Coatleque

As the Knight stood fuming she couldn't help but notice the smell that just drifted past them all. Her eyes watched the newcomer walk past their little group, but snapped back to the bard in front of her as she lost sight around the pillar. This was far from over.

The unexpected knocking startled her from the scene. She pulled her robe closed and tried in vain to comb her hair with her fingers to look somewhat presentable. Who on earth would be seeing her at this hour anyway? Someone must have heard her cries, and she cursed herself for a moment of weakness. She moved to the door and slowly opened it a crack as she looked around the edge. "Yes? Who is it?" Seeing Warren there she closed the door again and turned about, searching for words. What could he possibly be doing here at this hour? Why did she have to be in this current state? Why did she just close the door on him? She turned back and opened the door again, letting it swing back. "S-ser Castille. Shouldn't you be home at this hour?"

[align=center]V[/align] The sounds of combat rang through the air, bleeding together, joining into a singular throbbing ring in her ears. Time had once again slowed, and vision was obscured through a haze. She was crawling slowly across the floor, her blood leaving a trail behind. As her strength failed and she leaned over she could feel the pressure of the blade trying to force its way further in. Unknown voices assaulted her senses as her world began to spin. Accusing, hateful, spiteful, all aimed at her. She had failed in her oath; Her life was now forfeit. She knew her faith was not strong enough. Her curse would never be lifted now. She was to die alone and scorned by the Lover. The fate she had deserved. As the dream began to fade the final haunting accusation lingered in an angry yet motherly voice. "You do not deserve... to love." Coatleque awoke once more in a cold sweat, grasping at her mid-section. She was no longer startled by the dreams as she had been, but the pain was growing worse. Glancing around her inn room she realized the night was not yet half through this time. She sat up and sighed, still nursing a phantom wound. There would be no further sleep this night. Throwing a heavy robe about her nightgown she summoned the night attendant and requested hot tea. A few minutes later she sat in front of the vanity inhaling its fragrance by the light of a dim lantern. It had the calming effect she desired, and she began to think of sleep once more, until the voice returned to her thoughts. Her hand trembled and she was forced to set the cup down lest she spilled it. She stared at her reflection in the mirror before her. She had not slept in days it felt. She could see it under her own eyes now. Overcome with a sudden sorrow she rose and moved across the room to the bed. Kneeling over the side she cried out. "What do you want?! What could you possibly want from me?! How have I slighted you that you wouldst torment me this way?!" There was no answer, of course. There never was. Only a mocking silence and an imaginary whispering laughter. As she stood once more her gaze fell to the bed. She had left the covers thrown aside. The pillows were crooked, sheets crumpled, and a damp spot from the small of her back when she woke in her sweat. She turned, looking across the room to her reflection once more. Her hair was disheveled from tossing in her sleep. As the scene settled into her mind she began to understand. She had never learned to worship Her properly.

Oh, she suspects plenty. It's just so outrageous she is blocking it out at the back of her mind with a "No... no, she wouldn't do that..." In a few months it will manifest into a tumor.

Coatleque recoiled at her statements, unsure of how, or which one, to respond to first. She just sort of stammered. "I... you... what?" She realized her mistake in getting into a battle of wits with a bard of all people. Then the remembrance of her earlier commotion came back to mind, pushing all other thoughts away. "I am no drunkard! I am Lady Coatleque Crofte of her Resplendence's royal guard!" She managed to straighten herself as she spoke now. "And wot do ye care who I am to him?" Without focusing, her accent began to resurface in her speech. "Why if'n ye so hungry there are plenty o' other specimens over that way!" She waved her hand towards Kage's table. "If ye are so famished, I suggest ye pick one o' them instead." Her expression changed to one of momentary confidence. "And I do not sample."

