Grima hated the sound of birds. Such incessant chirping caused her ears to ring, and the fell dragon covered her ears in annoyance. It was repulsive. Not only had it taken them an extra day to get back to that border fortress, the trip was filled with those three lesser dragons, begging for more playtime. Of course she obliged, but it was aggravating. In addition, it had taken Grima nearly two hours to find the most isolated room in the fortress – well, one that wasn't a prison cell – a small single bedroom, which she fitted with a mirror, cot, and blanket. It was small, but it was quiet, and she was finally alone.

As if on some karmic-charged cue, she felt a small tug on her sleeve. The big purple eyes of Myrrh peeked over Grima's arm, and she shook a little bit. The fell dragon clicked her tongue.

"Speak, little one," she snapped, "We don't have a decade." Myrrh squeaked and hid away. Grima rolled her eyes. "Hiding behind my sleeve will not protect you from my ire," she said, "I'm not here to strike you, child; just speak. Do you want to play some childish game? Perhaps fly about like imbeciles?" Myrrh shook her head. "Hmm? Then what is it?"

Myrrh pointed to Grima's lap. "I'm sleepy."

Grima didn't say anything, but patted her leg. "Well, go on then." She muttered. Myrrh nodded quickly, and slowly laid herself down. The young manakete yawned and smacked her lips satisfyingly. Her wings stretched for a moment, one of which poked Grima on the cheek. The fell dragon grunted, but didn't say a thing. After a few minutes, she could hear light snoring from the young girl. Grima smiled slightly, but caught herself and huffed in frustration. Annoying children, the lot of them.

Speaking of children, Grima had found herself taking an interest in Lu - the Exalt's daughter. She had to keep reminding herself to refer to her as 'the Exalt's daughter', and it was getting old fast. Whenever she saw her, Grima felt a pang in her heart; she wasn't stupid enough to not understand why. She moved her hand away from Myrrh quickly; apparently she liked to stroke hair when she was lost in thought. Why did I never notice that before? Grima thought, What a perplexing quirk of this vessel.

Another unwanted visitor, the loudest of the manaketes, poked her head into the small room Grima had found. It was a shame, it was such a quiet space. Nowi looked at Grima, then Myrrh, then back to Grima.

"Hey," she whispered, "So … um … Chrom was looking for you." Grima felt something funny in her chest. Again with the damned heart, was there something defective with this vessel? "Did you want me to take over here?" Grima looked at the slumbering Myrrh, and shook her head.

"He can wait," she whispered back, "Can you not tell? I'm busy." Nowi pulled away from the door very slowly, taking extra care to not make as little sound as possible. The door began to creak.

"Sorry!" Nowi whispered. The door creaked even louder, and the manakete winced. Grima gave her an impatient look. "Sorry again!" She slammed the door shut, and Grima heard another, "Sorry!" The fell dragon snarled in frustration, but relaxed when she noticed that Myrrh hadn't woken up. She began stroking her hair again, freezing once more when she realized what she was doing.

"This vessel …" Grima glared at her hand, as if she could reprimand the offender. Instead, she just sat there, looking like a fool with a little girl sleeping on her lap. She stroked the girl's hair once more, and she gave up trying to stop herself. The Robin inside her seemed determined to act somewhat motherly, and it wouldn't be a problem as long as they were alone.

The door creaked open, and Grima saw a familiar face peer in. She sighed - so much for her reputation. Deep sapphire eyes studied her from behind the door. Finally, a whisper could be heard.

"I overheard Nowi talking to father," the voice said, already trying to explain away her rudeness, "Once I knew where you were, I thought I'd check up on you."

Grima slowly lifted the sleeping Myrrh, moving her to the cot. She gave the visitor a dark, menacing glare.

"Let us take a walk." the words came surprisingly easy for Grima, who noted that once again, her vessel's chest seemed to hurt slightly. Her chest.

———————————————————————

The walk and talk seemed to take forever. Well, it was more of a walk, and less of a talk. It wasn't like Grima wasn't trying; she had hardly threatened the child once during this time. It was just that - the girl clearly didn't trust Grima. She supposed the distrust was logical; she had killed a lot of important people in her time, including her father. Though, she had no clue if this child was aware that she was Grima or not. She made no accusations and seemed to say nothing of the matter. In fact, to Grima's annoyance, this brat had said nothing in general. It was just silence.

