Living Quarters (Free Role Play)

Location: Medical Ward
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Ducking between doctors and nurses, Rosemary visibly brightens upon seeing Zaffre still in his seat--a reaction that causes the astromancer to quickly glance away.

"Thank you for your patience," she says brightly, holding up a medical bag. As she does so, she notices Corbin sitting nearby, "oh, Corbin! I didn't realize today was your day for smoking therapy."

"Eergh, yes, well," he coughs, standing up. "Speaking of which, I should probably get going."

Rosemary nods in kind, "I'll be taking Zaffre for a physical. Good luck with your session! I hear you're making very good progress."

Corbin simply coughs, scratching his nose before heading down the hallway, taking a left. As he leaves, Rosemary motions for Zaffre to follow with a pleasant smile, who simply rolls his eyes as he heads into an examination room.

---

"Alright now Zaffre, please step onto the scale... Ahem, all the way, please. No floating, alright?"

"...I'm not floating."

"Oh! Well, okay then, um, I guess I'll just write this down then..."

---

"Could you please describe your diet for me?"

"I begin every day with dark coffee and dried bread, and then partake in wine throughout the day."

"Okay, sure, noted. Besides that?"

"Hm? No, that's it. What, is that not sufficient?"

"That's not really enough to-- well, I'll, tell you at the end of all this."

---

"S-stop touching me! Have you no shame, woman!? I am an Astromancer of the Del-Zum-Ri, not some toy for you to grope and--"

"It's just your wrist Zaffre, for goodness sake! I only needed to check your pulse. Now I'm going to take a blood sample, so just hold still..."

"U-unhand me! This is thinly veiled torture! How dare you!?No, stop--"

---

After a hectic forty minutes (by the end of which Rosemary's white hair is a scattered mess around her head) the doctor finally drops into the examination room's free chair with a sigh, looking over her clipboard.

Zaffre shivers in his examination chair, watching Rosemary with skepticism, "w-well? Have you another trial 'for my own good'!?"

"No, no," Rosemary shakes her head despondently, "we're all done."

"Ah... well, good," Zaffre nods, unable to read the doctor's response. "...Well then? Now what? Out with it, tell me your supposed findings."

"Zaff..." she looks up at him, a painful concern. "These results are... really not good. You're deficient in a dozen different nutrients, your muscles are in a state of growing atrophy, and your bloodwork... it barely resembles blood at all." Her eyes turn back to the details on her clipboard, "it seems to be some kind of liquid, magic-protein solution that both simulates and boosts regular blood. It's likely the only reason you're surviving despite all this. It must be powered by some spell within your body, though none of my tests could tell exactly where it comes from."

"A spell?" his eyes widen, "what are you talking about? I'm some sort of, sub-human? Nonsense, I am c-clearly functioning just fine!"

Rosemary solemnly shakes her head, "barely. This magic is barely enough to keep you functioning in homeostasis. I'm not sure what you are or what's happened to you, but all mana sources are finite. If that source were to run out, or be damaged in any way..." she lets out a breath, "...your whole body would shut down simultaneously. And without knowing that spell ourselves, our medical staff would have no chance of reviving you. That would be it."

Zaffre sits in his examination chair, idly looking down at his hands. Such an odd sensation... mortality? It was an aspect of himself he'd never put much thought to... his life was sustained by some unknown force, which could die out with little warning and end his existence...

Seeing his silent contemplation, Rosemary tries to console him, "I don't see any reason to be concerned right now. You are stable at the moment, and we can at least lessen the strain that magic has to keep you alive." She stands up, offering her clipboard to the mage, "I'm giving you a prescription for vitamin supplements, for starters. Take them for the next two weeks and come back, and we can see if they've had a notable impact. In theory, taking better care of yourself will mean less mana is necessary to sustain you."

"Vitamins? What sort of--"

"And," she continues, giving him a serious look, "I'm going to follow through and insist you start doing regular exercise. Due to the poor state of your body, it won't be anything too intense, but you'll need to try your hardest for it to be effective."

"I-- he begins, a complaint sitting on his lips... then stops himself, dropping his head into his hands with another long sigh.

He remains there for a few seconds, before simply asking, "and this will help?"

Rosemary shakes her head sadly, "I'm afraid I don't have any way of knowing. I've never seen or heard of a case like yours. I'm hopeful this will have a positive change, but I don't want to make you promises that aren't true."

"Yes... yes, thank you. I, appreciate that," he replies, pushing his head back up and slowly rising from the chair. "This is all very... new, to me, but the thought of having so little control over my own life irks me deeply. So, as a medical professional, if you believe this will help... then, I suppose, it must be what is best for me."

The doctor allows herself a soft smile, "I'm very glad you feel that way. And hey, if it doesn't, you can come right back and we'll try something else. You're not a lost cause, alright?"

"Yes, I... thank you, Rosemary," he lets out held air, feeling his heartbeat begin to steady. "I must admit I'm not... accustomed, to such concern, but it appears it has done quite nicely for me."

She nods back, "of course. You're a member of Castle High like anyone else... kind of like family, if you ask me." She lets out a small laugh, "I'm sure you think that's silly and cheesy though, don't you?"

