Birth and Re-Death

Chapter 13: Maribelle Notices My Haircut

"So, how old are you, Mindy?"

"...Mindy? Do you mean me?"

"You're the only one here, aren't you?"

"Yes, but my name is Melinda."

"I know. Back where I come from, I knew a girl named Melinda, and she would get called Mindy for short by her friends."

"So you and I are friends?"

"I'd like to think so. Wouldn't you?"

"I suppose I could do worse. Anyway, why do you want to know how old I am?"

"Just curious, I guess. I want to get to know you."

"Hmm, I wonder if that's really it. Could it be that you're in love with me, and you want to find out if I'm a suitable age?"

"What? N-no! No way! I mean, not that you're not– it's just that I–"

"You can relax, Mister Randall. Just a joke."

"Right. Anyway, in the same way that Melinda's friends called her Mindy, I think you should call me Randy. All my friends back home did."

"I don't know if such familiarity during working hours would be deemed appropriate by…"

"Melinda! You're going to have to make these beds again; they're not tidy at all!"

"Speak of the devil. I have to go, Mister Randall."

"Alright, but I'm still going to call you Mindy."

"I suppose it's not in my power to prevent it."

"Melinda!"

"Coming, Mother! By the way, in answer to your question, I'm nineteen years old."

"Nineteen, huh? In case you're wondering, Mindy, that would indeed be a more or less suitable age. I'm twenty-one."

"I'll have to keep that in mind… Randy."

"Did you just–?"

"I'm sorry, Mister Randall, I didn't quite catch that. I'll see you later, then."

...

"Have you been enjoying our visit so far?"

I wake up with a shiver. Ugh.

I roll over to look up at the window; it's still dark outside. Looks like I've still got some time to get more sleep before it's out of the fryer and into the fire.

"Are you there, Naga? It's me, Randy," I ask the ceiling. I manage a small chuckle before rolling back over.

"Aw man, I knew it!"

The bitch really did blast off some of my hair. It's still just barely long enough to gather into a tail, but it's a lot shorter than it was, especially when I have to trim away the dead, necrosis'd ends of my hair. I probe the tiny tail for a moment, eventually deciding to just untie it. It barely reaches the bottom of my neck now, and because of anime physics it doesn't even go straight down, it sorta does this down-and-back thing. Any waviness it once had (never much to begin with, really) is gone now.

Lissa giggles at me as I enter the barracks common area. "Hiya Randy. You look a little, uh, different today."

I scowl at her. "Yeah, well, getting hit repeatedly with dark magic will do that to you."

Donnel chimes in from a nearby chair where he's polishing his bronze lance, "Well hey, it's still not as bad as my hair."

I stride over to him and pluck the pot from his head. "Like anyone would know with this giant-ass pot on your noggin."

He drops his lance and flails briefly to try and get the pot back. "Hey, gimme that back!"

"Don, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret," I say, holding the pot above my head and just barely out of his reach. "Wearing this on your head looks much weirder than your hair does."

"I can't let the fine ladies of Ylisse see my messy mop! Princess, please look away!" Donnel cries, then a moment later realizes he can just give me a whap to the solar plexus to make me lower my arm. My breath seizes as he delivers the blow, and I hunch forward a little, the wind knocked out of me. Kid's got an arm. He swipes the pot from my hand and plops it back onto his head.

After a moment I'm breathing normally again. "Dude, keeping company with high-class ladies is one thing, but no matter who you're hanging around, wearing giant cookware on your head looks much more out of place than your hair, no matter how messy. Besides, lots of girls dig the messy look. Back me up on this, Lissa," I say to the princess, who is currently attempting to hold back laughter at Donnel's expense.

"I mean, he's got a point, Donny," she says. "The pot is a strange choice."

He looks thunderstruck. "Wha– really?" he asks. "But it's the shiniest, most gold-looking pot I could find!"

