Brun floated alone in the void.  More alone than he had been in a very long time.  He could not feel his Lady.  Despite the lack of feedback, he could not bring himself to remove the neurohelmet.  To give up completely.  To let her go.  No.  No.  No.  The light of the glow lamp gives him a momentary spark of hope, but reality snuffs it out.  She is still gone.  He slumped heavily in the control harness, staring into the blackness of his darkened visor-screen.

Somewhere in mind, he registered that one of the two women said something.  Irina?  No...  Rose....  There was a tone.  Sarcasm.  Anger maybe.  Still angry.  Right to be.  But, at the moment, he does not really care to acknowledge her anger.  Or even to acknowledge that she spoke at all.

The sudden lurching movement brought Brun's head snapping up.  He reached out to his Lady, seeking the familiar control feedback.  But...no...  She wasn't there.  Gone.  Like everything else.   His fault.  He lost her too.  His fault.  He sacrificed his Lady for what?  A few more moments for a doomed transport.  Wasted heroics.  How the Captain would have laughed at it all. Brun folded back in on himself silently, holding onto the control panel so he didn't just drift away.

The knocking on the hatch barely roused him.  Some part of him leapt to the idea that the Emergent had come to dismantle his Lday like mechanical vultures.  Anger stirred through the bleakness and he pushed himself up to his feet again, unsteady in the new return of gravity.  Brun pushed up the visor, only then remembering the passengers, "Get behind me....  I'll hold them off for as long as I can...  I'm sorry...."

“No, it's alright, Sir Brun. Those are voices,” Lady Irina says as she gently lays a hand on Brun's elbow. “And that rhythm is repeating. Those are not Emergent outside. They're people. Where is the manual release for the hatch?” She begins to search for it herself before stopping after a few moments. Her brows furrow as she regards Brun for several moments as if he's puzzling through a particularly difficult quantum differential puzzle.

“You miss her don't you?  I understand that. I'm more comfortable around machines than people most of the time. I find something so beautiful about designing toward a function. To craft something for a purpose and then have it perform even beyond your expectations. It's such a wonderful feeling.

Euryleia's not dead.  I saw the telemetry. She's had catastrophic failures in practically every system, but her neurocore is still intact. She is still in one piece. She is strong. You made her that way, Sir. You designed her didn't you? Pieced her together so that she was stronger than the parts that made her. She pushed so far beyond her predicted tolerances that I am honestly at a loss to explain why the three of us are even here now. She should have failed a dozen times before she did. You know that, don't you? But she fought on as hard as any person I have ever known. She's remarkable. She's remarkable because you made her that way. And you can make her that way again. She needs you to bring her back to herself. There are thousands of people that owe their lives to both you and Euryleia. Today was the worst sort of day, but I don't want to think about what today would have been like without the two of you. Please, don't give up. She needs you.”

Irina reaches back and  pulls the manual release for the cockpit hatch. Metal groans and finally the hatch gives way.

A cheer goes up, “Commander! You're alive!” Sir Jayson Dennic and Sir Padrig Sturm practically storm the cockpit and pull Brun out. Commander. They had called Brun that before and, as he looks at them now, he realizes they mean it. “A great many people owe you their lives, Sir. We included. I'm not sure if my Missus will want to hug your neck or wring it.” Sir Jayson says this last bit with a huge smile.

They appear to be within a Carrier's hangar bay. A very large carrier. Euryleia hangs suspended between the Armours of Sir Dennic and Sir Sturm, her arms wrapped around the shoulders of the Armour on either side in the same manner as one might carry a comrade from the field of battle.

Brun surveys his beloved Armour and the severity of the damage becomes apparent. Euryleia will need a total overhaul. If she had been in need of repair before the tournament, now she was on the brink of ruin. But she was alive. The effort and skill to repair her in this state may be even more demanding than when he constructed her from the remnants of his Sisters' armour.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:04, Mon 25 Jan 2016.

Adrenaline had been keeping him going, input and feedback from his neurohelm giving him that extra push toward safety. He could see everything, calculate trajectories in a millisecond, and practically count the beats a fly's wings when he got into that space. Exaggeration maybe, but time itself seemed to slow down during a real fight. Once it was over, once he saw that rescue had arrived, he didn't have to hold on so tight anymore. Everything sped up around him again, and consciousness itself began to fade. He was so tired. Still wearing his tattered dress uniform. Still clutching Iliza.

