**Note: This thread has a two day time limit to post. This Festival is open to all. Add in as you see fit. Improvise. Create plot twists and festival activities. And just because you are in this thread does not necessarily mean you will interact with all characters participating unless that is what you wish your character to do. **
Gallowstown. Proper name for the town in her opinion, they really had the gall to have an annual ‘Fall’ Festival. When expanded it stood for ‘Fall of Valland.’ A Fall of Valland Festival. Third anniversary of the aforementioned festival. Razhiel was in shocked amusement as she walked about the extremely festive town. There were colors everywhere from flags to garland to painted signs. Lights were strung across rooftop eaves, along poles, and the town center. The town center was truly a sight to behold. From what she gathered it was where plays were held during the day and dancing was held more towards dusk. She found it rather ironic that she was attending such an event. But when she heard of it, how could she not come and see how Fiore celebrated the downfall of such a powerful adversary. It truly was a fate changing event. It had her revisiting what ifs. What if Valland had not fallen after the murder of its Emperor? Nox would still be a pawn in her father’s game. There would have been a war. The dragons controlled by Nox would essentially be controlled by her father. She would have ridden, or maybe flown, to battle besides dragons. Or maybe… Maybe Nox would have controlled the dragons only to turn upon Valland itself.
A gaggle of children ran in front of her, causing her steps to pause and also her mind. She came here for amusement, not to reflect on what ifs. It was illogical to think of the past as if it could be changed. Half a dozen colors flew past her face as the children ran, laughing, twirling streamers in their game of chase. The wind blew past her, catching on the black collared cloak she currently wore in woe of her leather jacket. Firey hair, now a little past her shoulders twirled wildly. With the wind came smells of food having cooked all day, from sweets to stews to soaps to bread. One thing she did enjoy avidly was good food. It was the simple things.
A bell rang throughout the streets and everyone gathered in the town center. Razhiel walked slowly, her steps measured while everyone rushed around her. It was the second of the three day long festival. Before the dancing commenced, the town put on a play. This play supposedly commemorated the defeat of Valland. This year was especially special because there was a new play director, and this director had first hand knowledge. And some of the town’s people were especially excited because they had been questioned on their experiences and dealings with Valland.
Despite her usual amused half smile, she felt a knot within her stomach. The play started out with a narrator, describing a hungry man who became Emperor to an even hungrier beast of an Empire that ate all it touched, leaving broken pieces along its trail. Razhiel stood in the back, leaning against a wooden post, arms across her chest. She gave credit where it was due; the script writer was quite talented in his words. The play continued. There were even people dressed as buildings and horses, fake magic fire… and fake lightning. That caught her attention. Sure enough, after the fake lightning a red headed man wearing a woman’s breastplate and riding a horse broom entered the stage. The narrator exclaimed, ‘The Lightning Dog- it is said she can make you spill your secrets with the touch a finger.’ At that the red headed man tilted back his head, howled, touched a bystander who flopped to the ground spouting nonsense. Razhiel was less than amused, though it was a good play on words as she recalled the woman who began calling her The Lightning Bitch. The entire display was meant for laughs and that was what they received as many around laughed at the ridiculousness of the scene as the man on the horse broom finger combed flowing locks. In which even Razhiel gave a quite laugh and shake of her head.
The play ended with the killing of the Emperor and his daughter. Though it went beyond that as the play took a serious turn. Over a dozen people walked on stage in a line to ‘stab’ the Emperor and Princess and shout the reason why they were killing him or her. Razhiel pursed her lips. The reasons varied and all were essentially true from the person’s perspective. Once over everyone on stage bowed, even the bloodied Emperor and Man turned Princess. The narrator giving a simple speech about the downfall of a monstrosity and peace throughout the lands.
Razhiel snorted, “Right. Next month do they hold a festival on how Dragons ate people at the order of a mad scientist and how the dragon’s children saved all of Fiore by killing said Dragon Parents?” She was essentially talking to herself, tho she was not quiet about it and a few heads turned to look at her before the music started and all were diverted to other activities. Though she did appreciate the fact that the 'Princess' died in the play. Ironic.
"You know," The young dragon, Tyr, had been sitting on a rooftop watching the play for a good half hour; mostly the part where the person who was supposed to be Razhiel had appeared on stage. "I question humans that can't tell that princesses are female," she commented. She'd appeared slightly behind Razhiel, doing her usual 'surprise' act she enjoyed so much. She played with her ponytail a bit; hair was interesting to her. Dragons in their normal state didn't have any.
