[sylvanSpider]

Arabella took a gamble in her assumption, but the odds were on her side, and she knew she had him as his cheeks turned crimson. “Yes, you might be, but I think in this instance it will work in your favor. Kastivi is clueless in those matters – she'll need it spelled out for her if you catch what I'm saying.” The halfling's eyes were shining, “So long as you stay true to your word, you have my approval.” She leaned forward so she could whisper without outside ears nosing in, “Do you intend to pursue?” His will to live was heartening. She wondered if that was a constant for him or if it had to be learned, like Kastivi. When she'd first found her apprentice, her apprentice expressed for many nights that she wished Ara had let them kill her. After Ara got after her for saying it out loud, she could see it painted on her face. Arabella had gone through...different...measures with Kastivi than she had with the others. She taught her to see the beauty of a flower, no longer crisping at the edges with her learned repression. She taught her the names of constellations, the myths that went with them. She told her of the Old Gods, the New Gods, of wars of eld, of how good always prevailed. Of how Kastivi was good. Of how Kastivi would prevail. “Oh, you are brave, ser knight!” Arabella exclaimed clapping her hands together. “Very well, the entertainment can begin when we make camp for the night. For the time being though, we should get moving. There is only so much daylight in a day, after all.”

Arabella jumped, not expecting the voice of the black mage behind her in her ear, and she did her best to hide her agitation, “Very well then, I'll not ask about them.” She mustered a chuckle, though this seemed slightly less sincere than those that she'd had in jest with Christoval. The words spoken at the inn were not forgotten it seemed, but they were forgiven. “What say you, knight? You ready to take that gamble?” She looked back at Waltz just in time to see the wink, her cheeks coloring though she wasn't entirely sure why.

“I don't think any Northerners are insane enough to stay in the Southern Nations long enough to sire a babe, let alone one as dark as I am,” Kastivi said with a shrug, “I am just in awe more people don't enjoy the snow. It's magical.” She sighed happily, looking up as if at the skies, as if she'd see clouds with the first hints of those pristine ice crystals, her gaze meeting instead only the interlaced branches of the forest above their heads. Her attention turned to the knight all too readily – she hoped she did not look too eager. “Well, I don't know if I want to see it in action or not. When do you decide to use that over say...your sword?” She knew of some methods of hand to hand combat, of course, but armed combat was a different beast entirely, one that she knew was fanged. She'd only ever heard of arquebi in passing, and she was glad that he told her what it was and how it worked. It was probably best if she avoided handling the barrel.

“Generally,” Percival said, lifting his gaze to meet that deadpan look with tired, sober eyes, “The nearly dead's moaning turns into praises and gold. I will take the nearly dead over the dead any day.” He cleared his throat, “Unless said nearly dead are infected with something, they generally smell better as well.” He watched as her attention shifted to her apprentice, a smile blooming when he realized what was happening. He wouldn't rub it in the knight's face however, in fact, Christoval likely didn't see his grin, but he was going to be entertained by it regardless.

Kastivi watched with wide eyes as the knight took off, “I ah...I take it that's our cue to leave?”

“That's our cue to leave, youngling,” Percival said, still grinning and shaking his head. “How long does he usually last?”

“Good thing he's not weighted anymore,” Arabella said, shaking her head. “Aren't you glad I don't train you like that, Kas?”