The medical team present when Gwydion finally opened the hatch for them saw every reason to put him on a gurney beside the Lady, but he waved them off. Said he was fine. He wasn't. Bloodshot eyes and swollen lips, gaunt and stretched cheeks, and his hands. He clearly was not fine. Even so, he could move, and wanted full attention on her. He just needed some water and rest. After all, he hadn't been through much more than hard vacuum and then intense G-forces. She'd been hit. He'd be fine. She needed to be, too.

It was five minutes and eight other medical teams waved off before Gwydion wobbled to his feet and stepped out of the Armour, giving it a good few pats in appreciation. He'd been staring at that datachip, and closed his hand on it to make sure it wouldn't escape. Maybe he was holding onto consciousness too. He headed for...somewhere. As soon as he thought of it, the prince stopped a passing team.

"Dame Meara, have you heard about her? Is she here?" Nothing helpful. He stopped someone else.

"Have you seen Sir Brun? He was leading our Knights in the defense. No, he doesn't have a...nevermind." "What house is he?" What a ridiculous question. Gwydion kept heading someplace quiet, but kept asking about his comrades, hoping to hear some good news.

Gwydion wasn't sure how long he wandered the Passelande's corridors before he heard someone call his name.

"Prince Gwydion," a young retainer, Lhad, approaches the Prince. "Your highness, I am told to tell you that the young woman you brought in is expected to survive her wounds. She is in surgery at this very moment in Medbay Three. Also, the Knight you were inquiring after can be found in the Starboard hangar. Is there anything else I can do for you, your highness? Would you like something to eat? A change of attire, perhaps?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:20, Tue 26 Jan 2016.

It takes Meara a good while to come down from her combat high.  The first thing she hears is Freyr attempting to get through to her and let her know they won, and then she hears Mimi.

it is Mimi's voice, and more specifically her words, that hit Meara harder than anything she has experienced before.  She remembers that they were all together in the ballroom when everything started, but she has heard nothing since about their well being.  Slowly, she lifts her head and turns Brunhildr towards the station, still catching her breath after the adrenaline crash.  There are many Emergent wreckages, yes, and several were by her own doing - she may have the highest personal confirmed kills for this battle - but what she sees is not the glory she has been told comes from battle, but the loss.

The station is torn and broken.  Entire sections are vented into space.  From what she can see, most of the rest of the station has lost power.

Yes, the thrill of battle was exhilarating beyond anything she has experienced before, but the loss is more than she can bear.  If not for Mimi's presence, she would be unable to fight back tears.  But for Mimi, she has to be strong.

To Mimi and many others, Meara is going to be a hero.  The highest ranking member of royalty from Venus carved a path through the Emergent forces, charging forward to make a hole while the others kept the enemy at bay so the transports could be loaded and escape.

In her mind, Meara knows this, but her heart cries for the fallen.

All of this goes through her mind in the short time it takes her to catch her breath enough to reply to Mimi.  "We will tell them together, okay?  Especially with how brave you were to come with me," she says with a grin, calling upon her brash warrior's side as she finally meets Mimi's gaze, then replies on the comm, "Understood, Freyr.  I will follow you in.  I know it is a great deal to ask, but could you see about locating Mimi's parents?  Find out what transport they ended up on.  I... do not know very much about that sort of thing, or how soon it will even be possible to do."

She pauses, then triggers the comm again and adds, "And Freyr?  Thank you.  For everything."

Freyr acknowledges Meara's request, “I will do what I can. It may be a while before we have an accurate accounting of everyone, especially with the amount of...chaos...the attack inflicted. It isn't clear if the handmaiden is being delicate for Mimi's sake or for Meara's.

Freyr seems caught off guard by Meara's words of thanks before she replies, “Of course, Princess. ” She leads the other Armour pilots toward Passelande with Meara following close behind and Sir L1-4MNT bringing up the rear.

Sir RHY-S32 stands watch near his own carrier. “It was an honor to have fought at your sides,” He transmits to the three as they depart.

