Arc: Questing The Sphere

[Caterina]

This thread will be used for logging significant role plays that progress the storyline based on the Miritonian Province Spheres plot. (See province of Miritonia thread.) Its purpose is to allow players a peek into the story and generate interest in others joining the tale on their alts or primaries. Feel free to post logs as 'replies' with their own subtitles when appropriate. Players can post logs themselves,(preferred) or find a way to get logs to myself or other registered forum users to post on your behalf. A one line ooc synopsis of the scene as part of the post would help with keeping those who may not want to read the whole thing roughly informed of the tale. Thanks for playing along.

Cate.

[Caterina]

Synopsis: The teenaged blood mage who has already caused quite a stir in the realms, is led by fate, and a familiar face to the gypsy fortune teller Lu'celle, who delivers the first clues to the location of the Sphere of Xathor that is located in the realm.


Gypsy_Encampment

Deep in the heart of the less traversed eastern woods of the realm, the scattered evidence of a campsite might be found. Not a people to settle in one location for long, wandering bands of gypsy vagabonds live and move in a rustic horse drawn caravan of makeshift homes through the territory, their presence most noticeable at night when the fires are lit and the songs and dance begun. Not nearly as protective of their natural surroundings as other forest dwellers, and not nearly as sociable as neighbors, gypsies in or near town usually spells trouble for the local population. Light of fingers and deep in questionable skill, citizens would be well advised to guard that which they value until the troop of Romany move on, the gypsies being  known to have given genesis to some of the most ruthless marauders and bandits in the realms.    


Rame was pissed. Just Fucking pissed off. The bandit moved through the campsite with the dark fury of a storm about to break ashore. People parted in front of him , women with babies on hip, older, white haired and face lined men with cheap tobacco pipes stuck between their lips, Rame was on the warpath. The man was still covered in dirt and grime, and the stains of dried blood, the wound on his arm had had a minimum of tending. Brown skin on his bicep was inflamed, the poultice that packed it already in need of changing- not that he noticed. Jet locks hung in loose, oily strands over his face, a frame to dark eyes that locked in a focus on the teller's caravan. Fuck this shit. " Luc'celle!" he barked the seer's name. "Open the fucking door!" His fist slammed into the wood that sealed him away from his current target.

[Sybilla] Sybilla was not one for quiet entrances. Everything from the pretty white of her dress to the tinkling bells and baubles woven into cloth and hair had been designed especially for near melodic steps wherever she went. She brought the scent of honeysuckle with her tonight, freshly washed face, hair and hands, until all the sin had been washed away in a swirl of pink water. Whispers from the creature near her ear had finally been adhered to, and for the past nights she had been constructing eyes and ears to send flying hither and thither. It may have been for a decidedly stiff looking crow with a large bump in its throat, that the bloodmage had turned her direction toward the forest that evening, though she was minutes away from finding the camp. It was that same bird she scryed through beak raised to accommodate the slightly parted slit whilst that eye rolled to peep on the gypsy raising hell below. Oh, she recognized him, and those steps may have quickened. Why not play the part of healer lost in the woods? "Oh.. do shut up." Of course she realized that guise had fooled.. perhaps one in these lands. And the fae had not even been among the brightest she'd ever met. One eye closed to view the world below the crow, the teenager quickly set her expression into one more fitted to a helpless damsel. Welcome in that camp of vagabonds or no, Billy was far from as powerless as she'd pretend to be.

Rame | The door swung open beneath his fist, without evidence that any beyond had done so, and a voice hoarse with age and husky with a dry, matronly amusement reached the bandit’s ears. “It was never closed dear..come in. I’ve been expecting you..” the rustling sound of movement from within and a hand that looked more claw than hand drew back the curtains from the window that looked out to the circular clearing. Blind eyes stared unseeing to the tree line beyond the camp, a soft chuckle offered. “Leave the door open, we’re to have company..’ Rame shouldered his way into the cluttered gloom of her caravan. “Fuck company- you’ve got some explaining to do.” The bandit’s tones were frigid. He didn’t tolerate failure, even among the revered elders of his tribe. “The bones were wrong. I damned well nearly got killed back there. The hell did you mean? Unless it’s my fucking destiny to get shanked, I don’t see any fortune in the cards here. I say we move on. Place stinks of do gooders.”

