Dig a hole
Fireworks exploding in my hands
If I could paint the sky
Would all the stars be shining bloody red?
-Phantogram, "Black Out Days"

In due time they had reached the town.

Of course to the Martians, it was a town. It held all the characteristics and services, the buildings and inhabitants, that were deemed appropriate for such a setting. It had the important things, it even had traders which apparently meant it was something of an exception. Traveling merchants were not unheard of, even to her, but that this town in particular had them just meant it was that much more grandiose. To the Martians, it was dictated a town because there were at least a few permanent buildings, there was somewhere you could get a bite to eat at; that it just so happened to be attached to the same location that you could also get plastered at made it a boon, there was at least two smiths slaving over hot coals and forge fires, there was a training area for the standing guard, and anything else that was significant she didn't catch.

To the Martians it was a town. To her, a Venusian, it was a pretty sad and sorrowful excuse of a village.

But she was also far more used to grand palaces, kept up stone roadways; not the dust filled road they had traveled that already gave the bottom of her cloak and her boots a reddish hue, but also settled across her armor like a second layer, and musicians and people dressed in silks of bright colors and laughter and wine halls. She was used to culture, sophistication.

She wasn't used to this.

Outside of "town" they had paused for a moment. The Priestess had drawn her cloak's hood back up and over her features even further. The two men had adjusted their weapons to indicate they were not expecting, nor be prepared for, a fight. They seemed to transform to something more humble, which was something new for her to consider as though she didn't have enough already on her mind.

Deimos had eventually fallen back to speak to her again a bit outside of town, long enough to pass her a small leather sack that clinked with the telltale signs of currency. At her inquiring look, he explained it was hers; she had killed the men after all. Left to ponder that she waited until they were out of earshot to release a sigh. She hadn't even considered whatever the local currency would be here. Maybe it was wishful thinking that it wouldn't be a factor, that the Priestess would be supportive of any costs incurred. It was a foolish hope but she both could not and did not think of everything. Peering inside she made a quick note of the coins within, finding it somewhat ironic that they came from warlords yet still bore the ugly profile of the Martian King on one side and crossed weaponry on the other.

She tucked the small pouch into one of her own belt pouches, drawing up her own cloak hood after gathering her hair. With everyone bearing dark hair, she was going to stand out. Fuck she was going to stand out anyway; she just had that look to her if you ignored the fact she was beautiful. All she needed was a town full of barbarians fighting over her. It was worth a smirk; it wasn't conceit or her ego talking, it was just the way that it generally worked out after a while. If the Priestess was traveling in relative anonymity, the least she could do was attempt it as well.

That she went into light disguise mode, or rather a blending in mode, was noticed by the other three but they never said anything about it. Before resuming their walk Phobos explained that they would meet at the inn, inside, for a meal and then discuss their plans. Otherwise there was no more discussion, some silent agreement to resume their trip had Phobos leading, followed by the Priestess, then Deimos and finally herself.

At once and as expected she drew eyes but let them slide right past. She hadn't done anything to indicate that if someone wanted to tangle with her, she'd be more than happy to show them just how effective she was with her sheathed falchion. A few of the "townspeople" stopped in their tracks to get a look at her, most saw the armor first and foremost but a few had higher aspirations, noticing her eyes; apparently the rarity here. In shades of brown she noticed from the bandits and the two bodyguards of the Priestess, it was her eyes alone that stood out the most.

But rather than get caught in another wishful, tangent thought regarding the nature of the other's gaze, she watched as they split up to their own respective paths. Deimos went with the Priestess to the building that apparently was the inn, if the weather beaten sign out front bearing a crude bed and a tankard was any indication. Phobos went to the traders, leaving her to decide her fate.

A handful of coins, a stranger in a strange land, and a growling stomach. It was a winning combination if one was ever to exist. To the forge she went, intent to at least have her helmet repaired somewhat. Otherwise it would be a wasted piece of equipment to distract her. Especially in a fight, given how it hung from her pack. Passing a table that held wares crafted her eyes passed over most things, dismissing them until she drew to an instant halt. On the table were two daggers, though their length said they could have been short swords all the same.

