Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

[faileas]

Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

I. Adventuring We Will Go (Tomorrow) The word gets around pretty quick. Anybody who plans to journey with the group of Wilders venturing out to set up a new outpost is invited to attend a traditional gathering they have before an expedition: the packing party. On the evening of the 15th, the Wilders' HQ is bustling with activity. The whole group is present making the final preparations, sorting gear, and checking the carts for maintenance. The atmosphere is easy and upbeat, very casual, with Wilders laughing and telling jokes and stories as they work. One has to have a little fun before it's time to be serious, after all! A lot needs done, and more hands are always welcome. Camping gear and provisions need to be checked, inventoried, and dispersed into enchanted rucksacks that can hold twice as much as you might think they could - there will be enough rucksacks for each explorer in the party. Everyone is expected to carry their own. Shrunken-down construction materials for the new outpost need to be loaded into the three self-propelled carts the party will travel with (if only they were self-steering as well!). The carts themselves haven't been necessary for an expedition in a while; they could probably use some fixing up, greasing the axles and making sure the enchantments are fully charged with magic. And, too, this is a chance for the group to mingle and get to know each other. You have to be able to trust your fellows out there in the Wilde, after all. So there's a table with food bought off a few street carts: fried hand pies in meat (no one's sure what kind of meat, but hey!), veggie, and fruit varities; a pot of simmering jellied eel to be scooped into cups and eaten with spoons; fried squabs on sticks dripping grease. Beer is plentiful, as are bottles of a non-alcoholic ginger beer. Everyone is encouraged to eat, pack, and get to know each other. Especially because, the lead Wilders on this expedition will say, it's recommended that everyone going out there have a Bonded - whether it be their own normal Bonds if they're also going, or temporary Bonds with their fellow party members. The table also bears a few dozen of the temporary Bonding potions, and it's highly encouraged, though not required, that more experienced explorers temporarily Bond with those who are much newer to Aefenglom. It's nature's buddy system, you know. Whatever you're going to do, do it before the morning - the group leaves at first dawn, and will not wait for anyone too hungover to be on time. While having a Bond isn't required for the trip, the Wilders will strongly encourage it for anyone who isn't Bonded or whose Bond partners aren't going. The three-Bond safety limit does still apply to temporary Bonds, though! If you'd like to tag around for potential temp Bonds, head over to this thread right here!