"Well..." Zaffre tilts his head to the side, "perhaps a bit, yes. But... such things have their time and place, I suppose."

"Oh, speaking of which," Rosemary says, peeking back out at the hallway and making a motion toward someone, "since I'd expected you would need exercise, I took the liberty of already finding a very qualified volunteer, so you can get started right away."

The astromancer's eyes narrow in suspicion, "what exactly do you mean by 'qualified'--"

"WHAT'S UP BROSKIIIIIIII!?" screams a massive man in a voice like thunder as he stampedes into the room. He strikes a pose, flexing one of his biceps at Zaffre as he winks with his one unscared eye, "hey there, scrawny bro! The name's Geller, rockin' member of Regiment 1-32! My broski Rosemary told me you needed some help getting fit, and I was like, bro, I am great at motivating dudes!"

Zaffre levels the deadliest stare he can muster on Rosemary, "hell shall hath no fury like that which I will bring down upon your shoulders--!"

"Aw, c'mon scrawny bro, we're gonna be best buds!" Geller grins, wrapping an arm around Zaffre and pulling him onto his shoulder as he begins to jog out of the hospital.

"Please try your b-best!" Rosemary calls after them, doing all she can to stop from bursting into laughter. "It's f-for your own good!"

Zaffre shakes a fist at her as he's literally carried away by Geller, "you will rue the day you cursed me with this slab of human flesh, you hear me!? Rue the daaaaaaay!"

As Zaffre and an eager Geller make their way for the door, Arthur (sitting at a narrow table by the wall with a nebulizer mask over his face, a thick vapor billowing out of its sides) leans back and calls out with a hand cupped by his mouth:

"First time?"

Location: Reconnaissance Division

how it all began:

Arthur expected the halls of the Reconnaissance Division to be at least a hair less restless in the dead of night: while sauntering up the familiar path through the stairs, however, he observed just about as many people milling about as in the afternoon... and once again, his shirt was still near-translucent with sweat and his silver hair in disarray (though still charming in a way, tied in a messy, windblown bun) from a full day in the forge. Tch... he never enjoyed being in these kinds of cramped office places... but he didn't come for the office--and his work here was done.

Stuffed in the pockets of his high-waisted ku were a pair of small clippers, while his left hand carried an even smaller watering pot, now a quarter full after he'd finished tending to the flower in Candice's office. In spite of his moving it so suddenly, the wildflower he gave to Candice flourished in a manner he could only describe as joyful; in just three weeks, it'd sprouted two more flowering stalks in addition to the original pair. A lucky turn of events--after having to clip off one of the first two blooms, he grew concerned that the thing was too stressed in its new location... but at the rate it was going, he very may well have to start considering what to do if it grew too much. How troublesome...

Deep in thought, Arthur made slowly for the stairs. He'd be working through the night regardless of how fast he cleared them--he was in no hurry.

Location: Reconnaissance Division

Unlike Arthur, Russel was very much in a hurry. He sped down the hallway barely dodging passerby (earning one or two "watch it!"'s along the way). Cradled in his arm was a stack of papers, covered in hand-written notes and featuring many picture snips and sketches. As he maneuvered through the Reconnaissance Division, one or two papers would fly out of his hold, only for the commander to spin and snatch them out of the air just before they got away, quietly impressed in his own abilities.

It was just after recovering from one such save whilst rounding a corner that he collided with the sturdy frame of Arthur. The impact knocked Russel off to the side, bumping his elbow into the hallway wall and sending his precarious papers sailing through the air, a veritable downpour for a few seconds before they all settled on the stone floor.

"O-oh my gosh, Arthur!" Russel gasped, "I'm so sorry, I really wasn't lookin' where I was going... oh crud, Scarlett's papers!" He dropped down onto his knees and began recovering the documents. As he did so, he nervously smiled up at Arthur, "heheh, uh, sorry about that. I'm not really used to  being around here at this time: Scarlett's put me to work helping her archive old battle reports. To be honest, it doesn't really seem that important, but if I told her that she'd probably just chew me out, sooo yeah..."

Having recovered most of the papers, he added, "by the way, amazing work out there the last few battles! You really completed all your training with flying colors, and I'm sure glad you were able to pin down that crazy knight lady." Russel gives Arthur a wink, "gotta say, we're real lucky to have found you and the rest of Regiment 1-31 before all this started! You all have really been our ace in the hole when we've needed it. I mean this as honestly as I can: thanks so much. Be sure to tell the others that for me too!"

He grunted, hefting the stack, "once I get these put away I'm done for the day, at least. Hopefully grab some shut eye before the next crazy thing happens, heh."

Russel's energy (at this hour?) softened the edges of Arthur's tired expression: though he tended to be wary of his employers, he had a difficult time pinning down Russel's manner as any more than one of recklessly youthful vim. Under normal circumstances, that kind of foolishness warranted just as much caution as thinly veiled manipulation did, if just for his own safety--but Arthur simply let out a low chuckle in response to the antics and let Russel continue chattering on ahead of him.

"You know, I've never contracted for this long under someone who runs about this much." He reached down with a grunt for a sheet of paper that fell behind his heel, turning it over in his hand to glance at it briefly--nonsense, of course. "Nor someone so young... usually they have other people to manage sort of thing."

