Mini Event we're only human, after all
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
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#15
Amalia

For my part, I know nothing with any certainty
One by one they rise and write, casting votes to decide their future without (much) discussion or protest. Only Remi, surprisingly, has anything to argue, suggesting that the need for secrecy seems overdone. In another time, another place, Amalia might have agreed, would have been the first to advocate for openness and discourse, discussion and plans.

But after last time? In this place? She would rather not invite conflict, not worsen the disaster they find themselves in.

She responds to the alchemist's reinforcement in kind, silently assuring him she does not take it personally. In response to his question, a simple reply: Jigano. He didn't enlist. It does not occur to her to keep this secret - they are allies here after all, already united by treasonous ties.

The baker looks at them all in turn as they deposit their votes into the bowl. So many are Outlanders, but there are Naturals, too, familiar faces from the market and workplace, masons and blacksmiths and priests. It gives her hope to see them here, cooperating, agreeing, to build something new. The last paper is entered by Rory, and Amalia smiles wanly at her friend, their expressions mirrored, a painful understanding that the world must change, and they must with it, as much as they wish they could stay.

It only takes a minute to count the papers, but the result is obvious from early on. Slowly, methodically, she lays out the scraps, making sure they can all see the results, that there are no accusations of favors or falsehoods. Before her lie twelve scraps of paper. Two bear a W.

Ten bear an R.

Turning to Ronin, Amalia nods, silently pleased with this result. "By popular vote- Ronin Taliesin, I yield to you the floor."

And then with a look he will understand: Don't fuck this up, star boy.



Take it away, Ronin!
but the sight of the stars makes me dream
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#16
RONIN
if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving
Oh.

Oh.

It happens quietly, the sort of thing that might be missed if he hadn't been looking. But the paper doesn't lie, and Ronin finds himself gazing between the votes as though they might jump about and change. Only Amalia's voice stirs him from his reverie, Ronin blinking up at her only to find an empty space where she once stood.

Rising to his feet, he turns for but a moment to reach out and squeeze Remi's hand, offering him a warm smile that promises discussion later, away from prying eyes. For now, though...

Once upon a time, he'd been a soldier - a bad one. Then, having traversed worlds, he slowly became good at it; a good soldier who gained scars, responsibilities, and a heart carefully guarded - a heart that now belonged to the man standing nearby. There had been a time when he would have stood proudly and called himself General of the Storm. But here, now, was a mantle yet higher, and it was heavier than any he had come across before.

Something deep within him turns to steel.

Ronin turns to address the group, takes a deep breath, and steps, if but only metaphorically, into his new role.

"It's evident that we cannot change Zariah's ways. I believe an advisor may be able to temper her for a time, but I don't think it will deter her in the long run. I'm against using the role to spy on her, but if any Natural here believes they may be able to do good by taking it on, please do so." This would be a long game, after all, and they needed to be able to live through it here and now, as well as in the future.

"We need to gather ourselves. Zariah is a skilled mage, manipulative and above all ruthless. Even those you trust might be used by her - so be careful, please. For now, hone your skills, play her game and stay out of trouble if you can. In the meantime... well. I can hardly do this alone, can I?" He flashes a boyish grin, folding his arms across his chest.

"If I may, I would select a few of those here to stand with me, to offer advice and expertise where they can. Amalia, you know the land, the culture, the gods better than anyone. I'd be honoured if you would share that knowledge." As if she's getting off that easy. "I would also call on Jigano, if he is here currently. As an Outlander and one with worlds of knowledge locked away at the Atheneum, I can think of no one better to act as a bridge for us and the Greatwood. If not for now, then in future."



Ronin has called Amalia and Jigano to stand with him as advisors! He has also suggested someone take the Natural advisor role for Zariah, to mitigate current events.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#17
Jigano sat back quietly as votes were made, one by one. Remi stood up to speak at one point, and for once the bard didn’t try to answer, letting others answer – or not, as each preferred. He had half-expected the meeting to be more subdued than the last one, and to be able to remain in his disguise as the curmudgeon who stayed to the Outskirts. The weight of recent events did as much to keep him silent as the role he was playing, however, and it took little acting to simply watch the vote unfurl from beneath his hat and eyepatch.

