For trail banter and inter-party hijinks happening during long hours on the road.

"You don't think Ahm a priestess, do you?"  The question came without warning, striking down out of the pale blue mountain sky.  "Do you, Lissa?"  In the shady brim of her hat, the look on Bunny Cotillion's face was nothing short of vexation.

"Ah cannot deny that Ah manifest these powahs.  And that Ah do believe they are connected in some way with Guyver.  But a priestess?"  She shook her head slow at the thought of it.  "Ah cannot say that Ah even pray.  That is to say, Ah have ideas.  They come to me.  But prayer?"  And again came the shake of her head.

"What do you think?"
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 01:47, Fri 10 Apr 2020.

Lissabytta walked quietly along side her companion, mostly listening.  But, after the young woman's appeal for advice, the blonde scholar knew that she had to say something.  Still, she was silent for pregnant moment.  "I can't really say that I am an authority on Guyver," she prefaced her remarks, her left hand instinctively moved to the small silver devotional symbol around her neck briefly, "but, what I do know is that each person is afforded the opportunity to exalt and worship their chosen in a manner they see fitting.  It is especially true of less ... rigid, less formal ... denominations.  Like the Silver Fox ... " and her hand touched the symbol another time, "... or your Guyver."

"Each is given their own method of honoring them." she noted with some tentativeness, but also a grain of authority - as though she'd read it in a trusted book or was speaking from her own experience on the matter.  "If you do works in his name - vocal or not - and receive power in his name," Lissa ventured more firmly, "then let the others debate the finer points of titles and doctrine.  Live and practice your faith."

She smiled slightly, it was a rather enigmatic, mischievous affair, "Enjoy yourself, Bunny.  Let your heart decided and tell you what you already know...."  If the girl was an acolyte and practiced the faith in her own way, then who was Lissa (or anyone else) to tell her otherwise.  If Bunny questioned her faith, then who was Lissa (or anyone else) to tell her that was wrong, as well.  But, this was hardly a true crisis of faith - it was a young woman questioning other people's perceptions of her.  To Lissa, neither Bunny nor herself could go against their Natures; but the blonde Rembaran scholar knew that someone calling Ms. Cotillion a 'pistol-priestess' was hardly going to rock the woman to her core...

A sigh heaved itself up from Bunny's chest.  It was in some part a tired resignation, and it was also in some part relief.  "That is largely how Ah mahself would lahk to see things, Lissa," she said.

"Ah suppose Ah find it hard, though, when otheh people say it."  This came after moments filled with little but the sounds of the mountains, the cart behind them, and the crunch of their own boot steps.  "Ah am who Ah am.  And Ah am comfortable with that.  But from otheh people ... Ah feel ... expectations."

Lissa smiled lightly, a slightly bemused expression touching her comely features, "Now is a little late to be too worried about the opinions of others, perhaps."  Her tone was playful and not at all reproachful, as the situation pertaining to their continued (immediate and long-term) survival was far further up the list of items to worry about than if you were called out as clergy for a deity that you well and truly believed in.

"I mean," the blonde scholar ventured as an item, "You're being chased fairly far afield by an extremely ... resolute ... posse of men.  Based on, what I would have presumed, a much more impactful decision on your part."  Lissabytta didn't know much of the story or the decision that had made Bunny flee, but in some ways she didn't need to.

Lissa was fairly familiar with being ostracized in many ways: she venerated a god that was not highly favored by her more rigid and closed-minded family and countrymen (to put it mildly - the individualistic, quasi-libertine attitudes of the Silver Fox were not regarded with sympathy or positivity by the stodgy order-driven Rembaran elite) and she'd done her part in forcefully (but, in no way fatally) warding off any untoward suitors.  A girl had to have her standards - and her plans - and arranged marriage wasn't part of them; so, her relationship with her parents wasn't always on the best terms.  And that was most of the time, nowadays.  But, ultimately, whether they or anyone else called her a 'witch', a 'bitch', or an 'itch on the armpit of the Fox' was their issue and not hers.

"I can't tell you how to feel, Bunny." she noted with seriousness and genuine concern, "But neither can anyone else.  You have to do what is right for you."  Then with a slightly lighter tone, "Yet you can't stop others from making their own assessments and having their own feelings..." it was every sentient being's prerogative, "and you are healer, do wield a gunpowder sidearm, and are an avowed worshiper of his Grace, the Tinkerer.  All of which just might just lead to the moniker 'pistol-packing, priestess of Guyver."

