Learning the steps

[Faith Augustin]

121st Vhalar, 716
Mid-evening

Following these events

The last moments of heat had left that trial and she had thought, earlier in the afternoon, that they might have snow tonight. Standing in the street, Faith felt the snowflakes landing on her and she looked at them in apparent amazement at their presence. Light flurries, melting as soon as it hit and unlikely to stick anywhere was what was happening, but the simple, usual rhythmn of that, the utterly predictable nature of the weather and its patterns were too much for the young woman. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breaths came in small, desperate, gulps. Like even the task of taking in air was new to her, too much for her. It felt like it was, in truth.

She had stepped outside and closed the door carefully and then she had turned and walked, swiftly. She did so without purpose or any destination in her mind other than away. She had to get away because, if she did not, then she would waiver and run back in to him. But she had to leave, it was her duty.

Duty.

That word calmed her. Famula, her blessed Famula would guide and protect her and Faith had to serve, to serve Her as well as she could and this panic was unacceptable. It would achieve nothing and it would not allow her to do what she needed to do. So, the young woman breathed in, the cold of the night air almost burning her nose as she inhaled an enormous breath and then released it slowly through her mouth. Alright. She just had to think, think what to do. He had told her that she could stay, but she had insisted. He had told her that he would give her money, but she told him that he did not need to, she had somewhere to go. Which she did, she knew. She had a number of places where she would be welcome, without question and as her mind cleared, she knew that she had to get indoors somewhere.

She was lucky, she knew that ~ she had friends that she could go to but there were two of them specifically who had told her that she was always welcome in their home; Lady Elyna and Padraig. Come to that, Faith realised, she did not actually know where either Nir'wei or Aeon lived. She could guess, on both counts, because of their jobs but it was late and dark and that made her options limited. Lady Elyna and Lord Krome lived outside of town and had a small baby. Also, Lady Elyna was Tristan's friend too and Faith had no wish to put her in a situation where she felt uncomfortable, although she could image Lady Elyna's reaction to that immediately and with a smile. Padraig's house was closer and he had been quite insistent that she had somewhere to go should she need it and, if she was honest, the thought of seeing him right now calmed her in a way that nothing else did. He would be calm, he would be logical and he was safe, she knew. She looked around with the intention of getting her bearings and she started to move to the place that she realised she was always going to go as soon as he had freed her. She hurried, because it was never entirely safe to be out alone, especially in the dark. The brands gave her an element of protection. but not much; they were as likely to label her victim as off limits, even when one of them was the Venora rose.

The sound of her feet tapping against the paving stones echoed the rhythmn of her walk; not a run but far from slow or even casual. Panic continued to build in her as she thought about what her decision had cost her, what it meant now. There were so many things which she simply did not understand, did not know and she was not sure that she was strong enough or brave enough to do this. Rounding the corner which she had rounded so many times before, Faith skidded to a halt and watched the snow falling, disappearing on the ground in front of her. She was shivering, maybe with cold, but she did not really notice it and she prayed once more to Famula that She might forgive Her humble servant for her weakness. Because she felt weak. She felt cold and weak and alone and she recognised, standing there, that she felt like she could not do this alone but that the next thing that she did meant that she would not be alone, she had somewhere to go.

Why had she known, immediately and instinctively that she would come here? No, she couldn't think about, things were falling in around her and she could not fit any more in her head. Stepping to the door, she tapped with gentle motions against it, as she had done so often before. It took a few moments and she had, in fact, started to consider whether she should tap again or go away, when the door opened. Standing at his doorstep was Faith, shivering with cold in an entirely fashionable and utterly impractical dress with a pair of mid-height shoes. Her hair had been in curls but now had come undone and was half-pinned half-loose about her shoulders. She carried no bags with her, had no belongings but her eyes were as wide as if she had seen a ghost and when she spoke even her voice shook.

"I haven't got anywhere else to go and you said that I could... I haven't run away but he.. he", the next words stuck in her throat and she gave a loud gulp, as though swallowing her panic. Breathing in, she tried to calm down and then spoke again "Can I stay here, please?"

