Living Quarters (Free Role Play)

Location: Brig

Scarlett's eyes narrowed on the doctor, "now just what brand of bullshit do you think you're peddling here? Are you really making up a story like that just to get out of here?"

She sighed, stepping back from the cell and putting her hands behind her head, "the 'greatest war our nations ever seen'? I think we would have heard of that, moron. The only references to..." she coughs, "Azure, before this fortress thing, were some local reports of him from northern Rosalia. Apparently he was some local menace, attacked and wiped out a few villages before some citizens banded together and warded him off. Not exactly a full-blown war there, old guy."

"Excuse me, Grand Inquisitor Scarlett!" Candice spoke up, stepping forward. "My apologies for interrupting, but um... well... I may have an idea of how the events this man spoke of could be true." She reached down below her formal shirt, retrieving her amulet. She pulled the relic's chain over her head so she could present it, "this medallion was an artifact from my people in a faraway land. It's the source of my own time-bending abilities." Her eyebrows furrowed, "the moment just before Morgan appeared, it began to glow and blink in a way I had never seen before. In truth, the origins of this relic are unknown to my people, but..." she nodded, " perhaps it could have somehow brought him here. From his attire to his weapon... I think, he may be from a different time."

Candice took a step closer, tilting her head to get a better look at Doc Morgan. "If I could ask, Doctor Morgan, precisely when are you from? And were you doing anything at the time you were brought here that may have caused something strange? A strange glowing stone, or something like that?"

Doc cocked his head. "Well, the last thing I remember was a band of miscreants breaking into my practice and firin' at me. Next thing I know, I'm skidding to a stop in that cathedral, covered in icicles. I did not, as far as I can recall, entangle myself in any machinations that could displace me in time itself, if such a thing is really possible, but I would be mighty interested in examining that amulet of yours, ma'am. As for when I'm from, I presume you mean the year? That would be 1885, AD. Is that not the same for you all?"

"And the war did happen, Grand Inquisitor Scarlett." Doc's tone no longer carried any hint of antagonism, it was urgent and cooperative. "My arrival in this place was the first I ever heard tell of "Rosalia", so it comes as no surprise to me that you would have never heard tell of our war. However, that our shared experience should include Azure... I feel that should give us all pause."

"Ay-Dee?" Scarlett repeated. "Candice, you know what that is?"

She shook her head, "I'm afraid not, commander, but '1885' is certainly not any measure of the current year that I'm aware of." She let the hand holding her amulet fall to her side, "and, um... I suppose I could let you examine my amulet, Doctor Morgan. From a distance. With others around."

"Hew, an actual time-traveler," Scarlett whistles. "Don't see that every day. Even if it wasn't intentional, guess that gives some credibility to your testimony?"

"It still seems far too convenient for him to drop in and attack one of our commanders," Corbin shakes his head.

"Maybe," Scarlett admits, "but... well, to be honest, those just don't sound like the words of a guy who's making it all up to me."

Corbin scoffs, "then you place your faith in others far too quickly."

"Alright alright, tell you what," Scarlett put her hands on her hips. "Morgan, we still have some uncertainties about you, but at least part of your story seems to check out, and we really could use some more healing on the front lines. So..." she turned back toward the opposite wall of the brig, weaving between the others to retrieve the key to the man's cell. "I'll cut you loose, but you'll be under close watch. I'm putting you with the toughest bunch of badasses we got around here, Regiment 1-31." With a smirk, she flicked her thumb around the room, "you've already had the pleasure of meeting some of them here. And trust me, they're a lot more intimidating when they're not filled with whiskey."

She swung the key around her index finger, approaching the cell door. As she did so, she looked over to Corbin, "what you think? Seem reasonable?"

"Hmph..." the older man crossed his arms, considering. "...I suppose that's the best compromise. And who knows, his familiarity with Azure might provide some boon when the time comes."

Nodding, Scarlett pressed the key into the lock--then stopped. She turned to regard the room once more, "Erika, Severa, Arthur? You see any sign this guy is working for the other side? Any lapse in loyalty, or any weird behavior when we get into this next battle? End him. No hesitation. That's an order, from your commander."

She turned back to the doctor, serious as death. "We're not here to settle whatever personal beef you've got, alright? I get you got regrets, but we have no intention of getting wiped out. We've got a country to protect. People to protect. Now, if you vow to help us do that above all else..." she turned the key, pulling the cell door open with a metallic screech. "Then you can come right out." She motioned to the wall, "your stuff's either hanging there or in the box next to it."

"But if you aren't ready to fight for something bigger than yourself?" she finished, appraising him harshly as her arm fell. "Then you better just stay in that cell 'til we got time to toss you out."

Location and Time: Window in Reconnaissance Division Headquarters Hallway, Evening Before Battle 9

Candice glanced up, once again scanning the edge of Castle High's forge for any sign of movement. Finding none, she returned to her work, letting out a breath. Part of her wondered if she was being ridiculous, waiting in a window sill for Arthur to finish his work. In all likelihood he wouldn't mind if she intruded, but... it didn't feel respectful, invading his space like that. Though she enjoyed noting the silent stoicism he carried upon his shoulders while working, it carried a power and purpose she didn't feel the right to intrude on.