"...more people," he added pointedly... before turning to pick up a few more papers that drifted farther back down the hall.

He didn't put forth too much of an effort--after recovering all three of the sheets that had fallen farthest (and pressing a fallen sticky note back to the sheet he presumed it matched, just based on proximity), he sauntered back and gently dropped them on top of the stack for Russel to reorganize as needed.

"That said, it has been fun," he lied. "I've found just about everything I decided to stay for, save one last thing; so, at least between you and I, Commander, I believe it is you who ought to be thanked."

The latter part wasn't a lie--while his time in Castle High had quite possibly been the most harrowing two seasons or so of his life (he would not offer comment on his battle with that gray-eyed spearwoman for now), he'd also spent it settling a fifteen year grudge, completing a small journey to honor an old friend, re-sharpening his instincts, making connections... the list went on. If nothing else, it was productive.

"However--this has been on my mind as of late..."

Arthur stepped back to rest his weight against the wall, arms folded. Though his voice was already quiet, his next words flowed coarse and low to the floor, warm in their timbre.

"...you'd really ask any old fellow who shows up the gate for their help, would you? Why?" He cocked his head, expression plainly neutral as he glanced down the hall. "Certainly not because you plan to push your luck 'til it bites..."

His dark eyes returned to the young commander: "...yes?"

(Mild t:w - panic attacks)

Location: Brig

Doc drummed his fingers along the side of the bars. How stupid can an old man get? Endangering the life of an innocent woman... He shook his head. It was impossible for him to wrap his mind around it. These people were looking for Azure, but there he was, right in the middle of them. Were they being brainwashed? Hypnotized?

His eyes came to rest on his revolver, hanging on the rack outside. It had been confiscated, no surprises there. As he traced the inscription in the tarnished metal with his eyes - "Beth" - Doc reflected that he didn't like the feeling of an empty holster. He imagined it was a little like having a phantom limb. That gun was his responsibility, and because of his carelessness it was sitting outside his cell, alone, just waiting for some young opportunist to come along and snatch it. Beth would be furious... No. She'd probably be laughing at me.

Beth also wasn't here.:

Doc looked away from the gun.

He needed to speak with with that young girl. The one with the aquatic features. She had been the one to bring him here, and she could probably explain exactly how. Wherever this was - and he had his theories about that - it wasn't America, and whenever it was, it certainly wasn't 1885. It was high time he got out of this cell and got some answers. He cleared his throat and began to sing, as loudly as possible.

"Come, all ye Texas rangers, wherever you may be,
I'll tell ye of some trouble that happened unto me.
Come, all ye Texas rangers, I'm sure I wish you well,
My name is nothing extra, so that I will not tell..."

As Doc Morgan had little to no actual singing ability, this was bound to attract some attention soon.

Location: Reconnaissance Division

Russel blinks, caught off-guard by the sudden, introspective question. "O-oh, well, uh..."

He pauses among his paper-collecting, considering the parts of Arthur's comment. Then, slowly at first, he returns to snagging the papers as he speaks, "I guess, between you and me... it's because that's how I woke up here, too. I showed up here at Castle High without any idea of where I was going or what I was doing. Just... y'know, a faint idea that people needed help, and I could give that to them. And really, that was enough."

Russel winces as he returns to his feet, now holding onto the reports more securely in both arms. "It leads to some problems, yeah, like what happened with Doc Morgan, but... well, it's how we got the rest of our awesome army together too."

He leans against the opposite wall, eyes gazing out a nearby window into the evening sky. "I think the world needs something like Castle High, y'know? We don't ask where you came from, don't care what you've done before... all we care about is if, right now, you're willing to fight for something bigger than all of us. And I think people really recognize that sincerity. Heh, it's a rare sight. Maybe some people really need that chance to leave everything behind them, and take up a new, noble cause."

"So... yeah," he nods back at Arthur, "I'll see how far that gets me, I guess. Someday something might happen that I regret bringing on... but, can't be afraid of stuff that might never happen, I say. If anyone comes to our gates willing to lend a hand to protect the skies of tomorrow--" he gives a wink, "--I think I'll always give them a place."

Arthur was quiet for a long moment. From Russel, at least as far as his other sight could glean, one would always get what they saw. As the man said those words, his flame remained noble, bright, and steady... how annoying. Eyes fixed unblinking on the end of the hall, the swordsman's expression remained distant.

"...I see," he replied. "You know--"

He paused again--then rolled in his lips and shut his eyes, hesitating. When he continued again, he idly rolled his neck, his figure like that of a hungry lion at rest.

"--you know... someone informed me of something that sounded like an old legend when I first arrived here: that the people of Rosalia received a forecast about their future..." His words flowed carefully, "one predicting that the nation was destined to be ruined by invaders, and then to fade back into the wild. That is the reason Castle High now exists, or so I am told... but it was never clear to me whether that was the end of the problem."

He noted Russel gazing through the window next to him when he snuck a glance back. Getting distracted, was he? Arthur directed his eyes towards it as well; and finding a dark sky splashed with innumerable stars outside, finally... his expression softened.