II. The Silent Forest It becomes clear that, while the journey starts off easy, it won't remain that way. The group leaves out at dawn and passes first through stretches of land considered 'safe' - safe enough to be generally habitable, and the first couple of hours see the occasional farm on the way. There are few to no signs of Cwyld this close to the city, but then they start to slip into the region considered 'in progress'. These are the lands the Wilders have been focusing on, and so while there are the occasional patches of infected plants, they're easily dealt with by small, controlled burns. As the day drags on and the hike continues, though, the landscape changes. The trees grow thicker and the underbrush more dense. The machetes have to come out at points to clear the path for the carts; whoever is currently on cart-steering duty, please don't damage them! The atmosphere, too, changes around this time; the laughter dies down, expressions become more serious, Wilders are noticeably more alert to the possible presence of Shades or hostile creatures. By evening, the forest is thick and dark, the trees around them ancient and twisting. No one has ventured out to this area in quite a while, the more experienced Wilders will say, and that becomes very obvious. The once-beautiful forest is heavily infected by the Cwyld, and the small cabin that served as a Wilder outpost is overgrown, still bearing the 5-year-old corpse of a dead Wilder. Adventurers are advised to take caution when touching anything - wear gloves and heavy boots and watch your step out here, folks. The way still needs to be cleared. a. The Flora The oldest of the trees present are fully dead, thick trunks turned black and shiny, letting in light from above where their leafless branches reach out to the trees around them. The brush is thick and thorny; even small pricks and cuts in the skin are liable to be infected, a black ring forming around the wound, darkening the veins branching out from it, and need immediate treatment to keep it from spreading. It's hard to avoid other than by simply wearing thick clothing and hoping for the best. Nestled in the roots of the trees are pitcher-like plants filled with a sticky sap; the Wilders are excited to see these, and despite the dangers, comb through them to see if any remain uninfected. The sap in infected plants is black and tarry, while in uninfected plants it runs clear. This sticky liquid is excellent for smearing over wounds to seal them and draw out minor infection, and they'd be delighted to take some whole plants back for cultivation. As well, a certain breed of tree seems to have escaped infection entirely; these tall, woody trees have shiny green leaves, a contrast to the rest of the forest, and bear small green fruits that smell (and taste, should you eat one) deliciously sweet. All is not always as it seems out here in the Wilde, though - be careful which fruit you choose to imbibe. These trees are not immune to the Cwyld, they only hide their infection well. It can only be determined which trees are infected by cutting into them and inspecting the sap (difficult, because the sap of all the trees is highly toxic, and even inhaling near it will have nasty side-effects of vertigo, vomiting, and even temporary blindness). If it runs black at all, the tree is infected, and the fruit, sweet as it might taste, is deadly poisonous. Trees that are only mildly infected are a Russian roulette: you have an 80-20 chance of getting a toxic fruit or a good one. Most of the Wilders don't feel it's worth the risk. b. The Fauna The party spends a couple of days in the Silent Forest out of necessity. Initially, it seems as if there is no animal life left on this desolate patch of land. No birds chirping, no mammals scurrying about, not even an insect to buzz around the explorers' heads. It becomes quite clear that the Cwyld has consumed nearly everything, and the life left is hardly life at all. Shades are not uncommon. When camp is made for the night, capable fighters will have to rotate guard duty and patrols around the campsite, to fight off the shadows of what used to live here as they sense life and magic to consume. Dessicated, white-eyed bucks with cracking antlers, bloated and mutated birds screeching angrily, even, perhaps, the Shade of a bear, huge, enraged, and difficult to take down. But that second night, those who are alert may get the tingling sense that they're being watched. They are, in fact, by a band of nomadic Monsters, primarily Harpies and Arachne passing through. They don't approach the camp, and they won't speak to any of the Wilder group, merely watching them with something like curiosity before they flee into the forest again. It's hard to get close to them before they disappear, more at home in this dead forest than you will ever be, but close observation shows that all are scarred in some way; missing parts of limbs, eyes, or bearing even worse marks on their bodies. c. The Solution It's too thick an area to clear simply by burning. They'd set the whole dry patch of forest alight and kill who knows what along with the Cwyld. Some smaller areas can be taken care of with fire and careful supervision, but the rest of it... The lead Wilder on this expedition, a prematurely-greying Witch named Rilla Sparks, puts forth a suggestion. She admits, it's one based heavily on theory and speculation, along with the findings of certain prominent researchers in the city. If they can find the leyline, she thinks the Witches in their party can flood it with enough positive, nurturing magic to 'flush' the Cwyld out of the vicinity, so to speak. Or, she hopes, enough to make it passable in the future. It's experimental, but isn't that what this trip is about? Discovering new things? If enough of the party is game, the first step is finding the leyline in the area. This can be sniffed out by Witches and Monsters both, as they're drawn to sources of magic, even tainted magic; and, too, if anyone takes a look from the air, the leyline becomes obvious, as it cuts a much darker, more heavily infected line across the forest floor, like a blackened vein. Once it's found, it's up to the Witches in the group. Gathering over the blackened ground, anyone who wants to participate in the ritual should join in pairs or groups, down on their knees to be closer to the earth, and should 'push' their magical energy into the leyline through their hands pressed to the dirt. Each push results in a pulse of light beneath the blackness of the ground, weak at first, but stronger the more magic is expended. It will take several hours, which means the occupied (and then spent) Witches will require the protection of their Monster fellows, and interacting this closely with a tainted leyline will have side effects. A low degree of Cwyld infection is possible in the hands, but not guaranteed. Intense fatigue and dizziness is certain, along with pain when casting spells, and terrible nightmares for as long as the symptoms last - anywhere from 2 to 6 days, depending on how much magic the individual Witch expelled and how much rest they get after. It will take some time to see if their labors bear fruit. They'll check on the area again on the way back; they can't stay in one place for too long.

