[[Day 29 of Month -4 :: Lindela ]]<br/><br/>“Mas-Master Lethe! Master Lethe!”  Said Knight paused at the shouts, her head swivelling to face the person calling for her.  A Knight was running down the street towards her; one hand waved furiously but her attention was caught on the red tint of his shin guards and the pale pallor of his face.  He looked as if all color had fled and his voice a bit too shaky to be normal even in the current circumstances.  “Master Lethe.  Please. Follow me. There. You need to see this.”  His voice trembled precariously and Lethe turned in acquiescence.<br/><br/>The walk back was quiet as neither had anything to say.  Lethe was too focused on worrying about the situation as a whole and the Knight was equally mute.  A sudden hitch of the breath caught Lethe’s wandering thoughts; she turned an inquisitive eye in his direction but froze before she could say anything.  A blotchy red sheet was draped over a bulky mound.  Now that she was paying attention, she became cognizant of the many heaps pushed against the side of the roads.  Most were covered with cloth of some kind but there were some gaps in the coverage.  In one, a dull eye stared listlessly at the sky.  In another, a stub of flesh ended abruptly in a diminishing puddle of red.  She traced the stream of blood with detached eyes, her horror submerged under by the weight of duty, and followed it to her feet. She lifted a foot; the sole was stained red.  The blood continued towards the other side of the road.  The street wasn’t draining properly.  She would have to mention that to Councilor Livius.<br/><br/>She placed her foot back down and continued her walking.  After a moment, her companion caught up and led the way once more.  Their journey was silent once more but this time Lethe was more aware of her surroundings.  Her anger rose at the countless piles on the sides of the road but her face remained as placid as ever.  She ignored the side-long glances the other Knight was sending her way as he tried to gauge her reaction.<br/><br/>He didn’t need to announce their destination; Lethe caught sight of it before he could speak.<br/><span style="font-size: 175%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: red">WHERE IS YOUR THEA NOW?</span></span><br/>The question mocked the reader, both in its meaning and its form.  The letters were crudely arranged, the mostly straight sections of bleached white joined by messy curves in a deep rust red: broken bones and bloody strips of flesh, the latter seemingly added wherever the writer had felt some color was necessary. The bulky sheet below it made painfully clear where the writing materials had originated from.  It was grotesque.<br/><br/>“We-we’re still trying to figure out what ‘thea’ is.”  The Knight spoke up nervously and he struggled to breathe under the sudden, inexplicable fear he felt, “and who may have left it..”  His excuses died when the Seraph lifted her hand abruptly.  Her face was as impassive as ever but her eyes burned with outrage.  The shiver that went down his spine was his only warning before there was a flash of light behind them and he turned to see nine swords hanging menacingly in the air.  “Uh..?” He didn’t even get to start his question before light pierced the air.  He spun back around to see the message riddled with holes.  Master Lethe’s famous Heaven’s Judgment’s blades spun forward and carved through the wall with surprising viciousness.  When everything settled, not even dust remained of the message.<br/><br/>The Knight opened his mouth, closed it, tried again to speak, and then settled on gulping softly.<br/><br/>Was she still here?  No, the demon was too much a coward to have stayed here, surrounded by Pristine Knights, without a sure escape route.  Light’s Blessing flared into blue eyes and Lethe observed her surroundings carefully.  Though Sin wafted through the air, there was no concentration of it that would suggest a demon.  She couldn’t even see anything that would suggest a Sinner.  She turned to the Knight next to her and spoke politely:<span style="color: silver">“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.  You don’t need to worry about the message.  Would you feel comfortable continuing the.. clean up efforts here?  I’ve already checked the few streets around us and I see no Sinners.  However, I’ll check the rest of the District as well.”</span>The concentration of holy magic in front of her bobbed its head, and she remembered to tack a thankful smile on her face.<span style="color: silver"> “Please excuse me, then.  May the Divine Light bless you and keep you safe.”