All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.

[Dhugal]

He stops at the question. He knows this one, recalls watching her crawl
about the rooftop of the Dagger, pounding away at shingles with a
hammer. He was just a kid then.

Mouth opens..a sarcastic "Why, does it it matter?" almost is spoken,
but he catches himself, nods slightly, and silently steps aside to let the woman pass and join the others.

[Quincy]

"Hm? Were you gonna say somethin'?"

When he moves to let her by, she puts her hand on her hip and frowns at him, adjusting the helm under her arm. She used to pound shingles; now she pounds faces. She just has a bigger hammer. Not much has changed over the years.

Quincy peers at him. "You look like you're about t' spit fire."

[Malaroth]

For Cinnabar there is a grim nod of acceptance. Their differences had been on the surface, apparently, yet the Grand Master had become increasingly aware that their divisions likely ran far deeper. United in cause they were yet separated by methodology, by philosophy, and by approach. He had no doubt that the Governor, and likely the man's clique of friends, considered him an arrogant, self-centered and overly-sensitive man. He had his own opinion of a Governor who favored law and order yet seemed willing to play loose with the rules sometimes.

Such things were infinitely pale compared to the threat of the Ashfiend. As pale as his own flesh, perhaps; ashen-hued and drawn taut over his grim countenance. Color and life had settled into a premature dusk upon his wan visage while eyes hammered into a cold, steel blue regarded first Calomel, and then the monk who offered his support.

For this latter man of the cloth, Sir Deucalios nodded his head in grim but silent acceptance. His thoughts for the faith were as yet unclear but the man's offer was true and noble, and for that the order had started off on the right foot by him.

As he waited his eyes flickered, time and again, towards the dark length of his own shadow as if awaiting something horrid to reveal itself there - some foul, corpse-like visage to make itself known.

A visage lit by crimson eyes, and shaped into a perfect reflection.

[Kait]

Patience

In that very shadow his squire skids to a stop, apparently not quite so late as those wide eyes seem to have thought. The young woman takes some time to glance around at the motley crowd Cinnabar has gathered to him today, and to catch her breath as well. Most she knows by sight, and here is a small smile and a quick nod for the ever-towering Bloodmoon before the squire is about the business of readjusting her own belt and armor.

[Dhugal]

Mathias glared at her in exasperation. She’s no better than the others
here, willing to follow the Governor without question. He’d heard she
was living in some grand house now. Maybe Quincy was as ambitious
as Cinnabar. Maybe she would be eating grand dinners with Councilor
Treadwell soon.

Whatever. Mathias had no time for this. He jerked his thumb over his
shoulder towards Cinnabar, as if to tell her she was keeping the
Governor waiting, then made to move past her with a disdainful look.

[Quincy]

The girl rubs the back of her head, colour blooming in her cheeks; she's very clearly been dismissed -- dark eyes briefly glancing toward where Mathias jerks his thumb.

"Eh?"

No one seems to be going anywhere just yet, and so she follows the novice in heavy, noisy armour. Either she's not good at taking hints, or she persists because she can. Quincy doesn't know him. Maybe he always looks this angry.

"You sure are in a hurry. Well, seein' as you're wearin' one o' them dress robe things -- I was thinkin' maybe you mi' know somethin' about patchin' up bleedin' folks. Amaright?"

[Dhugal]

All he wanted to do was get back to the monastery and here comes this
madwoman clanking along behind him in her armor! He wanted to
round on her, shout at her to leave him the bluidy hell alone….and he
couldn’t. He’d disappointed Father Fidelius already by calling a curse
down on the Governor; he’d not add to that disappointment by not
serving the penance Fidelius had imposed on him. And so he kept his
silence, even as Quincy asked her question.

His eyes narrowed as he slowly, ever so reluctantly, nodded yes.

[Quincy]

Her eyes bug.

" .. an' you're leavin'?! Do you know what's abou' to 'appen?! No?!"

Quincy waves her arm.

"I think that some people are abou' to lay down an' go to sleep an' attack th' Ashfiend's brains so he cain't hurt no more folks. Sometimes when people do stuff like that, they start bleedin' out their ears an' stuff. I can smash zombies, but i sure don't know what t' do if somebody starts bleedin' out the ears!"

