selphie_t | 69th Draw = Confusion abound [Voice/Action to those who want it.]

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69th Draw = Confusion abound [Voice/Action to those who want it.]

[Selphie's been safely returned from the draft despite the fact that the fighting and sudden shift back into the village has taken every ounce of energy she had in her system right back out. She remembers arriving near the fountain and sitting down before passing out. She remembers someone picking her up but not the name of who had done it. She'll see the sandwich on the bedside table and smiles softly at the gesture. Whoever it was, Selphie owes them a world of thanks for their thoughtfulness.

This incident was approximately fourteen hours ago as Selphie sits up far too quick for her sore and protesting body. She falls back into her bed and lays there for a good half hour or so before taking another, slower shot at moving around. She's stiff as a board from the intensity of the mission as she goes through a series of stretches to help releave some of her discomfort. A couple ibuprofen will further help with aches before a shower and the munching of a sandwich is had.

She settles back into bed as she reaches for her journal. She knows that she's tired and overdid it in every way possible but the perky brunette doesn't regret her actions in the least. She doesn't have a clue where Ceodore is but sincerely hopes that he's okay. Between him and Archie, they've given her quite the scare and the look on her face shows it plainly. She doesn't bother hiding it behind a faked smile this time. Selphie doesn't like it in the least but she knows that there's nothing to be done about it.]

So tired... I'll be going back to sleep soon.

Has everybody made it back to the village okay? How're things in the village right now? And... who brought me home? Thank you to whoever you are.

Now then... can somone tell me where Archie, Ceodore and Mister Hornblower have wound up?

And uh... if anybody decides to come calling, you'll have to let yourself in. Community Building 3, first floor, room four. Just... ignore the mess right now.

Right... anywho... time for some more sleep. I'm bushed.

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[About an hour or two after that message, someone does indeed let himself in! ...He doesn't quite manage to ignore the mess, though. But he brings a week's supply of hot chocolate with him, and he makes very little noise as he walks. Does that compensate for his terrible inability?]

Selphie? Are you awake?

[There's no terrible inability about Papaderp! Unless his less-than-stellar cooking skills count for an inability. The smell of hot chocolate hits Selphie's nose and she stirs in her bed before slowly wandering out into the main room rubbing the sleep out of one eye.]

I'm awake... can't say for how long though. I think I could sleep standing up right about now.

[Luckily, the less-than-stellar cooking skills don't apply to hot beverages. He puts everything down on the nearest surface and smiles at her.]

I can see that. Did the battle go well? Do you have any wounds to heal?

[She recounts the past five days to Cecil as she sits down on a nearby chair.]

Any of the wounds I have can heal on their own so it's a waste of a spell to patch them up.

[There's something else that's bugging her but she'd rather talk to the parties involved in person.]

[He listens to her story with rapt attention, nodding and gasping at the right moments.]

Are you certain? A Cure spell would take little effort, and it might make your sleep more pleasant.

[Pleasant sleeping sounds nice. She won't argue with him, she's too tired to be stubborn.]

Twist my arm why don't you?

Say Cecil, have you heard from Ceodore yet?

That'd be rather counter-productive.

[His Cure spell is pretty lousy, so he casts it twice to be certain it'll help.]

...Not yet. I've heard nothing.

[He doesn't quite manage to suppress the worry in his voice.]

[That earns a slight giggle.]

It's a figure of speech from where I'm from.

[Ah yes, the power of white magic. Those aches in her body are dissipating quickly as her face turns down with a worried frown.]

He took a bullet for me so I hope he's at the clinic by now.

Even a figurative twisting of arms might not be helpful in this case.

[...That doesn't sound good. That doesn't sound good at all.]

A bullet?

I ran to get a medic and then we were brought back to the village. I don't know where he is...

Medic.

[There's a sliiight note of panic in his voice now.]

What's a bullet? Why was it threatening you?

A bullet is an object fired from a weapon called a gun. They travel at a high speed and can really hurt if it connects with your body.

...That sounds like an arrow. That sounds alarmingly like an arrow.

Except they hurt a lot more.

And he took it in your place? Could he not simply push the two of you out of the way?

[That note of panic is not so slight anymore. Also, parental hypocrisy at its greatest: Cecil would have taken the bullet too, and he knows it.]

[Papaderp panicking is starting to make Selphie regret ever bringing this up but she knows that he has a right to know. She shakes her head but can't seem to bring herself to answer.]

...The Malnosso must have known such weapons would be used. Yet they sent civilians to face them? What were they thinking?

[Luckily, he's pretty good at redirecting his panic.]

They weren't thinking.

[They never think about anyone in the village.]

...Of course not. They care little if we die, do they? In fact, that might even be their goal.

[...Slightly too good at redirecting.]

[And very good at making Selphie uncomfortable. Her arms fold on the table before she's resting her head on them.]

[He can't keep it up for very long, at least. All the stress of the recent days has left him tired.]

...Those bullets. Are there spells to avoid them? Any way at all?

[Selphie nods slowly.]

Haste mainly. Spells like Shell and Protect will make sure that less damage is made but other than that... it's all a matter of luck.

All spells I cannot cast, of course. You might want to give Ceodore that information before the next draft.

I will. His Armor should deflect the blow too.

Not nearly enough, it seems. He'll need a new one soon.

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