<strong>Name:</strong>Valentine Karskaja<br/><strong>Professions:</strong>Investigator / Alchemist<br/><strong>Damage Capacity</strong><br/><em>Physique:</em>5<br/><em>Agility:</em>3<br/><em>Intellect:</em>5<br/><strong>Defense:</strong>12<br/><strong>ARM:</strong>10*<br/><strong>Feat Points:</strong>3<br/><hr/><br/>"Daumantas, listen to me." Her brothers, those physically fit but developmentally stunted specimens who used to put snow down her coat and pull her hair when it was a much tawnier and less mercurial shade of blonde, it was them she was speaking to, more than the postman. "Your duty to render the post safely to its destination is sacred. I admire it. My duty is to perform the healing arts, as I was taught them by the Winter Guard's physicians." Fierce logic had her steely against the killing weather, though the lonesome peaks of her lips measured it a singularly cold evening, and the snowflakes steered by the wind onto the bare skin of her cheeks turned instantly to water on a strawberry flush. A less vain woman would bundle up completely, but she considered herself the equal of any bearded man. "You would not ask me to refrain. But there is a compromise."<br/><br/>A pause to hear what Oda had to say, though her mind strained to multitask, burst at the seams to talk while she was listening. She had learned, with more difficulty than she had learned any alchemical equation from the most archaic of master, that civil interaction meant waiting one's turn. She nodded in agreement, all the while entertaining that thought in one electrified corner of her mind,<em>Nyss travel in packs and protect their own, like wild-suckled wolves do. </em>When it seemed right, she enveloped Oda's plea. "I will not ask you to relinquish your charge. Deliver her instead to a place I might care for her safely. Discreetly. The way I would help you, when you run afoul of trouble." Her darkly outlined eyes set on Vyslav then, as she<em>knew </em>his kind of trouble wouldn't do to be under the examination of the Petru. "And you."<br/><br/>Then there was the cold snow down her coat, the unexpected voice tickling the part of her brain focused on whether a warband of Nyss lurked out there in the darkness. Valentine jerked. The first she saw of Asinya was the crimson badge, an animal signal of red teeth and the kill. Rationality had to rally to retrieve her senses. Analyze. Isolate. "It is no trouble. I am Dr. Karskaja, and am caring for this outlier. We will take her away, as you say." A look back, and up, to the much higher stature of Daumantas. "Is that not correct?"