I shrug. "A pot is a pot, I'm afraid. And pots belong in the kitchen, not the battlefield. Besides, why not get a proper helmet now that you're with the Shepherds?"

"But I already owe Lord Chrom and the others so much! They've given me my lance, and a suit of mail to boot. I can't possibly ask more of them."

Lissa interjects, "Nonsense! Donny, if I had known before the other night that you were still wearing a pot into battle, I'd have dragged you to the armory and strapped a proper helmet on your head myself."

Donnel is stunned. "Huh. I guess I'll have to give that some more thought. Thank you, princess." He reluctantly removes the pot from his head and sets it on a nearby table. His hair really doesn't look bad, to be honest. "Sorry for hitting you, Randall."

I wave a hand. Even if it did actually kinda hurt.

"Anyway Lissa, you got time today?" I ask. "It's about time I try my hand with Rescue staves. I've never used one before, but I want to expand my repertoire."

She looks a little surprised. "Oh, uh, alright. Most of the time we try to conserve those, since they can't really be used much before they lose their magic, so I hope you can learn quickly."

"I'm sure I will," I declare with brazen confidence.

Her face brightens. "Hey, I like the dedication! You've come a long way from the guy moping on the bench that I knew a couple months ago."

"And the best is yet to come, princess."

"So I should explain how these things work," Lissa says as she hands me a staff.

I hold up a hand. "I might know a lot of the basics already, actually. I read about them a lot when I was studying under Maribelle."

"You can understand those stuffy books?" she exclaims, aghast. "But they're so boring!"

"I'm inclined to agree, but I was given no real alternative," I reply, looking off to the side.

"I guess so. Maribelle seems like she'd be a really strict teacher."

I shake my head. "That's also true, but that's not what I mean. I had to learn. I have a role to fill on this team, and when I first arrived in Ylisse I was useless. Plus, the books might have been dry, but it was still interesting to learn about how the mechanics of magic actually work. We don't have that where I came from."

"Huh? There aren't any magical guides in Valm?"

Oh shit, I forgot that's what I told them way back at the beginning. "I mean, not any that I had access to. I didn't exactly get to travel much or expand my horizons beyond that monastery."

"That's pretty weird. I would think a community of priests would keep resources on how to work staves readily available."

"Mostly they were, uh, written in some old language," I lie. "When I say I couldn't access them, I mean they were written in a language I didn't understand."

"Why didn't the monks teach you the language, then?"

"Oh, they tried. You know me though, stubborn as an ox sometimes. I just wasn't willing to learn."

She hesitates for a moment. Did I back myself into a corner with that one? Mercifully, though, she just giggles. "That explains why you didn't know much about the staff you were carrying around when we met you. Speaking of which, did you ever get that staff back?"

"Nope. I imagine it's either still at Maribelle's villa or the Plegians took it. My guess is the latter. I wouldn't be surprised if I never see it again."

"Wait, what? What do you mean?" Lissa asks.

"What? Something wrong?" I ask.

"Well, I guess not, if it doesn't bother you. But I still have the first staff I ever used on display in my bedroom, and I know for a fact Maribelle does too. The first staff a healer ever uses is important!" Lissa almost shouts.

I consider for a moment. That staff did get me in with the Shepherds in the first place, for one thing. It played a part in saving both Robin and Chrom from death early on, and they're arguably the two most important people in the world right now. Maybe more important to me, though, is how I used that staff with Maribelle's help to become an actual asset to the team. Perhaps I didn't appreciate it at the time, but those weeks were key to the growth I've worked for. And now for the first time in a long time, I'm thinking about the staff that started all of that.

"I guess you're right, Lissa," I say. "But what exactly can be done about that now? It's probably in Plegia, firmly in the possession of the enemy. I don't see us getting it back."

"But maybe it's not with them at all! It could still be at Maribelle's, you said so yourself!" she replies.

"Like hell I'm going back there," I snap.

