There was a dead-tone silence-- even the sound of the river was drowned out by the deafening drumming of the thugs' heartbeats as Snarg 'barked' back at them, dogs that they all were. Everyone seemed to freeze in place; even the loudest of them, fueled by the sweltering heat and prior evening's humiliations shut up for a moment's time. Eventually, however, everyone seemed to find their voices again... and unfortunately, that included the mouthy man. "...SPECIFIC!?" Rang out his loud voice, as he now trembled with adrenaline-- his body walking the fine line between 'fight' and 'flight'. "You want fucking specific!? I'll give you fucking specific!" He practically roared, kicking his foot off of the resting beast of a man, before drawing his--

"Enough. Put that toy away."

The desert thug paused-- the curved blade at his waist half-unsheathed. The voice wasn't Snarg's, nor did it belong to any of the other bandits-- twas Kiri's, who, feeling well-enough rested, finally decided to speak up. One of the men, the one closest to her, tensed a little as she slowly began to stand, the river water draining from her legs and thighs as she did so. Close as he was, the thug nearest Kiri took a proper look at her in the process; His eyes naturally drawn toward the curves of her body, tightly compacted by bandaging and little else. He glanced over the blackened metal gorget and tassets on her person-- odd choices of rainment given that she was practically in the nude else-wise, before grinning to himself a little. She had a little fight in her, it seemed! He liked that. Too bad for her that she didn't think to pick up that sword before she stood, he thought to himself before reaching out to grab her by the face with his right hand.

"Hey, hey-- easy there, lil' lady. Wouldn't want you to--"

His hand didn't even make it to her face. Hell, it didn't even make it near to her face. The few fingers that were closest— the three fingers of his right hand— plopped to the shallow river below like little pebbles, staining the waters with thin streams of red. The poor guy didn't even see it happen; Perhaps no one did. The moment his mind caught up to the scalding, throbbing pain in his hand however, he let out a sharp, horrified scream of pain.

"That was three fingers." 

The man stumbled backwards into the river proper— fear flooding his mind and blood spurting from the lumps where his fingers had been. He hadn't seen her move. Her goddamned sword was still on the ground! What the hell just happened!? "In my era, you'd have lost the entire arm— but as you are but a dog, a light scolding will suffice. This one time."

The woman nearest to the camels paled. The calmer of the three men's eyes shifted from his brash companion to the still-seated Snarg, and then to Kiri, who only now knelt down to collect her blade. It was an odd thing; The truth of it was hard to say, but the fallen bandit could've sworn that moment her hands touched the sword's hilt, the very air around them all seemed to still... and grow colder. Magic? Or madness?

"...Wha," Began the 'brash' bandit, eyes wild as they darted between Kiri and Snarg now. "What... what the fuck did you—"

"You are all dogs; Every last one. Dogs riding camels. Dogs barking at resting dogs. Theiving dogs. You are like children... Making noise, biting at one another, stumbling about without reason. Without order. I grow tired of it— and so I will put an end to it." Her tone couldn't have held more disdain if it were a top athlete in a Thanati Weightlifting Competition. Her gaze passed tastelessly over the five dogs in her presence, before landing on the most 'clean' of them... physically. And only because she'd thrown said 'clean dog' into the river earlier. "Speak. What petty theft does this hyena speak of? Do you even know?" She probed, her tone relatively even— if you could call her general RBE (Resting Bitch Existence) 'even'.

Shuffling in the distance alerted the three men to the fact that while Kiri spoke, the woman with them— the apparent 'smartest' of them— made good her escape from the entire situation, having mounted her camel haphazardly as quickly as she could and rushed off in the opposite direction without so much as a word to her comrades. "P-Parkha!!" The bleeding man screamed after her, half enraged at the apparent betrayal, half fearful that she was leaving them to their deaths at the hands of the two warriors. Kiri spared but a single glance toward the escaping bandit before frowning— her mood souring at the sight.

"Feckless mutt."

His eyes snapped up as he drew his legs back into himself thinking he had been in the way. It was only as he caught the moving hands that he realized what Fletcher was doing and a fluttering warmth spread through his chest. Even in public, even in a low moment, Fletcher was there providing comfort. Theo wanted nothing more than to press his knee back into Fletcher's and obtain more grounding contact. But he knew better with the presence of his parents and his lover's own resistance to touch currently.

The carriage had barely come to a stop at their destination though before Theo was practically throwing himself out of it. He earned much admonishment he couldn't hear from his parents for not letting Fletcher go first but his focus was more on leaning against the side of the carriage and catching his breath.