"Also, I don't recall you being stabbed repeatedly by random villagers. Isn't it rude to call people names like that?" she was still listening to the play, and one or two people did, in fact, get especially excited. Maybe they'd experienced more personal feelings against Valland or something. "At least the food's good. And also free. I think it's free." she didn't currently have any food on her, so whatever she was talking about it had already been devoured. "I hope it's free. I keep misunderstanding signs." she poked her chin thoughtfully, unconcerned by the human's strange hatred festival.
"I thought dragons were really good at grudges," she flipped the mental switch back to thoughts of the festival from the food she suddenly wanted more of. "But I guess a bunch of humans together can hold grudges pretty well too. I mean, that is kiiiinda why I started dressing like a human girl. Though..." she smoothed out the tunic dress she was wearing as usual. "At this point I just kinda like it. Humans are fun."
The people around her didn't pay any attention to her prattling on. The humans rarely did. As long as she didn't actually look like a threat, people just assumed she was playing some game. "Also hi!" she gave a cute grin and a small wave to Razhiel. "For the record, they could have at least made the note that you were a girl. And also much nicer than they portrayed."
Humans were ultimately predictable. You poke them, and they react. Some will try to ignore the poking, but most will put up some form of resistance. Some may flee, but by and large more will confront the poker. Especially if you poke enough of them, allow them to gather together and organize against the poker. Not everyone will engage in open combat if they don't have to, but it's a safe bet the rest will cheer them on. Even when people are far removed from battle such that their cheering is inconsequential to the combat effort, they will resist the poker by demonstrating how little power the poker has over them in the most self-aggrandizing way possible.
To whit, celebrating the fall of an enemy three years after the fact with a festival dedicated to the idea that said enemy won't stop them from having festivals. Such a predictably passive-aggressive act that one would have to balk at the idea that it was anything other than inevitable. Yet, surprisingly, there are those that espouse the opposite, and party as hardy as they can because they think the enemy didn't expect it. It was an experiment Mecha Crisis would have to try sometime; Predicting when and where symbolic resistance would occur based on his own acts of terrorism. All he would need after that would be a way to capitalize on the information.
Fortunately for everyone around him, Mecha Crisis was here to observe, not experiment. It was one thing to research one's enemy from the safe confines of the library, but to truly understand them one must walk among them. And here he was, taking notes in his head as he strode across the festival grounds. The humans were either to self-absorbed to notice him or to spooked to want to. His disguise might not have been perfect, but between the poncho, the hat, and the bandages around his face, few had the gall to stare at what may be just a disfigured man and so far none had deigned to accost him.
Mecha Crisis ultimately found himself taking in the play. Sufficiently entertaining, but clearly an effort to drag the name of Valland's royalty though the mud. Unnecessary propaganda in the name of spite towards a country that, for all intents and purposes, didn't exist anymore. The ending wasn't even accurate, as the princess was not remotely dead.
He had detected her as he stood at the back of the crowd watching the show. His sensors were reporting intriguing data points within his vicinity, and when he turned his head to view their source he was greeted by an unexpected result: The Princess of Valland herself. He nearly dismissed this conclusion based purely on probability, but the evidence was incontrovertible. Recognition of Valland's highest authority was practically hard-coded into him, and she met all parameters for being Princess Razhiel with a 98.345% certainty. He did not approach her, but he did monitor her throughout the performance. Being a soldier of Valland, he had been programmed to maintain awareness of VIPs as much as reasonably possible.
It wasn't long before The Princess was joined by another curious entity. She seemed familiar enough with The Princess that she could confirm, by way of criticizing the play, that this was who she was. Mecha Crisis was getting all sorts of strange readings from what appeared be a little girl, but by her own admission was not. Indeed, her guise was almost flawless; to a normal human there was no question, but his Dragon Slaying sensors gave him enough information to deduce a 74.834% probability that she was something far grander. She possessed Dragon Magic, but beyond that he could only speculate.
Curious as he was, he could not approach. His social protocols forbade him from doing so without direct order unless she clearly needed protection. The Princess was his only present superior, which he still counted as she could rule a revived Valland, and the only thing that could really threaten her around here was a girl she appeared to be on friendly terms with, so there was no need to. Even as the audience dispersed around him, he stood there staring at the pair as he processed his options. Study humans or stalk Princess? Decisions, decisions...