Another memory. This time, however, he'd learned to pull himself out of it before it played too far--even if it cost him his stony facade.

What a fool... what an innocent, sentimental, sincere and kind fool.

He spoke softly: "You're playing with fire, Russel--never forget that. Not just me, but everyone who rides with us and everything we make in that workshop with the spoils of battle. There may very well come a time when Castle High grows strong enough to become its own worst adversary... and in that event, I can only pray your ideals will somehow be spared the chaos."

Arthur forced his face to become as steel again, then bowed his head and took one step towards the stairs. Before slipping away into the shade, turned over one shoulder:

"You should feel grateful each day... that so many of us believe with just as much innocence in this sincerity as well. Commander, good night."

Only pressing his foot into the stone floor long enough to hear a brief farewell, Arthur made his way down the stairs at a brisk pace. If Russel knew what was good for the pile of loose papers in his arms, he'd slow down and keep an even thirty steps back.

Location: Medical Bay

With a few days before the final battle, there was something Vince had to say, but how to put it...

To his own discomfort, his feet kept taking paces in search of Rosemary. On one hand, he needed to speak with her, on the other, he wished for more time, and cursed his own two feet for acting simultaneously with and against him. Such are the dual natures of Vincent Conner, and he was getting tired of them.

Before long, he was mere feet from her. "I ain't scared of nothin'..." he thought to himself, "except this." Vince stopped a respectable distance from her. He was something behind his back with one hand, talking with his other.

"'Ey, Rose! Got a minute? I got somethin' I wanna ask ya."

Location: Medical Bay

Rosemary was inconspicuously reviewing a folder of medical records near a filing cabinet as Vince approached. Though she seemed diligently occupied, she immediately dropped her work upon seeing the pyromancer, her expression widening with surprise and a touch of guilt. "Vince! Oh goodness--"

She placed the record she was reading back into its place and closed the cabinet. "I'm so sorry, I meant to reach out and have a follow-up with you after last battle, but I got so occupied..." The doctor reached into her winter jacket, retrieving her healing ring. "I hoped the aid you received that day would be enough, but considering what your body and mind went through, it's perfectly alright for symptoms to re-appear."

Grabbing Vince's wrist, she began to pull him toward a vacant examination room, looking back to maintain eye-contact as best she could. "Can you tell me what you've been feeling? Out-of-body experiences, chills, chest pain, anything like that?"

Russel opened his mouth again as Arthur left, hoping to have some final word or statement to retort. Instead, he only found words of thankful parting:

"Good night, Arthur. Thanks for believin'."

"A-a few rough nights with no sleep, some aches, and uhh... and uh, heh, more recently, an increased heart rate or whatever," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, and don't worry, I been drinking fluids like your sign out front says." He shifted a bit in his stance, "I uhh, had a question though... see, we're coming up on a big fight soon, I'm sure you've been thinkin' about it, I know I have... So uh, you... y'know... doin' anything, after this whole war's over?" He fiddled with the object in his other hand.

Location: Brig

Whispers in my head. Echoes of gunshots after the fight was over. A newcomer, an old hand, and a desperate defense. Then, the caterwauling began.

Rounding the corner sharply, dressed in a plain black robe of mourning with hood drawn, my whispered voice hisses more harshly than drawing steel.

"Quiet! Do you want them thinking you're working for the enemy, you old coot!?"

Taking a step back in shock, as my eyes widen in recognition, I lower my voice further and lower my hood.

"Gods be...it had to be one of you, didn't it? Et tu?"

Location: Brig

With a sudden crash, the door of the brig is thrown open, along with a cry of "Doctor Morgan!"

Scarlett stands in the door frame, back lit, her chin held high as her eyes carry a heavy, accusatory power. "I hope you've cooled off a bit from your time in here, for your sake. Her glare stabs straight into Doc Morgan. "My name is Commander Scarlett Varmur, or for you, Lord Inquisitor Varmur! And I sure hope you're feeling cooperative geezer, 'cause if not, I will make sure you--"

"Excuse me, Commander?" Candice interjects, stepping out from behind her with a notepad and pen. After a second, she corrects herself, "I-I mean, Lord... Inquisitor?"

Scarlett turns to her officer in annoyance, "I'm in middle of something here, can this wait?"

"Sorry, I just wanted to point out... well," she motioned toward the far side of the bars, where Severa, dressed in her black robe, had apparently missed the Commander's attention.

"O-oh, uh," Scarlett's eyes dart about, part of her facade slipping. "Hey there, Severa. I kinda need this guy right now for interrogation by any means necessary. So if you want to stay and watch, stick toward the back with Candice. She's taking notes."

"Hi," Candice greets, pressing herself against the back wall. Covering the side of her face with her hand, she mouthes to Severa, "I do not wish to be here."

"Now, Morgan!" Scarlett's dangerous bravado returns, as she slowly walks toward the bars, drawing three needles from her belt. "You see these? One of them is the blood of the Demon of Silence--just a drop will send living hell pulsing through your body. Another is much more mundane: fast-acting paralysis poison." She gives him a too-sweet smile, "no pain there, just being trapped in your unmoving body for a good few hours. And the last one... heh, well," she shrugs, "I've never been coldhearted enough to use that one on someone..."