</span>Seals glowed under her feet and she jumped into the air to finish her search, Luna blazing in one hand and her body framed by eight shining swords.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>“May I borrow your brush?” Cricket didn’t bother asking if the other man had one; Grisia’s golden hair made the question superfluous.  The former Advocate smiled pleasantly and retrieved the grooming instrument without a comment.  Now armed, Cricket advanced to the room YunQiao was hiding in.  As generous as Adair’s three brothers were, they still had no qualms playing favorites so the scholarly Knight had been given a room to himself. Everyone else could fend on the shop floor.<br/><br/>There was no answer to his knock but Cricket hadn't expected one. After another unanswered knock, the Knight let himself in.  The room was unlit, the last strains of sunlight bathing the room in red and shadows, and YunQiao sat stoically in the bed.  Though his posture was as straight as ever, apathy hung around him as evident by his rumpled clothes.  He didn't react to Cricket's intrusion.  The older man sighed softly even as a wry smile pulled at the corner of his lips.  Oh, Stuffy...<br/><br/>Cricket had taken a seat beside the scholar and just lifted the first tangle when YunQiao finally reacted.  Blue eyes glared in his direction but even that lacked the normal indignation.  The occasional crossdresser ignored the glare with ease as he started combing out the knot.  In less than a minute, the glare petered out and YunQiao resumed his listless search over the room, looking for answers that weren't present.<br/><br/>What was he doing with his life? How could he call himself a Knight? Why hadn't he done anything to help in the fight?  Even through the closed window, muffled weeping could be heard.  They were reminders of his failures.  He'd been so sure about that portal.. so sure it was important. Then he'd go back and help them--his fellow Knights, the innocents he'd sworn to protect.  But what did he have to show for his decision? An ignominious defeat.<br/><br/>If he hadn't dashed off in search of that portal, could he have saved these people?<br/><br/>"Ow!" A stab of pain from his head broke his circling thoughts. A palm roughly patted the back of his head, nearly sending him faceplanting into his lap, and then the pressure beside him vanished as Cricket stood up.  The purple haired man stretched, tossed the comb onto the bureau, and turned to pick up a folded set of clothes.  He offered the garments but YunQao made no move to accept them.  After a moment of awkward waiting, Cricket let them fall onto the bed.  Brown eyes analyzed the unresponsive man for a moment before moving away.<br/><br/>This time he returned with the scholarly Knight's sword when he planted himself at the foot of the bed.  He said nothing, just waited and stared.  Finally, YunQiao could ignore him no more; blue eyes flickered around before conceding and focusing on him.<br/><br/>A moment later, Cricket spoke: "I doubt you'll let me put makeup on you, and I doubt I could find any right now anyways."  The seemingly random words kept the brunet's attention on him, "so go wash your face and put some proper clothes on."  Two pairs of eyes glanced at the discarded outfit on the bed, slightly mussed from their careless fall. There was no other visible reaction but the purple haired Knight could feel the frown YunQiao was no doubt sporting.  “Stop pouting.  The battle may be over but this war isn't.”  The disapproval deepened as did the slightest expression of guilt.  “Get up.”  Cricket ordered with unusual harshness, “and then come out and take back your sword.  You’re a member of Squad Lethe.  You don’t get to quit this easily.”<br/><br/>The words still rung through the air as Cricket spun on his heel. There was an indistinct sound of protest but he ignored it as he strode out and closed the door behind him with finality.  He would have slammed it shut but there were refugees downstairs.  The noise would unnecessarily startle them.<br/><br/>He looked down at the sword in his hands and felt regret bubble up within him. Whatever was bothering Stuffy, his act may not have helped.  If he was Captain or Valiar, he could have talked Stuffy through the problem.  But he was neither.  His grip tightened on the sword's scabbard. He could only help in his own way and that way was kicking Stuffy in the ass to make him move again.<br/><br/>A voice spoke up to interrupt the sigh he was about to release.  "It’s fine.  The Light won't ask more of him than he can handle."  A different pair of blue eyes met his gaze when he looked up.  