"Huh? What's up with that?" she asks, looking a little irritated with my agitated response.

"Lissa, I don't know if this is obvious or not, but I don't really want to go back there just yet. It wasn't that long ago that Maribelle and I watched our friends get murdered there. Even if it is there, I'm not ready for that."

She backs down a little. "...Oh. I didn't think about that. I'm sorry."

Remembering myself, I put a smile on. "Hey, no worries. Now, can we get started or what?"

Picking up my cue, she smiles too. "Yeah! Okay, so obviously we are gonna start with inanimate objects, just in case you scramble all the parts on the other side or something…"

So basically, the thing to understand about Rescue staves, as far as I can distill it from the dense readings I studied on them, is that they aren't just teleportation staves; they are exchange staves. In other words, you're not just moving something from one place to another, but rather switching two areas of space with each other, contents and all. As much as you might not think about it, air has mass and takes up space, so if you just teleported a person to a spot elsewhere, you'd be putting them in the same space as a person's volume's worth of air. You'd be trying to get two things to exist in the same place at the same time. That doesn't end well.

Some of the textbooks had handy illustrations of what the early development of warping magic looked like. I still have nightmares.

So the key is that you're actually exchanging the air and whatever else is right next to you with whatever you're trying to pull near you. This is what makes Rescue staves so tricky to use; you're basically running two calculations at the same time: moving this over there, and moving that over here. It's easier to move things that aren't already in motion, which is why I'm starting with a training dummy.

A training dummy that's now in several pieces. I mean, the pieces are all right next to me, so that's a start I guess?

"Sooo... it's a good thing we opened with this, then," I deadpan.

"I would say so, yes," Lissa replies. "Let's try that again."

The more that we practice, the more impressed I am that Lissa was able to move three people down a cliffside at the same time and not, like, fuse us together into the Blob or something. Are these really supposed to be E-level staves?

I have now broken two of the Rescue staves we have. I'd actually never experienced a staff breaking before, but it's pretty spectacular. When the staff is spent, the orb atop the staff breaks apart with a loud snap and a flash of light. From that point forward, the staff is little more than a fancy walking stick. The actual staff part can be reused, affixing a new orb where the old one was. I wonder faintly if it might be possible to just carry one staff and multiple orbs and just switch them out on the fly. It may be worth looking into someday.

For today, Lissa's frustration has most of my attention. "Randy, come on! It's like you're barely trying!" she exclaims.

"Hey, I'm trying plenty hard, thank you very much," I retort sourly.

"You know, Rescue staves are really hard to craft. We have to be careful with how much we use them. It would be nice to have another healer who can use them, especially since Maribelle never learned how herself, but it's important to think about conserving these too."

"Wait, Maribelle doesn't know how to use these?" I ask.

"That's the thing you took away from that? Ugh, boys and their fixations…" She does soften a little after a moment, though. "But yeah, she can't use them as far as I'm aware."

"Well then I really do have to learn this stuff! Having a one-up on the Gurren herself is an opportunity I can't pass up!" I'm motivated once again.

"The what? Randy, I only ever understand like half of what you're saying. Is that a Valmese thing?" Lissa asks.

"What? No, it's… I mean yeah, it's kind of an inside joke I had with the monks. Yeah."

"Ooookay," she says slowly. "Anyway, fine, let's get back to it."

After going through a couple more staves, I can finally move a training dummy reliably without any evident injury to the body. However, by this point I've pretty well exhausted myself.

"I have to say, I'm surprised you lasted this long," Lissa says to my prone, panting body on the ground. "When I was learning to use these, I couldn't use them more than around ten times a day or so. I'd say you did at least twice that."

I grunt something in reply, but I don't even bother trying to form words.

"You must really want to impress Maribelle, huh?" she teases.

With my remaining strength, I turn over and sit up. "It's not just about that," I protest. "Can't say it hurts, though. Well, I actually can. I'm hurting a lot."