She slams a fist into the bars, rattling them, promises of violence in her eyes, "Yet." The sudden action earns a yelp from Candice, who is choosing to her eyes glued to her notebook for the time being, her scaly face turning a shade paler. Unfazed, Scarlett continues, "If my brother hadn't told me to take it easy on you, I'd have filled you with all three already for shooting Giada. And hell, I might still do it anyway. So..."

She takes two steps back, dancing the needles between her gloved fingers. "You're going to tell me everything about yourself, where you're from, and what you know about Azure..." she narrows her eyes, "or we'll see what the poison of the day is. Your choice."

Location: Brig

About five minutes after Doc Morgan's shanty started gracing the open halls above, a person that was very much not Candice (or any of the staff assigned to the area) stumbled shoulder-first through the halls leading towards the brig. If that person were even halfway steady on his feet, his red-faced scowl might have made him look dangerous.

"Who--mst... the ffuck is that making a racket down 'ere? People're tryin'ta slack off up here! Who's watching this place?!"

He grumbled while barreling down the stairs, his balance slightly improved now that his blood was moving.

"This place is understaffed and overworked enough without runnin' a prisomers... hold..." He paused, his face and hands pressed against a stone wall while his feet were grounded some three feet away, then let a resolute puff out of his nose: "Prizzum. If you're going t'go through the trouble of avin' one, might as--what the?"

Now standing at the corner after the doorway, Arthur squinted in confused silence as he glanced between Scarlett's theatrics (though not entirely processing them), and Candice's very apparent desire not to be witness to them. He also saw Severa hovering nearby and Morgan behind the bars, immediately glowering--he was the lovely crooner who woke him up from two stairwells away? Bloody hell... why haven't they gone and tossed him into some mountain village yet? Seemed like a more straightforward solution to him instead of this malarkey. Gritting his teeth, a low growl rumbled in his throat before he let out a sigh.

"Candish," he said plainly, keeping his tired, raspy voice himself and the relayer... and for a long beat, he did not speak, squeezing his eyes shut as if doing so would somehow hurry the rest of his words out of him, "I've got whiskey. Am just sayin'... in case... someboby're two... needs t'calm down. And I watered your plant by the way. You weren't in, so I hope you do...dn't mind."

He pressed a hand to his forehead: "Gods, I'm lashed."

Location: Brig

Wandering around parts of the castle she hadn't yet thoroughly explored was an excellent way to avoid thoughts of what could have been. The popstar she murdered ended up saving her life, ultimately. That person leading a castle around using people and killing those who weren't quite... "fitting". It hit closer to home than she'd like. The whiskey helped more than the wandering...

Man, she'd kill for her band mates and a shitty couch to flop into right about now.

Was... Was that terrible singing? Well it wasn't pop music... just a person who couldn't sing. Someone should say something... Maybe she could help him find an instrument if he was intent on making music. As she took another swig and made her way toward the singing. After a short time, it stopped and she heard yelling. It was Commander Scarlett's voice, that much she could tell.

She got down to the cell as Scarlett was threatening Doc Morgan with the poisons. Whoops, back to being close to home. "Poisons... An interesting choice... I preferred the threat of disintegration myself... Also threatening to just kill them anyway caaaaan happen to backfire because if you're going to kill them anyway, they may as well keep their information and then you have nothing."

Then she heard Arthur mention whiskey, and wow there were a lot of people down here. She swung her guitar around and held up her bottle. "Hey! Whiskey is an excellent choice!" She gave a nod to both Candice and Severa. "Hey guys!"

For just a moment, Severa saw Morgan's composure crack. A parade of emotions crossed his face - shock, nostalgia, shame - but when they congealed, it was into something icy and unreadable.

"...That voice. It's been a long time. It's... good to see you, Severa."

That was all he could say before the door careened open and Scarlett began her verbal dressing-down. Doc watched her, eyes slightly wide, nodding slowly as she introduced each toxin. When she slammed her fist into the bars, he waited a second before letting out an expressionless gasp. When he was sure she was finished, he opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the arrival of Arthur. As he slurred and stumbled, Doc kept glancing sympathetically at Scarlett to see how she was handling the intrusion. He gave a sort of wincing expression to indicate his solidarity.

Then Erika arrived. Doc nodded vigorously when she mentioned disintegration and looked at Scarlett again with an expression that said, "She's got you there, that definitely is more threatening." When he was fairly certain everyone was finished talking, he savored the dead air for a moment before he interjected.

"I'm sorry about that," he began tactfully, directed at Scarlett. "I imagine that probably wasn't how you wanted this to go. But don't worry, I'm willing to talk. After all, I'm on your team now, right?" He cracked a wry smile. "And while we're at it, let's lean into the interrogation cliches - for every question I answer, I expect you to answer one in return. Any of you," he said as he gestured at Candice, Severa, Arthur, and Erika, "since this is a team-based interrogation, apparently."