The Starboard hangar deck of the Passelande is full of personnel running to-and-fro directing the Armours now landing, then getting them properly berthed. One side of hangar is dominated by an arrangement of three Armours standing out in the open. Meara recognizes Sir Brun's Armour Euryleia suspended between two others. It is an unusual occurrence for a hangar deck, normally Armours are berthed in the same way as they had been aboard the Armour Bay of Callisto Station.

Three knights are gathered in front of the idle Armours and Meara can just make out Lady Irina moving out of the hangar bay in a hurry.

With Irina's reassurance, Brun released the grip of his pistol.  The neurocore intact?  Still in one piece?  She's alive.  The Edge Knight's breathing recentered.  He had no way of knowing, at the moment, if Irina was telling him the truth or not.  But it was a truth he desperately needed.  Hope.  And he chose to believe it as fully and completely as he had believed anything in his life.

Not that he had long to dwell on his new truth before the hatch was opened and he was dragged out of the cockpit.  The backslaps nearly knock him over; he being much more slight than most of his fellow Knights.  Brun tried to smile, still more than a bit overwhelmed, as he responded to Jayson, "Please ask that she attempt the hug first, if she must.  If she finds that it didn't work as she hoped, she should feel free to wring."  A pause, trying to sort through what he knows, "I am glad to hear that so many made it...  Very glad indeed.  We were lucky to have had so many Knights of skill aboard...."  Many of whom are now lost.  No.  Not now.  You are the Commander right now.  He turned to regard the hangar, to give himself a moment.

And saw His Lady.  Battered and torn, but held up in honor by the other Armors.  With their help, she still stood.  "You saved her....  You brought her to safety.  Us.  You brought us.  Thank you.  Where is here?"

"We were not lucky, Sir. We were well led," Sir Dennic replied simply. "And be careful what you wish for, Sir. Sometimes I can't tell the difference myself," he added with a hearty chuckle.

"Ah, we have the very great honor of being aboard King Arthur's personal carrier, the Passelande. It arrived only moments after your Armour was disabled. I would never have thought to be aboard a carrier, let alone one such as this. I am not sure there are words." He turns to a nearby technician, "Excuse me, but how many Armours can this vessel transport? Twelve? Surely you jest. No?" Sir Dennic turns back to Sir Brun, "This vessel can transport a dozen battle-ready Armours. Can you believe it?"

There was a pause, and Gwydion glanced down at his hand closed on the datachip. He felt terrible. But his friend was waiting, one of them at least. And Iliza needed him there. Didn't she? No, it may be best that he see to her people. If he bothered the doctors, he'd just be getting in their way. He looked to Lhad again with a weary smile.

"I prefer 'Sir Gwydion'. I can be a prince when it matters, but today I am a Knight, and there is nothing I would rather be. Some clean clothes would be wonderful, thank you. If you could give Sir Brun my thanks and let him know I'll be with him once I clean up a bit, I would appreciate it. And please do try to find Lady Meara. My cousin is a terror on the battlefield, but she is still human and I worry." What Gwydion really needed was to see what it was Iliza had handed him. He was almost ready to pass out from sheer exhaustion, but there was still too much to do.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:21, Tue 26 Jan 2016.

Brun could not believe it at the moment, looking around in open wonder, "Passelande?  I find myself alive and aboard the famous Passelande?  Let us hope the day continues to so improve...."  Shaking his head to clear the awestrickening, he looked back to the Knights, "What of the others?  Who else has made it?  All the transports did make it through the Gate, yes?"  He barely offered a breath between questions, feeling a sudden desperate need for information.

Torn between staying with Mimi and hurrying after Irina (or anyone else, really) for news of what is happening beyond what she's seen, Meara finally gives up on the idea of choosing and hurries forward, carrying Mimi in her arms, in the direction of Irina.  "Irina!  I-ri-na!  Wait up!" she calls out, running with light steps despite her exhaustion and her carrying of a small, adorable child, "I need to thank you for tuning up Brunhildr's reactor!  Without that edge, she would not have performed so well!"

She does not pay much attention to whom she is running past, which includes just about everyone important in the hangar.  Which means she is also showing off to everyone present that she went through the entire battle with a child in her Armour.

Sir Dennic nods emphatically in simpatico with Sir Brun's awestruck wonder.