Post by Tracen Tenshou on Sept 1, 2015 18:27:15 GMT
Tracen had temporarily separated from Razhiel after their encounter in Hargeon, with the intention of meeting up again in town for the festival. Although Tracen wasn't obligated to help her, he had a strong desire to do so. Even though they were from enemy nations, he still respected her. The decision to aid her came not only from shared enemies, but also just a simple desire. It was a decision not hard coded into him, not some distant memory or feeling of what was right or wrong, but a concrete path in the present.
By the time he arrived, the festival was already in full swing. Plenty of people had dressed up in traditional clothing or costumes to commerate the fight with Valland. For once, wearing a mask didn't make him incredibly suspicious – with all the other costumes he practically blended in. For such a small town, the activity was unreal. People from all over Fiore must have traveled for this event. It was so overwhelming that at first Tracen just wandered around without purpose, only pausing to watch certain stalls or events.
The more time with Razhiel, the more he was beginning to recognize her scent. Somewhere in this crowd of people, she had already arrived. Knowing that Razhiel was present versus where she was, were two very different things. That's when he came across the play, already halfway through about the 'Lightning Dog'. The entire scene was completely idiotic. A mockery of history that made light of horrible events, and one that held an individual accountable for the actions of an entire nation. How could people sit there and laugh after everything that had happened? How could they be okay with appointing a symbol and making light of their troubles? The wounds Valland had inflicted were still fresh. It was too soon for this kind of idiocy.
And then the play took a much darker turn. All the citizens stabbing the princess. Tracen took a step forward, his initial gut telling him to race on stage and tear the entire curtain down. But if he did that, it would cause all sorts of trouble. He had no love for Valland, but this propaganda made him doubt humanity. How the hell had he ever been able to be on the side of the law? These people didn't even deserve to live. With a frustrated growl, he stepped back. If it would have made a difference, he would have interrupted. Then again, maybe creating a scene would make people rethink it. It was also a tempting thought to hunt down the play director and either murder him, or scare the living daylights out of the idiot.
It wasn't until the play was over that he heard Tyr's voice. Following the sound and Razhiel's scent, he came upon both. True to his earlier promise, he had no intention of hurting Tyr unless she attacked first. But his trust for her was still extremely low. Still, he approached the two, even with Tyr present – enough to catch her last words.
“I'm here.” Tracen said simply. Maybe he'd gotten lost on the way, and that's how he'd met Pyrrha, but he still had eventually made it to his original destination. He looked briefly between the two, before settling on Tyr. “What are you doing here though? Following me again?” Somehow he had a horrible feeling. His senses were going absolutely haywire, between Tyr, Razhiel's scent, and something he didn't recognize. Were they being watched? If someone was in danger, it would likely be Razhiel before him – they'd likely crucify her if she got recognized. Maybe he wanted trouble, because it would give him a chance to punch all the stupid people who had come for the 'celebration.'
Razhiel felt like she was being watched. That itch between one’s shoulder blades. Mind momentarily distracted from the completed play, her gaze scanned the crowd trying to find who was setting off her instincts. She doubted anyone would recognize her for who she truly was. Not that she thought Fiorians(?) were particularly blind, just humans in general. See only what you want. Must be nice. Her scanning was cut short as Tyr appeared behind her. The hand that had rested on the hilt of the whip at her side since the feeling of being watched, tightened slightly before letting it go completely at Tyr’s appearance.
Thumbs in her pockets, she replied to the gender comment. “I question why more dragons cannot be like you.” A half smirk as she looked down at the green haired girl. “Powerful enough to escape all senses yet curious enough to decide not to pose a threat.” Violet eyes traveled back to the now cleared stage, the smirk gone replaced by a neutral indifferent look. “It is current human nature to make light of tragic times and to find comedic relief in belittling others.” Razhiel shrugged, keeping her feelings on the matter firmly in reign.
The mention of food from Tyr had her laughing. “So long as you do your disappearing act I do not believe it matters what food you eat.” Great advice. A bit corrupt but she was in a less than lawful mood. Though, to keep her from getting in trouble it was probably best that she did indeed just use her invisible magic when in doubt.