Lissa reaches down to help me to my feet. "And whose fault is that?"

I grunt gratefully as I steady myself. "Fair point."

"Anyway, let's go back. I'm sure the others will be getting ready for dinner soon." Not fully trusting me on my feet yet, she hangs onto my hand and pulls me back toward the barracks. She really is too nice for her own good.

It's a little distressing, though, having to rely on the others all the time.

I'm having a little trouble getting to sleep, despite how worn out my body is. I stare at the ceiling, daring it to blink first. It doesn't.

We've only had a couple tastes of war, and already I can feel myself becoming a burden to the Shepherds. Both in Plegia and in the palace, Aversa absolutely decimated me with her magic, and I could barely fight back at all. Both times, I've relied on Maribelle, Lissa, and others to keep my ass safe. Meanwhile, I can patch people up, sure, but even then I'm far from the best, or even where I'd imagine the par for a decent healer is.

The only time I've felt truly helpful was with Virion and Robin. If it weren't for my intervention, they'd have died for sure. I know because I already saw them do just that. And with a little preparation beforehand, I was able to concretely do something. Yes, I had Robin's help, as well as Lucina's, but I stood my ground against a promoted unit and came out on top. And then I healed both Robin and Virion, saving them again.

Why does that night feel different to me? I've healed people before, but it didn't feel the same as winning that battle. What happened that made me feel so much more confident after that?

I feel a little sick to my stomach when I realize that it was only when I killed people that I felt like I was contributing something valuable.

Stop. Stop thinking like that. You are a healer. Your job, the thing you're best at, is putting your friends back together when they get hurt. Nothing else comes first. Yes, you're not as good as the others, but you're learning quickly. You're not a burden. You're an investment. Stop thinking you have to kill people to be important.

I tell myself these things, and try my hardest to believe them. I guess it half works. Regardless, I still can't sleep. Maybe going for a walk will put my head on straight.

I reach the bottom of the stairs, and hear voices in the mess hall next to the common area. Oh good, someone to talk to and get me out of my own head for a minute. I draw closer, but pause when I hear what's being said.

"Milady, I must caution you about spending so much time with that man." Despite his attempt to speak quietly, Frederick's voice carries pretty well.

"Frederick, lay off it. He's our ally! He's trying to help us!" Lissa says, not being as careful with her volume.

Do they mean me? I stand outside the doorway and do my best to make no noise at all.

"It may seem that way for the time being, but there is much we do not know about this man," he replies. "Where he comes from, why he came to Ylisse, what his aim was in joining with the Shepherds. Even if we are to believe Robin's claim of amnesia, which on milord's orders I am doing my best to believe, I somehow find Randall's claims even less believable."

"Why? He told us where he was from, didn't he? Anyway, who cares where he came from if he's working with us now?"

"He has no means of verifying his origin story. As for why we should worry about where someone is from, I should think the attempt on Lady Emmeryn's life should make it apparent. Someone inside Ylisse has been directing Plegian invaders toward Ylisstol, even housing them. Joining up with the Shepherds would make for a handy means of accessing the royal palace. It's possible, and dare I say likely, that Randall has infiltrated us with just such an intention."

"I can't believe you would say that! You've seen firsthand how much he's willing to give up for his comrades! He risked his life to help us in Southtown, and then again that night when he healed Chrom and kept him safe. He was taken prisoner by the Plegians, and during that time he did everything he could to help Maribelle. He took a blast of dark magic from Aversa herself to protect Maribelle and Ricken from danger! He even got injured within an inch of his life in the same assassination attempt you want to blame him for! Can't you see that it makes no sense to think he means us harm?"

"Milady, we cannot yet rule out the possibility that this is all an act, a ruse meant to deceive us into trusting him. Spending an entire afternoon alone with such a man is inherently dangerous. I am not suggesting we string Randall up with no proof of wrongdoing, but I am advising you to be careful with him. Is there truly no doubt in you about who this man is or what his intentions are?"