"The other tournament knights have all survived, Sir, though some are wounded. They are being treated by the Passelande's physicians as we speak. Unfortunately the Guard of House Gehenmis did not fair near as well. Most were lost in the battle. But their sacrifice was not in vain. Each and every transport made it through the Wyrmgate. I do not know how we did it, Sir, though I am glad that we did."

Meara suddenly runs past with the little girl from the Ball clutched in her arms. Both are alert and neither seems to be wounded.

---

"Yes, Sir Gwydion," Lhad nods to Sir Gwydion and runs off immediately to retrieve the Prince a fresh change of clothes so that he may freshen up. The Lhad disappears around a corridor only for his head to appear again a few seconds later. "Sir Gwydion, I have found the Princess Meara."

---

Irina comes to a stop long enough for Meara to catch up to her. The struggle between her hurry and the lifetime her mother spent drilling manners into her is evident upon her face. She gives Meara a polite curtsy, "You're quite welcome, Princess Meara. I am glad my modification served you well. If you will please excuse me, my sister Iliza has been wounded and I would like to be at her side or at least as close as I can be at the moment."

Suddenly a rapidly moving young man about Irina's age comes flying around their corner and very nearly bowls into Irina and Meara. He averts his eyes and stammers an apology, "Oh, I beg your pardon, ladies. Very sorry. So very sorry. I'll just--"

Irina, still in a hurry, cuts him off, "It's alright, please could you tell me which is the quickest route to the medical bays?"

Lhad finally looks up and seeing the ladies in ripped, torn, and scorched formal wear he averts his eyes once more, "Of course...of course, my lady. Just a brief moment if you please." He hurries back to the corner he had just rounded and shouts down the corridor, ""Sir, I have found the Princess Meara."

With the grace of a dancer, Meara spins with Mimi to evade the oncoming lad Lhad, stopping with elegant poise and positioning.  She nods in reply to Irina to let the other woman know she has every intention of letting Irina go to her sister's side, then looks at Lhad quizzically.

"Yes, you have found me.  Who is looking for me, exactly?"

Mimi's being carried everywhere by a badass warrior princess while still wearing her (mostly) undamaged "princess dress."  She appears content to stay where she is.

For her part, Meara does not seem to care that she is still wearing the only top half of a ball gown with just enough skirt remaining to keep her modest, so long as nobody sneezes.

Tired as he was, Gwydion's search for a shower, terminal, and a bed was quickly put to a stop when Lhad returned so quickly. It was unthinkable he'd have found her just like that, and he stopped himself from rounding the corner. What would he say? What would he do? It didn't matter. He couldn't go out like he was. He needed to change first, absolutely. The thought of his cousin or worse, the Baron, seeing him stained with Iliza's blood made his own face from his face.

"Lhad, Lhad! Please, a room and a change of clothes? I'm covered in a lady's blood, I can't be seen like this." He had no idea where to go, but now that the situation was under control, he was starting to let himself fray a bit. This wasn't the place to completely lose his composure, though.

Brun nodded as he listened to the much summarized casualty report.  But, as he caught sight of Meara rushing past, he lost his concentration, "Meara?"  He glanced to the pair of Knights, "Thank you again...  I...  I...will....  Later."  Eloquence accomplished, Brun moved to chase after his fellow Venusian.

He caught up not long after Meara and Gwydion found each other.  "You both live.  More good news...."  He trailed off as he caught sight of the blood on Gwydion and his mind registered the last of Gwydion's words as he approached, "Oh...  Oh... I'm sorry."

The young retainer looks on with wide eyes as he fumbles for the correct protocol in this instance, "Yes, your High--Sir Gwydion. Right away I'll just um--" Lhad blinks slowly as he looks between all of the Knights, though he quickly averts his eyes when he looks upon Meara and Irina.

Irina simply doesn't have patience at the moment. She grabs Lhad's sleeve, "The medical bay. Please." Lhad nods stiffly, "This way, please. Sir Gwydion, you might try the...um...the King's stateroom on deck two. It's your Uncle's, though he rarely makes use of it."

With that Lhad begins to lead Irina away.

Looking between the two knights as she leaves Irina to seek out her sister, Meara adjusts her hold of Mimi to make it more comfortable for the both of them as she asks, "So... this was my first real battle.  What exactly are we supposed to do now?  The tales and stories never say what to do."  She scrunches her face in concentration, trying to think of what else she wants to say, before finally saying, "It seems we all had a passenger with us at some point.  Sir Brun, thank you for taking care of Lady Irina.  And Sir Gwydion... thank you for going back for Lady Iliza.  Her loss would have been a great blow to everyone's hearts, especially after her efforts to help with the evacuation."

