Intro Log: May

[moustre]

Intro Log: May, Game Start

I. ARRIVAL Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and many others have found yourselves in. For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. Besides the new arrivals, however, there's one more person in the building, and only one. A young teen stands; previously bored and mulish, he's now owl-eyed and slackjawed as he takes in each arrival, either from the mirrors or coming from another floor as you try to get your bearings. In his hands he's clutching a broom like a security blanket, until - "M... Miss Nessie! Miss Nessie, something's happened!" he yells, as he drops the broom and turns tail out of the building. Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is clear, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons, regardless of their waning crescent phases. Follow, or explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in? The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror.

II. "MISS NESSIE" Whether you've decided to follow the hapless young man, or decided to explore the rest of the Looking-Glass House - and perhaps finding a few familiar faces among the crowd - you feel a pull towards the foyer of the first floor. It's like a firm suggestion, as if to take you by the hand and draw you to where it begins, and the source of it becomes quite apparent upon finding one's way to the front room: a tall, comfortably-dressed older woman and her even taller wolfish companion. The woman covers her mouth with a soft "Oh my!" as she surveys those who begin to crowd in, and she turns to the werewolf (?), lowering her hand once more. (The handful of others who'd come with her peer as best they can from a ways behind her with unconcealed curiosity, closer to the door out than not. The boy previously seen before he ran off can be spotted at the very back of the group.) "This is right unexpected, isn't it?" She not-quite whispers, delight and confusion in equal measure in her voice. Her companion makes a quiet noise in her throat, unscarred eye narrowed - it's hard to tell if that delight is one shared by both parties. "Well, they've always said the veil is thinner during Boaltinn... We'll have to talk to James and see if he was doing anything other than cleaning, we will, but for now, we've got a full house to attend to, don't we? Ah, if they're all Witches, that'll be something, it will!" Without wasting another beat - much to the fond irritation of her companion, certainly - the woman turns back to the newcomers of Aefenglom, clapping her hands together in glee. "Well then! I'm certain you all have many, many questions... As do we! First thing's first, though, first thing's first! I am Nerissa Bell, the Head Witch of the Coven - that's where this house is located right now, on Coven grounds - and this is my Bonded, Mhairi Ainsley. Don't worry, she's a right softie despite her looks! You can simply call me Miss Nessie - everyone does, short of those stuffy folks up in the Parliament, but, well, that's just how things are with them, I suppose." She pauses a beat, for breath, before continuing with a wave of her hand; dozens of chairs and stools, all surprisingly comfortable despite their wooden looks, are conjured in an instant, and Nessie smiles wide as she gives a small bow. "Take a seat, and let's get familiar with one another for a spell! The city'll celebrate without us one way or another, and we've already finished our business for tonight anyway. Isn't that right, Mhairi dear?" Despite the onslaught of information and excitement at three in the morning, Mhairi inclines her head slightly after a huge sigh; her voice is likely exactly as expected, low and akin to a growl. "Best to take advantage of the distraction. Let's begin, before I have to report this to Parliament." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here. You have the option of handwaving the IC interaction to OOCly ask what questions your character might have for them, for us to summarize an answer for, or you can request an IC thread. Simply specify in your comment's subject and we'll respond accordingly.