A pause. "I will admit, there are a lot of times where he says things that just don't make sense. A word here or a phrase there that confuses me. But it's nothing major! I trust him."

A longer pause. "I was not initially going to mention this, on the request of milord, but concern for your safety overrides such a request. I may have knowledge that not only Randall, but Robin and Virion as well, may be working with the enemy."

"What? What on earth could make you think that?"

"Only this week, a few days before the attempt on Lady Emmeryn's life, I was on one of my nightly strolls when I saw something most peculiar. Virion was leading Robin and Randall out of the castle grounds, and eventually outside the city at large. To avoid being spotted in the open land outside the walls, I dared not follow farther, but then, some time later, the trio returned, their clothes and weapons freshly bloodied. None of them spoke about this incident to anyone else in the Shepherds, before or after the event."

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly so, milady. So please, understand my renewed suspicion of the three of them. A pair of foreigners and an apparent amnesiac leave town in the middle of the night and return with evidence of violence wrought adorning their persons. I have long distrusted that dandy Virion, but seeing the goings-on that they keep from the rest of us, I cannot help distrusting the other two as well."

"I don't… know what to say…"

"I merely wished to warn you of what I have seen. I do not yet plan to confront the trio about the incident, in case their future actions may lead us to a potential Plegian employer of theirs, but I do intend to keep a much closer eye on them in the aftermath of this grisly assassination affair. For your part, milady, I humbly ask only that you keep your wits about you when dealing with these new members to the fold. Honestly, milord has outdone himself this time, recruited a veteran self-identified thief into our ranks…"

"I guess I'll keep an eye out, if that's all you want from me."

"I thank you, milady. Now, if you will excuse me, I should like to take my leave."

"Of course. Good night, Frederick."

"Good night, milady."

Oh shit, I have to move. WherecanIgowherecanIgowherecan–just move now! I dive behind a nearby couch as quietly as I can, and as I hit the ground I hear Frederick's footsteps as he leaves the mess hall. By the grace of God, he seems not to have heard me over the sound of his own armor, which he is still wearing even at this ungodly hour. Does he always wear that?

Regardless, he heads upstairs, but just to be safe I don't move for a while regardless. I realize I still haven't heard Lissa go anywhere yet. Maybe she's still in the mess hall doing something?

I creep over to the doorway, and chance a glance into the room. She's sitting with her back to me in one of the chairs of the massive dining table that dominates the room.

Should I say something? By now it's been long enough that I can probably pretend I only just came downstairs and never heard a thing. Maybe it would be better not to talk to her. After all, I have no idea what to make of any of it.

Frederick's own distrust is, unfortunately, pretty well-founded based on what he's seen. I can't exactly fault him for being suspicious of us if he saw the aftermath of what we did that night. After all, I really have been lying to them all this time about my origins. Still, how can I set things right? I can't very well tell them about Earth, can I?

Can I?

Not right now, no. For now it's better to dig my heels in. As much as it sucks having to lie, the truth doesn't make much sense either. Especially since I myself don't remember getting from Earth to this world regardless, so even if I tried to tell them it would probably sound more ridiculous than the Valm lie.

No, for now, the only thing to do is just to keep trucking. I decide I will talk to her.

"Hey there," I say, and I can't help but grin as she jumps in surprise.

"Gods, Randy, you scared me!" she whines, slugging me in the shoulder as I sit down next to her.

"Sorry. I was just wondering why you're up at this time of night anyway. I was having trouble sleeping, so I was just gonna walk around outside a little bit, but what's up with you?" I ask, rubbing my shoulder a little. She hits harder than she thinks she does.

"Oh, nothing," she says, looking down at the table. "There's just a lot on my mind lately. I mean, the Plegians came here, to Ylisstol, and tried to kill my big sister. If what people are saying is true, it's only because Marth intervened that we were able to save her at all. When I think about how close we were to real disaster, it just… it keeps me awake, I guess."

