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"Joana, fetch me some brandy from my collection," you say with a gesture to the pack mules. A slightly puzzled look flashes across Joana's face for the briefest instant, but if your maid had questions about the order, she does not voice them. While she roots through the baggage for your things, you sheathe Tephres at your hip. "The rest of you, weapons away. Let's show the fjallbarn that we're peaceful folk who don't [i:lit]want[/i:lit] to use the big sticks we're carrying, got it?"
"Aye, madame," Glen nods without question, slinging his crossbow at his hip.
"Understood, madame, but..." Alex sounds a bit hesitant to put his own swordlance away. Not for any desire for bloodshed, that you can see, but from the fact that he's been leaning on his weapon for support during the entire journey home. His expression is rather tight-lipped as he gestures to how he cannot walk unaided.
You have words for stubborn young men who hide their own weakness behind masks of bravado and excuses. Few of them are kind. You quite frankly don't understand that weirish tendency to put off asking for help until things are too far gone, something you've never observed amongst your fellow wyfs. Before you can give him a lecture on how it's his [i:lit]job[/i:lit] to heal quickly and communicate his limits when he's injured, Damien steps in with a pair of twigs in hand.
"Hmmm, hmmm..." Damien hums in thought as he compares the twigs to the two of you. The magenta lights behind his blindfold flicker playfully as he taps a very confounded Alex with one of the twigs, before tossing it over his shoulder and pulling out a replacement. With a triumphant smile, he shouts, "Aha! I thought you might be a maple, but you're actually a sycamore. [i:lit]Interesting[/i:lit]."
"Wh-What's so interesting about a sycamore?" Alex sounds just as confused as you feel about whatever it is Damien is doing.
"It means that you're the type who [i:lit]protects[/i:lit], rather than someone who is protect[i:lit]ed[/i:lit]," Damien explains things without explaining anything at all. Alex brightens up at the description and nods happily, though he deflates as Damien continues, "In other words, you're the type of idiot will jump in front of a crossbow bolt if it means his commander will give him a pat on the head and call him a good boy. Though with a commander like Louise, I understand where you're coming from."
"Hey!" Alex complains.
Damien's only response is to shove the stick of sycamore into his hands and tell him, "Hold onto that for a moment."
"Sir Damien, what are you doing?" Crossing your arms beneath your breasts, you level the sort of look you give Hilde when you catch her with three men at once at him. Disapproving, concerned, and more than a little disgusted, because you [i:lit]know[/i:lit] that whatever this is, "This is something heretical, isn't it?"