As Amalia counted out the votes one at a time, he nodded to himself, unsurprised at the final numbers. Ronin had charisma, humility, courage, the blessing of a goddess, and experience as a leader. Jigano had backed him before for all those reasons. Wessex had some of those things, but the Guildmaster simply had more… and, as had been pointed out at the last unfortunate meeting, he also had previous experience and personal knowledge about Zariah that would be extremely useful in the days to come. So long as Ronin was willing to accept the nomination this time around – and since he had stood up at the beginning, it seemed a safe bet - the bard allowed himself to feel hopeful that his friends and found family were in good hands.

He gave the Guildmaster his courteous attention when the Captain stood to accept the outcome of the vote. He nodded silent agreement on the advisor suggestion, though he kept his misgiving about not using the role as a spy to himself. Then again, that would put whoever it was in far more danger… so perhaps Ronin’s suggestion was the wisest after all. A thoughtful frown marred his age-lined face at the list of Zariah’s assets, the reminder important but unpleasant every time. Truth was a bitter pill to swallow, indeed, when it came to the Tyrant’s magical skills. Fire and lightning and who knew what else…

The frown softened to an approving nod as Amalia was named, satisfaction glittering in his uncovered eye as he reached out lightly, gently, through the Attuned bond to offer her his support and strength, as she had done for him not so long ago. It took him a moment to realize that his name had been called as well, an accolade unlooked for that left him frozen for a moment in surprise. He cleared his throat sheepishly, taking off his hat and reaching up to remove the eyepatch as well. His hair and skin were still darkened and aged by his bardic skills, but as he straightened from his slouch, the hints of the familiar lorekeeper might be spotted beneath the disguise he had taken on. ”I’m afraid staying out of trouble isn’t my strong suit,” he admitted, his familiar wry humor apparent in his voice. ”And since I didn’t play nice with Zariah’s draft board my movements are more limited… but Kiada helped me move a number of important books and ones I thought might be useful in the coming days from the Loreseekers Hall before it was closed.” He offered his friend and her luxere a wink and a quick smile. ”So hopefully I can still be useful in some fashion. And I am willing to try and work between our home and Arduinna, if Amalia will help mediate with Delah, and between us all hopefully we can find a peaceful way forward.”

He hesitated, looking around at those gathered: people from different worlds, of different races, different skills and different strengths. It was a good start, he thought, and the smile he offered to Ronin was genuine. ”In short, I would like to help you however I can,” he said simply. ”And in that vein, the point you and Remi made last time was a good one; you know Zariah better than any of us. I have recently found a treatise on the magic of Caido, and I may be able to provide more information on the strengths and weaknesses of what we can expect from her powers in that arena, if we know what elements and skills she has manifested so far.”
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
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#18
Amalia

For my part, I know nothing with any certainty
There is something incredibly liberating in passing on the reins. As soon as Ronin stands in her place Amalia can feel her tension leaving, the weeks of carrying them oh her shoulders fading blissfully away. Now, at last, the girl can stop playing at power and become again what she truly is: nobody, nothing, just a pious young baker with too many holes in her own fragile heart to possibly hope mend the world. A part of her wants to laugh, another to cry, and all of her sings in silent hymn Thank Vi, thank Vi, thank Vi.

Alas, they live in such a world that all good things must end.

First it is the suggestion of adviser for Zariah, and though Amalia bristles at the idea, she cannot doubt that there might be wisdom behind the idea. Someone to temper the queen is wise, and there are many in this room who might serve as such, but only one strong enough, one who she truly trusts. "Rory," she murmurs into the crowd, meeting the farmer's eyes with her own, a promise held within. "You volunteered before." You can say no, her expression pleads, but she knows that it is a lie. He cannot say no, as surely as she can't.

None of them can, anymore.

Ronin goes on, and Amalia listens, waiting for some sort of plan. I can hardly do this alone, is something she agrees with- it's the next part that sucks. Amalia blinks in stunned surprise as she swiftly goes through the stages of grief. Denial that he said what she heard, that he's suggesting she should offer advice; anger, that he would drag her into this, when she had come so close to escaping it all. Bargaining, because certainly someone else is better, and she can think of them, throw them under the bus; depression, because Mort she doesn't know how to advise anyone, and this is going to suck, and she thought she was done.

By the time Jigano has gracious agreed to step into his role, Amalia has reluctantly reached the last stage, though not without a wry, bitter glare thrown in Ronin's direction. You would.