From the desk of Ser Crofte, Sgt, To Jenlyns, Cpt. - of Her Resplendence's Royal Guard To Taeros, Jameson - requester of incident report Regarding the inspection of high-level political prisoner, Ser Roen Deneith. Sgt Crofte, inspecting officer on record. I. Cell Conditions - Cell has been kept clean. No moisture, cracks, or breaks in any foundations, walls, bars, windows, or locking mechanisms. Cell portal hinges are well oiled and swing free with no friction or noise. - Bedding is changed no less than twice weekly, or as requested. - Additional lighting requested by inmate. Provided in the form of matigek powered lantern with internal power source. Considered safe for use. Not a fire hazard, but could be used as blunt weapon if thrown. II. Visitation - Friends and acquaintances have been allowed during normal visiting bells through the day. All visitors are searched upon entering Gaols at the start. Personal guard has overseen all meetings, locking the cell promptly upon enter and exit of third party. - Conversations are held at a tone loud enough to be heard by all, including guards on duty. If any silence is held for longer than thirty seconds, visual contact is promptly re-established. III. Personal Effects - No contraband, weapons, or items of malicious intent allowed on or around inmate's personage. - Changes of clothes, writing materials, books, and flowers provided by friends. - All letters sent personally inspected by officiating guard on duty, then sealed and delivered once secured. All replies inspected in same manner before delivered to inmate as required to preserve Palace security. IV. Rights and Privileges - Inmate is personally attended to by Ser Crofte upon each morning, and again every evening. - Meals are received thrice daily at scheduled times. - Privacy screen provided for matters of more personal nature. - Inmate is to be treated at all times with respect. Violations to be reported to Ser Crofte for appropriate disciplinary action.

I too would age my character. It makes sense to, especially if your character is rather young. It explains how they may develop over the years emotionally, how their tastes would change over time. You also really have no fear of them dying of old age since the game will probably be shut down long before they can gain 30+ years. Unless of course you started the character at an advanced age to begin with.

You have to upload the images into the wiki first. In the menu to the left is a link to "Upload new image". After that you simply refer to the image using wiki code as follows: [[File:||]] Welcome to the forum!

Coatleque finally worked up the nerve to stand once more. She turned and walked around the column and sidled up next to Warren, but she resisted the urge to pull him away. Her gaze fell over the bard with a half annoyed look. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. Ser Castille already has dinner plans tonight, I believe." She may have just been tired, or perhaps there was a genuine twinge of jealousy. Regardless she immediately regretted the next words from her mouth. "Unless you can't work on an empty stomach, in which case I hear the crow is quite nice."

Coatleque sat at the bar sipping at the water and idly listening to those behind her. She was trained to follow many conversations at once, but tonight one was now standing out, drowning the rest. Her ears began to burn as the unknown woman addressed Warren, and the Knight shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