White Gwydion may not be able to see it, Brun's experience with battle and loss on the Edge allows him to pick up on the very subtle hints that all is not well with Meara's heart, despite her brave face.

It was too late. He was seen. Gaunt face, cracked lips, and a tattered dress suit splattered with Irina's blood made Gwydion very self-conscious, especially as Irina passed by, lead away by Lhad.

As the others spoke to him, he tried to find words. It took some doing. After seeing his friends long enough, the prince was able to smile.

"I... I'm so happy to see both of you. And you, miss." He gave a little bow to Mimi. "You're an excellent commander, Brun. Thank you so much for taking on that burden. I know you didn't ask for it, but you were the right one. I managed to get Iliza aboard, but not entirely safely." He tried for a deep breath, but it didn't get far before it became a coughing fit.

"Ugh...Meara, next thing we do is get cleaned up. I can't go around looking like this. Then... I suppose we rest and recover before making any hard plans. That was an ordeal. I'm sure we're all rattled." The prince may not have had the more rough battle experiences to pick up on exactly what was wrong, but he could hear Meara's choice of words and tone. She was being much more formal than usual, very restrained. Something was very very wrong. He was afraid it was the same thing wrong with him, which would be perfectly reasonable, given the circumstances.

At Gwydion's compliment, he merely nodded.  He still did not feel that anything more than luck had seen those who had followed him through the fight.  Upon hearing the less-than-detailed report on Iliza's status, he bowed his head slightly.  He glanced off after the retreating Irina; half-wondering if he should follow.  To help.  But she didn't seem to need it.  Strong heart that one.

Meara was sounding a bit off and the Edge knight looked at her curiously as she spoke.  He caught some idea of what might be going on; having it confirmed by Gwydion.  At which point, Brun was suddenly reminded of his attire....or lack thereof.  The formal pants remained, scuffed and torn, but still there.  His shirt he had taken off when getting into Euryleia's old-style piloting harness.  Now that he was beginning to come down from the battle rush, the aching burn of his laser-scored arm was beginning to tell as well.

Trying to ignore the state of his own undress, he nodded to Gwydion's idea and looked reassuringly to Meara.  He had taken the moment to steady himself, bring back some of his composure as the rush faded away, "Quite so...  A good shower and change of clothes should do us all a world of good.  Then we can start piecing things back together."  He tried more to catch her eye, to make sure she listened, "Our part is done for now.  We can relax a bit.  You did amazingly."  He then looked to Mimi, "Would you like to get cleaned up a bit?  Find something to eat?  Always helps me."

After taking time to get cleaned up and procuring a spare flight suit emblazoned with the Seal of Avaluna, Gwydion attempts to access the strange data chip that he received from Iliza. The chip clearly slows signs of age, but it is still made to fit in a standard terminal. That, however, is a far as he is able to get. Whatever data is on the drive is encrypted and none of the decryption protocols that Gwydion has access to aboard the Passelande will give him access.

Hair still dripping from his shower, Gwydion took a steadying breath before setting to the task of looking over the chip's contents. It was frustrating to come up with nothing but locked data. It seemed so important that he have it. Why would she give that to him if he couldn't open it? Maybe he simply had to. No, he couldn't do that. With a sigh, Gwydion removed the chip and tucked it away into a pocket. She would open it for him herself when she was safe. The doctors would save her, and everything would be alright. He had absolute faith in that. It would only come to cracking codes if the worst should happen, but the worst had already passed, so it wasn't important.

Showered, dressed, and no longer shaking in the terror of his own bloodstained clothing, Sir Gwydion headed out into the Passelande to look for his friends. Hopefully they had recovered as smoothly. In particular, he hoped to see Meara and make sure she was alright.

Meara has been spending the entire time sitting down and trying to come to grips with everything.  Mimi had been passed on to someone else, mostly because Meara doesn't want the little girl to see her break down if she, in fact, does just that.  So while everyone else has either gotten themselves cleaned up or at least done something productive, she's been sitting on a bench and trying not to imagine all the people who died today, while also trying not to blame herself for any of it.