There was a slight shrug of dismissibility, as the erudite Rembaran archaeologist added idly, "Just sayin'..."

The smile could not be dampened, nor the chuckle suppressed.  "Ah suppose it all mahght lead to just that, Lissa."  And chuckle she did, mixing mirth with the resignation in her voice.  "When you put it that way, it would be difficult for folks see it any otheh way."

"Ah suppose it was simply the shock of hearin' it spoken out loud," she said, after the chuckling had died away.  "Ah had been on mah own for so long.  Marco was never much one for talkin'.  That was the first tahm Ah'd eveh heard mahself described as such."

"Thank you, Lissabytta.  Ah think Ah very much needed to talk to someone."

Claissa could sometimes be quiet by nature, but after spending a couple of days now in the company of this particular group, she was curious about them. Bunny and Lissabytta were in their own conversation, and Merrick had been quiet for a little while - plus Zassil was certainly the most exotic specimen in the party, even if he didn't tend toward an outright animal nature, and that made her curious too. So Claissa looked up from her occasional guidance of the mule and smiled at the large figure. "I didn't have a chance to ask you before, Zassil, where did you learn to draw? You're quite good at it."

"There's nothing wrong it, really." Lissa half-chided and half-commiserated with Bunny, adding only a little more playfully, "And you do get to decide what side of you people get to see..."  She didn't have to heal people.  Or carry her pistol out in the open.  There was some free will involved.

"You know, I once set one of my tutor's hairpieces on fire," the blonde scholar ventured off-hand, pausing just to see if is elicited any reaction from her walking companion, "Accidentally, of course ..." and the tone was genuine ... genuinely half-hearted, "It was one of the things that prompted my parents to ship me off to the Barrun Academy."  She looked at Bunny with a more somber expression, and a more serious tone, "But I never needed to flee from them.  Your father sounds like a real piece of work to send thugs after to you.  He must have done some pretty naughty stuff..."

She wasn't going to force Bunny to talk about anything that she didn't want to.  But, that didn't mean that Lissa wasn't curious.  Or that she wasn't going to offer her companion the chance to elaborate on her situation.  Marco may not have been a talker, but Lissabytta had never had any problems expressing herself vocally.

Hearing the tales of the Northerner's antics as a young girl, had drawn a smile to Bunny's lips.  But, like water dashed against printers ink, her smile sagged and ran at the mention of her father.  Quite a few measured steps passed before she spoke again.  Truly, it had seemed as though mention of her father had killed any further desire to converse upon their journey to the lair of the giant.  But, speak again she did.

"Daddy is a brilliant mechanist," she began, her voice so soft that one might have mistaken her words as a casually delivered comment to herself.  She drew in a breath then, and with a smile forced to her face she continued.  "You should have seen his creations.  M'ling was mah favorite.  Such loyal nobility.  You would be absolutely convinced that they were human, Lissa.  That ...  You see, that was Daddy's ultimate ambition.  To give them humanity."

At this point the road through which Bunny's tale lead appeared to grow dark, and cold, and treacherous, and she visibly mustered the courage to continue on.  "It is not an easy task.  Instillin' humanity in that which is mechanical in nature, Lissa.  Each success came so near, each was so hopeful, each glimmer of humanity was so dearly tender, that when it was found wantin' ... Well, it was devastatin'.  Oh, Lissa, it was so hard to see him in those times.  The disappointment seemed to hollow out his soul."

"With time, this changed him.  Ah could not tell you when Ah first noticed.  He became hard.  Cruel.  He devised all manner of cruelties designed to force these poor half-human creations into what could only be a mockin' semblance of humanity.  And when Ah discovered ... "  The horror had grown quickly in Bunny's voice, and when it crested, she forced a knuckle to her mouth where she bit down upon her own flesh as though to stem the tide of words.  Her progress veered from the path and ended at the side of the road where she hugged her arms to herself, sobbing uncontrollably.

Zassil perked up out of his watchful reverie and stepped a bit closer to the cart where Claissa was when she spoke to him. He looked at her for a long moment, considering, and then his head tilted to one side, with a small smile on his face as he answered. "Thank you for the compliment."