Sybilla stepped closer until she was only separated from the sounds, scents and sights of the camp by a thicket. Oh.. it was quite likely she'd be noticed, and even more so that she would work up tears in response to hostility. One eye was still closed so that she might view her targeted caravan through the eye sewn into her crow. Lucky, wasn't it? He talked loudly enough that she could nearly hear him from where she stood and from the creature's perch in the tree. Fuck this, fuck that. She didn't remember him being so loud before. Maybe she hadn't seen as well in the dark as she thought she had. She'd still not chance breaking across the tree line. Not when she had a bird to listen in with. Though the girl was hardly hiding herself. She could already see some of the gypsies as they made their way through camp and life. Both hands drifted to pull her hood down, damsel-esque expression replaced steadily by more thoughtful concentration.

Rame | It would be the merest whisper in the foliage that would be her warning before the glint of moonlight on steel and the brush of body against the air as it dropped to the ground behind her betrayed that Billy’s hiding location had been uncovered. “Well lookahee here..” a wad of tobacco laced spit hit the dirt, and a grimy hand hidden in equally worn and dirty sleeve dragged across the back of the lookout’s mouth. “Bit far from yer cottage like, int yer lass?” A rude nudging motion made with the dagger, encouraged her to step into the fire lit encampment. “Pretty lil thing.. Rame’ll want to see ye.” And depending on the bandit’s verdict..maybe the rest of them would get to see her too. His eyes grazed her, and his head nudged her into forward action. “Caught me a Gin lads!” he called, Romany for an outsider female. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ye.” He was grinning as he waited, attending his company’s movements.

Sybilla did not startle, nor did she do more than tense when senses, either her own or from her familiar hiding in the bundles of her hood, told her there was someone behind her. White on the black silhouette of trees, Billy was well aware she had not been hidden. Any pretense of being a damsel was lost the moment that dagger came into contact to encourage further movement. "Darling if that's the most impressive thing you have to prod a girl with.. I rather cannot wait to meet Rame." The crow fluttered away, and with the absence of her scrying tool, both the teenager's hazel eyes were open again. There was no more fuss, no more words, she was quite relaxed in that gypsy's hold, and more than content to step where he directed. Gaze remained trained on that teller's caravan though, her brow etched into a thin line at the middle. She'd best not have mistaken him for someone else. Bloody.. hell.

Rame turned a dark head toward that call from his place standing in the doorway, before a narrowed gaze came to rest suspiciously on the fortune teller where she sat, still softly chuckling at her reading table. “The bones are never wrong Pet..” she rasped cheerfully. “Bring the girl to me. See that she is not harmed.” Gnarled fingers were already reaching for the bones, tracing over the ivory white smoothness of the tools of her trade. The bandit might have leveled an even, almost –glare on the teller, not that she could see it or would even care, she’d seen him crap in his linens as a toddler and was hardly impressed or in awe of what he had become. Rame turned on the top step, the man’s garments an echo of the simplicity of his life; worn riding boots that just reached knees with pants tucked in and a shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow-where it had not been torn and bloodied to service as a bandage- and a sleeveless vest over all that had seen one too many days. He was the picture of a Romany and wanderer and a cranky one at that. Attention locked on the girl dressed in white who walked captive before the look out and his eyes narrowed again. He moved down the steps of the caravan, brash, confident steps closing the distance between them. “I know you.” It was said bluntly to the girl. Eyes searched her face, cold and assessing. He didn’t believe in coincidence. “Why are you here? What do you want?” Not that there was any guarantee that she’d get it. Rame wasn’t known for his generosity.

It was him. Billy watched that stride, and whatever emotion she'd felt prickling when her abomination first noticed the gypsy dropped straight to her well cared for boots. This.. might have complicated things. If he were about the lands for the same reasons as herself. Her familiar whispered near her ear, describing the camp, and the old teller where she settled in her caravan. Hazel eyes shifted briefly from Rame, to that entryway, and back again in the next heartbeat. "Here.." The camp. "I followed you, here." Honesty, there. Aside from that quick growing rift between herself and that civilization that was coming to suspect her outside those woods, she'd not have been tromping through them. "Them.." She might have motioned idly to the encampment surrounding them. "I do not care about. No. You. Why are you in these lands?" Again, the blood mage paused, that near wicked grin bowing her lips. "Ra-me?" It faded to thoughtfulness an instant later.