Still, she did feel a bit silly with the alternative of waiting for him from up here, perched like some bird on a stoop. Her suit jacket hung over her shoulder while her white dress sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, the cool evening air bringing a refreshing chill to her exposed fins there. She was pressed against the window frame's side, crooked and leaning downward, trying her best to write agent evaluations on the side of her pant leg between glances toward the forge. Her hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, a decision she'd made after fifteen minutes of fighting to keep it out of her eyes due to the location's incessant draft. Though she'd have been far more comfortable in her own office, the view from there wasn't close enough to the forge to see it well, so she'd propped herself up in a hallway window further to the east, a decision she perhaps slightly regretted in retrospect. It accomplished its goal, but the awkward position made her half-hearted attempt at trying to stay productive completely ineffectual (she'd probably have to re-write these reports later...). Honestly, she was glad most everyone else in the surrounding offices had already turned in for the night. Seeing her up here, hunched over and writing notes while trying to spot Arthur for a little under an hour, they might think she was stalking him.

...Which, she definitely wasn't. Absolutely not. These notes were for work, a clear distinction.

Nodding to herself to solidify the very evident validity of her current behavior, Candice almost missed the very thing she'd been watching for: down below, the ever-distinct form of Arthur left the forge, heading toward the courtyard. Gills expanding as she felt a minor surge of anxiety, she threw her legs back over the side of the window--and in so doing, knocked her favorite pen over the side, sending it tumbling to a shrub below. She stared down at it for a extra few moments with an outstretched hand, feeling a surprising amount of loss. After a second, however, she returned her mind to her goal, making a mental note to retrieve it later.

As she stretched her sore legs, she turned back out the window to see precisely where Arthur was heading. Curious... the castle gates? The only thing through there mid-flight was the small section of the earthen foundation Castle High was built onto that lay outside its walls.

With a thoughtful hum, she began speed-walking down the halls, stairs, and out toward the gates of Castle High, giving passerby short, polite waves. She hoped she wasn't catching him at a bad time, but she had to see him before whatever tomorrow would bring.

Location: Castle High Perimeter (Evening before Battle 9)

Arthur let out a long breath as he stepped out of the forge's back door: that was quite possibly the longest he'd spent in there for the past three weeks--though given his slight migraine and the persistent ache in his joints, his endurance was better attributed to mindlessness than stamina. It was surprisingly peaceful... Up until the point his headache forced him to yield, he'd actually experienced some genuine tranquility in his workflow for the first time in a while.

Pale Moon was almost done... He'd take a break to eat and walk, then take it with him to the dormitory so he could complete its finishing touches by the cool window.

His tired feet carried him past Castle High's gates and towards the jagged cliffs that made the property's boundary. Some rubble from battles long past lay scattered about the lonely space, from small chunks of brick to shards of the ramparts large enough to shield him from the breeze. A stroll through this place was the closest he would get to a walk in nature until they touched solid ground again, and he'd traversed it often to soothe himself when the hustle and bustle of the Castle grew too much... but the cool breeze constantly circling about it was rough on his skin, often forcing him to take a seat under some rubble before he could walk for too long.

This time, he'd at least reminded himself to leave his jacket by the door to wear later... and his hair had grown back out since the conclusion of Dragonskull forced him to cut it--long enough to warm him against the wind. He could afford to stand a little longer, this time.

Tugging at the bun that had been keeping his hair back all day as he walked, it quickly came loose in a curtain of silver that fell about his shoulders and a quarter of the way down his back. His undershirt, translucent with sweat, clung to his form; if not for the sturdy wool-lined jacket over it, he might have quickly caught a chill.

Then, after getting far enough for the din of voices to grow distant, his steps slowed... until he stood completely still before a scene of uninterrupted open sky. From here, one could see for miles in almost all directions but behind... and eveningtime painted the landscape in an especially breathtaking swathe of colors.

He made sure to commit the sight to memory as best as he could every time he saw it. Just a force of habit...

...though in recent times, he often wondered whether his next meeting with the person who loved these colors so much was closer than anticipated.

Deep in thought, he let his head fall back to gaze at the roof of the sky...

Not wanting to approach Arthur un-announced, Candice did her best to ensure her footsteps were audible (though given the breeze, she wasn't sure how successful she could be without outright stomping, which was likely a bridge too far) as she exited the gates. She'd never come outside the castle's walls like this, and upon feeling the chilling wind on her scales, immediately took the suit jacket off her shoulder and shrugged it on, pulling at its fabric to straighten into place. Considering her penchant for overdressing, it was an almost entertaining change of pace... thought on second thought, considering Arthur usually just wore his undershirt in the forge, she'd feel especially overdressed in full formal wear. Frowning, she looked down and quickly decided on the best means of correcting the situation: she yanked her shirt out of her black pants (taking a second longer to ensure it wasn't bunched up or especially creased anywhere) and loosened her tie, leaving its knot comfortably resting on her upper chest. That was... well, it would do. Should she do something else with her hair? Though given the wind--she stopped herself there, shaking her head. Clear stalling behavior.

Finally remembering she was supposed to be looking for Arthur, she panned around the space of sparse flora and ruins. Even outside his armor, Arthur was never the sort that was hard to spot, and that proved true once again: she caught the silvery shine of his hair under the pale night sky's light. A small smile crept across her face as she approached and he came better into vision. He looked tired (understandably, after his time in the forge), but peaceful as well... or perhaps, tranquil, at least in amounts. She was glad to see him in good health and mind, but... that nervous spark refused to disappear, souring her mood somewhat. Such troublesome little things.