Lifting her arms above her head, she stretched with a yawn. The itch behind her shoulders did not go away so it was not Tyr who had been making her uneasy. She mentally shrugged the feeling away. She was not particularly concerned and there were too many people for her to even get a remote scent. “Most of these people are refuges from Valland for one reason or another. They have been hurt by me and mine. Some have first-hand experience with me in particular. “ She knew who she was now versus back than. She also knew she would not hesitate to do what was necessary if she felt it was needed. In most ways it was just her change of station that had changed. As she was replying to Tyr’s last comment, she spotted Tracen. The corners of her mouth tilted up slightly as she finished her train of thought. “Maybe he was the only red-head they could find. Had I known, I could have played the part myself.” Her tone light with only the barest hint of anger. As Tracen questioned Tyr, she mused that he hadn’t hesitated in his approach or in questioning Tyr himself. Progress. She could not help but feel at ease with him there, she knew he would have her back. Noting his alertness, she could only imagine how being in the mix of a festival must be trying his nerves. She had not been sure he would come. Dependable. She went back to people watching, though she listened to the two beside her.
"Most dragons aren't like me because then I wouldn't be the weird one," she commented lightly with a shrug. Tyr had long since come to terms with the fact that dragons didn't really respect her as the upstart dragon child. Then again, dragons tended to like to be left alone and feel powerful, and she thought that was weird too. She really didn't stand much of a chance with her own kind, at least in that department. "Besiiides what's the point of being threatening? it just makes people afraid and they don't want to talk to you. And then once you leave they want to get revenge. Or at least imagine it. That doesn't sound very pleasant if you ask me. And thus I walk around in an adorable human form!"
As far as the disappearing act went, the dragon had to think about that for a moment. She'd been alternately told now that she shouldn't steal, and that she should use her magic if she did. Actually, with Bellua as her unofficial human coach, she was starting to wonder if maybe the humans who cared for shiny coins so much weren't the greedy ones. If that were the case maybe humans were a lot greedier than she thought - a lot more like dragons grew up to be like than she had realized.
Tyr, unlike the others in the crowd, from Raz to the unknown robot to Tracen who had appeared, was both alert *and* completely nonchalant about the whole thing. She didn't look around, she didn't act paranoid in the least; if anything she acted very much like a girl who was, ironically a bit younger in the head than the dragon appeared to be in this form - largely because she simply didn't care like actual humans did.
What did concern her, was the mood practically washing off of Razhiel. She was trying to sound happy, but these people were upsetting her. Tyr hadn't decided what to do about it just yet, and was thinking about it when Tracen walked up. "Oh hi Tracen," she waved. "Oh! I was supposed to be keeping tabs on you wasn't I?" she blinked thoughtfully. "Whoops. I kiiiinda got distracted with a few things. Ah well." She'd actually missed the entire thing with Raz and Tracen right after the Raven stuff. "At least you've been well!" she grinned at the young man.
After a moment, Tyr hopped up on a nearby ledge and wrapped her arms around Raz,'s shoulders from behind - it was meant to be a hug, only from the back. "You know, maybe we could give them pointers on how to portray you better. I mean, no matter what you used to be like you're a good person now. They might understand if they saw, right?" she nodded to herself, which had the side effect of her chin bumping Raz's shoulder. Tyr didn't have a lot of personal space. Actually, none was the correct amount if one were to guess how much she comprehended. Her time with Bellua hadn't helped that at all, considering the girl hadn't cared either and Tyr had practically clung to her for half the day.
A third person seems to have joined The Princess now. A man the two females apparently recognized, and which Dragon Slayer magic, no less. Correction: Implanted Dragon Slayer lacrima. It would appear she had something of an entourage with a decidedly draconic theme. Was this some sort of task force? Any task requiring Dragon Slayers could, theoretically, benefit from the inclusion of more Dragon Slayers. It was still a logistical leap, however, and considering the friendly terms they seemed to have it was unlikely they had gathered for a specific function. Festivities aside, of course.
Additional friendly bodies also supported the idea that Princess Razhiel was in little danger, despite her admission at having had slighted some of the revelers personally. Mecha Crisis' continued monitoring of her would be unnecessary then, and he should, by all means, consider himself free to continue his observations of the festival at large.
...
Then again, Razhiel and her companions were (mostly) human. Wandering around the festival aimlessly would supply him with data, but with little context. Sooner or later, he would have to select a subject to focus his observations on for a more cohesive analysis, and he was already fixated on The Princess anyway. He might as well continue observing her at this point. Although, probably from a less conspicuous vantage point. The crowd wasn't quite as thick here as it was a moment ago.
