Silver runs in Sanctuary

Characters in this scene: Silver, Glory, Foundling

Location: Sanctuary.

Glory smiled, as she was ready to press "Send" onto her laptop, sending the email forward. The moment that GentlyBorderline, Silver's cousin, opens this email, his computer will be bleeding in a gush of shit and tar, releasing 39 minor gremlins to trash his room and whatever tech they can get their hands on. He and his room will be smelling of potent goblin for weeks on end. That's what that dickbag deserves, and his dickbag family (minus Silver) for being a dick to Silver.

Silver straightened, immediately distracted from her crafting and starting to her feet. "Glory, what are you doing?" Her voice was sharp and cutting, demanding attention.

Glory blinked in surprise, startled out of her pride in her latest work. “Just preparing to send an email.”

"What do you mean just? What the hell are you doing that it feels like you're breaking Hospitality?" Hospitality is said with a strange mix of viciousness and reverence; deep inside Silver something is stirred to life, a deep belief in the very concept. The only other faith Silver had this strong was her faith in Glory.

Silver strides over.

"Whoa, wait, can you see my screen?" Glory says, looking back-and-forth between Silver and her laptop.

Silver actually growls, metal scraping, stopping just in front of her. When Glory blinks, she thinks she sees flashes of Silver's wolf-shape. The laptop is between them; Silver can't see the screen.

"Glory," Silver says, very, very firmly, "We are in Sanctuary. Hospitality is sacred. What are you doing?"

"But your cousin isn't here!" Glory protested. "I checked! I sent out a few dummy messages that I traced and confirmed that he wasn't here!"

Silver folded her arms, looking at Glory flatly. "This is a *sanctuary*, Glory. Do you actually know what that word means? Do you understand that using a sanctuary to do violence is Wrong, and that one would be punished for using it to attack someone?"

Glory eyes widen. "Ooooh, I just thought that meant no violence against other people inside. Not like, no violence at all. That makes a lot more sense." She then pressed a few keys into her laptop, and it then sparked and started smoking. Black fluids leaked at as dozens of small gremlins popped out of the screen.

"Alright, you guys can join the others in the Wreck Room. You can take the laptop with you," she says to them. The gremlins then gleefully then off, carrying the still-leaking laptop with them over their back, through the door and out of the room.

Silver exhales, burying her face in her hands. "Goodness gracious," she mutters. "That was fucking close."

"Stella was also pretty vague on what the exact definition of Hospitality really meant."

"Which explains how freely you got your goblins to break Brian's," Silver mutters. "I mean, I guess it is complicated. Different places and different times have a few differing details. But the very basics? The Guest owes the Host respect, and the Host owes the Guest shelter." Silver lets her hands drop, taking a seat at Glory's feet and leaning on her. "It's a very old tradition. As I recall most books I read on it usually end up talking about ancient Greece, the concept of Xenia -" Silver pauses. "You're probably not interested in that, are you?"

Glory was already pulling a new laptop of her backpack, and setting it up on the table in front of her.

"Just... so long as a guest is well treated by their host, the guest should be polite, respectful, not interfere with their host's stuff without permission, not attack the host or other guests, or in general make life difficult for their host. In turn, the host is obligated to offer the guest protection, food, a wash, and a place to rest. If the guest should violate their obligations, the host has the right to eject them, and not necessarily in good shape."

"Huh, I guess that makes sense. I don't really get invited to other people's homes that often. Mostly just break into them."

"I'm just really glad I'm not a law mage right now," Silver remarks after a moment. "Looking at our shared karma would probably give one an aneurysm or something."

"Would your dad have a heart attack meeting me?"

Silver shudders. "No, no he would not. I don't want to think about that asshole." Silver twists, stretching. "Fuck, I do not like rusting. I have been itching for days now. It's disgusting."

"That still hasn't healed over yet? Don't your blades regenerate?" Glory asks, with a concern look on her face.

"Slowly. We haven't really been in safe circumstances, so I've been reluctant to dig deep into our reserves when it isn't absolutely necessary." Silver twists the other way. "It's fucking itchy."

"Well, we're pretty safe now, aren't we?"

"I have been digging deeper since we got here, a bit. It's still slow. I'm made of metal and not flesh, after all, and I can't exactly scrub any of it off or anything."

"Well, that's going to make your match with the goblins pretty tough then." Glory then pulls out an old rusty butterfly knife out of her pack. She flicks it open. "This is Switchstain. She's the strongest goblin in my collection. She's half-redcap, half-spoilsport goblin, the same kind that Callan had suicide-charge you. Spoilsports are goblins associated with things like rot and decay, which rusting falls under of."

Glory did a couple tricks with Switchstain in her hand, flipping her around in her hand. "But the ones that rusted you away were lesser-tiers, and Switchstain here is roughly a mid-tier. Her blood can rapidly rust away any metal that comes into contact with her, way faster than what all those little guys can do. She's probably your biggest threat when you face off against the goblins for your match." She closes Switchstain back up, and places her back into her pack.

Silver makes an annoyed noise. "Fucking goblins. I get cursed into a shape specifically for murdering goblins and they still manage to be bad for everything I am. How do they do that?"

Glory shrugs, and goes back to her laptop. "Just what goblins do. Fuck shit, and if someone finds a way around them, find a new way to fuck'em up."

She then looks over to Silver's crafting table. "Hey, what'cha working on there?" She asks.

"I can still yank power off you, at least," Silver muses. "It'll hurt like fuck for a few days though." She glances over at the crafting table. "Oh. Proper saddle, this time. Rust or no rust, I really want to run."