"Of course we'll help," Amalia sighs, her hands gripped tight around her mug. "But even then- I don't think we should have only one, or even three people in charge. Zariah not caring about anyone else is what got us into this mess in the first place. If we're going to make the world better, we have to do it together. As a team. Ronin might be our leader, but everyone in this room has already proven they're willing to do whatever it takes. To make this work. For the future. By holding each other accountable, and bringing their strengths." Maybe not the most eloquent speech, but it gets the point across: If I'm not getting out of this mess, the rest of you are staying here with me.
but the sight of the stars makes me dream
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
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#19
i'm holding on to you, holding on to me
Remi met Rory's gaze with an uncertain smile, hearing his words and nodding in return, though truly not understanding the gesture. Feeling suddenly quite alone in his fledgling suggestion for an open democratic vote, the alchemist lowered his gaze, smiling wearily into Amalia's reciprocal pulse of emotion. At the end of the day, Remi was exhausted and weary, in love and confused. Those in the room surely knew better than he what their next steps ought to be, and, unsurprisingly, it turned out those next steps would be led by Ronin.

Raising his gaze to look upon the newly elected 'leader' who sparkled in prismatic hues that quite literally no one else could compare to, Remi felt himself sag beneath the weight of his adoration as he flashed Ronin a boyish smile, softly squeezing his hand in return.

Unable to help the mental pulse of, ha—ha as Ronin named Amalia one of his confidants, the alchemist lifted his shattered-stare to the leopard for a moment with a grin. Affection and support quickly followed the mental boyish-smile, as he flashed her a triumphant smile. Turning to the man who, despite his appearance, was apparently Jigano, Remi inclined his head as Amalia's explanation came through. Whatever I can do...whatever materials you need, you need only ask. Remi thought in a significantly subdued voice, knowing how much the loreseeker hated having his thoughts invaded. Whatever I can offer to keep you safe, it is yours. He added, as Jigano rose to speak.
maybe it's all we got but it's all i need

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Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#20
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

The votes were cast, around and around, bits of paper slipped into bowls, secretive and furtive, much to Remi’s disapproval; but there was certain level of pride instilled throughout the proceedings. This was their choice to make. There was no maddening, incensed queen sitting upon the throne and declaring herself in charge. This was a group of people coming together to make a difference, to display their regard, to rebel against tyranny, anarchy for anarchy, and it brewed within him: a blistering, kindling formation to his nefarious heart, restored, revitalized, renewed, from all the other primal, warfare motions.

Amalia counted, then proclaimed the announcement, and his eyes maneuvered straight to the newest leader of their revolution, the smallest of smiles managing to conjure its way to his otherwise stoic features. He leaned back in his seat to listen – to nod at the intonations, the information, gathering themselves, Zariah being a manipulative heathen (and there he could meander about Rexanna and her choices, how much were her own, how much had been controlled by other means), and being careful (even though all he’d done lately was somehow manage to get himself in more peril and tribulations). He agreed; they needed to be a quiet force, a subversive, hushed measure – not a loud ruckus, not wreaking havoc, not gnashing their teeth at little, minute things – not until they were ready, not until they had their forces and plans together, entangled, embroiled, in chances, in possibilities, of success.

Then came his call for advisors, and a proud grin replaced the smaller smile, for his friends, for those he cherished, picked amongst their fold for their contributions, for their sagacity, and for all the other efforts they’d made across the terrain. Even as Amalia balked (to which he arched a brow at her), then spoke of teams, he felt more confident in their abilities now. Instead of the squalking, instead of the arguing, instead of the consistent run around that led them nowhere, they could at least begin.

His eyes flickered to the main three, pledging his allegiance to them, not the monster with her scepter, not the demon with her fangs. “You have my support.” Then – if they were corresponding as a team, as a force, as a series of manifested comrades and allies, he should provide what he could. “I am somewhat limited in my creating abilities,” not quite up to par with Remi’s skills, he’d yet to cultivate the ability to sizzle magical contortions into their manifestations, “But I have begun stockpiling weapons. I am also available for any combat training.” He shoved the snicker, the smirk, the rise of sedition and insurrection suddenly coiling through his blood – days upon days of vengeance and upheaval along mountain tops suddenly bristling against his mind. “Should the need arise,” he added.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Kiada Njovu-Reyes
Hollowed Grounds Registrar

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#21
KIADA
i dream of gods and monsters
Before Amalia even announces the vote, the Harpy’s gaze lingers on Ronin quietly – watchful, cautious, careful, hoping to see him decide not to storm out because of the decision but rather embrace it. And when Amalia finishes announcing it, her eyes remain on the Captain, now Leader, her watchfulness far more predatory (in a protective way), because she’d do anything to protect everyone in this room. Anything. And she listens diligently, like any good student would.