She waited until she was close, hands in her suit pockets, before quietly offering, "good evening, Arthur. I was hoping I could talk--" she hesitated, her approach feeling far too direct and unfriendly, "--if that's alright, of course. I understand you spent a long time in the forge, so if you'd prefer to have this time to yourself, I can go," she raised a thumb and pointed it back toward the gate. She thought for a beat about her offer, before adding, speeding increasing, "though, I suppose in that case, I might ask if I could see you tomorrow morning, or another time that works for you, so I could ask you about something. If you wanted to, that is..."

Candice let out a pent up breath, her head and shoulders dropping with an embarrassed smile, "I apologize, I'm probably not making any sense at all." She returned her hands to her pockets, "I've thought about this quite a bit--well, you know, to some extent--and it seems all my thoughts are running into each other now. You seem in good spirits: I hope my presence isn't diminishing that."

Finally, a merciful, reasonable conversation starter made itself apparent in the swirling nonsense of her thoughts. She lifted her head, unconsciously rubbing the back of her neck, "well, that other topic can wait regardless. Umm... if you wouldn't prefer I leave, may I ask you about your sword? I couldn't help but notice that you left your previous weapon at the cathedral, but it looked as if you were forging a new one today. Is there a particular reason you wished to start from scratch like that?"

Instinctively, Arthur angled his face towards one shoulder when he heard approaching footsteps: light and short... it sounded like Candice, but until they called out, he wouldn't speak--just a force of habit. Usually, those who walked up from behind and didn't speak before crossing a certain threshold weren't looking for conversation; in moments like these, he would grow especially still.

That stillness was just as quickly expelled when Candice finally spoke and pulled up to his side. She sounded more timid this time--he had to wonder if at some point he frightened her and didn't realize it. The persona he made for himself was not exactly the most approachable... and her spirit seemed to waver back and forth in the corner of his awareness.

On a dime, she changed the subject before he could make a remark about her supposedly diminishing his good spirits (did he look happy?)--and after realizing what she was talking about, his eyelids lowered, conflict settling over his tired features as he turned away towards the open air.

"You... saw me leave my weapon?" he asked quietly. "How much... did you see?"

Candice felt her tension grow as she watched Arthur's reaction, her breathing growing a touch harsher. Her immediate reaction was to backpedal, "I-I apologize again, goodness, aagh!" She gave the side of her head a loud, stinging slap, "obviously that would be a sensitive topic! I'm being particularly idiotic tonight, gah! I'm sorry, you deserve, better than whatever this is."

"Once more, I'm sorry Arthur," she apologized again, stepping back to give a deep bow. "I was concerned for you and wanted to ensure the Venerated Knight was truly dealt with... and, well... bore witness to you ensuring both of those things."

She was quiet for a moment, reflecting on the conflict that sat on Arthur's features, and soon felt her own features soften. She stepped close once more, joining him in gazing upon the open sky, "I understand, Arthur. As I told you before, I was once an elected leader, a representative of my people. And in that line of work... well... I too, was forced to make harsh judgements. In all honesty..." she let out a slow breath from deep in her body, "I've passed down punishments upon many far less deserving than that knight. Those I hated simply because their views conflicted with my own."

Candice pressed her shoulder lightly into Arthur's arm, a small point of warmth in the chilly night. "That woman was vile. She was brutal and feral, and did all she could to murder you and our allies. And the things she said... I could only hear some, but those I did were deeply cruel and hateful. I wasn't able to listen to the words you exchanged before the final blow, but I can only suspect she further threatened you or the others. Though I admit the strike did--" her brow furrowed as she paused to find an appropriate word, "--startle me, in its intensity, I nonetheless respect its origin."

If he'd allow her, she tried to look up and catch his eyes, "you were a warrior in battle, ensuring a dangerous and malicious foe would not bring you or any others further harm. That cause is just. I remember what you've told me of your life before this place, but... I see this as different. And you as different, in kind."

Even with Candice's shoulder pressing gently into his arm, Artur's eyes continued lingering on the ground. Specks of dust and dry grass swept past his feet and across the cliffside, some scattering away into the sky. For a long moment, he reached into the void blooming in his mind for something--anything--to say...

"You're an odd one, Candice," he finally mumbled. Familiar words. "A threat... tah. She and I were in the cathedral when it collapsed--by that point, she was well taken care of. I did it because I could. Her life is an insult to her weapon, and as a swordsman, being the one to let her go on would be nothing short of disgrace."

"There is nothing to be found in her future. We are different, yes... because she reached desperately for a reason to justify her bloodlust."

"There is no justice in it," he grimaced, "just self-interest. Out there in our underworld, the strong do what they want with the weak; but if you have an ounce of pride, you'll save your breath for experiences that matter. People like her cavort around robbing passers-by of their silver and snapping up unsuspecting men and women as playthings at night... and if you give them an honourable title, then they shall do the same thing in broad daylight."

A frustrated growl rumbled warm in his throat: "that is where I live. And at the peak of one's skill and strength, killing is almost never necessary... but I've done it more times than I can count, for my own reasons. I only changed my mind at the end this time because I thought one of you lot was about to come over."

Finally, the swordsman turned and peered down at Candice, a stern but distant look in his eyes... and carefully pulled his left arm behind her shoulders, his callused hand curling around her arm. There was no tenderness to it, though the gesture was not forceful or cold either: just careful, angling his head down to watch her face for a response.

"Don't make up stories about me," he muttered--though his voice rang low, they were close enough now that it could still be clearly heard. "but I am sorry I startled you."