[Padraig]

All of the hearths up and down the street, nestled in small houses, were lit up and busy this trial, pumping clouds of smoke into the early evening air. Those neighbors, like Padraig, had sensed the subtle change in the air that foretold of snow and a cold night to come. The light outdoors had been gray most of the trial, and it was fading fast. He'd had class at the university that morning, but no tutoring sessions once he'd arrived home. So he'd made sure to drop by the market for supplies, and split some wood in the yard, to haul inside for the fire. It was dusk, somewhere between the stages of twilight and nightfall. But compared to the rest of the trial, it was only a darker shade of gray. And the air was damp.

Indoors, the fire was lit, a kettle was on, and an evening meal was in the works. It wasn't much, but then Padraig wasn't much of a cook. A warm loaf of bread, and some sausages, onion and potato he'd cut up and thrown in a pan on the stove. It was a small house, which meant that its occupant didn't need to go far in order to see to any given task. So he was seated at the table by the window, with a lamp casting a warm glow over a scattering of books and papers there. Engrossed in his research, he'd as good as forgotten the meal, but it would mostly tend to itself.

The rapping on the door caught his attention though, and when he looked towards the door he frowned. His neighbors mostly kept to themselves, and he wasn't expecting anyone. So in spite of his curiosity, he took his time finishing up a thought in his notebook before getting up to unbar the door and look outside. "Faith?" He'd never have predicted it to be her on his doorstep, and he'd never seen her more disheveled, save for the time they'd been stranded in the forest together. It struck him, in spite of the familiar, impractical style of dress and more impractical shoes, oddly she appeared more out of sorts in them than ever before. But then maybe it wasn't the clothes at all. She seemed a picture of vulnerability, maybe fright.

The explanation made no sense, but the question didn't need to be asked. "Come inside," he said, opening the door wider and stepping aside. "It's freezing out there. Have you got no coat?" he asked, coaxing her towards the fire, and he'd pull a chair close to it for her to sit in. It wasn't enough, the beginning flurries of snow would have melted on her skin, her hair, her clothing, and chilled her more. So he grabbed a blanket that was folded at the foot of his bed, and a pair of clean socks from a drawer nearby. He wrapped the blanket round her shoulders, and handed her the socks. "Get those absurd shoes off and get your feet warm," he told her, and then tried to recall what she'd said.

No. It still didn't make any sense. She didn't run away, but had nowhere else to go? He'd never have anticipated, no matter her lack of contentment with her situation, that she'd run away. Unless...? Well she said she hadn't, but Padraig had to ask anyway. "Tell me what's happened. Has he hurt you?" Even as he asked, it surprised him how much the possibility angered him. Much more than he'd ever have anticipated it might. But if he had?

Even was the law to allow the mistreatment of slaves by their masters, the young man's own impulses caught him unaware. Sure, he couldn't go and outright pummel the man. The law would know who did it. But there were options. His was a mind attuned to science, a physicist. And physics were a wonderful thing. There were useful principles like gravity, inertia, momentum, downhill gradients and runaway carriages. Unlike him, but he didn't question where those impulses came from, just then. Accidents could be made to happen.

[Faith Augustin]

As she caught sight of him, Faith's composure, such as it was, nearly crumbled. She let out a strange, gulping noise as he asked her if she had a coat and then tried to answer again, regarding the whereabouts of said item of clothing. It was something logical, sensible and clear that she could focus on and so she over-explained as she stepped indoors. It was familiar in here, familiar and safe and she looked at Padraig with an expression of total non-comprehension. "I left it behind. I had to. I have one, though, yes. You've seen it. It's nice and very warm", she explained, like that did explain.

He guided her to a chair and she simply went with it, not quite sure what else she was supposed to do now and she sat where he led her to. She sat, staring into the fire and not even really blinking, certainly not noticing that he left until, upon his return, when he wrapped the blanket around her she gasped in surprise and turned her face to him as though only now realising her was there. "Thank you", she responded, pulling the blanket around her and looking at the socks as though they were some sort of strange device, or completely new thing. Breathing in, she nodded her head and lowered her hands to remove her shoes with care. She was always careful, which often led to her doing things more slowly, but at the moment she was moving at about half her usual speed, if not less.