Rame watched the woman, his expression unreadable, neither welcoming nor scoffing. In the presence of an outsider, part of that mask had come down again. "Don't make a habit of telling Gins my business." He was turning away from her to head to that caravan again. "Especially when they don't answer the questions they're asked." Rough tones over rode the quiet bustle of camp activity. 'You' in his estimation, was not a satisfactory response. Not without a qualifier. He'd have left here there- she'd found her way there, and she could find it back again-were it not for the fact that the blind eyes in the caravan window were staring, it seemed, right at him now. Expectantly. A muscle ticked in his jaw and a dirty finger lifted to brush at the itch he still felt for that inflamed, rough bandaged skin. He looked over his shoulder. "This way.. Seer's expecting you.." Spoken as if she had no choice in the matter but to comply. There might have been the nudge of a knife point in her back from the look out to encourage her, in any event, should she have shown a lack of interest in following the direction. Rame wouldn't see it. His broad back was already halfway to the caravan entrance.

Billy vaguely remembered how being snarky with someone in the front could end with a blunt blow to the back of one's head. It was the only reason she kept her mouth tightly closed at his reply. The whisper against her ear was not so kind to her. Hazel eyes drifted closed for a moment, and she'd risk tilting her head against the warmer fur of the creature curled against her throat and through her hair. Shut.. up. Hell. Gaze shuttered open again, lazily dragging over the gypsy until that itch to inflamed skin drew her attention there. "I will heal your wound for three drops of blood." It was offered by way of a more amused murmur, until his words of the Seer and that knife at her back encouraged a straighter expression. "Touch me with that again." She did not look at the lookout as she spoke, letting the challenge end there. One more prod of knife against her back, and she'd be taking a prize with her before she left. And she did intend to leave, with her curiosity sated. Fingers drifted to tug her hood up around her throat as she walked, each step a musical chime of bells. Without a word more, she followed along behind the male, and may have spared a more curious glance around him as they came upon the open entryway. Otherwise, her expression had leveled into neutrality.

Rame glanced back at the woman as he shouldered his way through the door, a blank look leveled the teenager's way. He'd only just noticed how young she was..she projected the confidence of an older Gin. A cool flicker of interest surfaced and faded before it could even come to life. He had no time for children..especially children that wanted his blood. "Most have to work for that girl.." His tone was low a rough. "I'll live.." He'd been through worse. The soft tinkle of her presence was borderline irritating as she moved behind him, and he scarcely retrained the urge to turn and slice the offending noisemakers off her garments and body. It was only his curiosity about the seer's business with the white witch that provoked control in the moment.

The lookout snickered softly. "Or what?.. He was feeling overly confident. She was alone in camp, and Rame was nearby. What could she do? But he didn't poke again. Some instinct to self preservation warned that it might not be a good idea. He'd leave them at the foot of the caravan stairwell anyway, and stand watch while the two dissappeared inside.


Lu'celle ignored the pair, already lost to the mumbles and groans of invocation as she entered her trance. Gnarled fingers trembled as she shook the bones and they spilled to rough surface. "Ah...ahhhh..." she moaned affirmation raspily, head dropping back to allow unseeing eyes to stare through the caravan roof to something beyond. "The dark one sings for you girl. He calls..he calls..." Head snapped upright and then she was bending forward, fingers tracing the spaces between the bones. "He sings from the lost city. Find the drinker of blood. The old. The ancient. The one who seeks." She cackled softly. "He will lead you there." A finger raised. "But be careful. The dark one's song is powerful. The others.." blind eyes turned towards Billy, and her voice dropped to a whisper, "He might sing to them too."

Rame was leaning against the far wall of the caravan with arms folded across his chest and eyes fixed on the pair. Dark one? Power. It was the second word that had his interest, and the seer's warning. The witch was getting clues for something which..intrigued him. Maybe this was where his luck and fortune would lay. But how to keep an eye on the witch without raising her guard? His gaze flickered to Lu'celle. "She's been wrong before.." His voice was absent of inflection save for a factual debrief. "But she's usually right." He shrugged. "Take it or leave it." And he was pushing off the wall to reach for the lid of the ever full cold box to snag a beer.