If she didn't pull away immediately, he would wait a beat longer--then, the edges of his voice softer: "Are you still scared?"

As Arthur spoke, Candice's anxiety shifted into something else: an energy, questioning and frustrated. The emotion finally ran over upon Arthur's final gesture, putting his arm around her. A gentle gesture that should have been close, one of familiar contact, but instead, he'd do so while asking her something like that...

"Scared?" She shook her head in disbelief, "Arthur, I..." she pushed away his arm in a frustrated shove, pacing a few steps forward. "I can't believe this is still what you are saying!" She spun on her heel, pressing a hand to the side of her head, still pacing, "why, after all this time, are you still so adamant in that belief of yours?"

"Just... look at what you've done!" her tone grew outright exasperated, "you've saved the lives of our friends and the castle countless times! The singular Technique you developed for yourself is one of defense and protection!"

She planted her feet squarely in front of him, hands poised on her hips as she glared at Arthur, "you personally pulled the Bertilan Commander from his burning armor, and after doing so, planted your weapon and called for peace! I just..." again, she placed a hand over her face.

"...I just don't understand," her anger began to relent, dripping into concern, "why? Why, after everything you've done, can you not accept the simple, demonstrable fact that you are a good man, who does good things? You have an ounce of wrath in your heart: so what!?" Already, that frustration bubbled again, "the moment you were angriest in that battle was when she bound you in place and attacked Bran! You may be strong, but you defend the weak and the hurt, not have your way with them! It's all you've done since you came here! And yet you still have the nerve to stand there, gently wrap your arm around me, and ask me if I'm scared!?"

She took a step closer, putting them in close proximity once more, the heat of her breath getting trapped between them. She lowered her voice, "pardon my language, but you once called me out on my bullshit, Arthur. You told me I had no right to judge you when all I did was wait in a tower for the castle to fall. And you were right. So you know what I did? I got over myself, put aside my self-loathing, and did something. I joined the Reconnaissance Division and started fighting myself."

"It's time I return the favor," she said, before throwing her arms back and shoving his chest--between Arthur's strength and weight advantage, she didn't expect to move him, but that wasn't her intent. "Stop your bullshit! You are a noble-hearted protector, who does all he can to help those who deserve it. You show mercy to those who deserve it and wrath toward those who don't. You have a heart capable of love and hate, like any others, and use it for good! So stop acting like you're some blood-thirsty animal! Get over yourself."

"Or maybe, if you're so bloodthirsty, hit me back!" She pushed further, raising her chin and putting her arms back, vulnerable. "I'm just some weakling telling the strong what to do, right? Then go ahead, show me if I should be afraid!" She narrowed her eyes, "because I'm not. I know who you are, even if you refuse to admit it."

Candice may have expected her shove to not send Arthur far--but the second one would find a shockingly low level of resistance; like pressing against a rock wall and finding the texture of gelatin underneath, like shoving a mountain side (a man) and watching it all tumble backwards into the valley on the other side (stumble and fall on his behind):

While they had little more than moonlight to illuminate their surroundings, if she stepped close enough, she would have seen the tears welling up in his eyes. They rose uncontrollably and fell, fell, fell, wide streams running hot against his cheeks. He stared into the open air with a bewildered look, only spreading his left hand across his face in a vain attempt to hide it after a long stretch of stunned silence.:

When he tried taking deeper breaths, the ends of those breaths trembled and broke apart. (content warning: panic attack, gore?):

He began to cry.

And though Candice scolded him for his animal tendencies, the sound that came out was a howl--a deep typhoon, wind and rain like the first breath of a newborn child, spilling past the grain of his throat and out towards the pale moon.

Between howls, he struggled to catch his breath, to stop his tears, both continuing to leave him uncontrollably--as if the light in the sky itself were drawing it out by force. Even as he crammed syllables through sobs, the flow continued unimpeded.

"S-soh... saugh... s-sorry... I'm sorry... I couldn't help..."

"...someone... a-a-always... no matter how much I try..."

"...it's never... enough..."

Candice nearly fell on top of Arthur after her shove sent him tumbling, her arms not finding the solid surface she had expected. She managed to throw herself backward in time to catch her balance as her gills widened in surprise. The strange, confused look on his face made her jump to the conclusion that she'd somehow hurt him--reflexively, she reached down toward him, "oh goodness, Arthur, I'm sorry, are you..."

The words stopped in her mouth as she saw the wet streaks running down his cheeks. No, not just streaks, but streams of water, incessant. Her expression grew in worry and concern, "A-Arthur? What's wrong? I-I'm sorry if I was too harsh..." she wasn't quite able to understand where this response came from. Unless she struck something sensitive? Or, that look in his eyes... a sensitive memory?

Candice remained silent as he tried to collect himself, taking deeper breaths... and then, when he began to cry, she felt all pretense of frustration or reservation fall away.

Her arms were wrapped around him even before he began choking out syllables. She was knelt beside him leaning in, and as the words of apology tumbled from his mouth, she pressed her head deeply into the space between his shoulder and chest. She strained her arms to wrap as far around Arthur's back as she could manage as she felt her own, empathetic tears forming. She felt Arthur's shudders and sobs rock through her, a sensory feeling of his raw hurt.

"I know, I know," she whispered, nodding into him, "I'm sorry, it's okay, it's okay." She softly repeated the words, willing them to help. She moved her arms upward, bracing the backs of his shoulders, "you do a lot, you do so much, you try so hard, I know." Her webbed tail settled against one of his arms, its tip resting in his palm, a warm pressure, "I-I'm so sorry Arthur, I didn't mean to--didn't want this to happen."