And she quietly agrees with him as he announces his advisors, looking toward Amalia as she is announced, uncertain where Jigano is at this time. That is, until he begins to speak and steps forward slightly. A dark brow lifts curiously, but she pays attention and listens, stepping forward briefly to offer her friend a nod and a small smile. Amalia speaks again, and her gaze continues to dart from everyone who steps up to speak – Deimos following shortly after, and she inhales deeply as she, too, steps forward to offer her support.

I’m willing to do whatever it takes.” She begins, omitting the part that those in this room are the closest things to family she has now. “I can also help train with Deimos should it be needed, and as Jigano pointed out, I do know the location of the books as well in case we need those too.” She pauses, eyes icy yet soft somehow, shifting toward Ronin as she regards him and dips her head. “You have my support, and I will do anything I am asked of.I will be your soldier, your fighter, anything you need me to be.
and of the man who knew i was both
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Leatherworker

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#22
He felt a flicker of something: a slow creep in his veins, the hush of a breath on a candle's suffocated flame, a quiet, seeping heat crawling through his blood. It wasn't excitement—he couldn't be excited about something like this, too grim and too tired and too disillusioned—but it was determination. Relief, that it was finally starting. Anger, at what his world had come to, and a desire to save not only it, but the forest too.

It felt dangerously close to courage.

And one by one Amalia laid out their votes, slips of paper marked mostly by R's, and just like that, Ronin was their leader. Rory ran his tongue along his teeth. The room felt lesser without Wessex, but he had no idea where she was, and it was beginning to bother him.

Ronin spoke wisely, and Rory felt a weight ease off his shoulders. This had to be better than Zariah. It had to be the right choice. A tempered, measured man, interested in the opinions and advice of others—a man who cared, though, as he peered at the charismatic reborn dude, he couldn't help but wonder what had changed his mind. (He wondered if it mattered. He decided that it did.)

Then he picked Amalia and Jigano as his advisers. Both of them spoke up, and Rory looked down at his hands—studying their farmer's callouses, the pale, small scars. "I'll see what I can do about that Adviser position to Zariah," he said into the following silence, glancing at Deimos and Kiada, both who had offered training. "But she seemed happy to take it back after everyone bickered, so I'm not sure she'll appoint me. Anyway: I have no experience with combat, or weapons more refined than a pike. I'd like if someone could teach me, even before army training starts."

He bit the inside of his lower lip for a moment. "Oh, and if you ever need me to set something on fire—don't hesitate to ask. And..." It was a time for honesty and bluntness, right? A solid foundation. He looked at Ronin. "What made you change your mind?"
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#23
RONIN
if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving
It was all beginning to fall into place, and Ronin felt the oddness of his new role settle somewhat more comfortably upon his shoulders. It would be strange (he doubted that it would ever stop being strange), but it was happening. Jigano's appearance had him blinking in surprise, before he let out a quiet chuckle - of course. "Your disguise is obviously very effective," he applauded the loreseeker. "Any information you can provide would be excellent. We can talk more about it outside of this meeting."

With a knowing little smile to Amalia, he nodded in agreement with her sentiment that they were all of them a team, and obligingly turned his attention to the rest of their group to hear them out. Deimos and Kiada for training, Rory to open the potential for an advisor to Zariah, Remi... Well. Whilst Remi was quiet he had no illusion that his partner was silent; Ronin would pick things up with him later.

"It sounds like we have somewhere to begin, then," he said quietly. "Deimos, Kiada - could you arrange basic training for any who want it? I can help if you need." He had been captain of the thing once upon a time, after all. "Amalia, Jigano - I think it would be worth meeting separately soon, to discuss further details about the Fae and Zariah magics. And Rory..." Smiling warmly to the other man, Ronin shrugged his shoulders.

"A wise woman and a hefty dose of reality changed my mind," he said. "I left because I didn't know how to take a threat to my daughter's life. Zariah made that threat shortly after, to Remi. So... now I know how to take it. I'm going to make sure she never threatens another child again."



Plans are in motion! (Deimos, Kiada - PQ perhaps?)

Feel free to make a parting post, and we'll wind the ME down!
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#24
He smiled as Amalia stepped forward to add her own inspiration to Ronin’s. They were an effective pair for setting hope and fire to those who had gathered, and he was not immune to the combination. He appreciated it from a professional standpoint even as he felt a stirring of fresh direction and let some of the weight he had tried to carry slip over to be shared across more shoulders than just his own.