“I do so enjoy a challenge," Billy said. Rame would have those quiet words at his back, regarding his blood. But she was silent again, apparently ignoring the words of the lookout behind them, with her attention drawn to the gnarled figure of the elder where she sat. Oh, Sybilla knew. Pay attention when the elders speak. Posture straight and expression set at neutral, the blood mage listened to every word. To think.. she had wasted time spying on the embassy ..when this woman had been here. For the most part, the teenager may well have been turned to stone, the way she gave no flutter of emotion, nor moved, or seemed to breathe while those words were spoken. Him. Reynard. The one vampire she'd met in the lands. She did not know if that revelation made her happy, or furious. He'd known. Fuck him. He'd known. She'd already given him one of her only offerings, and for something as meager as two corpses. Furious. There was nothing in her expression to belie those emotions tumbling through her. Billy seemed blank to the seer's words, and it took her a moment longer before she realized Rame had talked as well. Gaze shifted to him, unseeing for beat, before drifting back to the elder to focus on her eyes. "My utmost thanks, Mere-anii." Her head tilted in a musical tinkling, and lips curved into that sweeter smile. The embassy would be torched; she'd all but made up her mind. Reynard.. she'd have to find him again. So, so much to do, Billy girl. She seemed all but ready to turn to leave, then, and she may even have been turning to take those steps out the door.

[Caterina]

Guardians_Embassy

The buckler-and-crossed-daggers emblem decorates a great white sheet hung above the spacious desk that commands the centre of the room, where a bored-looking clerk keeps record of supplies and garrison on parchment rolls. A few sword-bearing men relax in a number of chairs against the room's walls, but their garb is casual; the small room which serves as the embassy's reception needs the attentions of only one armed guard, who has his place by the door which serves as both entrance and exit. A single door sits nestled into the corner of the room, which would open into a common room, and a set of stairs opposite leads to the different quarters for men and women. Post in Nyxhaven seems a dream assignment, despite the high-profile nature of current operations. Crime is low to non-existent, shifts are short and few, and the small garrison this diminutive building houses seem to have made fast, strong friends.




Caterina was at the desk usually occupied by the far less pleasant to interact with draconian, the woman's chestnut brown gaze fixed on the map that was spread out before her across the table. A sigh of frustration escaped peach pale lips. Weeks, and they were getting nowhere, and yet, if rumor had it, there had been an uptick in troubles in the town. Darkness was stirring, and the guardian dreaded the thought that it could be because of the dark one's song. "Dammit.." it was a soft curse. There had to be a way. They had to find a sphere..before someone else did. The consequences were not worth thinking on.

Trinity walks in, sans book this time but still in her librarian robes. Long blond hair is pulled back into a low sloppy pony-tail. For once, Trinity has her spectacles in place so it's easy to see the source of the expeltive. "Are you having problems, Cat?"

Caterina glanced up, fingers lifting to flick one long thin braid of the uneven choppiness that was her hair, over her shoulder as she spoke. "If frustration at dead ends can be deemed a problem Trin, then most definitely. I cannot help the feeling that every day we dawdle without progress, is a day that Xathor earns in setting his intents in motion." Her tones were all concern. "Have we found nothing in the records that could give us hope for narrowing our search?"

Lasarus bares no patience for the guards that attempt to greet him at the embassy's door, and dismisses them with curt words as he strides into the building proper, and delivers an angry glare at each Vyraelae in turn, scattering them from the room, bar one whom overlooks the door. “Lock it,” the draconian seethes, and the man hastens to comply, whilst the knight looks upon Caterina and Trinity, and visably appears to calm. Long, pale fingers begin to carefully coil the braided bullwhip that had, until then, dragged along the floor at his side. “Success is absent -all- the forces we have searching for the artefacts,” the swordsmaster reports, anger slowly leaving his voice, “and Kallagrim suffers the blame. I see you have made little progress in my absence.

Trinity turns at the sound of Lasarus' voice, before she even has a chance to answer Caterina. A blush steels across her cheeks and shoulders tense before she swiftly turns back to her closest friend. Trin's wings twitch slightly, sending secondary feathers fluttering to the floor. These, she will pick up absently while speaking, "The records mention an island that is yet invisible to the naked eye. If I had some idea, even a general direction in which to begin, I could scry for it. Unfortunately, the records also indicated that we need an orb to firmly fix on a location. The first orb is here, somewhere and will lead to the next. The next is on an island with a city of nothing. What that means, I have no idea." One of those feathers, snowy white, gets threaded through long slender fingers. Now, she turns on Lasarus, still with a flush to pale cheeks and glint in her eyes, "We have made what progress we can, Lasarus. I read only so fast and some of the scrolls are so ancient breathing on them might cause harm."