"An' then people might be bleedin' from other places, too! I know tha' sounds kinda nasty, but I'm sure we cou' use the 'elp if you got the stomach for it.."

[channe]

"Oh, ewww," says the girl, nearby; the mismatched, variegated leather armor she's putting on with the help of an unnamed man seems half-borrowed, but at least it all fits. "I refuse t' bleed out o' the ears. Ugh!"

And then she notices Patience; a look for her, but no nod. No nod at all. Just a burning gaze before she goes back to her preparations.

[Glenn]

There had been a slight frown to Cinnabar at the suggestion of a helmet. What helmet could protect fully against the blows of the Ashfiend?

No, there was good reason for him not to wear one. For starters, he never had. This was not the time to deal with unknown levels of visibility. More important, however, was the fact that Glenn did not truly think his sword would matter much in what would come. He had trained with Ariane, but that was very much about survival.

Glenn had other weapons, dangerous, unpredictable ones, and they were ones that were more effective if his head remained uncovered, if his face could be seen. His words needed to be heard. His eyes needed to be seen. It was that simple.

Hopefully, such a decision would not cost him his life. He would shake his head at the Governor. Of course, if Calomel insisted, that might be another mater entirely. There was a signed paper when it came to moments like this.

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

Seth had moved to stand where the others stood, those who would be involved in mental combat with Ashfiend, after Cinnabar nodded in that direction.

There would be a nod and a slight smile returned to Patience. With that his attention wanders, noting Quincy talking to Mathias, who apparently didn't talk. Eyes would wander once more, watching preperations. The tall elf would remain fairly quiet. It was the calm before the storm, so to speak.

[Dhugal]

His scowl deepens. He holds up a finger to attract her attention.
Then points at himself, pantomimes locking his lips and throwing
the key away. He shrugs, his expression being one of
[I]“Sorry. Can’t help you.â€

[Quincy]

Agnie's exclamation causes the girl to drag a hand across her mouth and clear her throat, concealing a gasp of a laugh; the silent, young novice robs her of any, lingering humour with his very clear scorn -- and her need to concentrate on what he's trying to tell her, in gestures.

Quincy frowns and looks over her shoulder at Cinnabar, at the lad's motion. It is no secret that Quincy doesn't have much understanding for politics.

"All righ'. So y' either ain't gonna help 'cause you can't talk, or 'cause of Cinnabar. Seein' as 'ow you don't got to tie bandages wi' your vocals, I'm thinkin' it mus' be 'cause of 'im."

The girl tilts her head to see if she's got it right.

[Dhugal]

By the Light, the woman would just not leave him be. He would
have been useless as a healer under a vow of silence anyway. Without
permission to speak from Brother Fidelius, he could not communicate
with a patient, he could not ask the important questions that would
help in treating wounds, nor summon aid, nor…bluidy hell! This was
madness. And of course, yes, part of it was his low opinion of her
friend the Governor.

So let her think what she wanted.

He gave a tight smile and nodded yes to her question.

[Quincy]

"Hmmm," she gives him a critical look, and then glances sidelong at Cinnabar again; the Governor is given a long look while she taps her cheek with a gauntlet-clad finger.

"Well, I reckon if y' cain't talk," she zips her lips in the same, throw away the key maneuver, "then I cain't ask what 'e's done."

"I'm kinda be'ind on what's been goin' on lately. I were off tryin' to find the Zayken." she grins sheepishly, but the look fades into a frown. "Did 'e tell you that you can't come along?"

Quincy doesn't really know the particular necessities of being a healer. She wonders what Cinnabar did to earn this kind of ire. She hasn't really talked to the Governor in quite a while, either.

She peers over at the Governor, then stoops over slightly -- speaking quietly to Mathias. "Look, I won't tell nobody. We can just stick a hat on yer head an' nobody'll knowed the difference. If anybody asks,yer my -- uh -- well, I guess if anybody asks, don't say nothing."

She pokes herself in the chest and grins widely, assuming that he will be quite pleased with this arrangement. "I'll take care o' it. You just heal your heart out!"

At this point, she attempts to steer him back toward the others.