"I can't do this," he whispered under his breath while running a hand down his face. "I want to go home."

Hearing the tartness in her voice was enough to make him realize how disrespectful he was being. No ruler would abide such a pessimistic outlook about their nation. 

"Please forgive me. I meant not to imply that Essyrn's greatness is exclusively a thing of the past. I may fear what the future may bring, but Fate does have a tendency to defy expectations. And perhaps Hakeshna is merely testing us and the trials that are to come will only serve to strengthen our great land."

There was a pregnant, uncomfortable pause-- none of the proposed answers had been answered. All three of the people in the room stood, or sat, in silence as the dynamic between them was shattered, and slwoly began to reform. Linda moved first-- still somewhat in disbelief, she reached forward with her right hand-- slowly, uncertainly-- until she touched the goblin girl's cheek. The look on her face was incredulous-- as if Linda was trying to figure out what exactly was standing in front of her.

"...Lin...? It's... It's me, Linda-- Do you... do you not remember me?"

Beneath her question was a rather obvious undertone of hurt. The lost little goblin could hear it, just as well as Linda could hear it herself-- but could anyone blame her? In that silence, she came to terms with a horrifying realization-- one far scarier than watching Goblinda return from an adventure, battered and covered in blood. At least those wounds recovered with time-- But her mind? 'Goblinda' stared back at Linda with a perplexed, concerned expression-- a fitting reaction to Linda's own fearful gaze.

"I... Should I remember you?"

You could practically hear the sound of Linda's heart shattering like glass at Goblinda's words. The goblin looked down at her hands, as if seeing them for the first time while her companion stared blankly at her, unsure of what more to say or do in the situation. Internally, she could've broken down in tears on the spot. The unfamiliar gaze of her best friend was like a cold knife to the chest-- severing the relationship they'd built over half a decade. Despite that, she simply took a deep breath and sighed; Managing to maintain her composure in the face of the situation before her. This wasn't the time for her to be weak; She needed to remain strong, for Goblinda's sake.

"It's okay-- I'm sure you must be very confused right now. I'm sorry if I startled you."

Morthil's voice alerted both to his presence, breaking the somewhat uneasy air between them. Linda had moved to speak, but was interrupted by a much faster, much louder goblin-- who rushed forth and, like an eagle striking down upon it's prey, performed a tactical swoop-and-glomp upon the orange cat before anyone could think to tell her otherwise. "KITTY!" She proclaimed, scooping the cat up into her strong arms, once again locking it's freedom away behind a prison of goblin muscle and childish exuberance. Linda was momentarily stunned at the sight, up until the goblin girl turned back to the sitting woman and showed her the cat-- as if she hadn't already been aware of him. "Look, a talking kitty! Is this your kitty?" She asked, wielding the cat with outstretched arms and an iron grip.

Linda's surprised eventually faded into a sad, yet somewhat relieved smile at the girl's antics. "He's not mine, no. But do be careful with him, if you wouldn't mind? He seems to have hurt his front paw." She explained with a little chuckle. At least deep down, memories or not, Goblinda was still her pure-hearted, childlike self.

At first he didn't notice Theo's rising panic. In fact, he'd been trying very hard not to look at the man at all for fear that at this close proximity, he'd slip and show how he felt, and that even if the Baroness didn't, the Baron would surely catch that glance between them. When he finally did catch his love's fist clenching and unclenching out of the corner of his eye, he wondered: was it happening to him, too? The memories of that night playing over and over?

Fletch made a show of clearing his throat and shifting, bumping momentarily into Theo's knee. He dropped his hands between his legs so that the motions were slightly less apparent to the man's parents. As slowly and carefully as he could, he signed, not what he wanted to sign — that he was there, that he loved Theo, that they'd get through this together — but enough to tell him as much. "Not alone. Safe."

Snarg didn't move as the group approached. From the outside if might seem like he was dumb and oblivious to their ire, but, in actuality, he just didn't really care about the group. They clearly didn't know who he was or what he was capable of or they might have decided against trying to strong-arm him. He didn't know what he'd ended up doing with Siege and maybe part of him should be worried about that lapse in memory, but mostly he just felt awful and was annoyed. Annoyed at himself for not just sitting there and glaring at the giant armor, annoyed that he had let himself get so far, annoyed at waking up to this mess.

Then the boot pressed against his back and he groaned. Not the kind of groan that one might expect from someone working through the worst hangover ever, but the exasperated groan of someone who knew what was coming and wasn't happy about it. And they wouldn't be happy about it either.