Caterina 's brow furrowed slightly, in effort to understand what the researcher spoke. "Is there any indication if this..first orb is a true sphere of power? Or is it merely a guide to the true sphere? I shudder to think that to find one, will actually empower the finder to possess two. It is beyond enduring if such were to be the case." The mage glanced Lasarus' way. "It is Xathor's way to make his desires known. He will sing for his Hand. If we cannot find the orb ourselves..we must discover the one who is seeking it, and follow them." The female sat back. "We must follow the trail of shadows. Has there been news? Word of any who practice the darker arts being active in the lands of late?"

Lasarus chews, very carefully, on the inside of his cheek as he listens to Trinity's explanations of her latest findings, binding the whip into its coil and hooking it to his belt. Hands now free delve for his longcoat pockets. “So... There is nothing?” He is silent a moment, while he glances between the two spell-casters, “no further instruction to direct our resources? Nothing for me, and the other warriors we have, to do but polish blades and listen to wizardly gibberish?” His tone is still calm, and so is the one to which Caterina's answer is delivered, “only very recently has this island been recorded to exist. The only dark power those at Kallagrim know of is that which originally drew us here.”

Trinity answers Caterina first, "It is a true sphere. The recorders used the words orb and sphere interchangeably." A haughty glance is sent towards Lasarus as though to say 'see, we do have something'. Marching to the desk and the map Trinity jabs her finger at a particular range. "It is here somewhere, I believe. There are caves that aren't drawn on modern maps. Once we find the first, it will lead us to the second. They are linked in some manner I've yet to puzzle out." Raising a frostly triumphant look to Lasarus, Trinity says cooly, "Once I scry the best location then we, and your wariors, can make an expedition and search it out. Mind you, I'll only have a general location."

Caterina 's shoulders straightened slightly at that undertone present in Lasarus' voice. " I would not say quite..nothing..Lasarus. We at least know that the sphere is well hidden. If that is the case, it will be as challenging for another we do not wish to have access, to find it as for us.." Unless the Destroyer held up a flaming 'this way' sign for his chosen one, that was. Trinity's words are heard then, and the mage's shoulders slumped slightly with relief. They had -something- even if it was not much. "What we need, perhaps..is less bodies searching random hideaways, and more eye and ears mingling among the people." She murmured. "While we set about trying to search the location that Trin has identified, it would be wise to attempt at identifying who our opposition might be in the chase.." Her brow furrowed again. It was not particularly good news, to know that they were now dealing with -two- of the artifacts falling into the wrong hands.  "The Inn is the heart of the township here. If there is news to be gathered, it is likely to be chattered there. We should have a Vyrales linger there for a while, in effort to assess where the ripples of trouble thus far lead. I know there have been disturbances of late.."

Caterina pushed herself to her feet. "In fact, I do believe I shall leave you two to that task. I'll go find a few low key officers and give them their Inn assignments. Leve me word of your progress if any is made, yes?" The mage was speaking as she was heading toward the door.

Trinity may give Cat a pleading 'don't leave me here with him' look but her friend was already leaving. Mentally, she'll curse the woman while smiling serenely.

[Caterina]

Lasarus frowns, but it is enough to put a cap on the temper that had been rising in his breast. "I want this expedition to begin tomorrow," the knight responds, firmly, "and with each passing day that these soldiers go without direction, the tone in which I complain shall become more and more grating until you are inspired to take up sword and slay the Destroyer yourselves, but for want of a moment's quiet from me."

Trinity sputters in disbelief. Tomorrow!? "Why..that's not possible! A week, perhaps. There are preperations to be made, supplies to be gathered. Equipment and routes planned. You can not seriously mean to leave tomorrow!?" Trinity laughs shortly at the end of that, as though, yes, it is some joke and she would have more time to prepare and get her books and scrolls properly warded against damage. "It simply," she states again, "impossible."