The two of them reached a small hallway, with open windows facing the training grounds. Chrom was training again, this time facing that idiot with the golden sword. Grima noticed L- that child – looking at Chrom fondly.

Of course she would, dummy, that's her dad.

Grima frowned. The voice had grown louder and more frequent over the last few days. Ever since she rescued that girl.

"Does that fool ever stop training?" Grima asked, ignoring the voice in her head.

"What you call foolish, I call valiant," Lucina shot back, "He's keeping himself sharp."

The fell dragon scoffed at this. "I remember how he used to keep himself sharp; The amount of training dummies he went through …" What was that? Grima thought. She began to laugh quietly, earning a quizzical look from Lucina. "Oh, never mind," she said shortly, "Say your piece, worm." Perhaps she could finally get to the bottom of why this girl wanted to hassle her.

Lucina seemed to hesitate for a moment. "You're Grima, aren't you?" She asked, but it was clear she already knew the answer. She had her hand on her sword, but Grima waved her off.

"Don't even think about taking that blasted thing out," the dragon snarled, "We can't fight each other and you know it."

"B-but," Lucina protested, "You're Grima!" She pointed to that disgusting blade on her waist. "This blade - I swear we ended your evil!"

Grima smiled. Maybe this wasn't the most mature thing, but she felt like needling the girl. "Yes, you did a fine job, as you can see." she replied in a sing-song tone. The little exalt-in-waiting gave her an intense glare. The fell dragon continued. "Never mind all of that. I'm certain you didn't check up on me just to reminisce on better times. Speak your mind."

Lucina paused. "I ..." Another hesitation. Grima growled in response; when was this worm going to just speak up already? "I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" came the reply, "And for what reason does a worm like you thank me?" Grima couldn't help but feel curious. Most of the time, humans would only thank her when she gave them the sweet release of death; so she was naturally interested in what this girl had to say.

"You caught me when I did …" she paused again, trying to hide her embarrassment, "Something really rash and dangerous. The scolding you gave afterwards was also appropriate."

The fell dragon clicked her tongue. "Just an impulse, insect." She glowered, surveying the training grounds again. The fool Exalt was still going, the stubborn mule. She looked back at the Princess. Her long blue hair had the same shimmering quality as his, and her face had the same stoic-but-dopey expression.

That wistful voice echoed in the fell dragon's head again. I adore that expression.

Grima twitched. Her head felt like it was split in two. She hissed in pain, causing Lucina to take a step back. "Are you alright?" Grima heard her ask.

What an idiotic question. "Of course I'm not," the fell dragon replied, "Something is faulty with my vessel." She took a few steps, moving away from Lucina. "We will need to continue … whatever this was … at some other time." Grima stormed off, back into the safety of her room.

———————————————————————

Clarisse wanted to punch someone.

Well, something would be okay, but hitting things didn't really have the same impact. Or arguably the same satisfaction. She hadn't left the infirmary since they set it up, despite the protests of some of the clerics. The sniper just sat there, glaring at everyone who even dared look in her direction. She sniffed the air. A tangy cocktail of blood, alcohol, and metal singed her nostrils. Clarisse didn't care, it was preferable to other smells she had grown up with. But when she looked across the room, her heart sank.

The bed was flanked by two of the clerics - Clarisse never did bother to remember their names – who were checking in on their patient. The sniper wasn't looking at him, though. No, she was looking beyond that. At the woman that sat next to him, eyes equally darkened by sleep deprivation. Clarisse scowled. After a bit of 'extended conversation' with some of the people that had accompanied Kiran, she had learned where his very serious, and suspiciously unique wound came from. And now the likely perpetrator was sitting there, wearing her best friend's robes as if nothing happened. "And she said she cares." the sniper scoffed at that. "What a snake."

"Who's a snake?" came a whisper on her left. A blanket was wrapped around Clarisse's frame. Katarina looked at her apologetically, and handed her a cup of tea. The sniper looked down at the cup. The orange color and pungent smell was unapologetic, filling her senses with dangerous efficiency.

"Chamomille," Clarisse growled, "My favorite." Katarina caught the sarcasm immediately.