He regarded her as he continued, "I am not certain how much you know about my species, but once we acquire our scale color and reach the equivalent of adulthood, we no longer sleep. So Dracil tend to learn hobbies and skills that can be worked on to pass the time, especially when traveling with non-Dracil."

He gestured towards her, but included the two women walking ahead of her as well and Merrick if he was nearby and within an easy gesturable arc. "While you sleep for the night, I will remain awake, watchful and likely either drawing or carving wood for a bow. Likely, I will pick up more hobbies and skills as I go along, usually things I can do without making a lot of noise so as to not disturb others."

He scratched under his chin briefly. "But to answer the actual question, I learned when I was very young and had...difficulty making friends. It gave me something to do and take my mind off of things."

Lissa blinked in surprise at just how dark the conversation had turned in an instant.  The story startled her and it was obvious in her features and demeanor.  Her hand reached out to help steady her companion, as they both slowed and moved off to the side for a moment.  "Oh." the blonde scholar noted with discernible chagrin in her voice, "Oh, my ..."  Her hand touched the silver talisman at her throat.

She leaned in close and gave the young Guyver priestess a squeeze on the shoulder, "I am so sorry, Bunny."  Lissa swallowed hard, "So, so sorry.  I didn't mean to dredge up such horrible memories.  I am sure that your father never meant to hurt you.  Obsessions can be harrowing ... "  She shook her head, "And not necessarily for the person themselves, but the ones around them."  A deep sigh caused her light frame to shudder slightly and through pursed lips she muttered, "Collateral damage sucks."

"Did he threaten you?" she prompted, the concern and urgency genuine in her voice, "Or your mother?"

The sobs devolved into a few final hitched breaths as Lissa's hand fell upon Bunny's shoulder.  Bunny nodded, acknowledging the Northern Aristocrat's sympathy while at the same time attempting to control the knot into which tearful heartache had twisted her face.  "Ah ... Ah must look an awful red-eyed mess."  The wounded chuckle that accompanied those words presaged the beginnings of emotional composure.  But there were a few more soulful breaths and a few more swipes at tear-stained cheeks before she spoke again.

"Momma died years ago, Lissa.  She died givin' birth to me.  Or so Ah have been told.  Ah have only known her through the things that she has passed down to me.  One of them bein' this pistol that Ah carry."  With a final heavy sigh, Bunny continued along the road with the sun still shining above as though nothing at all had occurred.  "We had a very large paintin' hangin' over the mantle in the drawing room.  People tell me it was Momma.  She was a dark haired beauty," she said, and then continued on in silence with the remaining questions conspicuously unanswered.

Claissa nodded cheerily to Zassil's thanks, then said "I don't know much at all about them, that's interesting. Having a whole third of the day extra to learn how to do things... that's amazing, actually. The Dracil must have interesting parties. And you're a woodworker too, huh?"

She considered the much taller figure for a few moments, then said lightly "Would it be too rude if I said I was curious why you had trouble? You don't have to talk about it, it's just that you seem like an amiable sort."

Zassil spread his hands. "There are advantages to not sleeping, to be sure. But also...I miss dreaming sometimes." He glanced at Claissa. "Is that strange?" Then he smiled wistfully. "I used to dream of flying a lot. I would love to fly."

He corrected her. "Not...a woodworker per se. I am learning how to make bows, specifically. I one day want to make a Great Bow for myself." The way he said that made it sound like it might be a long time before that happened.

Then he looked down at the ground for a moment after her question. He pondered how to respond for a bit before answering her, almost to the point where she might have thought he wasn't going to respond. "Bear in mind, I am not old for a Dracil, but by the standards of some other races I am not young. I have had many years to get to where I am. My race is also known for treating other races with....well, I suppose the least condescending way I could put it would be gentle and with understanding, and that may still make me sound a touch arrogant."

He shook his head. "This may be hard to believe, but when I was young I was...a runt. Smaller than most of the other Dracil young. So I was picked on and bullied sometimes, left out of games, that sort of thing. I grew quickly right around the same time I gained my color, which helped. Also, after about the first forty or fifty years or so, even the meanest or silliest Dracil tend to mature some."

"Well," Lissabytta commiserated, a hand still gently touching the young woman's shoulder, "Hardly a mess..."  But then the thin, blonde Rembaran seemed to reconsider and amended playfully, "I mean, a good mess, at least..."  And slightly, crooked smile touched her burgundy lips.