III. THE COVEN After an hour or two of general chaos, questions that the natives attempt to help with, and injuries tended to for those who arrive in poor condition, a solution is presented. Though they certainly can't answer every question, Nerissa and Mhairi promise to help find the answers, and open the doors of the Coven to all new arrivals in the Looking-Glass House. The walk from the quaint cottage to the imposing structure ahead is lit only by magic provided by Miss Nessie and the Witches accompanying her, as well as the path of stepping stones coming aglow with each step that's taken across them. Beyond the courtyard, with its high, opalescent walls, a city can be seen. There are torches accompanying the flickering light posts outside, and the sounds of life clear even this far from the heart of Aefenglom, something that sounds like... merriment? Festivities are in full swing, even this close to dawn. The rest of the world continues on, even though you've arrived, confused and perhaps missing a few aspects of your usual persons. But while they certainly weren't expecting to spend the festival like this, the Coven has worked as quickly as it can. Their doors, decorated in cowslip flowers, are wide open - welcoming to the public, and to new arrivals as well. The Coven's main building has a surprisingly large front room, compared to its outside; the ceiling stretches ever onward, with stairs of the solidly-flush-against-the-wall variety and floating-ethereally-in-the-middle-of-things variety both. Magic and mundane intermingle as if meant to, with brooms inscribed with runes to clean making quick work of dirt and dust, shadowy figures opening and closing doors as people enter and exit, plates of snacks drifting around as if carried by invisible servers. The brooms are especially attentive to the door as new arrivals step in - they don't apologize for knocking into anyone, and really, anyone particularly scruffy will get swept at until the brooms are satisfied. None of this seems to mind the Witches coming in, with small murmurs of gratitude given to the busybody brooms instead of reprimands. Doors lead this way and that, on higher floors and on the ground floor, but runes glow by their frames in indecipherable patterns. Peculiar-looking devices - watches, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament - are passed around to all the new arrivals; they're given a quick rundown on their functions and bid to test them out when they can, and Nessie waits for things to calm before she steps up the floating stairs and addresses the room. "We'll see to it you all have lodgings for a bit, we will, but for now, the festival's still going on - if you couldn't tell!" She laughs a little, hands on her hips. "There's nothing we can do about things right now, so you might as well enjoy yourselves, you might. If any of you want to stay in 'til morning though, well, we can provide - just mind your manners, magic's real particular about them. At least," she winks, head tilting with the motion, "that's how I teach all my classes, it is." Those deciding to stay will be lead to doors that seem to follow no real pattern by native Witches; the rule is "two to a bed," so get cozy with the person next to you. They're the ones you'll be sleeping with tonight. The beds aren't too small - enough to accommodate at least three humans - and they're fairly comfortable too, for their old-looking age.

IV. BOALTINN For those who journey out into the city, they'll be sent off with a word of warning to keep out of trouble from Mhairi, to find everything still quite lively - and still quite unaware of what's taken place. There's very little left to the shadows, with dim light filling in the gaps between the flickering streetlamps and the extra candles and such people have put up themselves. Curiously, small bonfires seem to follow a pattern, culminating into a wide plaza in the center of the Residential District where a larger, brighter one burns, with people dancing around it, their clothing jingling softly with little bells hanging from their hems. The same is mirrored on the direct other side of the city - the only difference is in who's dancing. The Eastern Bonfire has more visibly humanoid beings enjoying themselves, while the Western Bonfire has creatures more monstrous in looks. Regardless, they all seem to be happy- And the reason is this: Boaltinn, a festival lasting the next two dusks. The nights and early mornings are filled with flickering firelight, while the morning and daytime have all but the small fires leading the way to the giant bonfires extinguished; the bonfires, however, stay lit. - and in general, it seems the city is quite happy, quite cheerful, and quite close. a. The Bonfires The main attraction of Boaltinn, as they are with any fire festival, the bonfires on each side of the city are tended to by various Monsters every hour of the day. While much of the scenes are similar - there's plenty of food to be shared, with those partaking in it cowed into sitting with someone else regardless of how familiar they might be, and children of all kinds play together and invite those sitting or watching to come too, in all manner of games, such as jacks, hopscotch, and running ribbons around the tall poles at the bonfires. But there are marked differences, too. The Eastern Bonfire primarily has humans or those that can pass as humanoid in attendance, and they're much friendlier to those who look similar to them; to those that look a little more monster-like, though, their replies are far more curt and their shoulders colder. The area around the bonfire is also littered with trinkets and baubles, all shiny and new and utterly forgotten by their playmates; the ribbon poles are similarly new, made professionally as if by commission. Characters are invited to try and jump through the bonfire's flames to burn away any poor relationship experiences, be it romantic or platonic, past or present; to aid them in this, those at the Eastern Bonfire will give those participating rune-etched accessories to protect them from the fire. Meanwhile, the Western Bonfire has primarily those who are more monstrous in looks, and they're similarly friendlier to those who resemble them, with a similar brusque and cold manner to those who look more human. The area around the bonfire is carefully kept clean, however, and the ribbon poles look handcrafted from lumber and grass, with tightly-woven knots and clumsily-made paper decorations. Those attending here are also invited to jump through the flames, but no such protection is offered; it's simply assumed that, as a Monster, you're likely much better at handling a little fire. b. A Little Entertainment It isn't only the bonfire celebrations that one can participate in, however. All throughout both the East and West Residential Districts, as well as a portion of the Shopping and Entertainment Districts, there's a number of stalls, stands, and stores available for perusal. Take a gander at the rest of the city and find something to do. Of note: Divination readings are available in various stalls, set up by Coven-official Witches as well as homegrown ones, with tarot cards that vary from pristine art pieces that one would almost hesitate to touch to the personally drawn and cut. They offer free readings, enticing all who pass by to join them at their table. Good or bad, the cards seem to bring with them lessons and words of wisdom, interpreted expertly by those handling them... or as expertly as possible; some readings seem a little unsure and muddy. Regardless of belief, those who take part in these readings will suddenly find their day going either exceptionally well or incredibly poor, depending on the overall feel of their reading. Carts and booths are available for one to partake in more food, however there's a stipulation to taking anything from these vendors: one must share this food with others, either in pairs or a group. While relations between humans and beasts seem to be a little frosty, they can be seen intermingling a tad more freely when it comes to this portion of the celebrations, sharing the treats and small meals that are being offered to everyone. The food available all seem to be those easy to hold in hand, not unlike modern-day food trucks; of note, the thin pancake wraps seem to be the most popular, with a bubbly drink similar to a milkshake filled to the brim with drinking straws for best sharing experience coming in second. Flavors are plentiful and varied, though they err closer to the fruits, vegetables, and spices side of the spectrum. Finally, the more pleasure-based businesses offer the chance to relax one's weary feet and take a chance with a little aromatherapy with their rose baths. While traditionally this had its roots in imbuing the bather with good tidings and blessings for the upcoming seasons (or so they'll say when asked), nowadays, it's simply become a luxury treatment for those needing a little TLC. The waters here do have the added bonus of making those who share them friendlier and more talkative with their partner(s) - and yes, all baths are a shared experience. Rather than being split by sex, baths are split by monster and human; co-ed bathing exists for those who don't mind mingling with the opposite species, and if really pressed, they can offer separate baths for different sexes, but their focus seems elsewhere. c. Impulsive Compulsion Throughout the whole festival, new arrivals, particularly those with magic talent gifted to them by the world, will feel like they can do anything and will push themselves to the limit. While not inherently detrimental, those who feel it will become more reckless, their inhibitions lessened and impulses heightened; trying new things is easy as pie, with any thoughts of fear left far in the back of their minds. While magic is highly discouraged on festival days, given their rest day quality, those under the spell of Boaltinn's madness will feel the temptation to try some anyway, regardless of knowing the proper way of performing it - perhaps it's about time to try out what one discovered in that strange dream... Those found doing magic will get a firm scolding, but no actual punishment; it's only looked down on, and they'll be cautioned against using too much. If any property damage occurs due to reckless magic use, however, there are fines; those without any money to their name can be recruited to pay it off by working at the buildings and stalls they may have accidentally damaged, serving people, looks, or whatever else the business might offer.