The wizened frontiersman leaned back on his cot and settled in. "First question, okay. My name is Morgan, most folks where I'm from call me Doc. That's because I'm a doctor. I've had a practice in a little township called Buffalo Gap in the great state of Texas for the past, eh, forty years or so. Those forty years have been fairly uneventful, and I consider myself to be devoted to my profession above all else. I had a wife named Beth, and now I don't. I've seen war, and I've served time. I figure that about explains who I am, and hell, where I'm from too, so that gives me the right to two questions. As for what I know about Azure, my old memory is flagging. Answers to my first two questions would be just the thing to rev it up again."

He held up one finger. "Numero uno. You say you're looking to find Azure, yet you've got him on your payroll and call him Zaffre. Why? Numero dos, and more importantly..."

Doc's eyes were shaded by the brim of his hat, his toothy smile almost lost in his unkempt mustache.

"Are y'all willing to share that whiskey?"

Location: Brig

Scarlett growled back to the prisoner, "You are in no position to make demands! I'm the one--"

"Oh for goodness--Scarlett, please?" Candice begs. "He's being very cooperative, and while I understand you rehearsed your interrogation procedure extensively, simply answering his questions would likely be both faster and more efficient."

The Commander swiveled on her furiously, then cast that same furious eye around to the others in the room... before letting out a slow sigh. "Alright, fine. For the record, I wasn't actually planning on torturing him--well, maybe injecting him with a poison and trading the antidote for information, but--" she waves her arms dismissively, "sure, whatever, I guess we can play twenty questions. Besides, that's info I wanted to throw at you anyway." She tilts her head, looking up, "Where to start... well, Zaffre is--"

"--An anomaly, to put it one way," Corbin finished the thought, giving her a nod as he entered the brig. "Evenin' Scarlett. Couldn't help but hear some terrible singing from the jail house, thought you might need some help." He smirks, regarding the room, "I hadn't realized you'd invited a whole welcome party in here."

"They weren't invited," Scarlett groaned, "this whole operation is really getting out of--agh, fine, whatever! Go ahead, tell him about Zaffre." She gains a smirk of her own as she takes shifting steps backward, "especially considering your little lover's quarrel at the commander meeting."

The navigator choose to ignore that last statement, turning to Doc Morgan with vague, mild interest. "Guess I better give you a full abridged history. The other Commanders and I woke up in this castle a couple months ago. No memories of where we came from, vague memories of our past, and with Castle High's vision in our heads: fight the threats that are still rising before they become a problem. 'Course, nowadays the problems we fight are a bit more immediate, but that's where we started."

He reaches into an inner coat pocket, grabbing a cigarette... then stares at it, for a few, long moments, before very consciously putting it back with a deep exhale. Looking a touch more dejected, he returns his eyes to the doctor. "Sorry about that, kickin' the habit. Anyway, when we woke up, Zaffre was locked in an observatory, magical seal on the door. All we knew was that he was bad news, maybe some sealed threat by whoever built the castle or something. So, we left well enough alone, and went about our own business."

"Until the ruins of Del-Zum-Ri, that is," Scarlett contributed.

Corbin nodded, "that's when we first saw Azure on a recording. Looked and talked just like the guy we had chained up, and talking about some master plan."

Scarlett decided to hijack the story, feeling a bit more qualified for this part. "It fit into a theory I'd had regarding this castle for a while: that it only came into existence a little while after we woke up, and that this... y'know, guy, was behind it. That for some reason, he put us Commanders up in this castle, and brought a bunch of fighters to us along the way. Then, around the same time, he went and got his own flying fortress--which we saw him retrieving from those ruins we saw a recording of--and a member from Regiment 1-31 warned us of a dream where it blasted us all to pieces. Not long after, we got reports of just such a fortress causing a bunch of terrible shit around the countr,. Since we'd been monitoring Zaffre the whole time up until then, we knew it couldn't be him."

"Likely wasn't him," Corbin corrected, his large form unmoving as he commented, "it's not impossible Zaffre simply is Azure, who's found a way to remotely control the fortress. We've never seen Azure in person, after all."

"Fine, probably was some other guy," Scarlett rolls her eyes. "We honestly still don't know what Zaffre is. Maybe his twin brother, or a clone, or something?" She shrugged. "Rosie confirmed he's 'not human', so maybe some kind of homunculus, but she wasn't really willing to elaborate further." Scarlett raised her voice an octave, poorly imitating Rosemary, "'Doctor patient confidentiality is the cornerstone of good medical practice, I don't care if it's vital info for the success of our entire mission!'" Dropping the voice and stretching her arms behind her, Scarlett concludes, "anyway, the dude's a total asswipe, calls half the other commanders cows or morons, but he saved Rosemary from gunfire once, and fights as hard as anyone else. Earned his seat at the table like anyone else at this point, I say."

"Hmph, forgive me if I don't find those convincing enough reasons to trust him," Corbin shakes his head gravely. "Just because someone fights for the same goals as you doesn't mean they share your reasons for achieving them. I wish we could just lock him back up in his room before this next battle, but these kids have other priorities..."

"Alright alright, keep your complaints for Russel," Scarlett waved him off, returning to place herself in front of the bars. "There's your answer, wise guy. Now that your memory's nice and 'refreshed,' mind telling us how you know so much about him yourself?" She raises an eyebrow, "you used to work for him or something, huh?"