She shifted her position, moving one arm to tenderly wrap around his shoulder, the other pressed squarely upon his chest as she searched for his eyes. Her own caught the starlight, compassion and concern shown without reservation, "s-stay with me. Don't spiral into those memories. You and I are here, right now, we're doing everything we can. You do so much, and you're doing it right here. So just, stay here with me right now. I've got you," she squeezed his shoulder, "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay here as long as you need me."

the past and the future:

With his thoughts spinning out of control, Arthur couldn't tell where he was (or he could, or it slipped away, or he couldn't, or). The silhouette pressed against the inside of his shoulder could have been a woman, it could have been a man. His hair could be short, it could be long. He could be in a new leather jacket, he could be in a smithing apron. He didn't know. He wanted to know. Once again, he floated in that strange place between past and present where nothing was real. He could breathe, if he could just catch his breath. He could move his hands, if they would just stop shaking. Half awake, half asleep, like a bad dream.

Did he lose? After fighting for so long to escape that place, did he slip back again? Where was he?

the forest:

Candice's voice rumbled warm through his chest. Candice... right, this was Candice. Slowly, gently, he folded a heavy arm around her. Candice had a dainty frame--unlike Landon, who needed to be touched as deeply as his skin and bones were thick, he couldn't squeeze her too tightly.

She was speaking in a hush, moving her hands to his shoulders, sliding her tail into his palm. They sat close enough that their bodies made a narrow space with two walls: a place where the voice of the woman in front of him rang soft. He'd been here before, in another time and another place.

...another time and place...

A hazy glass stood between mind and body. He'd... been separated from himself. Though his body rocked and shook and wailed, he himself quietly strove to find earth again.

From behind the glass, he urged his body to hang onto her. Just for now, as the only entity in the swirling scene with definite form: Candice, who existed in no other form in no other time but this; who made him feel like the person who existed in no other form or time but this. Her face pressing against his chest reminded him of the persistent ache within it--yet soothed it all the same.

Arthur curled around her like a wave rolling over the shore. Through the melting glass, he finally felt his own tears.

unchanging things:

Where was he? Right... she'd reminded him of... not just someone, but the beginning of everything. Those words called to mind his fear, the things he wished he could do over; and for a moment, he'd traveled back in time, and all the things he wanted to say flooded him at once.

flowers:

"Don't," he finally managed to sputter out, "Don't... go... please. I was-wasn't... I'm not... ready for... for go... you... for you to... go."

Arthur took a sharp breath--he felt it fill his lungs, this time. The pressure in his sinuses, the dribbling mucus (which he wiped on the inside of his undershirt as soon as he became aware of it), he... yes, he was here again. His deep red eyes still moist with tears, he blinked towards Candice's face, then down towards a cracked brick to his right as he released her.

Though coarse in his throat, his voice rang warm between the walls they made together:

"He... said the same thing."

"I..." The smith frowned deeply, fingertips reaching for Candice's arm again but stopping just short of her sleeve. "I thought... after he left... I could go back to the beginning. I lost... everything, that day. Our home, Fiaba... the life we had together... I couldn't do it."

"So, I went back. The man I was before... was... not very kind. In fact, I was the source of much grief," he remarked, glancing at his callused palms. "I thought I would die like that--reviled. But..."

He opened his mouth to speak--then shut it, his shoulders falling: "I did not. Because of him... because he saved me, and scolded me just as you did now. And for him, I tried my best to open my eyes and change..."

More tears rolled out of the corners of his eyes, though fewer than before.

"I thought I'd done well... He'd... had his sad days now and then, but I didn't think..." He bit his lip--hold it in, hold it in. "...didn't think it would end so suddenly. I didn't know... what to think... what to do with... the failure who couldn't save the one person who mattered most... except to throw everything away."

"In the end..." He let out a thin chuckle, blinking the last tears out of his eyes. "I suppose... that wasn't entirely possible. Now I'm a mess... I'm not sure when or 'who' I am, at times. The closest I got to understanding was..."

His voice trailed off... this was difficult to put to words. He started again, slowly:

"The sword I purchased in Vernia, and have enchanted since, was made for..." he let out a breathless sigh, "execution. Decapitation... to be precise. Not duelling or hunting, but cleaving efficiently through flesh and bone. That is the kind of weapon my training prepared me to use--a weapon of domination."

"However... I am sure... if he... or the people who believe in me... saw me using it as it was made for, I felt certain he would be disappointed. So I left it. That is... all I know for sure: that I always feel some measure of shame. Even if our life is gone, my... my feelings are still here. That is all I know."

"That is all I know," he repeated quietly, his eyelids falling. "I'm sorry."

>Location: Brig (???)

Arthur pinched his temples, the dull pain between them bringing his entire face to veritably fold in on itself. Tch... of course he shouldn't have gotten drunk and walked back into the forge to work. Not even the contents of an entire waterskin could alleviate his headache now. But more importantly...

...he looked both ways around the corner of the stairs, then flashed a quick peek at the item inside his pocket: a short, freshly forged metal rod with a wavy hook at the end. In other words, a lockpick. Without a twinge of doubt in his heart, he pressed onward.

He had to at least ask.

---

Whether by forcing his way through or simply opening the door, Arthur found himself in the brig again. And if he wasn't immediately stopped by one of the higher ups, he would look around for one--or a guard--and slip towards the only occupied cell in the area.

