<span style="font-style: italic">Don't forget the sollerets, boy...</span><br/><br/>Her last fitting had definitely been less comfortable, though whether it was due to being on the opposite side or due to Derrald, she couldn't begin to guess.<br/><br/>“There. She was a bit more shapely than you, so it might need a bit of – oh, nevermind, fits pretty well actually.” The Sister gave a final tug to the belted part of the old sheath, verifying its stability, her wolfish grin adding humor to the vaguely insulting advice. She returned to full height and set her hands on her own shapely hips, shaggy chestnut hair reminding Sen for the umpteenth time of the roguish wild ponies that occasionally drifted down from the northern mountains. Kee –a nickname, no one remembered her real one- had been particularly close to some of their fallen Sisters, and her eternal lighthearted prodding and joking led many a woman to question her mental status. Sen didn’t mind, even if she was crazy; the teasing felt normal, comforting. She’d found something similarly comforting in Rajah, though she attributed it more toward his musical accent and open smile than any form of insanity.<br/><br/>Verana’s long knife rested naturally alongside her left thigh, encased once more in its old home of cured black leather. It did fit well.<span style="color: #80BFBF"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Thanks,”</span></span>she replied, keeping her tone to about half of the instinctive sarcasm level. Kee had gone all the way to Barth’s tent to get it, after seeing the younger Sister pull it from her boot late last night.<br/><br/>“Not at all, little bird. Take care of it,” she added a bit more seriously, before given one of Sen’s braids a tug and continuing on her way. The blonde woman sat back down, picking up the half-eaten chunk of cold chicken that she’d set on the barrel next to her for the fitting. It was extra gritty now, but it hadn’t exactly started clean and Sen was more or less used to camp fare at this point. She took a swig of warm beer from the dirty mug, then set it back on the barrel. Nutritious.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">… I did what felt right to do.</span><br/><br/>Her conversation the previous night with the remaining Maiden resurfaced in her mind, floating up as the blade’s handle glinted in the early morning light. She still couldn’t understand the reason for the seasoned warrior to suddenly become so tense, but at least there hadn’t been any obvious animosity as far as she could tell. Sen admired her steadfast moral confidence, the trust in her own actions… even after all the blowback from the burning, she would do it all again. The lanky novice sighed and looked up, almost subconsciously searching for any of the strange bits of light or shapes that had been accompanying her since the battle.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Whatever it takes.</span><br/><br/>The belt rested low on her hips, a little lower than she would have guessed proper, but it was secure and seemed a more respectful place to keep Verana’s white blade than a left boot that was quickly becoming worn out. Sen wondered if she should leave it somewhere safe at first, before the shortness of that list occurred to her. In addition to that sad fact, she was fairly certain the red-headed Maiden would have been irked with the impracticality of leaving a perfectly good blade behind when there were yet hides to be pierced.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">If you stay, you won’t have either.</span><br/><br/>The beer turned sour in her belly and she forced herself to swallow another bit of chicken, standing up as if she could leave the nagging memories in the chair.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Maybe.</span><br/><br/>“Sen!” Another Sister hailed her; Seliniya was almost as thin as she, and about a head shorter, but with a predictable speed and a not-so-predictably high pain tolerance. “Enemy approaching,” the sharp-eyed woman barked, “Reported already, but it’ll take these boys another few hours just to get the message up the ranks and get their boots on. Grab your stick and be ready.” With a comradely slap to the lankier woman’s shoulder, she continued briskly on her way.<br/><br/>With a deep breath, the newest Sister straightened her leather armor and grabbed the glaive behind her, letting her breakfast form a rock in the pit of her stomach. It felt as though she hadn’t had any time at all to recover from the latest bloodletting, but there was already to be another; in the back of her mind, a small, pessimistic voice told her she really shouldn’t be all that surprised. Things hadn’t been fantastic thus far in her military career, and the only high points had only come on the breath and heels of trauma. At least her lady-softness had been tempered by bruises and cynicism.<br/><br/>She tossed the last of her chicken to the same disgruntled tomcat from last night (who seemed to have materialized out of nowhere), scratched him behind the ear, snatched her hand away before he could bite and then headed toward the outskirts. The camp seemed to have been injected with anxiety via a Seliniya-shaped needle and everywhere she watched sleepy men stumble from tents, buckling on scabbards before putting on pants and absently nodding to each other with an energy that was almost pure will power; Sen wasn’t sure where Yorinth was, but she hoped he was rapidly being made aware of the situation. In fact, she hoped all the Gods had already been told.<br/><br/>Instinctively, she glanced around, checking for spots of extreme brightness or color. She didn’t know how exactly this new eye of hers was supposed to work, or why she had heard stories of “the dusky battle” and “men who had nothing with which to see beyond the glow of the torchlight” while she had been debilitated by the brilliance of the lights. Lydia’s influence by Yorinth’s hand, and yet even they appeared intrigued by the newness. Regardless of how or why something was wrong with her, something<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>wrong, and there probably wouldn’t be a bratty immortal underling there to shred his clothing for her every time it got a little too bright to function.<br/><br/>In fact, she should do what she could now. Without pausing her stride, Sen reached across her chest and pulled Luke’s bit of cloak from her upper arm. She held one end in her teeth and wrapped the rest around her head, tying it firmly and sliding it up on her forehead until it functioned more as a headband than an eyepatch.<br/><br/>-------<br/><br/>The crowd gathered quickly, though it hadn’t been much when she’d arrived. A few people still milled about in various states of half-drunk or half-asleep, but for the most part a sense of alarm had lit a metaphorical fire beneath them and most sought information, a view or a superior officer. Sen stood patiently amidst the rabble, the butt of her glaive planted in the soil near her feet, picking up snatches of barked orders or hurried conversations from the hubbub around her. There was a new sort of tension in the men, a tension that stemmed from a lack of knowledge; something new was happening. Not just horrific and terrifying; events like that would be old news to anyone from Linden.<br/><br/>The Prince-Commander’s voice rang out like a thunder crack in the air above her head and she jerked her gaze in his direction, feeling the en masse shift of the men and women around her as they morphed from a mob to a unit. She started moving to the front, shadowing the Prince’s steps at a respectful distance, even before she noticed the faint glow that radiated from the presumed destination.<br/><br/>She was not even close enough to catch whatever counsel Barth held with his inner circle of officers and Gods, but even outside of earshot she could see the expressions on their faces well enough. They were uncertain. Even the Commander’s brow quirked slightly in confused disbelief, before being smothered in decision as he formed a plan. She could almost see the cogs and gears turning in his skull, still working out possible plans as he nodded to Ausan and then scanned the formations behind him, sharp eyes darting along the surface. A few times he stopped, nodding or gesturing someone forward, and a few soldiers from the front stepped up of their own accord.<br/><br/>His searching gaze finally met her own stare, and in a way that would have been unthinkable even two days ago, Sen held his eye contact. He made no gesture or nod, but by the time his eyes had turned back to the horizon she had stepped forward knowingly to join the small party gathered around him. The air shimmered as the group moved forward, silent except for the crunch of boots across the ground; Sen found herself swiveling her head slightly, trying to find a part of the shimmer on which she could focus. Logically, there couldn’t be any, but… this seemed so different. Almost… tangible.