Location: Medical Ward (Examination Room)

Rosemary met Vince's smirk with a look of unsatisfied concern, "we should keep an eye on your heart rate going forward. Your magic puts a lot of strain on your body, and while we can heal your muscles and burns easily, if your heart burns out, I'm not sure what we could do." Her shoulders sink, "I know it's how you fight, but just thinking about the strain and harm it's putting on you... well," she managed a small smile, "I'm at least glad you're drinking fluids."

As she opened the examination bag on the counter, retrieving some runes, she wondered idly what sort of question it was Vince was struggling to get out...

Then felt a light heat rise to her cheeks, along with a well-meaning laugh, as she turned to look back at him. "Oh goodness, is that what you came here to ask me?" She laughed again, leaning against the counter, "that better not be what you meant by increased heart rate!"

"Well..." she grabbed the edge of her mint scarf, tucking it back over her shoulder, "that picnic you took me on back in Vernia was really fun, and you have quite a habit of slowing down my head when it's moving too fast--hehe, aaaaand you're pretty handsome to boot."

Then, however, Rosemary's smile began to fade, "but... aaaahh, no, what am I--I can't--I could never--why would I even consider--" She shakes her head vigorously, "I'm sorry Vince, I-I can't do anything. God, it was stupid of me to even say all that stuff just now." Rosmary hits herself on the forehead, "ugh, stupid! I-I'm sorry Vince, but.. they need me here." Her gaze becomes distant, her thoughts turning to the dozens of other patients in the medical ward. "The other doctors and nurses are a great help, but most lack either the experience, skill, or organization Castle High needs. We have one other surgeon, twenty medical mages in-training that need supervision and guidance, nineteen nurses who try their best but get overwhelmed quickly after a battle..." once again, she released a long exhale. "A doctor's duty is to save the lives of as many as possible, above all else, just like my father taught me. Castle High isn't going to stop once A... Azure, is beaten, and as long as it's running, they'll need me."

"Noble souls who fight for tomorrow, their lives on the verge of being lost..." she closed her eyes, shaking her head. "It doesn't really matter what I want, in the face of that. If my one little life can do so much for so many, I need to be here for them. Which is... is also why, I can't," she motioned toward him and herself, "do, anything like that. I-I'm sorry if I misled you Vince... I, really did want to for a moment."

Still incredibly flustered and embarrassed, Rosemary paces in a small area, "O-oh no, now I've made this awkward, and I'm still talking, umm... I... if there's nothing else, I should get back to work..." she trailed, her hand fumbling for the examination runes she'd already taken out.

Erika grinned at the second question, pulling a second bottle of Whiskey out from under her purple cape with a flourish. Without any regard for any sorts of interrogation protocol, the rocker moved to the cell and handed over the bottle. "Absolutely!"

Location: Brig

"Wh-- hey!" Scarlett yelled, unsuccessfully trying to swipe the alcohol before it could be passed through the bars. "Do I have any command power whatsoever!? You can't just give alcohol to the prisoner!" She stops, her expression turning to thought, "although... I guess it would loosen them up... argh," she shrugs dismissively, "whatever, let him drink. Just don't throw yourself under the table doctor, alright? Or I'll make sure your hangover is extra unpleasant."

While the commanders explained their story, Candice scooted toward the new arrivals of Erika and Arthur. Her voice was a harsh whisper, "While I appreciate your companionship, is alcohol really the best solution for our current situation!?" She glanced around the room while pulling at her suit collar, "with all these people, this room is going to turn into a sauna in a few moments." She pressed a hand to her forehead, "why we need to be having these questions between bars when clearly this doctor has no further ill intention, I have nary an idea."

She looked between the two again, "any chance you could help me in convincing Commander Scarlett to drop the act and just, let him free once he's done answering? We could really use another medic..."

Candice's harsh whisper elicited an uncharacteristically sudden sheepishness from Arthur best compared to that of an ashamed puppy: head dipping, his left hand rose to pick idly at the bronze teeth of his jacket zipper while she talked.

His eyes lit back up in recognition at her request, however; again his expression shifted, this one more pensive.

"Actually," he started quietly, a gentle gravel at the back of his voice, "if you're asking him to stay... I wanted that man to come with us for the next battle. Regiment... 1-31, I mean. Wassn' spectin' you lot to throw a man of his talent in here an' threadten him with... poison. Speshully ifn't sounds like... we've a bituve a..."

The swordsman squeezed his temples even tighter: "...misn'dstanding..." hic, "I've heard of contintitous employer-contract relashuns...but his behaviour earlier..."

He closed his eyes, remembering distant shouts--the struggle of a beast against the Commanders. He didn't know what to call it, but he knew well the ailment of the heart that reduced men to such hysteria... he'd experienced it himself just minutes prior. Even now, peering into the old doctor's flame through the bars, Arthur found a dense, swirling miasma and erratic flashes of crackling lightning within.

"...sounds like he was... hurt. Wasn't Azure out there making trouble before you lot woke up here? Makesh sense someone might--" hic, "--recognise him."

Once again growing timid, Arthur stuck his hands deep in his pockets.

"Uhm... andyway, if it's not a bother, there is... ssumthingh...?" He squinted to think--then dipped his head down. Dead end, that train of thought. "I would like to make... a personal requess, when there is a moment."