Since it probably would end up with them dead.

"You're gonna have to be more specific." He growled, still unmoving on the riverbank. He hadn't even turned to look at them or made any indication he felt anything about their presence.

He didn't want to fight them, but if they were stupid enough to make him defend himself, they'd be ripped asunder faster than their little minds could comprehend. Snarg was a giant of a man both in height and muscle and his current attire did nothing to hide the fact from any of them. His shirt had been lost at some point and showed numerous scars along his arms and back that were intertwined with black ink that stretched up the back of his neck and dispersed amongst shaved hair on the sides of his head. He was still soaking wet, but the sun had already dried his skin and his loose linen pants would dry quick enough. The only thing that really pointed to him having just come out of the river were the drops of water that trailed down his back from the braids tied to the top of his head.

"And you should re-think touching me." He added.

Lanai followed along without making too much noise- aside from some awkward shuffling around to get all of her wings through the doorway, that is. She held her arms out at Simonea's request, taking note of the other girl's nervous energy and doing her best to return her smile. And then, all of a sudden...

Oh dear. She was crying. Or at least... she assumed this was how people felt when they cried, but she couldn't recall ever having experienced it herself. It was... a bit scary. Uncomfortable. But it also felt kind of... good, in a way? Like every tear took a little bit of the tension and stress away with it. Honestly, she wasn't really sure how she felt about it overall, but she couldn't go falling to pieces now when Simonea was clearly struggling to hold it together herself.

"Oh. Ahaha! This is... I'm sorry. I'm really not used to this."

She started to wipe away at the tears, but for whatever reason, she couldn't get them to stop coming. Gods, was it really this hard to do? She couldn't imagine feeling this vulnerable on a regular basis.

"I'm fine! I'm fine. Promise. Just a little overwhelmed, I suppose."

Why did it still sting? She wanted to scream at him for his insolence. Who would dare tell the Shah to their face at the lack of power and awe their own nation ought to boast?

She felt the words simmer inside her, and needed another moment to swallow down her anger.

But... it... were... this true... what did it mean of her and her seat? Her power? Perhaps.. perhaps she had met this poor cursed man for a purpose. Surely Hakeshna would not save her just to throw her away on a weakening dynasty...


Weakening... from what the man said.. the country was well beyond that. She studied Ghaej, keeping herself humbled over the fact this man- thiugh ugly as he might look- had saved her life- and now.. was being honest with her over secrets many could not know.


So.. she swallowed her pride, though it proved difficult- the simple act making her feel sick. 

"You.. make it sound like our fate is sealed," she said, voice low- and it was hard to hide her tartness.

"Twice?" He bemoaned looking especially pained. "Your poor ears." Theo resisted just barely the urge to brush up against Fletcher as he passed the man. He just so much desired being close to the man and even that would bring him a drop of sustenance for the hunger within him. But he behaved and walked ahead with neither touch nor teasing.

Piling into the carriage gave him his own pause as it brought back its own memories. He had not been in one since that unfortunate night as Edwina had always been the one to visit him rather than him visit her. For a moment he attempted to back pedal only for his father to give a sharp look. Theo hung his head and entered to sit beside his mother in her excessively sparkly and puffy dress. He clenched and unclenched his fists while tamping down the bile in his throat. Over and over he counted to ten in every language he knew as the carriage bounced along, his breath shallow, sharp, staccato and almost harsh in its exit and entry.

How was he meant to survive this outing when he couldn't even get through a carriage ride without having a panic attack?

An echo of the day of the debutante ball jolted him to attention. This time, though, his gaze was returned, and with no one there but the two of them, Theo could see exactly how enamored Fletcher really was. He looked the nobleman up and down slowly and appreciatively before clearing his throat and forcing himself stoic again. "That's not the word I'd use," he managed. "What. Me? With the — " He waved a hand dismissively at his own face. "Can you imagine? My luck, I'd look like I belonged in a bloody circus. Anyways, come on. Your mum's shrieked up the stairs twice now. Let's just get it all over with."

Fletch gestured for Theo to go ahead of him, then followed behind the man. With every step, he sank further into that fateful day: Theo's engagement, the attack, Ash's death. There was a pit in his gut at the thought of reliving parts of it. He'd be in the carriage with the three of them, the whole time focusing on keeping his cards to his chest. Theo and Edwina would play the same stupid game. His only consolation now was that neither of them meant it. Well, that and the fact that every time he met the Baron's eye, a triumphant thought bubbled up to the surface:

I'm sleeping with your son, and you don't even know it. How's that for homosexuals and deviants?