When he asked her, though, if Tristan had hurt her, Faith's head lifted, even as her hands stopped pulling on the socks and she looked at him with genuine surprise. "No! Oh, no, he would never hurt me.", she said, her eyes, expression and everything about her showing the simple truth of what she spoke. She pulled the sock on, then sat back in the chair, pulling the blanket around her as the cold really started to set in to her realisation; she had been cold up until now but it was only upon relaxing even a little that she actually felt it. But it was important that Padraig did not think badly of Tristan, that was the last thing she wanted and she shook her head, fervently "Since the trial he bought me he has not once raised his hands to me, not once. He's never punished me for getting things wrong, and I have, I really have. I threw a brush-head at his brother and then attacked him with the handle. I was winning too, until the guards came." She was babbling, she knew it, but then she also didn't quite seem able to stop "And when his other brother, who looks exactly like him, came to the house and pretended to be him, I realised he wasn't him and hit him over the head with the hilt of a dagger. I thought his boyfriend had drugged Mas..Mast... Tristan. So, I threatened to pin him, the boyfriend, to the wall by his entrails. He was on the ship, the man with the small annoying dog?" It didn't matter, she knew it didn't matter and yet she spoke it. "He is.. selfish, sometimes, and he is thoughtless, but he cares about me. I know it's hard to see that from your perspective, but I have never known a man so kind as an owner", why was it important to her that he understood, she wondered. It didn't make sense but she needed him to know, to understand.

She lapsed into silence then, just for a short while, watching the fire crackle and pop. Then, she turned back to him and breathed in a great gulp, as though preparing for the words. "His cousin sent him a letter and told him that he thought that I should be free. He.. that is, Tristan asked me if that was what I wanted and I said yes", she couldn't quite help the fact that, whilst one hand remained clutching the blanket around her, the other reached out and took ahold of Padraig's, clinging on to him as she finished the tale. "So, he freed me. He offered me money, and told me I could keep the things he has bought for me, but he asked me if I only shared his bed because I had to and he was so hurt, mister Padraig, he was so hurt by me wanting to leave. He told me that he cared for me and asked if it had all been a lie and I couldn't tell him that I wanted to, because I didn't. I was terrified at first, nearly as afraid as when I was waiting for the brand, I'd never done anything like that, which he knew when he sent me for training to the brothel, but he was always very kind and gentle and I didn't want to hurt him." She sighed, a sigh so deep that it came from her toes, it seemed and tears spang to her eyes, but she blinked them back. She knew enough to know that if one of those tears escaped then they would all be free and she would lose what little control she had, so she wrapped her fingers around Padraig's and held tight to his hand, regaining control before she spoke once again.

"So I left. I told him I had to go. He freed me, and he wanted to sort out money and houses and getting the brands removed and things, but I had to just leave. Because I want to be free, I do, but I am so very afraid that I don't know how to be. So I left before I changed my mind. I ran, not stopping for my coat or my clothes or anything that he offered me and then I came here." She smiled at him the best she could manage and stuck her feet out, wriggling her toes, which were starting to warm up "Where I stole your clothes and your blanket and your seat. But I just wanted to.. I needed to ..." In truth, she didn't rightly know, so she shrugged and squeezed his hand once, then let it go, very aware that she was being too forward by half. "I came here. I was and I am confused and afraid and I need help. I don't know what to do now and I knew that you would help me. But I need you to know that he didn't hurt me. He asked me if I wanted to be free and freed me when I said yes, so I don't even know why I'm so emotional. Will you help me?" She had no plan, no idea, nothing. But he would have, she was sure. She prayed to Famula that she was right because, in that moment, if he didn't know what to do then she was completely and utterly stuffed.

[Padraig]

If Faith didn't want him to think ill of her master, she probably shouldn't have told him that the man had sent her to a brothel for training. Considering the circumstances of his own birth and abandonment, the revelation didn't exactly raise Tristan any in his esteem. But, she couldn't have known, and Padraig said nothing of it.

Instead, while she talked; something about brothers and ships, daggers and entrails; he walked to the stove and pulled the kettle off the fire. He poured her a cup of tea, gave the meal a stir in the pan and returned again, placing the cup next to her on the hearth. And then he grabbed a chair and pulled it over to sit down next to her. Selfish, thoughtless. Padraig didn't know how to see a man he'd not met personally, any other way, except to believe that kindness must be relative. She'd slept in a cupboard, miserably slogged through the woods in silk and heels in damp and cold weather. And though the revelation of her freedom was to catch him by surprise, he didn't quite miss the mention of intimacy, somewhat lacking in desire on her part.