Vince's expression was flat, his brows lowered, with a knowing half-smirk, half-frown. He didn't feel good enough to smile, but not bad enough to let himself look downtrodden. "Actually, Doc, there is something else... I came in askin' for a favor, i-if it's not too much,"  he says, pulling out a Spell Glyph from behind his back.

"I heard you can get almost any kinda spell on these. If shit gets real bad out there, and I know your busy 'n all... figure you can lend a guy some insurance?... If it's not too much trouble, I mean..." he trails off.


"And hey, don't worry about it... I got no where else to go, so I was considerin' stickin' around anyways."

"Work for him?" Doc flung himself up off the cot and slammed his hands around the cold iron. "Work for Azure? You can go and shove that suggestion right up your - fuck you-" His knuckles were white as he dug his face into the bars, but somehow those in the room didn't feel threatened. Despite his vitriol, it was like that anger was turning right back around and feeding in on Morgan himself. The burst of vitality that had propelled him from his standing position faded fast. He slumped onto the cot, looking for all the world like exactly what he was - an old man in a shabby suit.

"Might as well have been working for him, for all the good I did. I couldn't save a single one of my friends. What a waste of breath." He looked up at his interrogators, his eyes empty. "I mentioned I fought in a war. I did. The biggest our nation had ever seen. That's where I met Azure."

He paused for a long moment.

"I was young, more'n a little cocky. Full of fight. Totally unprepared for what I had gotten myself into. Somehow, for some reason, we found ourselves up against that blue son of a bitch. The powers he had... he outclassed us beyond anything we could conceive of. Soldiers fell all around me, and I just..." He made a sound that was halfway between a swallow and a raspy cough. "I just tried to fight back, as hard as I could manage but of course I didn't have a chance. None of us did. Fate had made up its mind." Rage welled up behind his eyes and emerged as tears falling impotently against his cheeks. "I was the only one who walked away from that battle alive. And I've spent every day since trying to wall off the part of my mind that wishes I hadn't."

"You don't ever forgive yourself," Doc finished weakly. "Not when you're the last one standing. Every time I tried, I felt like every molecule in my body wanted to implode like a dying star. I'd see their faces and wonder what they thought of me now, if they had somehow managed to survive. I heard them asking why I'd left them behind. So I stopped thinking about them. It was the only way to continue living my life. But now I'm here, and you tell me that sick freak is out there, and..." Doc's face was dark. "I'll take your word for now. I'll leave this "Zaffre" character alone. You just point me in the direction of the real Azure, and I'll put a bullet right square in the middle of his forehead. And if this friend of yours even tries to double-cross us?" He gestured to the revolver on the wall. "I won't bother with the gun again. I'll use my hands."

He took the whiskey from Erika and drank mirthlessly. Whiskey, the way Doc Morgan drank it, was a topical cure for empathy.

"I don't have any more questions. You can count on me to heal you in the next battle, just let me out of this cell. Please."

Location: Medical Ward

"A spell glyph?" Rosemary's eyes widen at seeing the small artifact in Vince's hands. "Oh Vince, are you sure you want me to give you the spell for this? One of your other friends like Severa or Bran could likely give you something more powerful."

She speaks as she takes the glyph, anxiety easing as she continues speaking. "Spell gylphs are incredible pieces of magic. They're not just magic runes, repeating a spell over and over; a spell glyph carries the intention and feeling of its caster." A small smile manages to rise upon her face once more, "it's almost like a note. 'Please do this' written on its front, a magical plea... or maybe, a wish on a star."

"Vince, I--" she starts, turning back to him, wanting desperately to say the 'right' thing, the words he needed to hear, whatever they were. To rescue him from that negative emotion she could see at the edges of his form... It was that particular thought that pushes her next action.

Taking another, steady breath, she presses the spell glyph to her chest, her fingers weaving around it. A gentle yellow aura begins to emanate from the doctor, concentrated in her core and hands. Eyes closed, her words are something between a prayer and a song, as heartfelt as either could be:

"Protect the ember deep down in his chest,
Brighter and warmer than darkest of flames,
Guard him from pain, from sorrow of death,
So he may find peace in the world he defends."

As her voice grows in dynamic and intensity, the glyph begins to glow of its own accord. From between her fingers where she clutches it, the artifact emit rays of golden sunlight.

"Bring him to joy to happiness!
Bring him to tomorrow's blue sky!
And in that tomorrow, whatever it may bring,
May he find peace in himself most of all."

And then, as her voice grew more quiet, the glow of the glyph was all that remained visible, the magical wish imparted.

"And wherever he may be,
May he remember... me.
Cheering him on,
From the sky up above..."

The finality in her last tone marked the spell's conclusion. With a gentle heat quickly returning to her face, Rosemary held the glyph back toward Vince. "There we go. I hadn't really meant to speak like that, but when I thought about the wish, I... well, just saying it wasn't enough." Placing the artifact in Vince's hands, her own lingered as she looked into his eyes. "Come back, okay?  And whether you stay up here in Castle High or head somewhere else, send me a letter." She gave his hands a little squeeze before letting go, smiling. "No matter where you go, you'll have a friend in me, Vince."