Recalling what Deimos had said about the Priestess, it drew her attention to the weapons. She didn't even debate, ignoring the condition her helmet was in to pick one of the sheathed bladed weapons up. Withdrawing the scabbard she classified it instantly as a short sword, meant more for a slash rather than a thrusting pierce. It held a point yes, one that looked sharp by her eye; there was no way her fingers were going to test it to find out as that was foolish.

Fighting with a short sword wasn't that hard, regardless of training. While she was more comfortable with her falchion she knew she could teach and train with the swords. They had a comfortable balance to her trained hand; an untrained one would find it heavy but not awkward. Looking up she found the smith regarding her strangely, either trying to decipher who she was or if she was truly knowledgeable on her weapons. Making up her mind she inquired their price.

It took a few moments to haggle, paying a bit more than what she wanted to given that a Venusian's ability was to flatter and tease the ego to get the better price, and a Martian's was to get to the point. Handing over all but one of the coins of her booty, she left the matter at that. Either she'd have to try her hand at killing more bandits, or hopefully find a reason to not need money.

Swords wrapped in a belt, held in hand, she left the forge to find the tavern. Making her way inside she found it to be mostly empty, the room a fairly decent size; at least fifty by fifty feet if she had to so quickly guess. A few tables in range of the hearth that was currently dead, though holding wood that would be burnt that night. A set of stairs by what she assumed was the barkeep, and a sectioned off area she guessed was the kitchen based purely off the smells.

The Priestess sat at a table not too far from the door. Well enough away from it to duck if someone came in with a crossbow and fired, but not too far that she couldn't slip out of it if the room filled too quickly. Neither man she noticed was in sight, silently thanking the Goddess for that. Striding over to the table she drew out a chair across from her, setting both swords on the table top before her. Watching as the Priestess gave either a dismissive glance and return to her cup of tea she smirked, drawing off her pack and unbuckling her sword belt to hang over the back of the chair in easy reach.

Seeing as how she wasn't going to talk first she broke the ice, keeping her hood however over her face. "This is for you."

"I don't fight."

"Deimos said the same thing, about how you didn't. Despite that they have continually offered to teach you even the basics you've refused. It hasn't anything to do with your religious beliefs, so perhaps you were just waiting for the right … instructor … to come along." She said with a grin, if only for the sake of reaction that it caused. At once a scowl filtered across the Priestess' face before she hid it behind a swallow of tea. Of course she wouldn't rise to the bait presented and say anything regarding it, but her silence spoke the volumes as it were.

The silence stretched the distance between them, until at last the tea cup was set aside. She hadn't budged in her statement, the swords remaining before either on the table. Finally with a huff the Priestess gave in, picking the one up with the belt to stubbornly move aside. "There, happy now?"

"I could make you far happier." It came without conscious realization or desire, an off handed remark but how it so affected the Priestess. Her cheeks flared a lovely shade of crimson before she once more found that damnable control of hers that left her so very serene, if otherwise unapproachable. "But yes, I am. While I'll do everything to defend you from harm, there might come a time you are thankful for that."

A/N: Did I just establish some PGSM cannon? Maybe I did. To many, Mars and Venus possess daggers, just as Jupiter does a spear and Mercury a dadao style sword. The difference of course between a dagger and a short sword is often semantics; it's like what is the difference between a creek and a stream? A dagger ultimately is meant for thrusting, not so much a slashing motion, whereas a short sword is meant more for the slash and not the thrust. Some notable examples aside, such as the Gladius, it is one of the easiest ways to tell the two apart. Some daggers are just as long as short swords, after all. In PGSM, when the weapons are actually called to existence and used, to me they seem to follow more of a slashing motion, not so much a piercing. Therefore to my headcanon, both Mars and Venus possess short swords. And yeah, I just introduced them.

Questions, comments, reviews, thoughts about whatever are all welcomed.