"I know it isn't," she replied, "But it'll help keep you calm and collected."

"And here I thought you cared," Clarisse retorted, "Why shouldn't I be mad?"

Katarina gave the archer a very serious look, which unnerved her. It wasn't like Reese to be this forceful. "I do care about you." She stated, as coldly as she could manage. Granted, it was maybe a small chill, but it was still effective. "I-I'm just trying to prevent you from doing something you'll regret."

Clarisse sighed. "I won't, Reese. I'm just …" She clenched a fist, "So damn frustrated." She felt Reese's hand on her shoulder. It was shaking. Clarisse sighed; maybe she was just getting too worked up about this, but … "I made a promise to Kiran," She turned to Reese. "I need to at least tell Ishtar how I feel." She said. Reese squinted, looking through the sniper with intense doubt.

"I'm sure she's just as upset as you." Katarina countered. Clarisse nodded her head.

"I'm sure she is," the archer replied, "But honestly, I'm not sure that I care." She felt the hand on her shoulder clench. The grip was still weak, but there was something behind it now. Clarisse turned to face Katarina. "You're stronger than you used to be."

Katarina bit her lip. "I made a promise to you too," she said, "I don't want to break it again."

Clarisse smiled. "It's a nice sentiment, Reese," she said, "But I'm still way more stubborn than you." With that, she stood up, and walked towards the hospital bed. The clerics had left the tent, whatever reason was frankly unimportant. When Ishtar looked at her, Clarisse felt her eyes narrow. "How's he doing?" she asked.

Ishtar attempted to answer. Her voice was weak and cracked, a tumbleweed in the desert. "Stable," she croaked, "They say he should wake up once Henry's sleeping hex wears out." Damn, I hope I don't sound that bad too.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

The Freigian shook her head. "I could ask you the very same question," she retorted, "Why are you not resting?"

Clarisse frowned. "I might not be flirting with him, but he's still my friend." She reached her hand out. "Kiran won't be happy if you're half-dead when he wakes up." Ishtar didn't take her hand, and didn't even make eye contact. "I would rather escort you to your bedroom than carry you." Clarisse said. Katarina grabbed Clarisse's shoulder instinctively. The sorceress looked up at her, eyes flashing with indignation and guilt.

"Are you threatening me, Clarisse?" Ishtar accentuated the 's' sound. How appropriate for a snake.

Clarisse gave her a dark smile. "It's not a threat, Lady Ishtar; it's a proposition: You'll get some sleep, one way or the other." She reached her hand out again.

"Uh … um …" Katarina decided to speak up, "I – I can look after the summoner for a little bit, just to make sure everything's okay. Clarisse might not be the most tactful -"

"Hey!"

"- But she's right; I doubt he'll be happy to see either of you," she looked pointedly at Clarisse, "looking like you do right now."

Clarisse felt Ishtar lightly take her hand. Alright, Reese, I could kiss you, She thought. She didn't look at the sorceress; what Reese had said earlier echoed in her head, and she knew she had likely messed up. "C'mon," she muttered, "Let's go." The sniper looked at her friend. Reese gave her an encouraging nod, to which Clarisse rolled her eyes and sighed. She leaned over, and kissed the top of Reese's head. The tactician's phase transition from solid to liquid would've given Lute a fit of excitement.

The afternoon sun beat down on the odd pair, causing Clarisse to shield her eyes. "Gods, how long were we in there?"

"Ever since last night." Ishtar replied. Clarisse felt her stumble over herself, and had to move quickly to catch her.

"Whoa there," the sniper called out, "You alright?" The sorceress was surprisingly light, considering how … well, Clarisse could think of three reasons why she should be heavier. The archer heard sobbing coming from Ishtar, and she pulled away a little bit. "Okay, okay. Let's find a place to sit." She helped Ishtar up, and after a few minutes of walking, found a stone bench overlooking a dilapidated garden. Clarisse moved her hands away from the sorceress, clearly uncomfortable with the physical contact. "So …" she began, "Wanna talk about it?"

Ishtar took a shaky breath, and attempted to stop crying. "Oh, stop it," she snapped, "You know wh- why I'm bothered." Clarisse frowned.

"So you did hit him."

