[It hadn't taken Kaede long to figure out that this uniform was really just an elaborate janitor's outfit. Maybe a day or so after she had first arrived. So instead of getting anyone else to clean up a dilapidated fortress, like, say, trained professionals, they got to do that instead. Lucky them.
This time it was a climbing exercise; with how overgrown almost all of these holes were, was it really necessary to patch them up? Ugh. Guillotine's fire was of only marginal use against the vines; it burned and charred through fine, but it did nothing to cauterize the spray of sap. There was already a ragged, greenish stripe of it across Kaede's back, and she'd barely started clearing this particular area.
During a moment of downtime, Kaede can be found sitting on a yet-unsalvaged lump of rubble, gingerly removing her gloves and rebinding her hands with cooling gauze.
The culprit of the burns was once again leaning on the rock beside her; the poleaxe seemed inert at the moment, its gem only lazily lit.]
2C
[Transporting supplies that absolutely cannot be spared for any sob stories or pleading eyes? Why not put the most disagreeable and angriest looking person they could find at short notice at the head of the convoy?
Or so the logic had gone for putting Kaede in the lead of this particular one. It was a short trip, down to the docks and waiting transport ships and back to the fortress again—but it had already attracted some unwelcome parasites. This time it was for arrows—barrels and barrels of them for the archers—and simple medical equipment, bound into anonymous bundles and hurriedly thrown onto the same cart.
It might be a good idea to stop her before she abruptly chops off the hand of someone she thinks might be trying to take something from the convoy.
Or at least give them a warning, because Kaede certainly wasn't.]
no subject
[It hadn't taken Kaede long to figure out that this uniform was really just an elaborate janitor's outfit. Maybe a day or so after she had first arrived. So instead of getting anyone else to clean up a dilapidated fortress, like, say, trained professionals, they got to do that instead. Lucky them.
This time it was a climbing exercise; with how overgrown almost all of these holes were, was it really necessary to patch them up? Ugh. Guillotine's fire was of only marginal use against the vines; it burned and charred through fine, but it did nothing to cauterize the spray of sap. There was already a ragged, greenish stripe of it across Kaede's back, and she'd barely started clearing this particular area.
During a moment of downtime, Kaede can be found sitting on a yet-unsalvaged lump of rubble, gingerly removing her gloves and rebinding her hands with cooling gauze.
The culprit of the burns was once again leaning on the rock beside her; the poleaxe seemed inert at the moment, its gem only lazily lit.]
2C
[Transporting supplies that absolutely cannot be spared for any sob stories or pleading eyes? Why not put the most disagreeable and angriest looking person they could find at short notice at the head of the convoy?
Or so the logic had gone for putting Kaede in the lead of this particular one. It was a short trip, down to the docks and waiting transport ships and back to the fortress again—but it had already attracted some unwelcome parasites. This time it was for arrows—barrels and barrels of them for the archers—and simple medical equipment, bound into anonymous bundles and hurriedly thrown onto the same cart.
It might be a good idea to stop her before she abruptly chops off the hand of someone she thinks might be trying to take something from the convoy.
Or at least give them a warning, because Kaede certainly wasn't.]