And if that doctor happened to be asleep, he would make a small noise (a sharp 'tcht!' through his teeth), then a louder one (a growling 'hey!'), and failing that... well, he would just pick the cell open and shake old Morgan awake himself. It wasn't as if he couldn't close it back afterwards if the fellow refused him.

Location and time: Castle High Brig, Evening before Battle 9

Doc wasn't asleep, but it probably looked that way. He was sitting back on his bunk, eyes closed, a partially disassembled revolver lying scattered around him. His breathing was soft and steady. He looked ancient.

He was trying to remember how to build things.

After being released from his cell earlier that day, Doc had slowly investigated the interior of the castle. He knew he wouldn't see the rooms he was hoping for - a cozy bar with a stage, a room bizarrely patterned with electric tiles, a supply closet with a hidden portal to another world. But there was a part of his mind that couldn't help but hope that maybe, maybe he was home.

But this wasn't Lololo, and he was far from home.

Doc had finally meandered into the armory, where he picked out a few odds and ends that didn't seem to be wanted. He picked up the halo that had belonged to that priestess on a whim - she'd seemed like a good woman at heart. He hoped she was managing. He studied its metallic sheen, noting the familiarity of its circuitry. This could be useful.

-------------

When his business there ended, he wandered out of the shop.

He didn't know where to go for the night. He figured he likely wouldn't be welcome in the barracks, next to the soldiers; he had, after all, just shot two of their friends. His steps eventually led him back to the brig, and that open cell. As good a place as any to rest, he mused.

And that brought Doc to the present moment. He was racking his brain, struggling to remember details he hadn't pulled up for decades. Turned out, electrical engineering was not like riding a bike. He prayed this wasn't a symptom of his age - Doc hadn't noticed any slowdown in his processing speed, at least not yet - but rather just the cobwebs that had accrued after years of living in a backwater Texas prairie without a-

Who was making noise?

One wrinkled eyelid popped open. It was the big fella. White hair. Drunk earlier. Vaguely reminded him of someone that he couldn't put his finger on. "Jesus. Another shakedown from you people. Did you bring poison or booze this time? I promise you, I respond better to booze."

"I might work here, old man, but I'm not anyone's dog, I'll have you know." Arthur flashed a roguish smirk towards the doctor. "And I'm not a fan of-"

-he flipped his lockpick back into his fist to rap twice on the iron bars: pong pong, "all this prison warden malarkey. If I had personal grievances with you, I'd have gotten my recompense in less than three sentences, I'd wager."

As the swordsman angled his nose down his shoulder, his proud yet relaxed posture (as well as his slightly damp undershirt) seemed to highlight his lean, limber muscles. Meanwhile, one callused hand flexed idly, flipping and turning the silvery lockpick like it was a pen.

"That's your gun there?" Arthur leaned forward, resting the back of one shoulder on the bars while he detached a canteen from his belt and took a small sip. "Mmh--seems you've been out already then. I came here with a lockpick thinking they were still keeping you here. Just wanted to talk, is all... it's a bit personal. But this sort of discussion would be better had in less gloomy scenery, wouldn't you say?"

"This might be our last chance," he added, eyelids lowering. "My apologies for waking you this late, doctor--and yes... I do have drinks. They're only poisonous in certain quantities, if that changes things." He let out a dry chuckle.

"How about it--care to walk with me? My collection is upstairs."

Candice felt a slow, seeping relief as Arthur wrapped around her, the flicker of intent telling her some part of him managed to return. Still watching his ruby eyes, she saw them shift, registering her, and tightened her own hold slightly, reinforcing the moment.

Though he released her, she settled back only slightly, retaining the warm space they'd created between each other.

"I wish I'd gotten to know him, this person you loved so deeply," she let out a breath, her shoulders falling as she took his outstretched hand into her own. "I'd thank him myself for drawing out the man you are today. That life you shared with him... it truly changed who you were, didn't it? Or perhaps, found in you something you never knew you had."

She was quiet as he spoke of his sword and even after, a comfortable silence falling as she simply rubbed small circles into his hand, the cool air passing over them. She then pushed herself a breath closer, voice a soft hush once more, "I understand the appeal of throwing it all away. Of leaving it far behind and never looking back. And I certainly understand not being able to truly do so." She reached down to her chest, threading free her medallion with her free hand, smooth scales meeting polished metal. "I've never thought about it in such words, but... not letting the conclusion taint the memory seems of importance. To remember both, in their entirety." She released a slow breath, "it's begun to feel easier lately, reminding myself who I was. Not easy, but, easier." Her fingers tapped at the dark black gemstone in the medallion's center, "bringing about the good this castle has, the change, has felt like some form of personal redemption. But part of it comes from my having known you, Arthur: having seen that you deserve to forgive yourself, and trying to extend the same to myself. To recognize what I've done and try to accept it as an important memory, every facet earnest." She wrapped her fist around the pendant, eyes turning toward the castle's wall, "I'm not quite sure I deserve a fresh slate yet. My part is small, in the grand scheme: keeping people informed and trained. Defending those I know are good." She softly pressed a knuckle into the smith's side, "Perhaps lending support to a tired, noble man who seems to desperately need a hug. Yet even if small," her eyes lifted toward the streaming stars once again, "for the first time since I fled, I'm living in a present with value and without regret, and have a future to look forward to. I'm not sure I ever would have reached such a state, had I not met you."