Post by Tracen Tenshou on Sept 3, 2015 4:02:08 GMT
Razhiel seemed unusually calm, despite the festival basically celebrating her demise. Tracen detected the slightest hint of anger in her voice, but it wasn't enough. At least Tyr seemed content mainly to ignore him. "Good. I'd prefer it if you keep your distance. I don't enjoy being followed." The fact that she'd found them again after NOT following them was somewhat uncanny, but not unheard of for a dragon. His fist tightened as Tyr explained 'making them understand'. Finally, they agreed on something. Probably not in the same way that Tyr had meant, though.
"Oh, we can make them understand," his intonation really left little to the imagination. "These people make a mockery of history - not just their enemy, but their own victims as well. It belittles their own hardships and feeds a complacent hate. How very brave they are, casting curses on an already defeated enemy." He had no love for Valland, but they had made it personal by making the play about Razhiel. Even without knowing her personally, there was something wrong about creating a scapegoat for all their problems. That wasn't the way to see history's truth. That was a convenient symbol that they could hate. "The people are guilty of feeding into such lies. But the real one responsible is the director." They couldn't punish an entire populace... so much was wrong that Fiore couldn't survive the shock if the wound was suddenly cleansed. But the source, that was something they could act upon. "He'll continue to travel and spread his idiocy as things stand now. You only have to give your word, and he'll be gone," he said to Razhiel. She couldn't risk exposing herself, and it wasn't her original intention. But it was much harder for him to walk away. If he acted alone, the risk would be smaller than for a Valland princess. And at least some small part would be corrected.
Razhiel nodded and agreed, “It helps that your adorable form lowers a person’s defenses.” Looking at Tracen she smiled, “ Well most of the time.” Razhiel amended and merely smiled at Tyr’s jovial banter and Tracen’s less than amused response. He was upfront about how he felt at least and did not raise a hand against the small dragon. Maybe with time Tyr’s prediction would come true… maybe a lot of time.
She paid no mind when Tyr jumped up on the ledge but stiffened slightly when the dragon’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. Violet eyes widened in surprise at the action. It was unexpected but unexpected should be Tyr’s middle name. She let out a deep breath, her stance relaxing once more. The hug reminded her of another short, small person. She missed that little kid. Maybe after this she would travel inland once more to visit.
At Tyr’s words and subsequent bumping of her chin on Razhiel’s should, she turned her head to look at the green haired girl only to get an eyeful of the green hair. Her mouth opened slightly but Tracen spoke first. His tone had her looking directly at him with a raised eyebrow. His reasoning made sense but essentially these people were celebrating their freedom from oppression. Though, their choice of a name and the play left it tasteless. Valland had been a large adversary that cast a dark shadow. Now the shadow was many that turned on each other and left Fiore in relative peace. It was normal for people to blame the most obvious and popular person/people. For Valland it was the royal family and the princess who spearheaded numerous military invasions in the years before its downfall.
Though she was calm on the outside, inside was quite opposite. She felt the people had a right to feel as they did. At the same time, Fiore was not as great as it seemed. True, they were not currently invading other countries but it had pockets of problems. When a country became a part of the Empire, they were taken care of. A school system was implemented. There was protection. A sigh escaped as she got lost in her own thoughts for a moment. If they realized who she was, it would come to a fight and she would not hesitate. All it would take would be one move to defend herself and it would validate everything they thought.
Tracen’s last comment had her fast tracking back to him. ‘You only have to give your word, and he’ll be gone.’ Again, he showed consideration by deferring to her. He was serious. She could tell that much. But why? Was it because of how they portrayed her or because the play itself gave no true value to the populace? Razhiel gave it serious consideration. She could tell he was upset by the entirety of the festival. By doing something, maybe it would help ease the tension he felt and maybe a little of the anger. Why had she told him to meet her here? In her defense, she could not have predicted how bad it would be. “You realize that if you take him out, someone else will take his place.” It was merely a point but not exactly dissuasion. “Don’t kill him. Everything else is fair game. Maybe if the director's mind was changed or he was persuaded to hold a more relevant and fact based play next year it would benefit all. If Tracen decided to go, she would not disrespect him by telling him not to get caught. It was not that she doubted his ability, quite the opposite. In that off chance, she would show this town exactly what she is capable of.