It... has managed to work so far, but not even Freyr has managed to get her to at least change her clothing.  At least she's eaten, though.  Freyr was incredibly insistent upon that.  Meara doesn't even know where the cookies came from, but damn if they didn't help make her feel just a bit better.

Brun, after realizing that Meara just needed time to herself, slipped away to the medical bay.  It was, likely, overwhelmed, but he managed to get the momentary attention of a medical assistant.  After a quick look at his blaster burns, he was handed a medicated, self sealing bandaging and told to take care of it himself.

He opted for a shower first.  The hot water washed away much of the fatigue and stress, giving mind a body a chance to relax again.  He had been in combats on the Edge.  Skirmishes really.  Nothing like this all-or-nothing last stand that he had somehow made it through.  Had helped many others make it through.  The first fight where he truly felt like he had accomplished something good and noble.  It was a good feeling and it helped him get through it.

The bandaging performed exactly as advertised, in both ease of application and effectiveness.  He followed it with a new flightsuit offered by the barracks attendant.  Not a bad fit, but it would be nice to get somewhere where he could get some real clothes.  It would be a very long while before he had anything as nice as that party outfit....  But it would also likely be a very long time before he would need such a thing.  He nabbed a few rationpacks and water bottles on his way out.

Now that he was taken care of, there was someone else that desperately needed seeing to.

He was heading back to the flight deck.  And his Lady.

Nearly a day passes aboard the Passelande as the entirety of the Warhost arrives and the search and recovery efforts continue in an attempt to locate any survivors of the attack on Callisto Station. Unfortunately only three had so far been found alive.

To make matters worse, several of the Jovian Lords, foremost among them Lord Hyle, had transmitted messages to the Warhost demanding it's immediate withdrawal, lest it's presence be considered an act of war against the Jovian Fiefdoms. They had little concern for the search and rescue efforts that were underway. The King had responded personally and as tactfully and diplomatically as he could, that the Warhost was here at the invitation of Baron Gehenmis. It would withdrawal, but only after it was certain that it had done all it could for the survivors of the attack on Callisto station.

The Jovians countered with an ultimatum of twenty-four hours, if only to save face.

Gwydion was reunited with his Uncle once the King had been forced to return to the ship to deal with diplomatic matters. Embarrassingly, the King had lifted the young knight from his feet and hugged him so hard that Gwydion was reminded of opening his cockpit to the vacuum of space. Their reunion was short-lived however as John Arthur was forced to turn his attention to dealing with the Petty Lords for the moment. Behind closed doors, the young prince had overheard the King use several less-than-Kingly turns of phrase in regards to the aforementioned Jovian Lords, but beyond that he gave their blustering and their posturing little worry. He focused his efforts and those of his knights on their relief endeavor and attempting to gather as much information as possible about the attack itself.

One spot of bright news was received from Avaluna notifying the Warhost of the arrival of the limping fleet of Refugee vessels. At this very moment, the refugees were being taken in and offered any and all aid that Avaluna could muster.

Gwydion sat with the Baron and Irina in the tight-quarters of the Medbay next the bed where Iliza lay recovering. She had yet to awaken since she lost consciousness, but the doctors felt that she would make a full recovery given time. The Baron's face was grief-stricken and Irina seemed far away.

Suddenly, Iliza stirred, "Where am I?" It must have come back to her all at once because tears began to stream down her face as she asked, "Our people? Our station? Gwydion?"

---

Despite being separated from Meara when absolutely necessary, the little girl clings to the Venusian Princess every moment that she can while the two await news of the fate of the little girl's parents. Efforts are still underway to determine who was lost and who survived the costly attack on the station.

Freyr stays close in case Meara has need of her. Eventually a communique from Venus reaches the princess. It is from her mother the Duchess. The missive is brief and distant--congratulating Meara on her performance on the field of battle and assurances that she is doing the family line proud.

Meara has little time to dwell on her mother's words. A tray of food slides in front of her.

"I realize it isn't what you're used to, kiddo, but, King or not, your Aunt will have my head if you don't eat something besides Cookies on this ship." John Arthur offers Meara a gentle smile.

