[BlueInTheShell]

Deadwaltz flashed a small smile back towards Arabella, teeth just poking out from her lips as she snickered and mimicked the motions of twisting a greenskin's head's from it's torso, making the "Spllllrrrkzzzt." Noise that came with removing muscle and flesh from a mass of living being, albeit in a more cartoonish fashion. "Ah'm sure your apprentices could do the job on their lonesome. They walked this far without whining too much or quitting. It's us old people calling for the break, am ah not wrong?" She grinned, nodding her head towards the young knight and the daughter-to-be. "In months they'll be better than all of us, no?"

Wisp looked over towards the two singing, and drifted herself over towards the little duo, keeping her eyes closed and just taking in the melody between the halfling and the barbarian. It was invigorating, even though the topic of their keening was a bit on the morose side. Tapping her foot in beat with the two, the Dark Mage added her own voice to the group; ethereal tone haunting and adding an angelic hint into the harmony, all the while Deadwaltz continuing her song with a bit more fervor.

Cattle die, kinsmen die.
You yourself will also die.
But the deeds about you will never die,
If you win a good reputation...

Christoval watched the now-trio of ladies lamenting their woes in song and puffed his cheeks, rubbing the back of his head and turning towards Kastivi. It certainly wasn't a song he would have heard in the fields with a plow, but music was a welcome addition to the trek. Pouring sweat himself, Christoval used the hem of his shirt and tugged it upwards to soak some of his own fluids away, and let out a deep, heavy breath. "And when we get back we can celebrate and convince the mentors to have a bit of leeway in the following day. I know if I manage to make Wisp a bit pleased, she tends to let me get away with murder. The non-literal kind. Though I feel like she'd let me get away with actual murder. Not that I would do that." He said, stammering and grinning like a loon. "I talk my thoughts out too much, sorry."

The conversation with Percival was taking a nastier twist, and Christoval's eyes locked on the man; icy hues narrowed and a stern, unamused look on his face casting a rather serious, matured note on an otherwise youthful knightly prospect. "You have everything to prove. You're claiming you're the best, and you're acting like a healer in his last verges of life. Like I said, prove it. Hand the flask over if it isn't such a bother." Christoval's nose flaired and the young man puffed himself up, ready to move towards the man before a loud crack, followed by a plume of sulfurous smoke erupted between the two - Wisp standing there with hellfire for eyes that burned towards Christoval, and then towards Percy.

"I'll punish you both if you don't shut both of your mouths. The next word out of either of you better be compliments, or I'll get the 'Get-Along' Shackles and make you both march in them." Waving Christoval away, who moved back towards his bags with a bit of grumbling, Wisp set herself on Percival, moving in closer to the man.

"And if you keep harassing my boy, when I send you to Hell myself, the ones who are going to escort you to damnation are gonna be friends of my Patron. He owes me a favor, and I'm more than willing to waste it on your damnation for harassing my apprentice. I have enough trouble with the Guild with apprentices as it is. And I know no one will believe me if Sir Percival refused to heal my dying knight." Wisp growled, extending her hand. "Your flask. Now -I- need a drink for you two ruining my walk."