Consciously deciding the time for personal barriers had long since passed, Candice slowly threw her arms around him once more, her tail coiling 'round his waist in a double-embrace. "I think you have a future to look forward to as well, Arthur. As the man he saved. I'm not sure if I have the right to say this, but... I think he would be incredibly proud of who you are today. Of the life you've chosen to live, with his memories close. I don't see it as quite fair you can only dwell on the shame, and not the triumph."

"And as for me, I..." she tried to start, suddenly having trouble finding her voice. She let out a low cough and released her embrace as she retried, "I am not going anywhere, Arthur. That's, actually the reason I came to find you tonight. I'd been watching you at the forge for most of the evening--," wait, was the sort of thing she should be saying out loud? "--rehearsing my words. So then... ahem.... I'm not sure what your intentions are after we're done here at Castle High, but if you plan to go back along your own path... well..."

Candice was quiet for a few long moments, her eyes glued to her chest. "I... would very much like to accompany you." She gave a slow bow, though her shifting hands betrayed her quickly fleeting calm, "A-as well as any other allies who may wish to join us, of course. Though... yes, accompanying you is what I'd like most of all." She pushed away strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, a task that suddenly felt direly important. She tried to bring focus back to her honest intention, "when I imagine that future to look forward to, I... always imagine you in it, Arthur."

...the sheer honesty of the words brought a heat to her cheeks. She added, words quick, "I-I don't mean that to impose, not at all! Almost the opposite actually, I'm explaining such an unconscious response so that in context, it's abundantly clear that my intentions are not of such a nature! W-what I mean is just that, if you return to smithing, I think I could prove myself quite useful as an accountant and logistics manager! I worked in the field for several years before the rebellion, you know--not that you could know that, obviously!"

Candice recognized she was making this sound like a business deal and sighed, forcing herself to slow down. "I-I apologize, I know I'm not making much sense. I just..." she reached out and took his hand once again, raising her grey eyes to meet his red, "I'm not ready to say goodbye either."

In any other situation, Arthur might have taken this opportunity to make some light--to make a bawdy remark about how Candice supposedly had been staring at his back all evening, or briefly tease her about how much her proposal at the moment sounded less like arranging a business partnership and more like she wanted to marry him--but between... well... everything about this moment, Candice left him wholly at a loss for words. They barely touched each other before this night (Arthur had been half-convinced she found him disgusting in more ways than one until now), and now it seemed she was suddenly intent on overwhelming his senses with herself: a situation he'd been in many times before, in another life, though... not quite... like this. By the time she uncurled her tail from around his waist, he already reached a point where he couldn't quite look her in the eye anymore; the words and gestures with which she finished her piece swiftly finished off the any shred of stoicism he may have had left.

Unable to keep still any longer, his head turned sharply towards his right shoulder, eyes narrowing... and while he frowned tightly, the rising of his shoulders and the new flush in his cheeks easily gave away his timidness.

An axe heavier than a boulder falling on his head... the claws and maw of a bear surging directly for him... he could face all those things straight-on. Getting close to others wasn't usually a problem for him, either: it was this sort of closeness--where the barriers shielding the quiet embers of his heart vanished entirely--that brought him to shy suddenly away like a frightened dog.

"Ah..." He rolled his shoulders back, fighting against them to regain some composure. "Urm... well, you are right about my thinking about leaving this place. While the Castle will still have its troubles after the Flying Fortress, my body can't handle fighting at this intensity for much longer. But..."

"...I don't think I'd want..." he rubbed the thumb of the hand Candice wasn't holding against the teeth of his jacket, "want... to settle back down in that house again yet. I still own the deed to the property, so I assume nobody has snapped it up in our absence, but I am... also... not terribly concerned for it."

"That is to say, I can't guarantee that I will have an office waiting for you in the near future." A mirthless smirk ticked up at the corner of his lips, "mountain trails and hole-in-the-wall pubs, on the other hand? Far more likely."

He paused--the wry smile falling away just as quickly as it came--then continued with a softer expression again, this time speaking more slowly:

"...however... besides my earnings from the contract I have with the Castle, I suppose I am what one would call wealthy,” he admitted, sounding uncertain. "I bought a home twelve years ago and invested in a small business with Landon... all with just a portion of a prize I took from Dragonskull some years before. And since we lived modestly, we wound up making a net profit on the property within four years, easily. I should think the rest of my coffers are still intact, but I haven’t checked."

He glanced back towards Candice's gray eyes: "so, if there was anywhere you wanted to go... or anything you wanted to do, I'm sure we could go there. It... doesn't have to be my world we go to if you aren't interested in it..."

"...and, perhaps in a year or a few more seasons, I might be ready to go home. You'd like Fiaba, I'm sure.” A gentle fondness warmed his voice as he mentioned that place: Fiaba--as if he were reading it from a storybook. “It’s quiet, but not boring. That’s how it felt to me, anyway... I’d like to show it to you, someday. Just not now.”

“In the meantime...” Arthur’s voice trailed off as he looked down at the lithe hand folded around his own. After spending all this time comforting him, her cool skin had become warmer--picking up the remnants of the forge’s heat on him that hadn’t yet been blown away. Slowly, he turned his hand around to hold hers from underneath. His voice afterwards rang a touch lower and coarser. “If it’s a peaceful life you want, I can’t give it to you. Traveling is fast... transient. I never stay anywhere longer than it takes for the locals to remember my name, and I don’t carry any more than what I can afford to lose.”