Silence settles over them for a long moment before he says, "It doesn't get easier. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it doesn't. It's just as hard every time. Maybe, in some ways, it gets harder. A lot of innocent people have died, are dying, and will continue to die until we put an end to MrGN-A and her ilk. There's nothing fair about it. You can't blame yourself for the people you couldn't save. The only thing you can do it is to keep fighting to save others. Get better, get tougher, survive, so that tomorrow you can save more lives. Maybe a few more the day after that. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but there are still moments to come where you're going to smile, laugh, and enjoy the fact that you're still here. Still alive. In those moments, you're going to see all the faces of the people you couldn't save. Don't forget those faces. You'll need them with you. But don't forget the faces of all the people you did save either. People, who, just like you, can still smile in the face of a universe that's not always as bright as they hoped it would be."

Arthur gives Meara an apologetic smile. It certainly wasn't a rousing speech about honor, glory, and heroism, but she didn't need that. She had seen the true horror of the war they were fighting, and she needed to know that someone else understood. If nothing else, John Arthur felt that he did.

---

"Worry not, Sir," the voice comes from behind Brun as he is crouched and examining a deep score in Euryleia's frame. "I, too, built my armour with my own hands. I understand what that means. Avaluna has the best Forges in the Solar system, though some disagree. You'll have the best at your disposal when restoring Euryleia. You have my word."

A tall knight dressed in a flight suit stands behind the edge knight. Brun almost didn't recognize him. Were it not for the Coat of Arms on his chest he might be mistaken for any other knight in the hangar.

The King offers a hand for Sir Brun to shake, "John Arthur. I am honored to make your acquaintance. I am sorry it is only now that we meet. My nephew speaks your praises loudly. I confess I will be adding my voice to the chorus."

"Thousands of men, women, and children owe you and your brave defenders their lives. Your knights were gallant and skilled to be sure, but they would have failed were it not for you and your brilliant strategy. MerLN was quite impressed with both your tactical and strategic prowess and, I assure you, he's never more than mildly amused when it comes to my own Battle Tactics. I'd like to think I'm not an amateur." John Arthur offers Brun a wry grin.

The King stares Brun in the eye for a long, perhaps uncomfortable, moment as he takes his measure. "I don't waste my time with flattery, sir. I mean what I say in earnest. Your time on the Edge has undoubtedly shown you just how desperate these times are and if it has not, then this brazen attack on Callisto Station has. We need a knight of your make among us, Sir Brun. I would ask that you consider joining my banner and serving as a Knight of Avaluna."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:26, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

Meara is mostly distant and uncharacteristically silent since they landed, only appearing like her original self when Mimi is clinging to her - and those more experienced with people, especially those who have fought in battles, can easily tell she is forcing it most of the time.  When Freyr delivers the message from her mother, Meara sits down and forces herself to write a response updating her mother on the goings on and the politicking.  It is mostly blunt and to the point, as is her usual manner, although it is a bit more delicate when explaining that the Jovian lords are being stupid dicks and posturing when they could be taking an active role in assisting the efforts and getting even more goodwill from the people (and other factions present), and that King Arthur is being his usual self and telling them to sod off so he can save people.

With that sent, she resumes her Mimi and Cookie Therapy off and on until a tray of actual food is thrust in front of her.  Having managed to change back into her pilot-ready clothing (which she prefers to wear whenever she can, both because it looks good on her and because you never know when you might need/be able to jump into an Armour and start flying around), she is thankfully (for the sake of reputation, although several menfolk are disappointed) no longer wearing a mini-ballgown, so she doesn't feel compelled to attempt and pull down the edge of her dress to ensure she's properly covered when she looks up and sees KING ARTHUR sitting next to her.

Most people react to seeing the king by attempting to make themselves more presentable and polite.  Meara's first thought, however, is why is he so cute?!  So, with a slight blush on her cheeks, she accepts the food and listens to his words.  As he speaks, she starts to tear up a bit, but wipes away the forming tears with a sleeve and sniffles as she gives him a thankful smile.  "Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kind and honest words.  I know in my head that war is not the glorious and honorable thing the stories and boasting make it out to be, and that by acting I can save and protect so many people, but my heart still weighs heavily.  I... suppose it always will, won't it?"

She then takes a bite of the food provided and pauses before shoving a huge portion of it into her mouth, with her barely able to chew it properly before gulping it down and gasping for air.

"I did not realize how hungry I was!"