Grisia smiled kindly and Cricket could see the echo of the Advocate he used to be.  That image was soon shattered with the blond’s next words: “Now stop pining like a lovestruck Romeo and get back to work!  I have Light knows how many strangers on my shopfloor.  You’re a Knight: Sword of the weak, shield of the people, and so on? Then go help them so they can get out!”<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~</div><br/>[[Day 31 of Month -4 :: Lindela]]<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">"I. I would like to start this with a hymn I learned when I was younger.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">If I could tell the world just one thing it would be: we're all okay. And not to worry, because worry is wasteful and useless in times like these. I won't be made useless. I won't be idle with despair. Gather myself around my faith because light is the darkness' greatest fear. <br/><br/>My hands are small I know, but they are my own. And I am never broken.</span>"</span><br/><br/>She paused, letting the words settle over the survivors in front of her.  About half of her audience bore the signs of the attack--bandages, missing limbs, casts, and crutches--but she knew all carried scars in their hearts.  Lindela was a haven, a stronghold of the Light where Sin was kept at bay.  Or at least it had been.  But two days ago, that defense was breached, shattered.  They had seen their homes destroyed, their loved ones injured, or worse, and their belief shaken.  As unworthy as she might feel, it was her task to reassure them.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">"I know what happened two days ago was..”</span>was there any word strong enough, encompassing enough to describe what had happened? She knew no such word but hoped her emotions would convey what the word could not,<span style="color: silver">“terrible.  What happened was terrible.  However, we can’t let that hold us down.  We must persevere.  We must overcome.  Because to give up, to cower in fear--that would be letting Sin win, that would be telling them terror attacks like this work, that they should do this again.<br/><br/>But they shouldn’t.  Because this doesn’t work. We will not cower in fear.  We are the Immaculate.  We are those who walk under the Divine Light, who bask in its protection.  Sin may come and try to take us but they will not conquer us.  We will overcome.  We will triumph.  No matter if we are ‘Pristine Knight’ or ‘Advocate’ or any other label: we are all the Immaculate.  And together, we will illuminate the world.<br/><br/>Our hands may be small; they may be old; they may be frail or weak.  But they are our own.  And we are never broken.<br/><br/>Thank you, and may the Divine Light bless us and guide us through these dark times.”</span><br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~</div><br/>[[Day 1 of Month -5 :: Lindela]]<br/><br/>One finger tapped impatiently against her thigh as she waited for the all clear signal.  In the end, it had been decided her best contribution would be her brute force.  As if summoned by her thoughts, a Knight reappeared from the broken house with a bag.  The floppy limb of a toy, a teddy bear, she'd guess, hung out the side of the sack.  It looked forlorn to have been abandoned so carelessly and she turned away before she could speculate any more.  Some tales were best left unheard, at least if she didn't want to abscond from her duties.<br/><br/>"You're clear." A rough voice ordered and Seraphim cracked her neck, her entire body relaxing.  She prowled into the building all languid grace as she spotted the weaknesses in the frame.  Her first day had been blindly whacking at the buildings in piques of anger. On the second, a carpenter had taken her aside.<br/><blockquote class="uncited"><div>It was the hollowness of his eyes that cut through her self-loathing.  Bandaged hands clumsily grasped a blunt knife as he led her into the building she was supposed to demolish.  Leaving her in the middle of the decaying room, he walked up to one of the main support beams.  He examined the pillar and then, seemingly satisfied, carved a sloppy X.  He repeated the process around the room until three other such marks joined the first.  Turning to look at her, he watched her watch him knock on the marked spot. A hollow ringing could be heard.  <br/><br/>"These spots, they're weak.” He told her with a voice as empty as his eyes, “One good hit on each spot will bring the building down." A mirthless grin distorted his face, "but don't get caught inside." The joke fell flat and the rictus slid off after a moment.  The man gazed at the spot again and then slammed an open palm against it.  "At least you can do something.." he muttered with a touch of resentment, "at least you could fight."  He turned away before more accusations spilled from his lips.<br/><br/>"Wait." The man paused. "Do you want me to absolve you?"  A head tilted sideways in contemplation even as he tensed.  Seraphim could see the anger and hate flash over the man's face before he stilled.<br/><br/>"Probably best." He finally admitted. His head bowed in submission as he confessed, "My wife, my daughter, my father. They killed them all. It's just me now."  Seraphim halted as anger--frustration, fury, <span style="font-style: italic">ha</span>. . .--welled up within her.  She grit her teeth and forced herself to let the emotions go.  They would only lead her back down that dark path, one she'd sworn to never walk again.  Her Light's Blessing faded as holy magic took its place.  She placed her hand on the grieving man's and uttered the solemn prayer, "May the Divine Light guide you to peace and absolve you of your pain."</div></blockquote><br/>By now, she’d gotten good at spotting the weak points in the decaying properties.  A few good hits and the structure would cave in.  It had taken her another two days to figure that trick out but it was one her comrades vastly preferred: less flying beams that might try to take their heads off.  Flaring her aura, she felt the heady rush of power that came with her Light’s Blessing.  In this form, she felt invincible.  Four punches later she hurtled out of the falling door with her enhanced speed.  She landed in the middle of the street to the crash of the house collapsing to the ground.<br/><br/>Nailed it.<br/><br/>The pink haired woman caught the eye of another Knight and he smiled wryly as he pointed to another house.  Seraphim returned the smile with an apologetic one of her own; she was lucky enough to be given a constructive way to work off her frustration.  She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be on clean-up duty, having to go into these homes and gather the scant possessions left, wondering about who had lived here, if they had survived: an endless stream of questions of what-ifs.<br/><br/>A shudder ran down her spine as her mind teetered on that edge.  What if she had been faster?  What if she had been stronger? Or smarter?  Or any other possibility that may have saved more people?  It was a deceptive daydream that lured the one in and trapped one in indecision.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">We all make mistakes, have struggles, and even regret things in our past. But you are not your mistakes; you are not your struggles. You are here now with the power to shape your future.</span><br/><br/>The memory of the Knight’s words pulled her back to reality.  Maybe she could have done better, maybe not.  There was no way to know.  All she could do was keep moving forward, keep shaping the future.<br/><br/>Looking around her, she spotted the flaws with ease.  Pulling back a fist, she let it fly.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~</div><br/>[[Day 2 of Month -5 :: The Grand Cathedral, Gless]]<br/><br/>Lethe let the door slip shut behind her, muffling the sounds of scraping chairs and bickering Councilors.  By the Light, she was tired.  Her feet mindlessly shuffled to the side before she slid onto one of the empty benches.  Privacy runes flared into existence and she was hidden from sight.  It was only under the veil of invisibility did she let her spine slump and head bow.  It had been a long four days with many more looming in the distance.  It was becoming a disturbingly common trend.<br/><br/>Eyelashes fluttered open at the sound of footsteps.  A familiar looking Scribe was striding by in quick but unhurried steps.  Blue eyes followed his walk as she tried to remember why she seemed to recognize him.  She was certain she’d seen that red hair before.  Oh.<span style="color: silver"> “Scribe Omi,”</span>her invisibility washed away as she stood up.  The young man’s facade of tranquility crumpled at the unexpected call and he jerkily spun in her direction.<br/><br/>“Mas-Master Lethe!”  He exclaimed in surprise at the Seraph’s sudden appearance.  He could have sworn the hallway was empty!<br/><br/><span style="color: silver"> “I’m sorry for startling you.  Where are you headed?”</span><br/><br/>Omi shook his head in embarrassment at being caught so flustered.  “Just to return some files to the Library,” he deferred, not wanting to offend with a terse reply but cognizant of how precious Master Lethe’s time was.  It was very like the Seraph to take the time to inquire about others even when her workload was no doubt triple his.  