Ishtar's chin scrunched up, and she bit her lip. "Yes," she responded, "Kiran was under attack, and I …" she paused briefly, "I tried to help him."

That worked out swimmingly, Clarisse noted to herself, but she used all her willpower to keep that inside. "Did you at least kill the other bastard?" She asked.

Ishtar chuckled at that. "Of course I did," the Friegian answered, "Do you think so little of me?"

"Well, it at least sorta justifies punching a hole in your boyfriend." Clarisse answered, wincing as the words came out. "Okay, that came out really bad," she continued, "I'm just saying that it's positive that you, uh … kill good; he could've died if you weren't."

Ishtar looked gloomy. "You have quite the way with words," she stated with a withering look, "But, I understand what you meant." The sorceress leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. She began to cry again. Clarisse slowly returned her hand to Ishtar's back, and patted it gently.

"It's okay," she said, "It's gonna be okay." The first statement was a lie, but now that Clarisse saw how Ishtar felt, the second statement had more than a little truth to it. They sat there for a moment, in relative silence. "You know," Clarisse finally said, "I was really mad at you for a moment there." She waited for a response, but of course there was none. "I mean, if I had done what you did, I think you would be mad too." Okay, the tears were not stopping. Smooth, Clarisse. "But you know what? I don't think Kiran will blame you at all."

"Really," Ishtar croaked out, "Did you see his wound? I think it is pretty clear who hit him."

"Well, yeah," Clarisse answered, "You'd have to be blind to not know that." Ishtar sniffed in response. Okay, time to stop the waterworks. "But I think he'll forgive you."

"Why would he do that?"

"Well, for one, you're smoking hot." Clarisse smirked as Ishtar hugged herself uncomfortably. Yeah, no wonder Kiran liked her; she was kinda cute too. "All jokes aside, have you noticed how he looks at you?"

"We've only been doing … this," Ishtar waved her hands around dramatically, "for a few weeks, why would he look at a mess like me like you say?"

"The 'smoking hot' thing really helps you out there."

Ishtar groaned. "Please tell me that my body is not the only thing he likes." Clarisse patted the sorceress's back, and smiled. "I'm rather intelligent, and I exhibit proper etiquette befitting a lady of my-" Clarisse yawned very loudly at this. "- What? Do you find me uninteresting?"

"No," the archer replied, "It's just … 'proper etiquette befitting a lady of my stature'? Kiran isn't interested in boring stuff like that!" She turned to Ishtar and gave her a toothy grin. "You know that as well as I do."

Ishtar sighed. "We … had a very long talk," she finally spoke, "I ate a small cake in a rather unladylike fashion." Clarisse sighed; apparently that was not what she had in mind. "We discussed a lot of things; I made him laugh a few times when I made fun of Reinhardt."

"That right there," Clarisse noted, "That's probably the stuff that endeared him to you."

"He admitted as much," Ishtar confessed, "And I didn't know how to answer. And now I'm afraid."

Clarisse patted her back again. She was getting used to that. "Kiran is forgiving to a fault, I think you'll be okay." The sniper looked at Ishtar. "Wait … he said he likes you?"

"After we had that evening together." Ishtar admitted. Clarisse groaned and rubbed her temples. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Seriously?! Are you really worried about if Kiran, the most forgiving and sappy loser on the planet, will not like you anymore?" Clarisse nearly shouted, "When he confessed to you? Are you that self-depreciating that you think he'll hate you?"

"I … did shoot a lightning bolt through his abdomen." Ishtar muttered.

"Yeah, I'm eighty percent sure the weirdo is going to be into that," Clarisse replied, "But, y'know, fair play." She looked around. It was still pretty early to day drink, but hell, how often do you get to drink with your best friend's girlfriend? "Could you use a drink? I could use a drink."

"I have that wine you gave me …"

"Nah, that's for Kiran when he gets better," she answered, "I got some good stuff from Plegia; Tharja gave it to me as repayment for a little favor."

"I dread to know what Tharja had you do." Ishtar commented. She took a deep breath, and moved her ponytail to the side. Clarisse nodded. As angry as she was with the Friegian earlier, she had to admit that Kiran had good taste. "Alright, I'll take the drink." Clarisse pumped her fist in victory.

"Alright, I'll go get Reese and we can have, like, a girl's night or whatever those idiots call it," she answered, "You better bring a friend too!"