Welcome to the intro log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up now as well! While technically most of them won't start until after festivities, you can go ahead and put your name on some by replying to the May Quest Pickup thread on the Quest Board. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

[purpose]

[ It hits too close to home. Comfort. Curiosity. The former, especially, in seeking out reassurance — some desperate validation that the Force, even here, had followed her. That it had not led her astray. With that faith shaken, she has only become more rattled, more defensive. Nostrils flaring, she exhales heavily, trying to steady the wild fluttering behind her sternum. ]

I've already seen more than what a card can show me.

[ The Witch, for her part, doesn't look terribly offended. She only tuts, sadly, as if Rey has disappointed her somehow by rejecting what she has offered to show her. ]

I wanted to be sure that I had the right answers. [ And now, when faced with that, she only wants to cling to it harder. It must mean Snoke, must mean Ben Solo, must mean the tide of war changing. It's what she wants to believe, if rebirth is involved. ] And now I am.

[wylderrant]

Oh, have you?

[ Iramaat's eyebrows shoot up. She's intrigued now. What a mysterious young woman this is, with her declarations and her surety and her fire. Iramaat likes that. It intrigues her. So she stays close, hand lingering against Rey's shoulder. There's something like excitement in her eyes when Rey sounds like she has the answers.

What wonderful willpower.

Iramaat's smile grows. ]

Answers to what, though? What questions were you asking? Although I do have to say, I love your determination and drive. It's positively inspiring to hear you say that. I just thought you ought to know.

[purpose]

[ Rey blinks.