It was a large part of her popularity among those in the Cathedral. (Well, there were many other reasons as well, but her concern certainly helped as well.)  He felt the skin of his hands heat up as he felt her attention shift to them and the files they clutched.<br/><br/>The sight of the papers reminded her of the<span style="font-style: italic">other</span>uses of Scribes.  Lethe mostly encountered them when they delivered her paperwork or took it away, but Scribes were also skilled in transcribing, summarizing, and research, among no doubt countless other administrative tasks.  Omi was also circumspect; the lack of rumors about her and Guilford’s accidental nap a testament to that fact.  In short, he was perfect for what she needed.<br/><br/>A vague plan, one that had been brewing in the back of her mind since her conversation with YunQiao, began to take shape.<span style="color: silver"> “Omi, may I ask for your assistance with something discreet?”</span><br/><br/>The redhead paused at the careful wording, reminded of another secret request he had been handling for a Seraph.  He’d need to pass those along to Master Guilford sometime soon, or Master Lethe if the former wasn’t available, once a more opportune time presented itself.  “Of course, Master Lethe.  How may I help?”<br/><br/><span style="color: silver"> “After you finish your task, please speak with Olexiy about clearing up your schedule.  I’d like you reassigned under my command for the foreseeable future.”</span>Omi nodded his head even as his mind wrestled with the first surprise.  Olexiy--who was Olexiy?  The mention of reassignment gave him a vague clue: had she meant Head Supervisor Whittemore?  He somehow doubted the older man would appreciate being bothered about a detail as trivial as what a junior scribe was doing, but Seraph Lethe probably didn’t realize that.  Then again, she was a Seraph, second only to the Council (and some could debate how the Seraphs and Council ranked against each other); Head Supervisor Whittlemore was probably just another acquaintance to her.  The distance between stars like her and ordinary people like him loomed large.<span style="color: silver"> “Thank you, please arrange a meeting room in the Library as well for our use, again for an indefinite time.  It should seat four.  There’s no need to monopolize a larger room.”</span>With a smile of thanks, Master Lethe turned and walked off.<br/><br/>Only when the Seraph could no longer be seen did Omi release the breath he’d been holding in his lungs once the rest of her words had made sense.  Reassigned to the Seraph’s command.  For the foreseeable future.  This was more than just a few extra hours in the Archives or a few errands.  Whatever he was about to do must be<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>important for that sort of action.  For one numbing moment, he could feel his terror rising within him at that thought.  No, he wasn’t ready.  He didn’t dare.  His breath echoed heavily in his ears and the harsh sounds gave him enough distraction to ground himself.  No, it was just researching.  It had to just be researching or transcribing or something along those veins.  If whatever he was working on was as sensitive as she implied, there was no way she’d make a helpless Scribe deliver such documents or message when a Scout would do better.  Those reassurances echoed in his head as he hurried down the corridor.  Master Lethe needed his assistance; it was the least his lowly self could do.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>Deimos lifted his katana into the air to catch the light as he inspected the blade critically.  Yellow eyes narrowed as they caught sight of a blemish and he brought the blade back into his lap so he could rub the cleaning rag against it once more.  When he was satisfied his weapon was flawless once more, he tossed the scrap back into the pile at the center of the coffee table.  Surprisingly, Leon didn’t seem to notice his action so the blond, who had been reaching for one of the polishing cloths, startled as the rag hit his hand.  Surprised hazel eyes looked in his direction and caught his gaze.  The younger Knight grimaced sheepishly, nodded his head in apology, grabbed a new cloth, and retreated back into his seat where he focused on rubbing down his sword.<br/><br/>The rear guard stifled his sigh.  Leon hadn’t acted this skittish since before their first trip to Palaugrim.  Glancing around the room, he noted that everyone seemed ‘off’ this evening.<br/><br/>Valiar was motionless in his normal armchair.  