The day had not yet broken when the carriage train had stopped. They were away off the road now, deep into the shroud. The trees seemed to press in on them as their boughs obscured the sky overhead while the wagons themselves were arranged in a half circle with a fire pit dug in the middle. Meanwhile, the men went about setting up various tents along the other half of the circle. Florence had endured the trip as well as she was able. Her eyes were closed in thought for most of the ride, since they were not allowed to speak. Even here, her heart was heavy as images of her love flashed through her mind. His final moments replayed again and again. She had long since spent any tears left in her body that night. Opening her eyes she looked softly at the woman across from her. She was thin, lithe, and Elezen. Not as young as Florence, but if she had to venture a guess she would have placed the woman in her fourth decade of life. Less than two score years, for sure. She had been here longer than Florence as was apparent by the state of her dress and the grime caked to her forehead. Her rags barely clung to her form at this point. She had no shirt, but a thin shawl-like towel draped over her shoulders which she had to constantly hold closed at the front or risk humiliating herself. Another girl, a young midlander with dirty blonde hair cowered next to her. She had not spoken a word since Florence had awoken. At the far end of the wagon was a large Roegadyn woman who occupied almost two places herself. It was a wonder her head wasn't permanently tilted as she barely cleared the ceiling. To Florence's right was another highlander woman she did not recognize. Craning her neck to look out the bars towards the other wagons, at least three others seemed to be the same type, carrying the same cargo. Two others had no bars and were probably full of material wealth or supplies. She eventually settled back down as she could not comfortably see anything for long. Their captors had meanwhile finished setting up their tents, built a bonfire, and were settling down on various stumps and large stones that were placed around it. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, and none of the women could hold back the sounds of their collective hunger. For the time being it seemed they were forgotten. Despite their conditions, the group let out a collective sigh. Florence watched the Elezen woman for a time before she could no longer take the silence of the night. "Where ar'ya from, then?" she said. "Gridania.", she replied. "'N where's tha?" "Close." She looked down and away from the woman when it became clear she had no interest in conversation. They all started when there was a sudden clang from the bars on the opposite side of the wagon. "Oi in there. It's slop time." came a crude voice. The man walked down the far side of the wagon with a pail of some foul smelling broth and a large ladle. He scooped out a generous portion and held it up to the bars just out of reach of the Roegadyn at the end. "Come now, lovelies. You know the drill." he said with a lewd sneer. The woman sighed and huffed but it was clear he would not relent as he continued to taunt her. Finally she relented and in what was probably the most humiliating act possible, she exposed herself to him. "Aaah, that's be'er.", he said. "This one finally knows her place." He held the ladle to the bars as she leaned forward and drank the broth as he tilted it. Most of it spilling onto the ground. Continuing down the line he paused at the midlander who was still huddled into as small a ball as she could possibly be. She would not look at him or even acknowledge his presence. When it was clear he could evoke no reaction he shrugged and moved on to the Elezen. "Wot about this one, eh? Care to play missy?" "Leave 'er alone!" Florence called out without thinking. The men behind her went silent. The one with the pail walked around the cart to glare at her from the side she sat on. "Or wot?", he snarled. He pressed the ladel against her shoulder roughly. "Wot you gonna do about it, missy? Huh? Huh!? Yous that wouldn't even save herself on that beach. Oh, aye, we had much sport chas'n down the rest'o your lot. Count yerself lucky ye ain't with them now." With that she twisted around and spat at him. "Murderer!" "Oh, ye shouldn't a done that now, lass." "Rikard! Quit that wench's mouth 'afore I cut out her tongue." It was Cadmus who gave the order. "Right, boss. I'mma enjoy this." The rest of the women clamored to the far end of the wagon as he drew around and unbolted the cage. Grubby fingers reached in as Florence kicked and tried to push back to hide with the rest of them, but her foot was caught. She felt a tug and slid sharply against the wood floor, her clothes snagging splinters and almost tearing. Amidst her cries she was roughly tossed over the man's shoulders and her mouth was gagged. The wagon door slammed shut once more as he carried her off towards a tent behind the rest. The other women looked horrified at each other, then towards the tent. Her cries were muffled by the gag, but it was quite clear what was happening... or about to. Then silence. Rikard came back out of the tent alone and rubbing his hands. Scrotus piped up at his appearance "Don't tell us ye've gone soft already!". The rest of the man laughed at his crude jest. Rikard went to Cadmus and leaned down, whispering something in his ear. "Oh, is she now?", Cadmus said with the glint of greed flashing over his eyes. "Aye, we know just the place for the likes of her. Starlight come early boys, we've got a jewel here worth triple price! Change of plans! Nobody is to touch that girl. We need her alive and healthy, aye? Tomorrow night we set out for Ul'dah." The man, Rikard, returned to the tent momentarily before reappearing with Florence over his shoulder once again. She made no move to struggle as she was carried back to the wagon and roughly thrust inside. She felt her head pulled backwards from the gag as a knife slid along her head and cut it lose once more. The door was closed behind and the bolts locked once more as Florence curled up alone against it, tears streaming down her face once more. Cadmus himself eventually walked over to the wagon. He thrust his hand through the bars and left a small wooden bowl there with a small piece of the meat and slice of bread. It would have been meager except that it wasn't broth at least. "Here.", he snarled. "And I don't suggest you share."

She looked up at Warren and could read the concern in his eyes. "Yes, I am. I startled myself is all.", she said softly in an attempt to reassure him. She glanced behind to the crowd. "You should rejoin them. Please." She leaned back from the bar as Aya worked and beamed a smile her way as a new glass of water was set down. "Miss Aya, I promise to be careful with this one."

She was able to stand with their help and thanked them both for it. Setting the stool upright again she sat. Looking at the spill she frowned. "Apologies Miss Aya. If you have towels, I will clean that for you. And then I shall sit here till I feel well enough to retire. I think I've had enough for one night." Oddly, she hadn't even touched either glass since she arrived.

She shook her head and looked around feeling more embarrassed as she realized where she was now. "I... Yes, I'm okay. Thank you." She extended her hand to grip Warren's arm as if looking for leverage to help stand. The sudden silence in the room simply added to the fire that now ran through her body from head to toe. "I should go..."

She had slumped to her knees. Looking down the hilt of her sword protruding from the wound as her blood pooled on the floor. Her world was spinning... spinning... "Ser Crofte..." "Ser Crofte! Are you alright this fine day?" "NO!", she screamed suddenly as she started awake, scrambling backwards. She knocked over her glass in front and fell square off the stool onto her arse. Holding her mid section she looked around, unsure of where she was for a moment.