Truthfully, it seems — for a long moment — that she's trying to determine if she's the target of a joke. But the stranger — a knight, she'd called herself — looks, on the surface, utterly sincere. Sounds it, in fact. She doesn't know what to do with that genuine compliment, admittedly. It's a different experience altogether than being praised for her skill set and how it might, or will, benefit another besides herself.

She shakes off the surprise soon enough. ]

I didn't have to ask. The answers came to me on my own.

[ By the Force's will, she suspects. Now, she isn't running from it as she once had, frightened and uncertain and unfamiliar. It feels too right, too sure. She knows, more than ever, what she has to do. ]

About someone's future, and how it would change my own. How it could change the galaxy's.

[ It's vague at best, but her wariness hasn't left her. Being in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces — too many faces, more bodies in one place than she's ever seen — has only reinforced it. ]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat can, when she wants to be, be incredibly sincere. Or very good at sounding sincere when she isn't, but there's no appreciable difference in the moment. In this case, it's genuine sincerity. She likes determination and grit. It's an attractive, interesting quality and she enjoys seeing it in people she considers "mortals".

Still, she's finding Rey is full of little surprises. ]

Oh? Are you a soothsayer, then?

[ Her eyes widen slightly as she listens. Now this sounds interesting. A story worth hearing - or telling, or participating in. The fate of an entire galaxy? Stars and empty void and countless people? She has to hear this. She leans in a little, voice dropping to something that might be considered conspiratorial. ]

The whole galaxy, you say? That sounds like a tale. Do you have time to tell me about it? I'd love to hear about you and your... destiny. Your future. Whatever it is you're going to change!

[purpose]

[ That's ... exuberant. Exuberant, but contagious; a side of Rey's mouth quirks, bemused and mirthful all at once. ]

No, not a soothsayer. I'm ... [ She trails off. ] Something.

[ It's a far cry from her old outlook and her insistence on nothing. The stranger's excitement reminds her of that; Poe had known her by name, as someone worth hearing about. And though she's still coming into that, still becoming used to being treated as someone rather than no one, she's come a long way from rejecting it. ]

Not here. [ She glances, sidelong, at the Witch. ] We're going to scare away her customers.

[ If the Witch doesn't do that herself. Rey keeps that tidbit mute, and nods her head toward the various stalls and the various bonfires lit throughout. That, at least, will make a better sitting area — for its privacy, if nothing else. ]

Have you tried any of the food yet?

[wylderrant]

We're all something.

[ Iramaat's response comes with a bubble of laughter. But she reigns it in just a little for the sake of moving off and away from the soothsayer. She can poke and prod at her new companion somewhere else. So she shakes her head instead and offers Rey her arm, like a proper knight ought to. ]

A little! It's quite tasty - would you like to try some yourself? And then you can tell me all about your something.

[purpose]

[ Maybe. Rey can concede that point; even for those that would prefer to be nothing, no one is ever not something. In her perception of others, it's easier to remember; applied to herself, she struggles to grasp that view, grapples with it, even now.

It hasn't been so long since she's been overlooked, stranded, abandoned. To be looked at as someone important — it's still new, as unfamiliar as the array of food and festivities. ]

Sure. [ She stares at that offered arm for longer than what's necessary, if only because she isn't sure what she's supposed to do with it. In the end, she awkwardly settles her hand near the stranger's elbow. ] If you tell me about your own.

[ Something for something. ]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat is quietly pleased that Rey has at least put her hand on her elbow. Good enough for her! She immediately starts off, heading back toward the booths and stalls selling food and drink. ]

That sounds like a perfectly fair trade to me.

[ She tips Rey a little wink and offers her free hand to shake with. ]

A deal, then?

[purpose]

A deal.

[ Transactional exchange is, at least, a facet of life she knows well. Her hand slides into Iramaat's without the same confusion she'd taken her arm with, shaking with a calloused — and chilled — palm. It doesn't linger; she drops the firm shake a moment later, just as they're arriving at a stall.

She barely has time to order before the vendor is thrusting something at her, exhausted bags beneath their eyes, and ushering her over to share it. Share. That, too, is unfamiliar; Jakku's environment had not been known to breed generosity, hoarding resources for one's own survival.

Still, she leads Iramaat over to one of the bonfires. ]

Do you have a name?

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat likes making deals - it's what she did a lot of back home - even if she can't quite enforce them to the same degree here. That's honestly the hardest thing about this place. No more oaths to enforce. And she can't make mortals' lives miserable if they cross her. Well, at least not via magic, like she used to.

