The streets of New Haven were rarely anything but picturesque and that quality was only magnified when the landscape was coated with a layer of freshly fallen snow. The sidewalks were salted allowing easy passage to and from the high end boutiques and the restaurants and cafes advertised warm comforts such as cinnamon spice lattees, duck l'orange, and lamb and cabbage stew. On the north end of the neighborhood, the lane curved gently. One one side of the street sat orchards and vineyards attached to grand estates -- one of which was the DeMuer's New Haven home -- and on the other a row of popular shops. Tucked into the row, directly across the street from the home, sat the Chipped Handle.

Two brunettes sat at a table before a large window that overlooked the street. It would have been easy to mistake them as friends out for a casual lunch. They were roughly the same age, they had the same taste in designer labels, they were at home in the upscale side of town. But they were not friends and the lunch was anything but casual.

Sofia DeMuer pushed an open folder towards Tenacity Casely to allow her to examine the contents.

"It's a country called Orwald,? Sophie began. ?About a day's flight there. A little bit longer back because it wouldn't be safe to leave the same way you came in. Small, poor. In a seemingly constant state of drought or natural disaster. There's a larger, stronger country right next door called Esterbarrow. Its rich with gold mines. Bylea rebels have been trying to take it over for decades. They keep failing."

"Mm. What's the delivery?" Tenacity asked, her fingers stilled. There might have been an answer in the pages if she dug further, but this was more effective. Golden eyes narrowed on the flight plans, jumped up and connected with Sophie's, then hopped back to the drawn up navigation.

?There is no delivery,? was the quiet response. "The Bylea rebels are moving into Orwald to try to gain a foothold, a base of operation. Orwald's prime minister has agreed to allow Esterbarrow military to come in a rid them of the rebels but... the Esterbarrow military won't be ready to mount the campaign for another two weeks."

Past the first handful of pages -- after the data on the country and potential flight plans -- came photos. They were aerial shots circling sections of countryside with the words suspected mass grave and confirmed mass grave jotted beside the circles. What followed were numbers. Tallies of men, women, and children. The destruction of entire villages.

Sophie?s eyes casually swept the restaurant before landing on Ten once more. "When I was sixteen I spent a summer in Orwald training their soldiers in some high tech equipment that my family gave them. We were in a village that's already been destroyed. I stayed in the home of an old woman named, Tomia. She fled the attack on the village with five of her grandchildren and one pregnant daughter. It's all of her family that's survived. The Prime Minister has agreed to keep them safe for me for assisting in the negotiations with Esterbarrow to get them to handle this situation... but I don't trust him. I want them out of there."

"Just them?" Ten asked very evenly, her eyes pinching just slightly at the corners. Her irises went dark orange as she flipped the pages back so that the flight plans were visible. She was going through necessary space in her head, through safety protocols and standards -- the ones she knew she could break, specifically, if given the opportunity.

Visible pain briefly flickered across Sophie?s features. Just them. She could save no more than a handful. "I'm not allowed to do more. I offered. We don't exactly have knights or military to spare at the moment but I offered to take more. He was offended. I'm not even supposed to be taking them. But I got word into Tomia. She's said that she, the grandchildren, her daughter, and three others will be waiting in a field. Here." She slid another aerial photo out, tapping an open spot. "We just have to tell them when. I can get word in."

"Need room for ten others." Ten paused and looked over the documents between them, her eyes holding a slate gray color. "Five, maybe six, days. I want to make sure I'm solid in a craft that size, and I want to be absolutely sure that the plane is what it should be. Especially for a pregnant rider."

The conversation lulled as the waiter approached to deliver Ten her cup. Sophie carefully slipped the photo she'd been pointing to back beneath the pile while lifting a sunny smile his way. Ten murmured a 'thank you' when she turned her gaze up, aware of the photo's progress in her periphery. When the waiter had left, again, Ten?s flexed her fingers around the glass.

"I'll get her here," she said, not allowing for a quiver of uncertainty in the words.



((Taken from live play with the player behind Tenacity Casely!))