Still, "He freed you? Just like that?" Padraig asked. In the meantime she'd taken his hand and grabbed on as if to a lifeline. And for his part, his own response took him by surprise. It was a warmth that spread through him, that had nothing to do with the heat from the fire. Or, maybe it wasn't so surprising at all. Only unspoken. And as she held on, he covered her small hand with his own spare one. "Of course you want to be free," he said and smiled a little. "And of course the idea frightens you. Why wouldn't it? You've never known anything else. But I'm glad you came here." When she pulled her hand away again, he regretted it a little, but it was an unreasonable impulse.

"You're emotional because everything, all in the world you've known has been turned upside down, and shaken in an instant. It's one thing to dream about freedom. It's another to experience it without warning. You're overwhelmed, that's all." He was only guessing, truth told, he'd never known any other way. But it must feel like being tossed into the thick of the unknown, without any warning. "Of course I will help you. You didn't need to ask." Things he took for granted, things that anyone free took for granted, she'd have to find her way through. But not alone. "You've already got a place to stay, after all. Here, as long as you like. When the morning comes we'll get you a proper bed, and a curtain to hang so you'll have your privacy. A wardrobe." And not one to sleep in. "And whatever else you need." Straightening, he looked around him and smiled. "It's not a palace, but it's comfortable." Though he'd been considering for some time, having another room built off the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, reminded of the meal on the stove. "I'm not much of a cook, but it's something. Think of it...Now you'll be able to attend the university like you've wanted. Get a proper job with a proper income. Taken all together, it must feel overwhelming. But taken bit by bit...much more manageable," he suggested, hoping that breaking down her worries into manageable pieces might help with the sense of panic she was feeling.

[Faith Augustin]

She nodded, like a child confirming that they had been good, when he queried the nature of her being freed. "He showed me the letter, asked me if I wanted to be free and then.. yes. I mean, I don't know how we do that. I.. I think I have to get another brand. I don't like them, they hurt", she sighed and quirked an eyebrow "I think it's on my cheek, too. I wish I could just make them go away, get them removed. I will have to do it, though." The feeling of his hand wrapped over hers calmed her and she looked down at their hands together with a slight frown, a thoughtful expression on her face, replacing the panic. As her fingers entwined in his, her lips lifted in a smile and she simply held on for a moment. "I'm sorry for disturbing your evening, truly I am, but I knew I would be safe here", she did know that, quite clearly. Plus, there was that hand in his and it felt unlike any hand holding she'd experienced before, the calm tinged with warmth and security mixed with an edge of something quite else. But it was far too forward and she should not take advantage in that way, so she took it and pulled the blanket around herself,not quite sure why she felt colder all of a sudden.

"I promised that I'd go back in the morning. I have to pick up my things and I can't abandon him, I can't. He won't be able to find his socks without me there", although she delivered the line with a smile, there was an element of truth to it. "I feel overwhelmed. Like there's no more room in my head for anything at all. Or my heart. I feel so bad for hurting him, because he has given me such a gift, mister Padraig, can you even imagine? I can be responsible for my own choices, I can help people, really help them." Hope, a very genuine emotion of hope shone from her eyes at that thought. The chance to help people, to take responsibility for her own choices, good or bad? "When I was young, the other slaves tended to avoid me because I was, I don't know why, but the owners always treated me the harshest, taught the firmest lessons. But I used to imagine, for a time, what freedom would be like. It was not scary, not at all. It was just a beautiful thing, in fields with flowers."

Traitors that they were, tears sprang to her eyes when he said that he would help her, she had a place to stay and that they would get furniture the next trial. She shook her head "I don't need all those things, any of those things. The first time I slept in a bed was the first time I slept in Master's bed. My mattress was a new thing, I'd never had that before he bought me. I am more than grateful for somewhere to be, I don't have the words to tell you how much it means to me, I can sleep here, quite comfortably, I promise you." Emotion threatened to overwhelm her and she closed her eyes, holding it in and turning it inward the way that she had learnt to so many arcs ago. "Thank you. Truly"

But when he asked about food, she looked up and her face lit with pleasure "I can do that. I would like to do that, really, I would. It is normal and natural and I love to cook. I have grown much better at it too", if he would let her then she would, with a very genuine sense of relief, take over cooking and just adding the small touches to make it better than it would otherwise have been. Garlic butter rubbed on the sliced bread, then quickly heated so that it was just ever so slightly crispy. "At the very least, let me help?", was her default position.