III. Ruins of a Past Life In the next couple of days, as the journey commences, the obvious signs of infection lessen in the landscape. The trees thin out again as they head further north. With the Wilde just barely dipping toes into autumn, and no thick canopy of foliage to block out the sun, it's a hot, uncomfortable walk. Those on cart-steering duty are considered lucky, getting to sit for a few hours, but it doesn't last - the duty is rotated between volunteers. Enjoy it while you've got it. At one point, with the sun high in the sky, they stop to refill canteens and jugs with fresh water and to take a bit of a swim. Here, the water cascades into a wide lake below, which eventually feeds back into the main river that cuts through Aefenglom farther south. At the top of the waterfall, it's much easier to see something in the distance, that isn't specifically on the route but is a small enough detour (only a mile or two off) that the guides permit it. It's the ruins of a former settlement, clusters of shells of burned out houses and buildings, a dried up well, and the crumbling remnants of a wall - reminiscent of the Bright Wall, but much, much smaller, only about eight or nine feet high at its tallest point. There is no magic left in it, though, nor any people in the ruined town. There haven't been for years and years, judging from the mossy overgrowth and state of disrepair. Some signs of the former inhabitants can still be found in the houses; the Wilders agree to make camp here for a night, to give everyone some time to explore. a. In The Daytime The ruins are depressing, but safe, in the daylight. It isn't hard to put together what happened here - a Cwyld outbreak must have come on them quickly, and judging from the hasty, half-burned homes, it was poorly contained. Some homes still contain skeletons in rotted scraps of clothing, some bones charred and others picked clean by animals. Many of their possessions still remain, except there are no books left anywhere in the town, even on shelves where books obviously were before. The patterns in the dust indicate that the books, all that survived the fires initially, were removed much more recently, within the last year or two perhaps. Otherwise, much is untouched. There are still dishes and flatware on broken tables, rotted blankets on beds, children's toys scattered over floors, axes hung on walls. A sort of thick, somewhat mucous-y grayish-green moss grows in flat sheets over most of the ruins. It isn't infected by the Cwyld; in fact, the areas where it grows seem to be free from it. Coincidence? Not? The Wilders have never seen anything quite like it, and are interested in taking samples back to study. (And for those of you who can't help but put things in your mouths: yes, the moss is edible. It tastes a little... earthy, but gives a pleasant caffeine-like buzz and burst of energy. Good for Witches still feeling the effects of the leyline flushing.) Outside the remnants of the wall, there are years-overgrown gardens, and perfectly good potatoes, asparagus, and raspberries can be found still growing, hardy and perennial even without human hands to tend to them. These people lived a more simple life than those in relatively-modern Aefenglom, as there isn't any magitech to be found, but somehow, they made themselves a home out here in the middle of nowhere. b. Ghosts of a Forgotten Settlement After nightfall, the dead town comes alive again, in a morbid sense. The party will soon find that the sunset brings the emergence of specters of the town's deceased residents - ghastly semi-transparent echoes of humans and Monsters, men, women, and children, in the state they were in at their deaths. Some are badly burnt, others were obviously infected, on their way to becoming Cwyldtid. Now, they go about their former lives every night, filling the ruined town with a sense of dread and foreboding that is impossible for the living to ignore. The ghosts cannot be touched or physically interacted with, and many of them simply ignore the Wilders and Mirrorbound completely. Spectral children play in the streets, adults tidy shops that are no longer there, or head out to the field to farm. They do so with expressions full of sadness, and desperation, as if trapped in this cycle of un-life. Others not only notice the group, but try to turn on them, enraged at the sight of intruders, though their shouts and screams are silent. They can't do any damage, but if they pass through you, you'll feel a bone-deep chill, despite the late-summer heat hanging in the air, and the specters' 'touch' will fill anyone with an aching, heavy despair, or rage - echoes of the emotions the ghosts experienced before their deaths.

