, for any identification--like that shield! No crest?

"Look on the bright side: a good fire and some appraisal of the situation is here! If that tower didn't crumble from the last centuries it stood there against the wind and sea, then despite the outward appearance, the foundations and inside area is stable...or at least held up by multiple, crumbling supports! And unlike that, I'm very happy to be with the rest of you. That was great work there! Especially you, Iris."

[Dwarmin]

"Why, thank you, Ms. Alain. My personal competence makes up for a lot in this group, I can tell." Iris said 'modestly'.

[SeriousConcentrate]

"We had a few military drummers but music wasn't really a skill they taught us in the army."

[Dwarmin]

"We'll have to do it all acapella. You know...!~♬Dum dum doom, dum dum doom, doom doom dum...!~♬" She said-timing her words, she clapped lightly, clicked her mouth, and slapped her knee. Music!

"And anyone can sing, just like anyone can paint the same way-not as good as me, but alright.

We just need lyrics-something sweet. Does anyone know the words to some good songs?"

Gods help her (or maybe not) Iris was going to cheer up this miserable quest. If they had to march on the dying God in the Greenstone tower singing Your heart races over singing streams, they would.

[SOLDIER First]

”...I would very much like to challenge that claim, but I suppose you do have a point, miss Iris. There’s no harm in taking a break. Perhaps I could see about that nap.”

“Hold on; can we sleep? I don’t remember the last time I did before we— were trapped.”

[SeriousConcentrate]

"I'm not sure if I ever did or not. We were in the darkness for so long that the decades blur together."

[Dwarmin]

"...I don't believe we have to sleep any more than we have to eat, or drink...or breathe. But we still can. The hollowed show us that our bodies are just an empty canvas-our life is the pigment...

Anyway, tell us how it goes! Maybe you'll have an interesting experience-Do Dead Generals Dream of Eclectic Threaps?"  She asked, hand to her chin.

[SeriousConcentrate]

"What's a Threap? Does it have something to do with that bottle you're holding?"

[Dwarmin]

Iris seems to have finished whatever she was doing to the potion-it seems a little duller now, like everything else in the world. But Iris herself seems just a bit more colorful...

She responds to Ariston fondly.

"A Threap is an old word for an argument, strong assertion, punishment, contention, or just a fight. Particularly an obstinate one that refuses to end.

...

Also, I suppose this bottle is fit for someone for threaps alot. It's some sort of Warriors Potion-makes you stronger, tougher, faster, and more handsome, intelligent and charming. I believe it also freshens your breath, and lets you see in the dark like a lizardbat*.

I was going to add it to the soup for whoever wanted it."

*Results not guaranteed

[SeriousConcentrate]

"I could probably use the help. My strength just isn't what it used to be; I think my muscles must have atrophied somewhat."

[SOLDIER First]

”...I don’t think any of that is true.”

”Or so you say,” he mutters to himself after Ariston speaks.

[Dwarmin]

"It's not like you have muscles, it's all a spiritual metaphor, or something...never mind...I'll whip it up for you."

Iris dug through her hip mounted bag-purse, and took out a small cook pot made of gleaming brass-it was lovingly worked with detailed images of the Gods, standing in a circle around the rim, each of them holding up a part of the world. It was doubtful they appreciated the sentiment.

Iris put the pot on the bonfire and began adding drips from her Estus, and the red potion, and small blasts of light and dark magic. She began stirring it with a runed bronze spoon as well. It sparked and boiled like a real soup would, and after a few moments it even began to smell like one-though no one would be able to agree on what exactly it smelled like, since it would only smell like a food you would have truly enjoyed.

"Can I borrow your Estus flask for a moment, Mr. Ariston? ...I've found that each flask has it's own distinct flavor-some sweet, some bitter, some hot or cold, others more pleasing to the nose, some with specific textures. My flask is very tangy on the surface, very zingy-but also, sort of creamy, and aloof...I don't know if its just the person, or something about how the flasks were made, or even the spirit in which it was given or taken...but they make completely unique flavors when you mix them all up together. It's quite wonderful."

Action: Iris cooks up the Warriors Tincture for Ariston and makes headcanon for Estus Soup

[Nerjin]

"How... decadent of you. To eat when one doesn't hunger. Truly, you are a person of many surprises."