The university? Her job? She considered and breathed in. No. Too much, just all too much. "I..I think tomorrow, I'll go and see Master and pick up my things, make sure he's alright, tidy around and cook for him. Then I should speak to Lady Elyna and her husband Lord Krome. He is a professor at the university and a knight captain, warden maybe. Lady Elyna is a skyrider, the noble lady I met when I travelled with Lord Venora and met the King. Master loaned me to them not long ago, when their baby was born, she's beautiful. But, I'm babbling again. She is my friend, they have both been very kind to me. I would not want them to hear this from anyone else. Then, I have to work." If it sounded like a busy schedule, she was not aware of it as such, it was a fairly normal trial for her "Is that acceptable? Is there anything I can do here? I can earn my keep, cooking and cleaning and so on, that is something I am used to doing and good at doing. If you will allow me to, I would like to feel like I am contributing?" She really did not like the idea of not being useful, she hated that and the fact that it would be just her taking advantage of his good will. "Laundry too", she added with as much of a genuine smile as she could manage in that moment.

Unable to eat, she pushed her food around the plate and tried not to fall into habits of refilling his wine (he didn't drink wine, she noticed, which probably helped) or putting more food onto his plate. Instead she sat and resisted the urge to almost sit on her hands. "Can I wash up?", she asked, fully expecting that the best she was going to get was that they'd do it together. She was too emotionally wrung out to even argue. But she could, she thought with a slight smile, she could argue all she wanted.

[Padraig]

"Of course you don't like them." The brands, Padraig meant. "And it doesn't seem right. It isn't." Why should she be required to have another brand, one on her face of all places or at all, that identified her as a former slave? If that was the usual practice, the thought repelled him. She'd always know about the others if they weren't removed somehow, what they signified would always be a part of her even without them. Who she had been, and who she would become. Faith was beautiful. A brand on her face wouldn't change that. But its presence, from Padraig's perspective, might send a message to others, others who didn't know or care about her, that her freedom was somehow less than those born to it. That she was less.

No, he didn't like it at all. And it showed. "Is there no other way?"

"You didn't disturb my evening. You brightened it. And you are safe here. It's your home, so long as you'd like it to be." He still missed her hand in his, so focused on other, less tricky things. "They may have treated you harshly, having already seen the potential in you." Her eagerness to learn, her quick mind. Then he smiled a little as he stood up from the chair. "But living life free isn't easy. It rarely is in fact." Her tears though brought a response he had difficulty suppressing, though he didn't, entirely. "Do you think I'll sleep in a warm bed while you curl up on the cold floor near the fire?" he asked. "We'll need to share for the night." It would be a more difficult feat that it had been, sleeping out in the wilderness that night. It had been freezing, damp, miserable, the ground had been hard and there'd been a knot in his back. But they'd make do, till morning.

"You can consider it a gift, or a loan if you must, but come morning I'm going to find you a bed, a wardrobe and some curtains for privacy. Consider this your home for as long as you like. You're not here to serve me and you do not need to earn your keep," he reminded her, and he wouldn't allow it. But to do these things side by side, he'd agree to that. "But you should stop calling me mister Padraig."

Nonetheless, what she'd done with their meal was a vast improvement over what it had been before. He ate well, though she seemed to pick at her food. But when it was done, he smiled and shook his head. "We'll do it together. You wash, I'll dry."

Off Topic

104 gn 8 sn deducted for bed, pillows, sheets, blanket, wardrobe, linen for curtains

[Faith Augustin]

He looked angry and horrified at the thought of another brand and Faith shook her head as he asked "Not as far as I know, no. It's most commonly used for those fighting slaves who have earned their freedom. But I've got four brands already, I shouldn't complain about another, it's ungrateful." She quite meant it when she said that and she smiled "The other four are bigger and hurt more", although branding her cheek sounded painful, she had to admit but she banished the thought because obviously her negativity was having an impact on him and she did not wish that at all. So she put a smile on her face and quipped, "I'll skip out of this one, for sure." She didn't want to upset anyone but especially not him. It was usually an easy thing to do, to be who the person she was with wanted her to be. It was what she did, but it didn't sit well with her right now, for reasons that she put down to being unnerved and out of sorts, but which she knew were not entirely that. So, the smile faltered and her honest expression returned "Or I won't. But I have to do it, so I will. It is my last order to obey. To be given freedom is to be ordered to be branded with that. If I think of it that way, it might help, because it means I am not choosing to scar my face so that everyone can see what I am." Which was much more the truth than any notions of skipping out of anywhere.