IV. The Northern Outpost The sparse forest thins even more to the north. The terrain grows more uneven, rockier and hilly, with drier soil and hardy, sun-bleached grass instead of moss and leaf litter. Several natural rock formations can be spotted in the distance, growing larger as the group gets nearer. The trees here are few and far between, shorter and sturdier, casting only small circles of shade on the baked landscape. Wildflowers dot the grass in every color of the rainbow in the areas that remain uninfected. A low degree of Cwyld infection can be found here, turning the grasses overgrown, dry and brittle, and the sparse trees gnarled and blackened. This is to be expected, though. You can't venture this far out and expect anywhere to be completely untouched. The spot Rilla Sparks chooses for the new outpost is cradled between two large spires of stone, with a cliff-face at the back of it - protected on three sides to defend from animals and Shades, with a relatively clean stream within an hour's walking distance. Construction has to commence immediately. Once they land, it's a flurry of activity, as there is much work to be done. The building supplies are returned to their original sizes and it's all hands on deck to put together the low wooden building. With everyone working as quickly as they can, it should take about three days to get set up enough to consider the outpost open. Also on the to-do list: setting up the teleporter waypoint given to the Wilders by the Coven, to shorten the trip from Aefenglom to this far-flung outpost. It's smaller than the one in Dorchacht, only able to transport three people at a time, but the technology is the same. They'll need as many magitech-capable hands as they can get to calibrate it to the local energies and get it up and running. While all this is going on, exploration of the local area is high on the list as well, to ferret out any potential dangers that may be inherent to setting up here, or potential boons that can be taken back to Aefenglom, and to start work on their maps. There's a job for everyone, and while they're happy to let people do what they're good at, or rotate between different tasks, anybody slacking off will get the stink-eye - you came to work, right? This is no vacation! After the first day, though, things start... getting a little weird. Items start disappearing at random times, just out of nowhere, no rhyme or reason to the things taken. Hammers, half-drawn maps, scraps of wood, your half-eaten lunch if you look away from it for long enough. Personal items may go missing as well, if left unattended, so keep your precious things and weapons close. You may hear muffled voices - laughter, indiscernible chatter - around the times when stuff goes missing; it could be the voice of a stranger, or maybe it's the voice of someone you know, someone you've been traveling with for the last several days. But why would they want to steal your pen, or your handful of nails, or your drink cup? Weirder still, holes in the dirt start turning up in the night. Maybe six feet deep, dug at an angle like the beginning of a tunnel, and cutting off abruptly. Digging further down in these holes doesn't turn much up at first, but checking enough of them will turn up only a handful of the smaller missing items with teeth marks in them. Inconsequential, uninteresting, inedible things, or straight up trash in some cases. With enough persistence and maybe a good old fashioned stake-out, the culprits turn up: a pack of sand-colored, hyena-like animals that perfectly mimic human and Monster voices that they hear (often repeating words out of context, like much dumber parrots - they don't know what they're saying, only what the words sound like), and scavenge for whatever they can get their paws on. The hyenas are aggressive when confronted, and pack-oriented, but can be won over eventually by feeding them, or talking at them: different hyenas like different sounds and different words, so it might take some trial and error. Several bear low-level infections that can still be cured. Maybe eventually they can be trained. But then, where is everything else they stole? Please note that only a very small number of the items missing will be found on this trip! If you don't want something of your character's gone for an indeterminate amount of time, don't have it stolen. It's just possible they might turn up at a later date, however...

Welcome to February's event log, Outpost Problems! The expedition will last about an IC week for everyone who completes the trip; characters can return to Aefenglom with a pair of Wilder scouts at any stop along the way, though. As always, please direct your event-specific questions here! You can tag around for temporary Bonds in this thread, and if your character would eat the fruit in the Silent Forest, please post here for your dice roll (we did say it's a Russian roulette). Enjoy the trip outside the Bright Wall, everyone!

Comments

[evanescent]

[The sickly pale of the woman's skin does not change any, as they walk. However, she does seem steadier on her feet, and Aerith's relieved to see it. Her hold, light and unobtrusive, stays on her arm, despite the warmth radiating off of her teetering the line between normal and unpleasant.

It's her turn to listen, not to speak, and so she does, quiet and contemplative. Why would books be sequestered in a cave, she wonders? Given willingly, perhaps, but given the state of this doomed village, she thinks the more likely answer must be stolen. But by whom? Surely not the monsters that skulked about.

Maybe...]

What did you see? [And after the slightest of delays:] Are you feeling better now?

[whomthebelltolls]

... One of the buildings that was still intact. I was checking to see if... [She pauses, frowning, and rubs at her eyes a second time. Still, nothing is screaming. It's all fading behind her, now.] -- To see if there were any tracks left in there, since it seemed very well preserved on the inside, untouched by wildlife or... anything else. That beam and part of the roof made a good shelter against the elements, as well.

[There, her words are coming back, slow as it is.

She takes another shaky, deep breath, and lets it out slowly. Is she feeling better? Yes, she supposes she is. She's never really all that well though.] I am feeling better, yes. The... voices are fading.

[She's not actually talking about the ghosts in the village. But. No one needs to know what else haunts her; what really rattled her to her core. It's better for her, and everyone else that way.

She seems to realize a few things after that moment, though, and looks back over to Aerith, down to where a hand is wrapped about her arm, and then back up to the woman at her side. Well "up" relatively, towards the face of someone nearly a foot and a half shorter than her. She doesn't recognize this other woman, and her head tilts a little.] ... My apologies, you shouldn't need to traipse into a haunted village to help a stranger.

[evanescent]

[Aerith studies the woman, brow furrowed, her gaze searching, and then seems to relent. She does not ask about the voices — she's heard enough of her own to know when to pry and when to leave well enough alone.