Ul'dah is the most popular hot-spot by far. Limsa Lominsa has seen quite a lot of traffic as well, especially recently. There are also various FC houses in the Goblet and Mist where people like to congregate. There are no end of tavern events happening on a daily/weekly basis almost. And if you're still having trouble finding someone to talk with, just check people's player notes in-game. A lot of us will specifically say "Roleplayer" and/or "walk-ups welcome".

Her drinks both untouched in front of her, the Knight had long since dozed off at the bar. The sounds of conversation slowly bled into that same familiar dream as the sounds of combat echoed down the palace walls...

Coatleque quietly entered the Quicksand from the Pearl Lane entrance. She was tired and didn't bother scanning the room tonight. She quietly strode to the bar, which was quite uncharacteristic of herself. Taking a seat behind the central pillar to subconsciously shield herself from the main view, she slid a few gil over to Momodi and asked for both water and wine. The sound of conversations behind her was a nice distraction as she leaned her arm on the bar, head in hand. It began to lull her off to sleep.

Welcome! Yet another NWN player! I've noticed a trend here... we all seemed to be drifting with nowhere to RP after NWN. It's nice to finally have a new home.

Coatleque said her goodnight to the head guard on duty at the gaols. She handed over the large keyring and signed herself off the roster for the night before stepping back out to the Palace. It wasn't the typical prison used by the Brass Blades, or the Flames. These cells belonged to the Sultansworn. Used for high-level political prisoners, not common thugs. Still, it was a prison none the less. This afternoon had been emotionally draining on the Knight. Her ward was no stranger to visitors tonight, and Coatleque had the unfortunate duty of eavesdropping the whole time. Unpleasant conversation had at least born fruit in the end. Some potential new leads in her case were now known, and Roen herself seemed to be the most hopeful that she had been since her arrival. And there was her own nightly visit of course. Coatleque had made it a point that her last action each night would be to see that Roen was well accommodated for. Tonight she requested additional light, so a fireless torch would need to be provided. She also desired to speak again, which was a good step. To be able to speak of her ordeal without breaking down, to revisit the feelings while maintaining her composure. It meant she was finally able to look past it. Telling the woman of her own past also gave Coatleque a small sense of relief. They had some common ground to share. Roen would not need to bear her pain alone at least, just as Coatleque had in Sapphire so many moons ago. Sapphire... F'lierre. She hadn't thought of her in some time. The Knight hoped she had survived somewhere, somehow. Drained. Yes, drained. Her shift was over, it was time to relax before the night ended.

Thanks to Mr. Warden for the double outpouring of emotions last night, that I'm sure everyone is more than aware of at this point :blush:

Well it is a long post. People are still reading. Give it 5 more minutes then it will be back as this thread re-explodes :blush:

omg, you people. It took me 40 minutes just to get the reply to go through.