Lasarus responds with a lofted brow, and shakes his head, "I have been insistent that all stay prepared to move at a moment's notice. Truthfully, I had never dared to think we would be in these offices for so long." A frown crosses his lips then, and he glances around the room, even up to the rafters where the guard quarters were above, "although they have served us well. Perhaps a full vacate is needless. A small task party would be more efficient. They would move faster, and require considerably less preparation."

Trinity can not argue with logic. Pushing her glasses up, even if they didn't need to be, the avian clears her throat. "Very well." From beneath the covering of her robes, Trinity withdraws a crystal pendant held by a thin rope of leather around her neck. Leaning over the desk and the map, Trinity does her best to ignore the draconian. It is hard when he seems to dominate any room he walks into. Even the bloody library on the few occasions she'd seen him there. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Trinity dangles the pendant over the map. It starts to swing in a wide circle over the range of mountains painted on and Trinity concentrates on the sphere. Smaller and smaller the circles becomes until it stops and hovers at an unnatural angle from the thong. Opening her eyes, Trinity frowns. "Oh." It is deep in the range, very much near the center, that the crystal indicates on. "We better take plenty of cold weather gear." The eyes she turns to Lasarus are a milky white from the scrying. Soon the cloudiness will fade and they will return to their normal color.

Lasarus does nothing, aware of the delicate intricacies of the scrying process. It is a fight to keep his frame still as alabasta gaze turns upon him, and arcane stare causing the hairs to rise on his neck. One hand comes forward, gesturing the avian to continue.


Trinity gestures Lasarus closer as she straigthens and runs a hand over held-back hair. A few whisps have escaped restraint to flutter about her face. "Deep in the mountains, here." She points to the spot. "Just where I thought it might be. There are no markings for caves but they have to be there." She sounded more confident than she felt, then.

Lasarus approaches, as bidden, and holds his hands behind his back. His own hair is allowed to drape obscuringly over his expression as he leans cautiously forward to give examination of the spot that Trinity indicates, and then nods, "then that is where we shall search next."


Trinity watches the sway of Lasarus' hair and has the sudden and unexplainable urge to brush those locks back from his face. Clenching her small hands into fists Trinity resists that illogical need. "Yes," comes out in barely more than a raspy whisper. Clearing her throat, she tries again. "Yes." Better. "That is where we will search." They still needed to know if any of the Hand also knew where to look. She would rather not run into any of them.

Lasarus straightens himself, and lifts his hands to rub his eyes. Fatigue always seemed to creep up on him when there was work to be done. "Marvellous," the knight replies, a smile becoming on his lips, "I suggest you pack quickly and carefully, and get some rest. We will need your maps to guide us."

Trinity says, "Of couse." In a tone that suggested he needn't have suggested it in the first place. Sniffing indignantly incase the point hadn't been made clearly that she is not a completely idiot, Trinity tries not to notice how such a simple thing like a smile can change a person's visage and make a casual observer want to look just a moment longer. Or do something to bring it back if it should fade. Snapping herself out of that line of thought, the avian also straightens her back and stiffens her wings. "And you, Warrior, should get some sleep yourself. I would rather not have a tired swordsman at my back should something go wrong."

Lasarus responds with a haughty laugh, and turns his back on the woman, with one hand reaching for the leather-wrapped handle of the draconian's sword. With a great 'ring' the weapon is pulled from its house, and brandished high in the air as crimson wings spread triumphantly at the knight's back. "I am a knight of the Guardians!" the male proclaims, "and my sword has pierced all from elf to orc, in rain, wind and sleet, beneath the midday sun and before the veil of blackest night... For days on end, when service demanded. It will be more than fatigue that defeats the reach of my arm."

Trinity rolls her eyes. It's a good thing Lasarus has his back to her. She'd heard this before. "How remiss of me to forget," she says drolly while stepping away from the desk, but not before circling the area her scrying had pin-pointed. "You still need sleep as much as the next man." And, since his back was to her, Trinity feels no guilt at all in admiring the well formed wings and their span.

Lasarus still wears a smile as he turns back to the female, with his sword-arm making to stow the weapon away, "it sounds as if your concern goes beyond your own safety."


Trinity's mouth falls open and her eyes widen. Mostly at being caught looking. "I would worry about anyone's safety," she finally protests. Her cheeks flame with a blush, however. Possibly making a lie of those words.