Remi ‘s communication was unexpectedly silent, but the bard’s flinch was more out of habit than fear now; Amalia, Caiside, and Kiada had done much to tame his instinctive paranoia and defensiveness against such mental intrusion. Of all the good and bad alike that fell between them, Remi was no longer a stranger. Perhaps they weren’t yet at the stage of being friends… but they were certainly allies, and they had many friends and loved ones in common. This time he inclined his head in return to the alchemist, and answered in the same way. Thank you. I appreciate it… and I have no doubt we’ll all need your skills – both as alchemist and mage – before this is over.

Deimos and Kiada spoke up, strong and brave and skilled with weapons and the ways of battle. Blue eyes gleamed as he offered both of his friends a fierce smile even as Ronin accepted their expertise and threw in his own to boot. Between the three of them, Jigano had no doubt they would have the best-trained force for moving forward with any strike, covert or otherwise, that they would decide on.

But oh, his heart ached as Amalia put forth Rory’s name as advisor to Zariah. He held himself still, respecting his lover’s decision, but the blue eyes he turned on the hunter were worried. Then again, he had given the blond more than his own fair share of worries of late, and the bard bowed his head in reluctant acceptance that they could not free their people without risk. The question that Rory posed after quietly acknowledging his magic had him raising his head again, however, and he looked to Ronin curiously, also wondering the answer.

He winced at hearing that Zariah had actually carried through on their ‘worst case scenario’ hypothesizing from the last meeting, and gave the star-blessed man a wry nod of agreement. ”I am at your disposal. Admittedly, I’m not the easiest man to track down right now, but Rory or Amalia can usually find me,” he nodded to the hunter and the baker both with a fond smile. ”Give the word, and I’ll be there.”
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
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#25
We're lost in the space between
who we are and all that we're trying to be

It was like eons before – a sensation of pride lifting through his chest as Kiada also volunteered to assist in training – back in the days where it was ice and fire and their wickedness conspiring into the world. Except now it had a singular purpose, instead of ensuring their damned kingdom made headlines and orchestrations of disaster, they’re compelled to establish battle-hardy rebels, ready for action when the time comes. And it will he wanted to howl into the abyss, along the walls of the basement, where they could promise and vow and pledge, where some contortions would unravel and the rest would emerge. He confirmed his assurances, his allegiance, his notions with a nod towards Ronin, eyes riveting back to Kiada, as snicker playing its way along his mouth, riddling along the stony features – alight on the potential for violence, vehemence, and savagery again. “We will get to work,” he added to Ronin, a deep rumble of conviction echoing past the root cellar.

DEIMOS
Stop trying to show how to save our souls
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#26
i'm holding on to you, holding on to me
Glancing towards Jigano, Remi nodded solemnly. The pair might have had their differences, and might indeed continue to do so, but that was no barrier in this case. Remi would expend all magic he had at his disposal to help.

“Well, it seems as though you have more than enough help.” Remi chuckled, nudging Ronin softly. It was perhaps not the time for jests, but that was precisely why boyish amusement trailed across Remi’s face. These meetings were not where he belonged, not a place he understood how to be. All he knew was insurmountable pride for those assembled, and undaunted love for Ronin.

“Which is good. I did not want to help anyways.” He added, squeezing Ronin’s shoulder softly before leaning back against the wall, content to simply watch the rest of the proceedings as they unfolded.
maybe it's all we got but it's all i need

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Leatherworker

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#27
Ronin answered his question—and Rory let out a low whistle of sorts. Zariah had, unwittingly, played herself straight into their hands: she had done exactly what they had feared, and rather than drive Ronin away from them, it had put him back among them. "Well, shit," he responded quietly, his brain spinning through the implications.

It was disheartening to learn that Zariah was every bit as ruthless and bad as they had expected, but... Why had she felt the need to threaten Aoife? To try and keep the two men in line? Did that mean that she feared them, and their potential?

Well. Looking at Ronin, determined but still warm, and Remi, boyishly out of place and nudging Ronin, smiling, chuckling, touching, offering his support—perhaps she was right to fear them.

And maybe they should fear for them too, that this bold scheme might hurt and harden them, change them irrevocably and not for the better.

But they had made their choices, just like everyone else in the room. Rory drifted over to Jigano, squeezing his aged and tanned hand. He knew that his plan was to lay his head in the crocodile's mouth and trust it not to bite it off, but what else could he do?


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