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<blockquote data-quote="Davies" data-source="post: 8403618" data-attributes="member: 30538"><p><strong>Interlude</strong></p><p></p><p>She awakens to agony greater than that which sent her spiraling down into the darkness; for a few moments, the notion of returning there is a most seductive option. Then the steely will that has carried Siwan ferch Art -- Johanna to her friends, Prydwen to everyone else -- through battles unnumbered reasserts itself, and her eyes blink open. "Blech," is her first choice of words.</p><p></p><p>"Welcome back," says the Lancet, inspecting her injuries carefully.</p><p></p><p>"That really is a very painful method you have there," Prydwen says after a moment. "Have you considered dosing your patients with analgesics before employing it?"</p><p></p><p>"No. I have not," says the medic. Very precisely.</p><p></p><p>"Ah."</p><p></p><p>Silence reigns for a moment, allowing Prydwen to examine her surroundings -- a table -- more of a bench, really -- within a grey room, with unadorned walls through which she can hear the sounds of running water. Close to the arena's physical plant, she expects. Useful if they have to take this place down. Then the Lancet completes her examination and steps away, allowing Nick to approach.</p><p></p><p>"I lost," she says, before he can say anything. "Do not try to mitigate that."</p><p></p><p>"I won't," he answers calmly.</p><p></p><p>"I should have kept the spear when I took it away from her," she continues. "I had a free hand, and keeping it away from her would have been the better course. Next time."</p><p></p><p>"Next time," he answers calmly.</p><p></p><p>Silence reigns again, as Prydwen gently drums a clenched fist against the top of the table where she's still resting. Not hard enough to make much noise, much less to inflict injury on herself. Her anger at herself is not self-destructive. Not yet. "I would not refuse a hug," she says at last.</p><p></p><p>She is given one.</p><p></p><p><em>Elsewhere.</em></p><p></p><p>"Is this seat taken?"</p><p></p><p>The woman called <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1bOIhmS0-WxIqYoVCNSu_IuUxN1SeK68S/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true" target="_blank">Scathach</a> looks up and to the side. "Oh," she says. "It's you."</p><p></p><p><a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_oeKY-Qr_4DHbBCed7whM9wMf4YOE4bA/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true" target="_blank">Baron Khan</a> blinks at her tone, or more accurately the lack of one. "Have we a quarrel, madam?"</p><p></p><p>She returns her gaze to the arena, currently being cleaned and prepared for the next conflict. "No," she says at last. "I suppose not. Those who tried to assault my castle during that ugly little war were sent by others, though I expect you told their masters where to look. The seat is not taken."</p><p></p><p>He neither confirms nor denies her expectation as he takes the seat.</p><p></p><p>"Your presence here is surprising," Scathach adds a moment later. "I had heard you were in America."</p><p></p><p>"Until an hour or so ago, I was," he replies cordially. "But one might say that I have a rather substantial wager riding on the outcome of these games."</p><p></p><p>She eyes the so-called Baron when he says that, but does not press further. That would be rude, and though she expects she's going to have to kill him eventually, rudeness would never do.</p><p></p><p><em>Elsewhere yet.</em></p><p></p><p>Jigme Lhaden is an air traffic controller; therefore, he speaks English. It is for that reason that he has been called down from his post in the tower at Taro International Airport to assist security, since the person with whom they are dealing speaks no language that they do, but is clearly European, so they're assuming she speaks English.</p><p></p><p>There's just one problem. "That's not English," he informs the bruised looking men who are holding the young woman down. "I think it's German. Let me try. Hello?" he says in English, speaking very slowly. "Do ... you ... speak ... English?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes!" she snaps. "What is going on here? I was just off my plane when someone jumped me and knocked me out and then I wake up and these goons are trying --"</p><p></p><p>"Who are you?"</p><p></p><p>"My name is Ibuki, and I'm supposed to be fighting someone in like five minutes!"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Davies, post: 8403618, member: 30538"] [B]Interlude[/B] She awakens to agony greater than that which sent her spiraling down into the darkness; for a few moments, the notion of returning there is a most seductive option. Then the steely will that has carried Siwan ferch Art -- Johanna to her friends, Prydwen to everyone else -- through battles unnumbered reasserts itself, and her eyes blink open. "Blech," is her first choice of words. "Welcome back," says the Lancet, inspecting her injuries carefully. "That really is a very painful method you have there," Prydwen says after a moment. "Have you considered dosing your patients with analgesics before employing it?" "No. I have not," says the medic. Very precisely. "Ah." Silence reigns for a moment, allowing Prydwen to examine her surroundings -- a table -- more of a bench, really -- within a grey room, with unadorned walls through which she can hear the sounds of running water. Close to the arena's physical plant, she expects. Useful if they have to take this place down. Then the Lancet completes her examination and steps away, allowing Nick to approach. "I lost," she says, before he can say anything. "Do not try to mitigate that." "I won't," he answers calmly. "I should have kept the spear when I took it away from her," she continues. "I had a free hand, and keeping it away from her would have been the better course. Next time." "Next time," he answers calmly. Silence reigns again, as Prydwen gently drums a clenched fist against the top of the table where she's still resting. Not hard enough to make much noise, much less to inflict injury on herself. Her anger at herself is not self-destructive. Not yet. "I would not refuse a hug," she says at last. She is given one. [I]Elsewhere.[/I] "Is this seat taken?" The woman called [URL='https://docs.google.com/document/d/1bOIhmS0-WxIqYoVCNSu_IuUxN1SeK68S/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true']Scathach[/URL] looks up and to the side. "Oh," she says. "It's you." [URL='https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_oeKY-Qr_4DHbBCed7whM9wMf4YOE4bA/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=109062110484778480992&rtpof=true&sd=true']Baron Khan[/URL] blinks at her tone, or more accurately the lack of one. "Have we a quarrel, madam?" She returns her gaze to the arena, currently being cleaned and prepared for the next conflict. "No," she says at last. "I suppose not. Those who tried to assault my castle during that ugly little war were sent by others, though I expect you told their masters where to look. The seat is not taken." He neither confirms nor denies her expectation as he takes the seat. "Your presence here is surprising," Scathach adds a moment later. "I had heard you were in America." "Until an hour or so ago, I was," he replies cordially. "But one might say that I have a rather substantial wager riding on the outcome of these games." She eyes the so-called Baron when he says that, but does not press further. That would be rude, and though she expects she's going to have to kill him eventually, rudeness would never do. [I]Elsewhere yet.[/I] Jigme Lhaden is an air traffic controller; therefore, he speaks English. It is for that reason that he has been called down from his post in the tower at Taro International Airport to assist security, since the person with whom they are dealing speaks no language that they do, but is clearly European, so they're assuming she speaks English. There's just one problem. "That's not English," he informs the bruised looking men who are holding the young woman down. "I think it's German. Let me try. Hello?" he says in English, speaking very slowly. "Do ... you ... speak ... English?" "Yes!" she snaps. "What is going on here? I was just off my plane when someone jumped me and knocked me out and then I wake up and these goons are trying --" "Who are you?" "My name is Ibuki, and I'm supposed to be fighting someone in like five minutes!" [/QUOTE]
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