She happily follows Rey to a bonfire and settles down on the grass without much thought, propping herself up on her elbow and gesturing for Rey to help herself first. ]

You may call me Iramaat. Just Iramaat! No title to speak of, unless you prefer to call me a Knight of the Golden Apple, of the Spring Court. Which is a mouthful, so Iramaat is probably for the best.

[purpose]

Alright. Knight Iramaat.

[ Iramaat is, truthfully, preferable to titles. Personable, down-to-earth, without the subconscious thought that she's stumbling her way through customs and traditions she's never learned during her isolated life. Still, she files away that bit of information for later; Iramaat has given her the chance to dig for information in return, and Rey plans to use it when the opportunity arises.

For now, a deal is a deal. She settles down beside her, ignoring the crowd not far off, chattering and twirling around the bonfire. ]

We have knights in my galaxy. [ Here, she pauses, and then corrects, ] Had. They were peacekeepers, trained in the ways of the Force. That's the something I was talking about.

[ In terms she thinks Iramaat can understand, at least. It's still boggling to wrap her head around the concept of other worlds beyond their own. ]

But I wouldn't call myself one. Not yet. I'm only trying to bring back the people that could save the galaxy.

[ Not herself. That had been her hope for Luke Skywalker — and then Ben Solo, so certain he would change the tides of war. Her faith in that hasn't changed, even with the change in scenery. ]

[wylderrant]

[ Fortunately, Iramaat doesn't particularly require the title. She just enjoys telling people about who and what she is. She's a bit full of herself that way. For now though, there's just them and the crowd and the bonfire and Iramaat plucks a piece of food from the tray and pops it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she listens to Rey speak. "Galaxy" makes it sound very large and impressive and a part of her wants to ask about that - about traveling between stars.

But there's so much going on that she needs to figure out where to actually focus. ]

You wanted to bring others back?

[ Iramaat sounds puzzled. That's not something she would have done; as far as she's concerned, she's the heroine. She doesn't need to play second fiddle to others. ]

Why not just do it yourself? Forget these others. Surely you can handle it? Saving the day isn't all that hard, really...

[purpose]

No one can save the day alone.

[ No matter how she had marveled at the legend of Luke Skywalker, she knows that to be true. Han Solo, the famous smuggler. Leia the Huttslayer, princess and warrior. Heroes by themselves, but all gears in machinery, working in unison to spare the galaxy from the Empire's reign.

More than that, she hardly has the same faith in herself Iramaat seems to carry. Rey gives her a sidelong puzzled glance. ]

If someone could be brought back to help, wouldn't you want that?

[wylderrant]

I suppose so. You can't always win on your own, true, but... you shouldn't ever have to need people. What happens if they die? Or they can't be brought around to help? Sometimes you just have to shine by yourself and that's perfectly fine.

[ That's all Iramaat does, really. She prefers to be the center of attention, the one heroine who vanquishes all evil. It's her right. Her story. Sharing the stage doesn't sit well with her own sense of importance, although she's trying not to let that leak out too much. Wouldn't do to have people think of her as vain, would it?

Not yet, anyway. ]

[purpose]

That won't happen. It's not like that. [ There's something vehement in that denial — something that definitely wants to be certain of itself, that refuses to consider the alternatives. It has to happen. ] I've seen it for myself.

[ It's not the same shade of hope that had her stubbornly clinging to the thought of her parents' return, but it's close — and just as stubbornly defensive. ]

You make it sound like no one could be trusted. That's a lonely way to look at it.

[wylderrant]

Not at all, not at all! People can be trusted, but people can also be wounded, hurt, removed, distracted!

[ Iramaat waves her hands, trying to illustrate her point in a quick flurry of motion. ]

Learn to stand on your own not because people cannot be relied on, but because the unexpected can happen and you don't know if circumstances will compel you to face down the dragon by yourself, sword in hand.

[purpose]

I know how to take care of myself. I don't need anyone else to do that for me.

[ There's a lashing of defensiveness there, undoubtedly, over her abilities to stand on her own feet. Jakku had taught her that from an early age, and the suggestion that she would be misunderstood as weak, as lacking and in need of learning to defend herself —

It makes her bristle, however slightly, lips pursing as she peels meat away from the peculiar stick of roasted something they've given her. ]

You'll be glad to know I don't plan on facing any dragons. Alone, or with anyone else.