A woman walked past with a container of streamers, her hand shot out and she took a green one with a wink. Holding out the stick to The dragon partially perched on her shoulder, the green ribbon attached to the end almost touched the ground.
Tyr clung to the woman, unconcerned for what humans called 'personal space.' It was quite likely she had so little concern for it because dragons didn't have the same social customs, and she and her siblings had practically laid on top of each other as children when they slept (that is, before they got old enough to move to their own places). Tyr couldn't have said why; she wasn't even fully aware of it. She was far more aware of dragon-related facts. Such as the fact that humans smelled strangely of mammal scents and shampoo, though that varied by how long ago it had been since they bathed, she supposed.
She was already paying attention to what Tracen said when he spoke up, offering to kill the person who would disrespect Razhiel so much. She was paying enough attention that the look on her face was less jovial, and more curious. Not the happy curious she normally wore, but one that wasn't sure how concerned she should truly be. It didn't change when Raz said not to kill the person, but he could do anything else.
She was handed a streamer, which she took without thinking, still watching Tracen. "Beating him up will only breed more hate, you know..." she protested. "Fighting might take care of some problems, but in this case harming him will only convince people of what they want to see and it'll get worse. These people aren't bad... they're just listening to the wrong people. The ones who want to hold grudges where they shouldn't, you know?"
Tyr's grin returned after a moment, blinking as if she'd had her mind in a far off place. She suddenly noticed the streamer in her hand, which she shook lightly up and down; enough to make the green jiggle, but nothing more. "What's this?" she asked curiously, distracted by it once more as a cat with a laser pointer. "It's pretty! I like the color. Why's it jiggle? Are the human children just waving them in circles? What's that for? Is it to celebrate yelling at menwomen?"
The Princess and the Dragon Slayer appear to have been agitated by the the former's representation on stage. To her credit, the Princess hid it better, but Mecha Crisis could detect the subtle (and not-so-subtle) clues. The Dragon Slayer, meanwhile, barely restrained himself. Mecha Crisis idly wondered if he remained in check in deference to The Princess, which would be ironic given she was also the reason he was so mad in the first place. Humans are such complex creatures. The Dragon Girl, while also put off the experience, didn't seem quite as agitated and more than content to be distracted by simple toys.
While The Princess was against outright executing the play's director for his insolence, she seemed to imply doing literally anything else to him would be entirely acceptable. The Dragon Girl was suggesting swaying minds through more gentle means, but the others hadn't entirely ruled out making an example of someone. As a soldier of Valland, it behooved Mecha Crisis to assist The Princess by any means possible. However, his programming also forbade him from approaching The Princess. Then again, since Valland was gone, Razhiel was no longer its princess so that rule no longer applied. Which also meant Mecha Crisis didn't have to assist her. However, "Avenge Valland" was an acceptable interpretation of his mission parameters, which was vague enough to include punishing people for insulting its royalty, former or otherwise. And a wise man once said, "The best way to destroy an enemy is to make them your friend," so even non-violent means were acceptable.
Approving of his own irrationality, Mecha Crisis approached the group.
"Princess," Mecha Crisis said, loud enough for them to hear but not to be overheard by the mob around them. He put his right fist to his chest and followed with a small, respectful bow. "I could not help but overhear your discussion. As a soldier of Valland, allow me to assist you in this endeavor."
Last Edit: Sept 5, 2015 3:18:59 GMT by Mecha Crisis: I decided the muffled clang when he saluted didn't make sense.
Post by Tracen Tenshou on Sept 5, 2015 4:37:42 GMT
You realize that if you take him out, someone else will take his place. At first Tracen assumed that Razhiel would ignore him. It was petty; a fault that probably didn't need correcting. Certainly there were far more heinous crimes than propaganda. That was his reasoning until Razhiel gave him permission to do anything except kill him. His mind stopped trying to reason it out. His ensuing chuckle could only be interpreted as evil, an unnaturally large smile beneath his mask. There was something extremely exhilarating about hunting someone that had insulted Razhiel's honor, even moreso in that it was a task better suited to him than what Razhiel could appropriately handle given the circumstances. He didn't have a precise plan yet, but knew that public humiliation would ruin his career forever, so he just had to figure out the details.