"I understand. Or I guess I don't exactly understand, since no one is coming after my family, but I can empathize."

"Did you know your family? Back in Valm, I mean," she asks.

Is this a test? Is she gauging my reaction to look for inconsistencies? I can't remember what exactly I told them back when I first met them…

Well, I have to say something. Maybe the only winning move is not to play. "Do you mind if I don't get into it? It might have been a while ago now, but I'd prefer to keep that under wraps."

She looks a little surprised. "Oh, uh, of course. Sorry Randy, I don't want to bring up bad memories." She does appear genuinely sorry. Maybe I misjudged her motive.

How much can I let slip? What's safe to say in this situation? "Look, I know Frederick didn't exactly trust me when I first joined the Shepherds. Sometimes I think he still doesn't trust me. I don't talk much about my past, and that's pretty much how it's going to stay. But I hope that you can still believe me when I say that I only ever act in the interest of the Shepherds."

"Why do you care so much for the Shepherds, anyway? Why did you join us?" she asks.

"I'll admit, at first it was self-interest. Traveling with a group, any group, is safer than going it alone. But then I made friends, allies. And after what the Plegians did to my friends, after what they did to Maribelle, I have a personal stake in this. You all have saved my life many times over, and now the Shepherds and I have a hell of a common enemy." I can feel my temper getting the better of me. "I might only be a healer, and I can't do much to fight the enemy directly, but I want to see Gangrel and his pals fucking eviscerated for what they've done. They reached the point of no return and just kept going. I want to play a role in taking them down, and taking them apart." I'm almost yelling by now.

I take a deep breath. Lissa can't seem to meet my eye. "I understand. I want to stop them too. We all do. Be careful, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't become the same sort of person that you're fighting against. Chrom is facing something similar. He wants to stand against the hate and violence that Gangrel is pushing onto others, but he's an angry person himself. It's just as hard to keep from turning into something bad as it is to fight it. Maybe even harder. I just don't want you guys to forget that."

"Of course. Don't worry about me. I just got a little fired up, is all."

She smiles a small, genuine smile. "I getcha. Anyway, I think I really am tired now. I'm gonna try to get some sleep. Thanks for talking with me, Randy."

"No problem. Good night, Lissa."

I return to bed, newly plagued with dreams of Frederick watching me at all times. It's kinda freaky. Though I guess not the worst dreams I've had since I got here.

"Alright everyone, we are moving out," Chrom declares suddenly at breakfast. "In the aftermath of the attempt on Exalt Emmeryn's life, we are moving her to the eastern palace. There, she should be safe, as the Plegians should have no knowledge of it, but she won't have to abandon her command to stay out of danger either. Once you're finished here, get to packing as quickly as you can. We would like to be on the road before noon."

Thus, life turns quickly into a flurry of movement. Everyone start packing frantically, except for of course yours truly, because I saw this coming and never really unpacked more than was strictly necessary when we got back. Instead, I sit smugly in the common area, watching with glee as the other Shepherds try to locate all their weapons and armor and other such supplies.

"You know, Randall," Vaike says as he checks under another couch for his trusty axe, "you could lend a hand with some of this. I really can't find the damn thing anywhere."

"I could," I reply, grinning evilly, "but it's quite a bit more fun to just watch you search fruitlessly."

"I'll have to keep that in mind the next time I see some guy with a sword come charging at you to lop your head off." He frowns.

"Implying you would be any help without your axe in the first place."

"Grrr, when I find that axe, it's going straight up your…" he growls, skulking off.

Gaius walks in. I realize I've never actually spoken to the thief myself yet. "Hey, Bear," he says, crossing the room toward me.

I guess that's my nickname? Better than Bubbles or Stumbles, I suppose. "Bear?" I ask.

"Yeah. Partly because you sport a woodsman's beard, and partly because I've heard that you have a habit of beating things to death with that staff of yours. Scary stuff, Bear." He smirks.