For once the cleric wasn’t polishing his armor or sword as he was wont to do.  Instead, Valiar was gripping a framed photo with an unsettled frown.  Deimos didn’t need to glance at the shelves to know which photograph the cleric was holding.  After the close call Marielle and Annabelle had during the attack, he couldn’t fault the older man for such worry.  The blond Knight wondered idly if he would have such an expression if he had a wife and daughter and they’d had such a close encounter with death.  It would be an interesting though to ponder though he suspected the answer already.  Uncomfortable, he returned to scanning the room.<br/><br/>Adair stood silently in the corner of the room; although his face was studiously neutral, there was no hiding the storm that seemed to loom behind him.  No doubt he was rethinking<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>afternoon’s battle.  Yellow eyes narrowed on his squadmate.  He knew Romauld and Adair had not been happy with the unknown creature’s death given the vigil they’d held but he didn’t understand their inner conflict.  There was nothing noble about death; there was no better or worse death.  Death simply was: it existed; it would inevitably come.  The creature’s had come that day and theirs hadn’t, yet.<br/><br/>Deimos lazily swirled his katana through the air, light flashing carelessly off the gleaming surface, as he double checked there was no remaining blood or dirt.  Even with the dimensional blade, which had ended up surprisingly useful in ridding the creature of its arms, the pale blond Knight preferred relying on his tangible blade.  His katana came to a halt against the palm of his hand and its familiar weight was a reassurance.  Katanas had been one of few constants through his life, though not necessarily this one.  Tapping the weapon against his palm, his gaze slid back to his fellow Seraph Candidate.  Adair had a very nice set of weapons as well; his brother had made them, if Deimos recalled correctly.<br/><br/>He hummed thoughtfully at the reminder of the two masterpieces attributable to Roland: Adair’s size-changing weapons and Captain’s prized Luna.  Perhaps he could see if the older man was willing to accept commissions.  It never hurt to have a trick up the sleeve.  Even if his sword came without a special attribute, at least he’d have the skill of one of the best blacksmiths supporting his weapon.  It was a good idea.<br/><br/>Feeling the weight of a stare, the blond Knight looked up to catch purple eyes.  A pink-haired head tilted sideways in curiosity but Deimos just shook his head.  Brows furrowed but Seraphim said nothing more, turning her head to continue staring at the wall.  An uncharacteristic frown seemed painted on her lips.  Like the others in the room, she seemed contemplative.  Her armor was dented in a few areas and yellow eyes narrowed on the reddened flesh around her knuckles.  Her gauntlets should have protected her hands from such damage.  He’d have to order her a special set with better padding and perhaps some reinforced knuckledusters on the gauntlet.  Seraphim had always preferred using her fists but after Kanna’s lessons and her<span style="font-style: italic">valkyrie</span>, she depended on hand to hand even more now.<br/><br/>A door creaked open before he could ponder which of his suppliers could best fulfill that order.  Captain had returned.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/><span style="color: silver">"Romauld, thank you for coming."</span>Lethe beckoned the brunet into the small room.  YunQiao, Leon, and an unknown redhead were already seated at the round table for four and the corners were crammed with scrolls and books.<span style="color: silver">"I would like you to lead a special project for me.  My Knight YunQiao has identified how so many Sin Creatures were able to enter Lindela."</span>She spun a piece of paper around to reveal a sketch of an archway covered in runes.  The former Knight Commander of Rasova frowned at the unfamiliar image.  He scanned the drawing but looked up shortly; he would examine it in more detail later.  Seraph Lethe surely had better things to do than wait for him.<span style="color: silver">"Eve has built these portals that, I would guess, transport the Sin Creatures from wherever she is gathering them to Lindela.”</span>A grim nod showed he understood,<span style="color: silver">“Unfortunately, I don’t know where they are.  They seem to have been purposefully hidden in remote locations.  We discovered one in the mountains in District Nine and another in a basement in District Eighteen.  They were both concealed under privacy runes, secrecy spells, et cetera to keep them from being detected.  