His line of base instincts was interrupted by Tyr's preaching. "Oh, please. Do you even understand what's going on?" ...He asked as she jumped with a streamer. "I'll be careful. I'm not trying to give them the crazy idea that it's Valland's revenge, or something." Even if Tyr was a dragon, she seemed unable to grasp just how deep the insult went. Fixing the problem was secondary to addressing it. If he wanted blood, there was a good reason why the opposite party deserved it - and he would acquiesce to Razhiel's stipulation.
His plot was interrupted by another who approached them. Tracen nearly fell over in surprise. This... person... it didn't look human? The smell was oddly metalic like a weapon, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck bristling again. This must have been what he sensed earlier. The 'princess' title was the first indication that they knew each other, and the other straight up admitted that he was a soldier of Valland. "Wh-?" He almost spoke in surprise, but decided against it past the first syllable. Had Razhiel lied about entering Fiore without soldiers? Did these two even know each other? Somehow he didn't doubt Razhiel's truth yet, but perhaps this was some creation that had been used in the past, only now to find her.
Razhiel was staring at Tracen, her expression thoughtful at his abrupt change in demeanor. During the limited amount of time they had spent together, he had shown to be observant and silent and cautious. His only outbursts usually in regards to his beliefs. His current accompanying chuckle to her comment was a bit dark and she wondered what had been unleashed. Did he not suggest taking care of the director first? So why should her permission change how he acted? She was still thinking about this when Tyr spoke up.
Tyr's words of caution and a less aggressive approach did not go unheard, though her gaze remained on Tracen. Her voice a bit distracted as she replied to Tyr's sudden change off topic. "They are for fun. You try to make shapes, twirl it fast, and even dance with them." She would have smiled at Tyr's creation of menwomen if she were not focused on other things. "Now wait just a..." She began as he rebuffed Tyr only to stop mid sentence.
She was as startled as Tracen at the interruption by the strange 'soldier.' Her reaction being more subtle with a hand to her weapon. The scent and the appearance gave the impression of robot. Sentient. The right fist on the chest and bow had her raising an eyebrow, her hand leaving her weapon. A soldier of Valland? She had assumed most of the army had defected to their original homeland or joined one of the various states that emerged when Valland fell. Assist? That was definitely curious. She raised her right fist over her heart in salute before lowering her arm. "At ease. What is your name soldier?" Head tilted slightly, the skin around her eyes crinkled as she regarded him curiously.
Tyr continued to shake the ribbon up and down even as the metal man appeared, introducing himself through an offer to serve Razhiel's wishes. While the others decided on their decidedly violent course of action, she kept up her antics. Why shouldn't she? They weren't listening to her caution, and the three of them together were undeniably going to worsen the entire situation for Raz.
Still, she had to admit the festival itself was for all the wrong reasons. Celebrating freedom and celebrating anger were two completely different things. The cogs turned in her head as her bright, childish face watched the ribbon and the things going on around her.
The man smelled of metal and magic. Dragon magic. She hadn't noticed it due to Tracen's own appearance, but now that she had, she knew he was another experiment. Did humans ever stop trying to make machines of war? It was starting to get old, even to someone as patient as Tyr.
"Well if you're going to do something violent, I'm coming too," she finally stated in a resigned voice, sighing and deflating a bit as she handed the streamer off to Razhiel without looking at her. This many humans would get out of hand quickly. They needed someone to watch out for both them and the stupid guy who got all these powerful humans upset, after all. "You're all such bad influences on each other, you know."
At Razhiel's command to be at ease, Mecha Crisis straightened up and put his hands behind his back. Often when asked his name, particularly while in disguise, Mecha Crisis would either be coy or outright lie. Revealing that he was a robot would just raise too many questions, not to mention blow his cover, but he was programmed to be loyal and formal to Valland's royalty. That means giving his full designation and possibly nature when asked. Of course, with Valland gone Razhiel was no longer the princess per se, but since he was offering his assistance it was prudent to give The Princess any and all information she needed or wanted.
"Mechanical Combat, Reconnaissance, and Infiltration unit 515," Mecha Crisis reported. "Designation: Mecha Crisis." Technically, he despised having "Mecha" in his nickname, given it was only bestowed upon him after meeting that human named Crisis. However, he had already referred to himself as mechanical as part of his full model name, and it was what most people called him anyway. Might as well in case she ever had to confer with any of them. "Simply 'Crisis' if you prefer."