I sure hope he's referring to the Risen fight when I backed Chrom up. I don't want word of Virion's assassination adventure getting out yet. "I'll have you know, I usually use it to heal people, not dismantle them."

"Hey," he throws up his hands, "no judgment from me. Anyway, I heard Twinkles wants to see you."

"Twinkles?"

"Oh, right. Maribelle. I was sent to go get her but she says she wants to talk to you."

Wonder what that's about. "Ah, gotcha. Thanks Gaius," I say, standing up to leave.

"How'd you know my name? I never introduced myself." He crosses his arms.

"Well, I'd heard rumors of the thief with the sweet tooth that joined our ranks. And if I had to guess, based on the lollipop that's stuck to your right shoulder, I'd say that's probably you."

"So that's where that went! Thanks, Bear!" he exclaims as he reaches behind him to try and get the candy unstuck from his cape. That's… kinda gross.

I decide to go see what Maribelle wants. I figure she must be in her room, so I head there. I knock and wait for an answer, but after a minute or so I decide to try elsewhere. As I start to walk away, though, the door opens.

"Oh, you're here," Maribelle says.

I turn back around. "Yeah, I am. What's up?"

"Oh, it's… nothing. I suppose I just wanted to see if you would come, is all." She shoots me a sly grin.

"Seriously? A beck and call test? We're trying to get on the road here, Mari."

She scowls at the nickname. "Well, everyone's been talking about how you've been lazing around while everyone else is getting their things together, so I thought you needed something to do."

"Right. Thanks for that."

"Anyway, since you're here, you can help me move some of these things out of here," she says, opening the door in full and revealing a small mountain of bags that need to be loaded up.

"Oh, fuck that noise," I groan, but nonetheless grab a couple bags and start hauling.

"Thank you Randy," she says in a singsong, pseudo-mocking tone.

"Have you ever called me that before?" I ask.

"What? Oh. My apologies," she says, looking down a little.

"No, no, it's good. I prefer it, really," I say, shooting her a genuine smile.

"Well, fine then. If you insist, Randy it is," she says, straightening up and following me out of the room.

It was only as she looked up then that I noticed how splotchy her face is. Has she been crying?

Wonder what that's about.

"By the way, interesting choice of hairdo."

"Look who's talking, Big Daddy's right arm."

"...I don't follow."

A/N: Hello again! Did you miss me? Finals are finally over, so I'm ready for a comparatively peaceful break, which will hopefully mean more content for you guys! Thought I would address a couple more reviews this time.

To derpmister: Thanks very much for that lengthy review! I appreciate hearing what you like, and perhaps even more appreciated was you telling me what you wanted to see more of. As I work on this story, I am constantly searching for the balance between adequately exploring all these character relationships while also getting a move on with the plot. Hearing feedback about which end of that balancing act needs more work is always nice. I also want to thank you in particular for that tip about the suspicion of origin. I hadn't given it too much thought before your review, but as you can no doubt tell, I've got a little subplot in the works thanks to that. So thanks again!

To A-Non-Knee-Moose: Go ahead and pat yourself on the back, friend; that bit with the 500 Miles was absolutely inspired by your review. I had intended to have a little scene there, but after your review I gave it a little overhaul and it felt much better afterward. Your review totally did influence the story, so thanks very much for your continued support and excellent ideas.

And now to everyone still reading: if you're the type to leave a review or comment, I have a specific request this time. I'd like to know what you'd like to see more or less of as the story progresses. Of course, final say on what happens is naturally my call, but as you can tell above, sometimes my story needs a little dash of inspiration from the readers to make a scene really shine. So if you want to see something done a little differently in the future, I'd like to know your thoughts!

Additionally, if anyone is interested in being a sort of beta reader, I'd like to hear from you! So far the closest thing I have is my roommate, who has never played the game and can only do so much in that regard. Thanks!

As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!