The pair walked in silence through the rest of the city, arm in arm. She did not look at him. She couldn't. The accusing glare of imaginary strangers pressed down on her from all angles as the sun approached noon overhead. Eventually they had reached the Goblet. As they quietly walked through the Brimming Heart, Warren finally broke the awkward silence with a sigh of relief. "It's just up ahead." A few moments later they were standing in front of the hall. "This is the place.", he said as he quietly opened the doors and let them both inside. He immediately went to work shelving the various goods and foodstuffs into the pantry. The bag of heavy bottles he quietly shoved behind it before she would notice them. He could sort those out later. She stood just beyond the threshold just looking about the room, taking in the new scenery. "It's not very homey, I suppose. I'm sorry." "Oh, no, it's... lovely.", she replied. "It works for what I need it to be." He smiled at her as he strode back across the room. Taking the popotoes from her he turned back to the pantry to find a place for them. "Thank you for coming with me. It feels... I'm not used to talking to people in here." She watched him as he went about his business, not quite sure what to make of this new side of Warren she hadn't seen before. For a moment he seemed less like a mountain and more like... a man. A simple man. "You are alone here?", she asked him at length. "I was. Howl stays here now, too.", he replied while turning to face her. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he spoke the words. "He came back! Oh, Twelve above, I didn't get a chance to mention it. He came home and is doing okay!" Her eyes also lit up at the news. "Warren, that is wonderful to hear! But... he was alone?" She suddenly felt weary from their walk and found herself glancing to the table and chairs at the side. He saw her glance and immediately felt a pang of guilt for not having thought sooner. "Oh! I'm sorry. Please, have a seat. Not very comfortable, but..." With that he turned back to the cupboards to prepare some lunch. "Did you want anything? You've seen the extent of my stocks now." "Thank you.", she replied as she chose a seat by the corner of the long table. "Just something light, if you are preparing." He continued looking through cabinets, retrieving a few dishes. "He came alone. Said they both made it out, but..." He shook his head as he looked through the bottles. "She's not herself anymore." There was a brief silence. "I am sorry, Warren.", she said as she removed her white beret. It was gently placed on the chair to her right. She straightened her dress and pulled her hair behind her shoulders as he strode across the room to join her. He set down a pitcher of water, a plate of mild cheeses, and bowl of light breads. "It's... It's alright. She's alive, so there's that." He tried to force a smile for her. "It'll be alright." "Yes.", she replied suddenly feeling quite guilty. "But... for more than just that." "Hm?" "I am sorry for... how I acted when we last spoke." He held up a hand to her as if to ward off what was coming. "You're a good person, Cot. I don't blame you for being... upset with me." He had to pause to choose his words. She glanced to him, then let her eyes slowly trail back to the table. "I should have at least heard you explain though. I know you better than to assume you acted on malice alone... that you were not somehow justified." "I'm afraid that would be worse. Whatever you're thinking happened... it's likely worse." He could not hide the guilt in his eyes, but continued to hold his gaze in her direction. His words had cut her again though, regardless of his intent. Her body tensed as she considered walking away once more. She fought it, with every onze of her being. "Please, do not tell me that. Not now. I will not press the matter further. I cannot." He did not look away from her. For some reason his gaze held. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to deceive you. I don't want you to think I'm something I'm not. I..." His hands fumbled nervously with themselves on the table, his mouth hanging open uselessly as he ran out of words. Her eyes trailed slowly back to him as they started to glaze over. "And what pray tell, do I think you are?" "A liar. Someone pretending to be good. You've seen my temper, you warned me about giving in to the beast. I..." "Twas a dream, Ser Castille... only a dream. But you... you are not." She found herself looking into his eyes now, with the same fear behind her own. "I did an awful thing, but I did it in the hopes it would allow me to do some good with it. I was willing to sacrifice that to bring them home. It didn't matter, though... it didn't change anything." He looked as if he was on the verge of breaking down himself. This had to stop. They were going in circles together once again. Coatleque found Aya's words coming back to her from the night before. She did not want to admit their truth, but the heaviness of her own heart could no longer deny it. Neither of them could continue as they were. "Warren..." She leaned forward slowly, sliding her hand across the table to his. He continued to hold her gaze. Warren took a deep breath and managed to fight off the first shuddering sob. His hands turned upwards and needily found hers. She tried her best to keep her composure even as her voice shook. "I will still bear these burdens with you... if you would have me." He squeezed her hand and gave her a conflicted expression. "...Even still? You...?" "No one can stand alone overly long... Not you, nor I." They both paused for a moment. "Those few nights ago, I thought I would die in the Palace. I had intended to. I am... not ready yet. Not like this." He shook his head at her words, his voice rising as he interrupted. Defiance and anger flashed on his face. "I wouldn't let you. I wouldn't let them take you, not like that. No one deserved that, especially not you." His voice quieted, but he was no less resolute as he continued to squeeze her hand. "They can't have you." She tried to blink, and her eyes began to flutter as they welled up. "I know you wouldn't... I know. I..." This is happening too fast... what are you doing? Her hands withdrew suddenly as if she had just remembered something important. She sat back up with a light