[wylderrant]

Well, why worry, then?

[ Iramaat shrugs, chowing down on her own weird kebab of something-or-other. If she senses that she caused offense, it doesn't cause her to change course. But she is moving on to the next topic. ]

Of course, sometimes the dragons come to you and you end up not having a choice about whether you're going to fight them!

[ She raises a hand and waggles it to indicate something unsure. ]

I'm not actually sure there are dragons here, though.

[purpose]

It's not ...

[ A worry, she means to say, but stops short in a refusal to fixate back on the point. The transition isn't an easy or subtle one, but there's relief in the other topic at hand — allowing her not to linger long on what she doesn't want to openly share. ]

People go looking for dragons in my world. They don't come to them.

[ Usually. That she knows of. With how little experience she has in exploring the galaxy, she can't be certain — but she states it as fact, regardless, from the stories she has gleaned of hunts and pearls to be taken. ]

You make it sound like you've hunted plenty of them.

[wylderrant]

I don't just mean dragon dragons, you know.

[ Iramaat's voice lowers conspiratorially, as if she's sharing a secret. She leans in slightly, still tearing bites of meat-on-a-stick off with her teeth and swallowing. ]

It's more of a metaphor, you know? For all of the evil in the world one has to defeat.

[ She waggles a hand, considering. ]

And I've hunted my share of them. It's what I do, you know. [ As if it's obvious. ] It's thrilling. Invigorating. What I was born to do, really!

[purpose]

[ Realization dawns across her expression, prompting a small nod. Right. She hadn't known that, no, too used to the direct nature of her own lexicon — but it's a good degree less nonsensical. ]

Most people can't defeat all of the evil in the world alone. The galaxy is bigger than just one world, anyway.

[ And so she has to wonder if Iramaat is that foolishly cocky, or that inexplicitly powerful. Her eyes narrow, considering, scrutinizing. ]

I thought you said you were a knight. Don't you serve someone?

[ That had been her assumption, at any rate, with what little understanding she has of royalty — gained from stories, more than anything else. ]

[wylderrant]

Oh, of course not. One needs help from time to time...

[ Iramaat rolls her shoulders in a shrug, still smiling that self-satisfied, exuberant smile. ]

As for whom I serve? The Spring Court, but I'm an errant - wandering to prove my worth, to serve people who need my sword. Besides, my queen is very, very far away right now. She does give us quite a bit of latitude, anyway...

[ Iramaat leans in slightly. ]

What about you? You don't serve anyone, do you? You don't seem the type.

[purpose]

[ She takes a second to consider if she should be insulted by that observation. In the end, she decides the more favorable option: that it's a commentary more on her independence than it is any casual question to her loyalty. ]

Not really. I don't think I'd fit in at any court, anyway.

[ With etiquette and traditions she hasn't ever been privy to — a scavenger invited to sit among nobles and important figureheads with judgment in their eyes. Just the thought alone is discouraging, uncomfortable. Still, Iramaat seems ... less stuffy, less pristine, than what Rey would have expected from any court. Maybe she had misjudged what court means for the other woman. ]

General Organa used to be a princess, but she doesn't expect us to serve her. Everyone in the Resistance chose to be there for the cause.

[wylderrant]

Oh, there are many courts. You'd probably find one that works for you...

[ But that's not really the important part to Iramaat - this is all idle chatter, anyway. Just banter and talk, although she does want to know more about Rey. She's interesting. ]

Oh, that sounds a bit like me - I'm interested in a cause as well. It's why I'm on errantry, you know.

[ She does like talking about herself, though. ]

I've never heard of... General Organa. Or Princess Organa. Tell me about her!

[purpose]

She helped topple the Empire years ago by leading the Rebels, even before they destroyed her home planet.

[ Hardly an expert on the subject, Rey can't comment on whether that still makes her royalty. But she holds herself as though she is, regardless; Rey can observe the grace behind weary eyes, holding her chin high even when the galaxy has collapsed around her, with a noble bearing that could only belong to a woman of her caliber.

Small in stature, but mighty for the legacy she upholds. ]

On my planet, I knew her as Leia the Huttslayer. She choked Jabba the Hutt with the same chain he used to enslave her.

[ That's the story that had circulated Jakku above all else, common among its slaves — spoken of in whispers, admiring a woman that had freed herself of her own bondage. The appreciation is there in Rey's voice now, even as she talks through a mouthful of food. ]