Ishtar mulled over it for a second. There was someone she knew who enjoyed a good beverage as much as she did.

———————————————————————

Grima's vessel was becoming very inconvenient. Spurts of - what do you call it? - emotion were becoming more and more frequent. The small, faded mirror in the back of the bedroom seemed to beckon the fell dragon. After minutes of mulling it over, she finally gave in to the urge and peered at herself. Her hair, usually done in twintails, cascaded over her shoulders. Her red eyes cut back at her, twinkling in the low light.

"Stop that." Grima hissed at the mirror. The face in the mirror morphed hideously, revealing puffy eyes, and a running nose.

Actually, it was the same face, just after crying a lot.

"I'm sorry," the new face replied, "I've been really struggling here." Grima sighed. After all this time, this brat decides to pop up now?

"You're supposed to be dead and gone, you parasite," The fell dragon snarled, "You have a lot of gall to impose your emotions onto my-"

"My body that you stole, you… you!" The girl in the mirror screamed at Grima. "You took everything from me!"

"Let's not get overdramatic," Grima scoffed, "It's all well and good that you're fighting back now, but where was this before?" She didn't answer, closing her eyes in shame. "Well, we've been in each other's heads for so long, it's not like I don't know why. It must have hurt loads to see the man you love without a bolt of lightning in his chest."

The girl in the mirror didn't reply, she just banged against it, in a futile attempt to reach her nemesis. "You monster!" She shouted, "I'll end you!"

"You already tried," Grima replied caustically, "Look where it got you. Look where it got me!" Once again, she got no answer; a glare was all that was needed to convey the girl's feelings. "Now I have you bouncing around in my head, making me feel nauseous every single time a foolhardy blue haired idiot with a sword breathes!"

"Well, maybe you deserve that!" came the declaration from the mirror. "That's my husband and my daughter you're speaking ill of!"

Grima punched the mirror, which cracked with an enormous sound. She heard Myrrh awaken with a squeak, and she didn't care. "The loved ones you had are-" the fell dragon began to shout, but she shut herself up. Perhaps this was an opportunity to finally get something from this petulant girl. "... I'm sorry, that was unnecessary," she cooed, "So, you want your husband and children back, and I want to be free of your incessant chatter. Now… maybe both of us can get what we want, if we work together…" she paused, trying to remember something important. "Blast, I can't seem to remember your insignificant name! It's on the tip of my tongue… Roberta? Rosie?" The girl in the mirror gave Grima a curt glare. Of course the fell dragon remembered this worm's name; but it was important to remind her of her lesser stature early and often.

"Robin." She finally answered. Grima clapped her hands together in excitement.

"Of course!" The fell dragon exclaimed, "How could I have forgotten? Robin!"

Robin was nonplussed. "What deal did you have in mind?" Her voice was filled with resignation, which pleased Grima. Even after all this aggravating behavior, it was nice to know that a worm will always be a worm in the end.

"It's rather generous," Grima stated, "We fully merge, and your memories and love for those two remain." Grima felt confident that her hatred of all creatures would keep that little catch at bay. "Our consciences will become one, and we can finally protect all those we hold dear!"

"You don't care for anyone."

Grima gave her reflection a shining smile. "But maybe I will, little wretch! And we can make sure they never get hurt again. Never. Again." Grima held out her hand. "Do we have a deal?" She asked.

Robin thought about it for a moment. By all accounts, Grima figured she would refuse. Give the worm credit, she was stubborn.

"Alright, let's do it."

Grima blinked in confusion. "What?" She asked cautiously. There was no conceivable way she heard that correctly.

"I said let's do it," Robin repeated, "I'm tired of how this is. All I am is a little voice in the back of your head; perhaps I can do more with the option you're giving me."

Grima clapped with glee. She had done it! She had broken this fool, and at such a convenient time too! "Excellent! I'm glad we see eye-to-eye in this matter!" She said eagerly. Grima eyed the tactician in the mirror. "There is one problem…" she began.

"... You never learned how to fix a half-done merge?"

"I never learned because I never needed to learn, insolent-" Grima sighed in frustration, "I assumed that you would know."

"Why would I know something like that?"