gasp. Warren looked away, his own hands starting to reach for her, but then withdrew back to himself. "I... I'm sorry." "No... No, it's not you...", she replied. This was going to be hard, but it had to be done. She owed him this much at least... yes, he had to know the truth. "I must also be fair... you need to know." "I don't understand...?" Her eyes closed as she breathed deeply. "About me." He gave her a concerned look, not entirely understanding her meaning, but remained silent. "I... I am no Lady, Ser Castille. Five years ago... I was a slave." His brow furrowed and his hands tensed, but he remained silent as she spoke. "I was forced to... serve. At the Red Sands, in Ul'dah." He needed no further explanation after that. "Oh gods, Cot... I'm so sorry..." His eyes flickered to her hands, wanting to take them again, but he resisted. She, on the other hand, had begun to wring them together as her tears began to roll down her face. "Three years, Warren... for three years I..." Her voice cracked and she could say no more. "I am sorry. You... you needed to know... deserved to know... what I've done." With that Warren rose and slid his chair around the table to sit next to her. He pulled her against him and she did not resist. Her shoulders shook as she lost any composure she had left. "I would understand if you never wanted to see me again. I am... used property. And that... does not sell... in Ul'dah." Her words were slow and forced. The last sentence was finished as if it had been burned into her mind from some outside source. A phrase she had been forced to repeat countless times under pain of harsh treatment. A hand gently ran down the side of her head, fingers sliding into her hair. "Shhh, it's alright. It's okay. I promise." She leaned into him, the intended comfort of his words only adding to the emotional onslaught. She sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." He pulled her into a full embrace, wrapping his arms around her firmly with his hand resting against the back of her head. "Don't apologize. You're one of the most wonderful people I know. Don't you apologize for that." "How can I be?", she choked through her tears. "Whores are not wonderful people..." "You're not a whore.", he continued. "You are Sultansworn, you're the very backbone of their public appearance. You're a defender of those in need. You're beautiful, Cot, and you're many wonderful, truly amazing things. But whore isn't one of them." She sat there with him for a few more moments until her tears subsided. "Thank you." she managed to say through a shaky whisper. She continued to lean against him under his embrace, her shoulders heaving occasionally. "Does this change... anything?" "...Yes.", he replied. He leaned back and gently lifted her face towards his, looking into her eyes with a smiling kindness. "For you to have overcome that, and still be someone so virtuious and inspiring... You're more amazing than I realized." She stared into his eyes, her own now red and glassy from crying. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but she could not speak. She could only stare. At length she managed another whisper. "Warren?" His eyes flicked back and forth between her own. "Y-yes?" "Would you... still have me?" Caught in the gravity of the situation, his mouth was unable to form words but he nodded in tiny, decided motions. He leaned in towards her, eyes lost hopelessly in hers. She found herself leaning towards him as well, head slightly tilted. Her eyes closed as their lips met. They remained there for a moment as his arms tightened around her, hers wrapping around him in return as best she could. She turned her head away and rested it against his shoulder. "Thank you..." she whispered once again. His head rested against hers as he returned the same sentiment. "Thank you. For everything." She did not want to move. She wanted to stay there forever. Eventually the awkwardness of the chair gave way and she had to withdraw to sit straight once more. Her hands slid down his arms to meet his own. He was slow to let her pull away from him but settled for her hands as well, taking them in his own and running his thumbs across her palms. He could not help but smile at her as if some enormous weight had finally been lifted. She felt the same. Coatleque tried to laugh. After having just been crying it came out as an embarrassingly blubbering giggle. For the first time since she could remember, she had nothing to say. Looking at him now all she could do was be honest. "I don't know where to go from here..." His smile only widened. "Me neither..." Looking over the table she realized they hadn't even touched the food. "Oh... Oh! But you must be starving by now!" "Hm?" He had genuinely forgotten about any of that. "I feel fine. Better than fine." She withdrew her hands and wiped her eyes with her glove. "Nonsense, you should eat... and I... well... I must be ready for my usual duties." His smile turned slightly sad. "Are you sure...?" "Aye... for once, I am very sure. But, I shall see you again soon, yes?" "Of course you will. And far be it from me to stand in the way of a Sultansworn." He stood and offered her his hand which she gratefully took. Using his strength as leverage she rose beside him and thanked him for the gesture. He looked down at their joined hands once again and embraced her one last time, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Mm." Coatleque sighed contentedly before heading towards the door. "I'll miss you. Reach out if you need me, okay?" "I shall, as always. Until later, Warren?" He smiled at her once more hearing her use his first name. "Be safe, Cot. Go save the world." She returned his smile before leaving. For the first time since they met, she did not part from him with her usual bow. Warren remained frozen after the door clicked shut. He was in awe, partially numb feeling as good as he remembered in recent memory. It was like feeling the sun again. Eventually he sat himself back at the table and then noticed she had left her beret behind. He gingerly picked it up and held it. He stayed that way for some time, unable to wipe the smile from his face. [align=center]***[/align]

ALRIGHT, FINE! JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE, GEEZE! Waiting for approval on the final segment. Incoming wall of text.