Instead:] I'm glad you're feeling better, and, oh — [now she looks sheepish, like she's been caught at something she shouldn't be doing.] It's fine, really. Don't worry. I'm happy to be able to help, and I'm used to haunted places.

[Instead of elaborating...] I'm Aerith. I'm new! ... To this Planet, I mean.

[whomthebelltolls]

[Plausible deniability - Maria would just say it's the ghosts that are here, now, that are in the village. And not the ones that haunt her nightmares most nights. Luckily, her business isn't pried into hard enough that she has to exercise that excuse.

That alone is worth keeping the conversation alive. That, and the distraction it provides from what is going on where no one can see but her. They can quit screaming any time now, she thinks. Really, this is getting old.]

Maria. And while I wouldn't necessarily call living somewhere less than a year not being relatively new to an area, it is among the longest any of the Mirrorbound have been here at all.

[evanescent]

This place has a lot of travelers...

[An absentminded observation. Aerith looks over her shoulder once more, and is relieved to note that none of the specters have seen fit to accompany them beyond the confines of that ruined village.]

Are there usually spirits like that here? Or are we just unlucky?

[She smiles, a little wry.]

[whomthebelltolls]

There have been... probably several hundred since we all started coming along. Not all have stayed? Though I'm not sure what happened to them. [Some, she could think, have died. But... the rest? They must have been sent back through the mirrors. What decided that, and left her here was strange enough. Though maybe not the worst - Maria has nothing, really, to look forward to when she gets back home.

Best not to think too hard about that, and just enjoy that the voices fade into their usual background noise; and the others, within Maria's mind, the specters of her past that were awoken to scream with their ghostly brethren, seem to be fading fast, as well.]

Those are... possibly the first ghosts I've encountered like that, here. It's a magical land, I don't suppose it's farfetched for there to be more in places where violent death has happened, but within Aefenglom itself, and the immediate area around, the only creatures from beyond the pall of death tend to be Shades.

[evanescent]

[A world where souls traveled to and fro against their will, it seemed, a transient place. Aerith draws the connection to the Lifestream because it's the easiest one to make, but she had always had some measure of control there. Here, she feels like she's drifting, carried along rather than navigating.]

It's not farfetched, [she agrees, and then adds, genuinely regretful:] but I feel sorry for them, those spirits. They're lost... and there doesn't seem to be a way to make them un-lost, you know? They'll be stuck like that forever if someone doesn't do something.

[whomthebelltolls]

[Stuck like that forever, hm? An infected, festering wound that won't heal if no one treats it properly. Just like the Fishing Hamlet.

No, she can't think about that -

"Curse the fiends..."

Quiet.

Maria raises a hand to her face, and squeezes her eyes shut before slowly rubbing over them, and the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger.]

I'm not quite sure what to do. Putting ghosts to rest was never really my specialty. [Especially after basically becoming one, herself.] Whatever happened to them may need to be rectified in some way before they can truly find peace, but without really knowing what it was... can we even do that?

[But I know what killed them...

"... Their children, too..."

Quiet.]

[evanescent]

I can.

[She says this with confidence, then admits, reluctantly:]could. If I was able to see this Planet properly. But... [she sighs.] It's much harder here to figure out anything.

Whatever is keeping them bound here has to be nearby, right? Or someone's moved something that they need... either way, this isn't natural. Sometimes spirits are angry, yes. Or hurt, or scared. But this is...

[She sighs.] I'm going to find out more, and come back later. There has to be some information, somewhere. But until then... we should be getting back, I think. If you don't mind my saying, you don't look well. I don't want anything to happen to you out here. It's a long way from the city.

[whomthebelltolls]

[Maria's eyebrow raises, before she turns her head back toward Aerith next to her, and her hand falls back to her side, slapping lightly against the outside of her thigh.

There's a lot to unpack from what her companion just said, but at the moment, Maria is too tired, and too... pained... to do much of it. So she files it away, lest her curiosity get the better of her.

And you know what curiosity does. How the secrets beckon.

It's not an unfair assessment that Aerith doesn't think she looks well, though. She doesn't feel well, and this deep into the Wilde, it is only logical to want to get back to relative safety. She can argue about her hurt pride later.]

Come back later, and far more prepared. I don't know that any of us here are going to be here for long enough to really get anything done. We're supposed to move on in the morning. [Not to like totally quash her hopes or anything. Besides, the further behind her Maria can put this, the better.

Finally, she looks down at Aerith, and seems to consider something.] Are you good in a fight?