She pursed her lips for the second time in the last thirty seconds or so as Bunny let her know that her mother had passed a long time ago.  "Oh, Bunny." Lissa winced and sighed ruefully, "I am sorry.  I... I didn't know."  The bookish scholar knew it was the lamest excuse that she likely could offer and for all her learning, she'd still been at a loss for words.  Her eyes darted to the pistol tucked in at young gun-mage's waist when it was mentioned.  "Then her legacy lives on, of sorts, as long as you carry her with you." she added, even though she knew it was still lame.

Her expression brightened slightly though as she continued walking along side, "And as long as you carry her in your heart; she'll never leave you."  And her head quirked to the side, as her fingers brushed her companion's dark tresses, "I bet you are the spittin' image."

"Oh, Lissa.  Ah gotta thank you so much."  These words rose up out of a few final sniffles and a heavy sigh.  "It was such a relief to just talk to someone about it all.  And ... and maybe to cry a little."  A weak smile drew itself below Bunny's eyes, still red and rheumy.  She turned that smile in the Northerner's direction as they continued up the road.  "Ah had not realized that Ah had all that buried insahd of me."

"Thank you."  On an impulse, the shorter woman closed the intervening space between them, and embraced the taller, burying her face in the blond Northerner's shoulder.  It was a brief thing, but filled full of the power of her emotions.  "Thank you, Lissa.  For listening.  And for bein' mah friend."

Then Bunny stepped back.  Grateful eyes under the brim of that hat, tipped back to show her face.  "Thank you," she repeated yet again.  And then, as though realizing for the first time their position in the march to the giant lair, she looked around Lissabytta at the others coming up from behind.  "Oh mah," she said, "what must they be thinkin'?"

"No, I don't think that's strange," Claissa said thoughtfully. "I didn't realize your people still dreamed when they did sleep... It seems sad to know that and then lose it. It's freeing to experience that sort of mad chaos every day." Perhaps that said something about Claissa's dreams that wasn't so universal, but oh well. She gave Zassil's wings a curious look, but didn't ask about them aloud. If he had some sort of disability, it would be unkind to ask.

She nodded as Zassil explained about making a greatbow down the road, then waited to see whether he would speak further when he went quiet. When he did, she looked sympathetic. "That's too bad. I'm glad you were able to get past that. Though now I'm curious again, if you got along well with your people, what led you to end up in a tavern with a bunch of smaller folk, and now traveling with them?"

As for the two ladies up ahead, Claissa was peripherally aware of them, but doing her best not to show it. It seemed like they were having an emotional discussion, and she didn't want to interrupt. Merrick would be welcome to join in her conversation with Zassil, but she didn't want to force it, and he'd been pretty quiet so far. She didn't know him very well yet, certainly not well enough to know whether it would be a good idea to try and draw him in while she was still getting to know another party member.

After a moment of hesitation, Lissabytta returned Bunny's embrace, holding the young woman in tightly and letting her bury her face in her shoulder.  "You're welcome..." the blonde scholar noted tentatively, finding the mood swings in her friend to be quite extreme, "I am sure that you would do the same for someone in pain."  In fact, she'd already seen the young lady volunteer her time and materials for the common good without a second thought.

She gave the slight raven-haired Bunny a wan smile, "I am sorry to have dredged up such painful memories.  You have survived so much, it doesn't seem right to make you relive it."  Lissa leaned in for a moment, "Still, if you ever need to talk about anything, I am here. You shouldn't need to feel the need to carry such a heavy burden alone.  Sometimes it simply helps to just have a sounding board."  Then she reiterated, "But only if you want to talk..."

With a backward glance at the wagon, Lissa saw Clarissa and Zassil conversing.  "They seem to be occupied with other things." she noted simply in reference to their other companions, "Besides, there's nothing scandalous going on."  At least, not as far as she could tell.  The young blonde scholar pushed up brim of her tricorne hat slightly, and shifted the weight of her musket to her other shoulder, adding with a slightly bemused expression, "They'll only be concerned if we neglect our duties as the vanguard."

She scanned the path ahead, as well as the sky and rises to each side.

It was a playful chiding - both herself and her companion, but had a streak of seriousness in it.  They did need to keep their eyes and ears open - lest they get ambushed.  The mountains were fair teeming with giant-kind and thugs alike; they'd encountered evidence of both just within the last day.