“In addition... there’s more than one soul out there interested in mounting my severed head above their mantle, so to speak.” He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the grim expression on his features. “As much as you believe in me, my dear, you cannot change the fact that there are people out there waiting for me to show my face."

“If I can still convince you to stay with me in spite of this...”

Arthur folded his other hand over Candice’s, giving it a firm squeeze as he glanced down: “I promise I will protect you. And I’ll go wherever you like... wherever in the distance you can point to that ignites your spirit... within reason.”

His dark eyes flicked back up to meet hers: “What do you think?”

"I'll admit--" she rolled her shoulders, still carrying a comfortable smile, "it's a life I'm not very accustomed to. Those weeks I spent travelling to this country were some of the worst I can recall... though, that was likely for other reasons as well."

Now it was she who moved her gaze away from his, "I worry that I would slow you down, wherever we go. Despite the training and combat I've endured within this castle, I'm no mountain climber nor athlete. And when it comes to hygiene, I... likely have some standards I would need to overcome, in such seedy locales."

"And yet..." she let out a breath, taking in another, "after seeing the world from atop Castle High, and fighting through every struggle that brought, the idea of adventure and travel has gained appeal. I may find comfort in quiet rooms and papers," she let out a small laugh, "but such comforts are in equal part confining, aren't they?" Her eyes danced out over the sea of stars, "leaving such confinement behind and just, going, without the weight of sin, a good friend by my side..."

She sat quietly for a few seconds longer, truly considering the path before her. Looking within herself to see if it was what she wanted next. The next chapter of her life.

Finally, she turned back to him, that restful smile having never left. "If you're willing to mollycoddle--" she couldn't help but grin wider, "--a woman caught outside her element, and if you're willing to be patient as I adjust and learn," she paused a beat, "and, you promise to show me that soft expression of yours every once in a while..." she returned his firm squeeze, giving as deep a bow as she could manage in the small space between them, "then it would be my honor to accompany you."

Another quiet moment. Implications and realities sparked in Candice's mind like grass dew catching the morning light.

"Erewhon..." she spoke in shuddered syllables. "I'd never even imagined going back. They would know me as a native on sight, and even in disguise, one false move could mean death. With someone else, at least I..." she stopped, a slow shake of the head, "...that doesn't seem like a fair request. No, not there... at least not yet. Maybe, you and I can discuss and prepare for it, if you're open to the idea." She recalled Arthur's warm description of his home, "Erewhon is... big, in many ways. Like being within the belly of some beast, the sun struggling to appear above the skyline. But the spiraling blues and purples of its stonework, and the light of the drifter jellies in the winter..." a slow breath, "...yes, maybe some day. But before then... hm..." her mind turned toward less serious locations--and once again, something sparked.

"Of course: a mountain spring!" she said, uncharacteristically bright. "A long river snaking through a mountain, collected into a pond or lake, with small fish and large trees along its boundaries, and with small stones along the bottom to skip or toss." She gave his hands another squeeze, "a book I read as a child described such a place, and I can think of few other natural wonders so great." The fins on her forearms slowly flexed, "my people's rivers dried long ago, leaving only luminescent stone. I've swum before in the ocean, but salt water is incredibly taxing for my gills. I've always wanted to swim in fresh water, but was always so busy. A beautiful river and lake, with fauna and trees, atop a mountain that makes the world and its worries seem distant and small..." Candice tilted her head toward him, long streaks of hair framing her smile, "do you know anywhere like that?"

Arthur bobbed his head. "You won't find a river quite that high up around here, but the River Invern begins in the Hawthorn Mountains near Rosalia's center. A number of smaller rivers and lakes throughout the range deposit into it via streams and waterfalls: one of the more popular lakes is in Vernia, where that water park is. But, if you travel farther north from there for about a day... past the hill where Dragonskull once stood, there is a mountain with short waterfalls along its slope."

"The woods there are especially dense--though if you can make it far enough, there's a clearing with a wide pond. It's shallow enough that you could walk across most of it..." he raised his unoccupied arm to sit level with his chin, "though it's still deep enough to swim. The water comes from a spring in its centre, so it's very clean; and the pebbles along the bottom are all sorts of odd colours."

A serene expression settled over Arthur's features.

"There's only one trail through it, and it's quite far from the commercial roads, so not many travelers pass through... which means everything is where it should be."
 
His dark eyes flashed to the side, eyelids lowering.

"Iron in the rocks, fish in the water, ortolans and boars..."

Clearing his throat, Arthur ran his raised hand through his oily hair. "Anyway, the locals call it Lachelein Mountain. I've only been there twice, but I welcome any excuse to go there again."

"...it is quite a journey," he added after a thoughtful pause. "I wouldn't recommend going there straight away if you aren't very fit. But it's nice to have a goal... yes?"

Arthur continued holding Candice's hand gently. His breath spent between crying and talking, he had started to speak more succinctly, though even now his voice rang quiet as the wind. If Candice listened carefully, she might have heard a slight quiver in it--if she didn't already sense the subtle shiver running down his arm.

"I don't mind who you used to be. When you're out there in nature, none of it matters... you can learn to be strong for your own sake." He drew a deep, silent breath before his lips tightened into a stern frown. "I'll get you there. But--"

of course I'll be patient, you fool:

"--I won't be your mother. Now, since you've waited this long to follow me into the cold, Miss Candice, why don't you come follow me out of it as well?"