I presume the others are as well.”</span>The next nod was slower as the former Knight Commander processed the new information.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“I want you to find them and destroy them.”</span>How simple her words made such a monumental task sound.<span style="color: silver">“YunQiao, Leon, and Omi are assigned to help you.  YunQiao is well versed with magic and has studied runes.  Leon is the best sensor I have.  Omi is a Scribe and will assist with whatever you need.”</span>A finger pointed at each man as she identified them.<span style="color: silver"> “I want to keep this under wraps as much as possible.  I do <span style="font-weight: bold">not</span> want any news getting out that Eve has backdoors into Lindela and possibly Gless.”</span>Such news could easily derail their reconstruction efforts.<span style="color: silver">“Take them out the moment you find them.”</span>Her gaze switched to her squadmates as she addressed them,<span style="color: silver"> “If any of Guilford’s Squad or any of the others are free, you can have them help in destroying the portals as well.”</span>Her attention turned back to the entire group,<span style="color: silver"> “Any questions?”</span>But of course there were none; YunQiao clearly already knew of the issue, Leon was used to taking orders from Master Lethe by now, and the other two men were still processing the bombshell she’d dropped on them.<br/><br/>With no objections, Lethe pushed back her chair and stood up.<span style="color: silver"> “If I can help in any way, please tell me.  This is an important matter to both me and Gil; we want this resolved as soon as possible.”</span>Unspoken went the knowledge both Seraphs would already be strapped for time with all their other duties.<span style="color: silver"> “I’ll leave it to you then.  May the Divine Light bless you and guide you to success.”</span><br/><br/>Romauld slid into the vacated chair silently.  Portals straight into Lindela.  It was a terrifying thought.  He’d thought having to run a Fortress was bad!  Seraphs had to deal with enemies having bullshit abilities to teleport troops past all their defenses.  Seraphs and Seraph Candidates, as this was now his problem.<br/><br/>“Alright then.  YunQiao, can you explain in greater detail about these portals?”<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>Marielle scrubbed a towel over her face wearily, the mild pain helping refresh her senses.  She idly rubbed the wet cloth over her hands as her gaze wandered over the square in front of her.  Muslin tarps stretched over half the area as a flimsy defense against the elements; unfortunately, it didn’t protect them against the bite in the air.  A sneeze tickled her nose and the blonde turned away from the washing basin.  Fall was coming and with it the colder temperatures.  She folded the towel and laid it against the bowl before walking away so the next person could freshen up.<br/><br/>She shook the last droplets of water from her hands idly before pulling her coat tighter around her.  It really was getting chilly.  If only… The blonde forced herself not to wander down that path.  She was already very lucky.  Her family had lived through the attack without any injuries; she had a safe place to stay; and her Valiar was close by.  At that thought, her eyes instinctively looked towards the makeshift infirmary; as if sensing her gaze, Valiar looked up from the patient he was treating and their eyes met.  A relieved smile crossed her husband’s lips and she felt the gesture reflect itself on hers.  A moment passed before Valiar looked back down at his patient.  Marielle turned away as well as her fists fell away from her coat.  Yes, she was already very lucky.<br/><br/><dl class="codebox"><dt>OOC Notes | <a href="javascript: void(0);" onclick="var spoiler = this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('dd')[0]; if ( spoiler.style.display == 'none' ) { spoiler.style.display = 'block'; this.innerHTML = '-'; } else { spoiler.style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '+'; };">+</a></dt><dd style="display: none;">All credits to Jewel's <a class="postlink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfsS3pIDBfw">Hands</a> for inspiration.  Her lyrics have been shamelessly borrowed for the speech above as marked in italics.  Any transcribing issues were intentional.<br/><br/>Also, for anyone curious: <a class="postlink" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v664/EvanescentBreeze/CreativeFreedom/Lindela%20Districts_zpshlte0jn1.jpg">Lindela Map</a></dd></dl>