Grima threw her arms in the air. "What good are humans for if they aren't learning how to make me more powerful? Honestly, what an idiotic question!" The two stood in silence for a moment, before Grima heard the sound of bedsheets shifting behind her. Myrrh was attempting to get out of bed silently. Her wings fluttered frantically when she noticed Grima staring at her.

"Ah, Miss Grima! I-I'm sorry I disturbed you! I'll just… be going…" Grima towered over the small Manakete. Nervous tears welled in her eyes. The fell dragon placed a hand delicately on Myrrh's shoulder.

"I have an idea, and you can help me, sweet little one."

Myrrh's frown deepened. "That makes me nervous." She replied.

Grima smiled again. "Nothing to be afraid of, dearest. I just you to find someone for me; I'm sure you can do that."

Myrrh shifted her feet awkwardly. "W-who am I looking for?" She asked.

"Her name is… oh, I can't remember. Silver hair, facial tattoos, very good figure…" Grima turned to the mirror, "Aversa? Yes, that sounds right. Aversa…". She turned back to Myrrh. "Her name is Aversa, and I'm sure she'll be willing to help me." Myrrh stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Grima smiled once more. "If you help me, I'll play with you as much as you want."

Myrrh's eyes lit up. "Really? And you'll play with the rest of us too, right?"

The fell dragon nodded. "It's a promise." Whether she intended to keep it was a matter of how she felt at the moment, but Grima didn't feel quite so capricious that very second. Myrrh has more of a skip to her step as she sauntered out of the room, and the fell dragon turned to the mirror. Robin looked increasingly nervous. "What's wrong, worm? Were you thinking you could outsmart me?" Robin didn't answer. Grima chuckled. "Soon, you will be out of my hair, and I can go back to doing what I do."

"What makes you think this Aversa will help you?"

Grima smirked. "If anything is consistent, it's Aversa's undying loyalty to me. Now, what should we talk about before you're fully erased from existence?"

———————————————————————

"Phew! When you're right you're right!" Clarisse shouted into the mostly empty bath. It was just seven of them now: The archer, Reese, Ishtar, that heron girl, Lute, Sanaki, and Aversa. It was quickly devolving into a silent competition between Ishtar, Aversa and herself; each of them drinking slightly more with each shot. "Drinking in here is the best! The goddamned best!"

The other four girls seemed to be enjoying the moment. Lute was scribbling observations with never-before-seen eagerness, while Sanaki and Katarina were busy attempting to teach Leanne more of the common language.

"So…this is drink?" Leanne asked, lifting a small glass with a dark red liquid inside.

"No," Ishtar corrected drunkenly, "That is wine." She lifted her own half empty glass. "This… this is Freigian Honey Mead!" She downed the rest of the glass, ending her chug with a satisfied sigh. "How Anna got some, I have no inkling!"

"Anna?" Clarisse asked, "What did you give her to get that?"

Ishtar shrugged. "Some useless trinkets from back home, mostly jewelry I never wore. I did promise her to test out…" she racked her brain, trying to remember what she agreed to exactly. "It's not of great import, if I'm to be completely honest."

Aversa frowned. Out of everyone here, she seemed to be handling the alcohol the best. "I would be careful," she purred, "The Commander is the type to take more than she promised."

Ishtar poured herself another glass. "Oh, who cares?" she blurted out, "I need another."

"Ishtar … sad?"

"I think the proper terminology is alcoholic." Lute muttered. Leanne shook her head, and moved over to the drunken Ishtar.

"No, she is … sad." Leanne wrapped a wing around Ishtar, separating her from the bottle of mead. She didn't seem to mind, focusing instead on finishing what was in her glass. "Talk… to me?"

Ishtar gulped down the glass. "Oh, why not." She placed the glass down and leaned on Leanne's lap. The princess started rubbing her shoulders and humming softly. "Thank you," Ishtar began, "Yes, I am sad. I feel like I have been perpetually sad ever since my ex-fiancé came back from holiday raving about how "children are the future" and then starting a gigantic death cult." She looked for the bottle of mead, couldn't find it, then continued on. "Of course, once I was here, Kiran made it clear that I was… welcomed? I mean, he was so kind to me from the beginning." Clarisse made a gagging sound, which earned a look from Ishtar. "Right, as I was saying; in classic Lady Ishtar fashion, I have lacked the fortitude to prevent another disaster." She began to sigh heavily. "Where's that mead?"