[evanescent]

Ah, right... I'll be better prepared for the next time. [She does not sound disappointed, merely resigned. She recognizes the truth in what Maria says. Traveling out here alone was suicidal — but she had Cloud, right? Maybe he would be willing to help, once she figured out how to do the helping at all.

Or he might tell her not to make it her problem (again), to stay away (it was dangerous), to be safe (and alive). Both situations were equally likely.

Still. This situation bothers her. That souls would be stuck like this, unable to return to the Planet... any Planet. It wasn't right. She keeps it in the back of her mind, and allows the thought to settle there and take root. She would not forget them, though they seemed to be forgotten by all other things.

The question causes her to make a face before she can stop it. She briefly looks pained — this is a question she's been asked before.] I'm not formally trained, if that's what you mean. But I can use magic, and I've fought in battles before. I know I don't look very tough, but I am! Honest.

[whomthebelltolls]

I don't think we could've been prepared for this the first time, but... now you know what is here. [Whatever this woman ends up deciding to do is her business, though, as far as Maria is concerned. She won't be returning to this place any time soon; if someone else decides they want to do it, that's up to them.

She wishes they had more alcohol on this little expedition. A good drink to get rid of the residual bad feelings would be amazing right now. Still, the reassurance is... not much of one, but Maria just closes her eyes a little, body swaying just slightly as she does, pushing a bit more of her weight onto the arm Aerith is holding on to, before she takes a deep breath, and opens her eyes once more.]

Your next expedition will probably be a smaller group, which could be a bigger target. You'll need everything you learned, likely. And the Wilde is a more dangerous place than this quiet little trek seems; they're not lying when they tell you of the dangers. It's simply prudent to know how to defend yourself before you come out here.

[evanescent]

Easy — [Aerith could get knocked over by a stiff breeze, honestly, but she keeps her grip on Maria firm, and manages not to make the two of them topple over. She wonders how sick she is... if it was just the ghosts or something else, if she'd traveled here while ill, and if she weren't a stranger, if Aerith wasn't legitimately concerned she might keel over, she would be less receptive of the advice she's being given. As it is, she listens, recognizing the danger in treating this world too much like her own. She wasn't herself here, not nearly as powerful, and she'd seen the sickness encroaching on the plant life here. It would be better for her to be cautious, she knows.]

I'll be careful. I won't go right away! I know what it's like, to be in dangerous places. And I'll practice this magic too, you know — I won't just rush in.

Thank you for worrying about me. [Whether or not Maria's decided her safety is not her problem, Aerith's taking it that way.]

[whomthebelltolls]

[Ah, how pathetic, big hunter that Maria is leaning so heavily on someone so slight, and... like three quarters her own height. She shakes her head, then tries to haul herself back upward - it's away from Aerith, but at least she's trying to get herself more upright.

It's only somewhat belatedly that she realizes Aerith mentions something about worrying about her. Hadn't Maria just thought about how she didn't much care what happens to strangers? Sigh.]

... What you do next is your own decision. It is just a warning about this place.

[evanescent]

[Hm, one of those, "it's not like I'm worried or anything," types. She knows them well, and does not protest when Maria pulls away from her in order to try to walk on her own. She does keep an eye out though. Just in case!]

Either way, I appreciate the advice.

[whomthebelltolls]

[She feels more steady, as the camp starts to approach - or at least is more than just smoke from the campfires and distant noises, at least.] Better not to die because of ignorance, at least.

[Super vote of confidence there.]

... Your assistance is appreciated, either way. Thank you. [And she also at least has manners.]

[evanescent]

Geez, ye of little faith!

[She can't help it.] Not dying at all is an option too. I'll work on evening the odds some.

[She can feel both the tug of Cloud and Sephiroth's Bonds as she edges closer, which is good. It was likely then, that miraculously, her absence had not been long enough for either of them to start mother henning. With Cloud, it was bad enough, but it got just plain unnerving with Sephiroth.

But, before she parts with Maria, she does answer.] You're welcome! [The cheeriest wave in existence.] I'll see you around. [And then, gently:] Try to get some rest, alright?

[whomthebelltolls]

[She'd shrug, but she's just gotta keep focusing on keeping herself moving, because once she stops... she isn't going to start again until the call for packing up and leaving in the morning comes. No, not really any faith. Maria's pretty sure sick as she is, she could break Aerith in half.

She might regret not doing that a little when the cheeriness cuts through everything like a sunbeam across the eyes on a morning you just want to sleep in.]

Once I find my bunk, I'll not be leaving it until they make us all. Good night.