If her tears had been on the way anyway, they just pushed that bit harder when he said that not only had she not disturbed his evening but brightened it. That she was to consider it her home, well that came close to tipping her right over into a blubbering wreck and Faith looked at him with a hundred things that she thought or wanted to say, but just shook her head, biting her lip so that the emotions didn't simply pour out. She did quite well, too, until he asked her if she thought he could be warm and comfortable whilst she slept on a floor and then said that they'd need to share the bed. That gave her a moment where she realised something quite surprising for her. Because from any other man that might sound like it should give her pause, or make her worry, but when Padraig said that she knew what it meant, it meant just what he said. Somewhere along the line she had grown to trust him and that was a unique thing to her. So, she nodded her head and tried to get her emotions in check.

He wasn't having any of it in terms of her cooking, but was happy to share and so, padding around in the incongruous combination of his socks and her nice frock, Faith added a little here and a touch there in terms of the cooking. "Not call you mister? How strange. Padraig. That sounds informal", she considered and spoke aloud her thoughts as she stirred in a last minute pinch of salt. "It was always the name that did it, you know." Her voice drifted as she remembered each of the people she had met just lately. "People who became my friends, always started by not wanting me to call them mister, or sir or anything. It's why I call Fred, Fred. HIs name is Aeon but he refused. Point blank refused. So, for the sake of equality, he calls me Velma. How strange, to think that I can just call him what I like." She could make up a name, if she wanted, or she could just call him Fred. That was what she'd do, she was sure.

"I've never had a bed that's my own to sleep in before. I always slept on the floor until Master bought me. Tristan. Tristan bought me. Thank you. I mean, the words aren't anywhere near enough, but thank you Padraig". Her earnest gaze was much more eloquent than her words, especially since there was a tiny pause before his name, but it was hardly noticeable and, she figured, it was movement forward. Definite movement forward. But she was happy to wash, him dry and moved to stand next to the sink and start the washing, handing him the plates one at a time. "I don't want to keep you awake. I don't normally sleep much, just four or sometimes five breaks a night." She'd had that trained into her, of course, from a young age and in truth, it was one of the things that meant that she was able to do everything she needed to. "But if you don't sleep early, I could teach you how to play chess, as long as you don't mind destroying three pieces of parchment?"

A strange way to spend one's first night of freedom, really. Teaching her tutor to play chess on a parchment 'board' with parchment 'pieces' before finally climbing into bed next to said tutor where she would lay, wide awake and totally unmoving, perched as close to the edge as she could be without falling off and trying to regulate her breaths so that she sounded like she was asleep until the sun peeked through the window to herald the new trial.

[Squirrel]

[/color]

Faith

Story: 5
Structure: 5
Collaboration: 5

Knowledge:
Discipline: Take strength from the knowledge that you serve your Immortal.
Padraig: Will give you a home for as long as you need it.
Padraig: His home is your home.
Padraig: Is not your master and requires nothing in exchange for your service.
Sharing a bed doesn't always mean what it used to mean.
Take everything bit-by-bit to make it more manageable.
You can sleep on beds now!

Fame: +1
General good deed (Helped around the house) +1

Devotion: +3
Pray to Famula x2 +2
Perform a service with no paid recompense +1

Padraig

Story: 5
Structure: 5
Collaboration: 5

Knowledge:
Tristan: Never raised a hand to Faith.
Faith: The now-free slave.
Faith: Never wanted to sleep with Tristan.
Faith: Had training in a brothel, at the command of Tristan.
Faith: Doesn't know how to be free and still acts like a slave.
Faith: Might be having trouble separating herself from Tristan.

Fame: +14
General good deed (Provided a place to sleep to someone in need, comforted them in time of need) +2
Gave a gift (Bed, pillows, sheets, blankets, a wardrobe, linen for curtains) + 12

Additional Notes:

Lovely little thread with plenty of rewards all around, I awarded all the helpful lores I hopefully could! And as always, if there are any concerns or questions with this grade, please, please sent me a PM and I'll be more than happy to talk it out. Happy writing!

Credit goes to Kydrel!