Clarisse sighed. "I have told you; puncturing Kiran isn't an unforgivable sin to him. It might be to me, but Reese says I'm un, un, in… I'm stubborn."

"Close enough." Katarina piped in. Clarisse blew her a kiss.

"Thanks, yer so schweet."

Ishtar sighed. "Say it however much you wish," she said, "It does not change the fact that this will be the third or fourth person I've ever cared about with life threatening injuries."

"That is not a great percentage." Lute commented. Sanaki slapped her forearm. "What? I'm just stating a simple fact."

"You could show more tact." The Empress hissed.

Lute giggled. "That was as tactful as I could make it, Sanaki!"

Ishtar didn't seem bothered. She was too focused on her empty glass. She started humming a song. One of the ones that Anna had 'borrowed' from Kiran.

"Bow girl, who is 'Kiran'?" She overheard Leanne ask.

"Orb Boy." Came the short answer. Ishtar nearly snorted out of surprise. Orb Boy? I had nearly forgotten.

Leanne flapped her wings excitedly. "Ohhhh! Orb Boy!" Words from a foreign language came spilling out, only accentuated by 'Orb Boy'. Ishtar began to laugh. The utter ridiculousness of the situation hit home, and she began to cry again.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and saw long silvery hair that wasn't hers. Aversa was now sitting next to her, looking much more kindly than Ishtar remembered.

"There, there," she said, "You're not the only one who has made horrible choices. And it seems like you have quite a few people who have already accepted you, present company included."

"Hey!" Clarisse interjected, "Don't speak for me!" She paused for a moment, before returning to her drink. "But yeah, yer alright."

"What I'm saying," Aversa continued, "Is you can always talk to us when you feel… a tidbit weak. Or if you want to drink, which I'm always willing to indulge."

Ishtar wiped away her tears. "Thank you," she replied, "I've just… grown weary of crying."

"Then you should probably cease all crying," Lute replied, "If Kiran is conscious, you should confirm how he feels about the whole situation as soon as possible."

"Lute, that's…" Sanaki thought it over, "... actually sound advice."

Lute bristled with pride, "I have an encyclopedic knowledge of all things involved with personal connections." She commented. Sanaki patted Lute's head affectionately.

A loud crash echoed through the bath as a towel rack fell over, pushed aside by draconic wings. Myrrh stood before the seven women, looking absolutely terrified.

"I'm um, um, um, I'm here to…". She shrieked back as Ishtar stepped out of the bath and approached. She knelt in front of the small manakete.

"Take your time," she said warmly, "What are you here to do?"

"I need to grab A-Aversa, is she here?"

Aversa moved her long silvery hair from her face. "Yes? Whatever is the matter?"

"Grima wants to ask you something." Myrrh replied. Aversa frowned.

"Oh joy," she groaned, "I wondered when this would happen."

"Old friend?" Leanne asked.

"Acquaintance."

"Ack… wane dance?" Leanne repeated.

"It's a person you know too well to call a stranger, but dislike too much to call a friend." Lute explained.

Aversa got up from the bath and wrapped a robe around her frame. "That is the basic explanation, yes." She approached Myrrh, who shrinked away from her. "I'm not going to eat you, little one," Aversa cooed, "Why don't you lead me to Grima?"

There was a minute of silence as the two left. Katarina looked around and spoke up. "Does anybody else feel worried about letting those two go by themselves?"

"Absolutely."

"Mhm."

Ishtar nodded. Perhaps this was a way to return the favor. Then she could clear things up with Kiran.

A robe hit her face. "Hey, Sobs McSidetail," she heard Clarisse call out, "You coming or not?"

Hey, it was a start.

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Whew! This has been a chapter in revision for awhile! The past three weeks have been travel heavy, and things slowed to a crawl! Unfortunately, I'm at Cape Canavral right now, so I won't get to everyone's questions this chapter. Good news is that I'm not traveling much or doing other life stuff for awhile, so I'm hoping to get to a more frequent schedule.

As always, thank you so much for reading, reviewing, commenting, etccccc. It's always super encouraging to get words of wisdom or just words in general about this story! You guys... are the real MVPs!