"Ah, cool. Man, I'm going to look like such a badass riding you." Glory gives a smile to Silver.

Silver giggles like a child at that one, laughing helplessly.

Glory continues smiling, and goes back to her laptop. "Can't you imagine us? You, a wolf made out of swords, leading an army of goblins into battle as I ride on your back, my laptop in hand? We're awesome!"

"I can, indeed," Silver murmurs. "I was nearly done, actually. You don't mind if we go for a run in a bit, do we? It'll probably be rather uncomfortable given I'll need to dig for Self, a bit, but probably not as bad as when I was first rusting." She got to her feet, heading over to the crafting table.

"Yeah, I could go for a bit of a jog," she says, standing up and stretching out her arms and legs. "Isn't this place on a Path though? Is it safe to run outside? Or do they have like a track field or something?"

Silver shrugs. "There's a lot of outside of Sanctuary, I think. I think we'll notice before slipping off the edge." She weaves a few more things through the saddle; it’s very stocky, and the underneath is a mat of metal wire, and a number of straps for various things. "You'll want to hold onto your laptop damn tightly while I'm moving." She grins.

Glory smiles, and places the laptop into her backpack. "Let's go."

Silver's nearly vibrating with eagerness, hefting the saddle. She's actually skipping a bit as they walk out of the room - hugging Erectus on the way out - and head for the exits, down stairs.

Soon, the two of them found themselves at the Sanctuary track field.

The Foundling is now at the entrance of Sanctuary, strolling back to his room. He’s tired, but he sees these new people. He shrugs, and goes to meet them.

"Hey, is this the track field?" Glory asks, seeing the Foundling walking up to them.

It's a very open expanse of grass, I imagine, marked out in different shades for the various tracks. Silver is busy shrugging on her saddle, which unlike the last isn't soaked in Glamour to resemble a backpack.

Foundling waves a hello, a giant, radiant smile on his face. He rushes to them. “Hello!”

Silver blinks at the newcomer. "Good day to you," she says, slightly embarrassed.

"I'm guessing you're a guest to Sanctuary as well?" Glory asks. She notices Silver's embarrassment, and glares intensely at the newcomer.

“Yeah! Much respect to both of ya! You’re Silver and Glory, right? D’awww.” Foundling is like a puppy, jumping every which way. There is not a single thing about him that doesn’t scream jubilation.

Silver's embarrassment is successfully reducing just out of confusion. "And who might you be?"

"What, you the Fool's missing cousin? The fuck are you, and how do you know our names?" Glory growled at the same as Silver.

“I just assumed! I’m Foundling, by the way!” He gives a deep, respectful bow, before jumping back up with a spring. “Ms. Eminence taught me so much, and really seemed to respect the two of you! I hope I’m not being too rude...” Foundling seems to shrink back. “Did I mention I respect you two? I think it’s a great, great good to help a friend in need! I really want to help the two of you if you need it!” He returns back to jubilation. Did I mention he’s like 18?

"Please fuck off."

Foundling pouts. He seems annoyed, and sullen at this. “Hmmmph.” And like a scorned child, he goes to sit on the bench, looking annoyed while doing so.

"So!" Glory says, turning back to Silver with a smile on her face. "Where were we?"

"Not the best start to us making friends with other people," Silver remarks, amused. "Apologies, Foundling. We're just... not in the best place right now." Silver shakes herself, and then there was a massive bladed wolf before them with a saddle on its back. She was mostly intact, but rust was flaking off, black tarnish sticking frustratingly. She shook herself out, stretching. "Oh, that's better," she murmured, blades scraping, and she lowered herself down.

Glory climbs onto Silver's back. careful to not cut herself onto the blades. She hoists herself up, and she soon finds herself onto the saddle. "Ooh, this is much nicer."

Silver stands, blades scraping. "You strapped in there?" Silver asks, twisting her head to look back; she can't twist that far, but she can look somewhat at Glory. "Don't want you falling off, now."

"Yup! All strapped in and ready to go!" Silver could feel Glory's hopping up-and-down in the saddle, and her feet kicking at her sides.

Foundling watches, with a smile, writing a journallogue about his new friends. He seems to be humming some tune, but it comes out scraggly and monstrous.

Silver crouches down, her every movement a bladed scrape, and then she bursts into motion. She leaps high, and lands hard, scratching up dirt. She runs, and she runs, twisting to follow the track. She's fast, and through the bond Glory can feel Silver gleeful; even the itching of rust is fading into the background behind the sheer relief of getting to move and stretch her legs.

Something to hunt would be better, Glory can feel. But just the movement is a satisfaction on sharp steel bones.

Foundling hums while watching, and occasionally cheers encouragement. It’s like a sporting event to him. Through his sight, it appears as a blur of color and life so bright it blinds and addicts him to it.

Glory could feel the wind in face and hair, a sensation that overshadows even when she opens up her van windows while driving and sticking her head out. Her laughs echo out in the air. "Faster, faster!"

Foundling starts finishing up on drawing his art sketch, and smiles. He then starts focusing more on them. Just taking it all in.

Silver can run faster; it involves drawing deeper on Glory, but for the thrill of it Silver most certainly can and will. Not enough to hurt, just enough to tire. She leaps, twisting, landing in a scrape; she laughs, metal scraping, and then she leaps again, dropping in front of Foundling, a massive car-sized mass of metal. "And whatever are you doing there?" Silver asks, silk and steel.

Glory's eyes narrow at the Foundling. Maybe it was just ‘cause he reminded her of the Fool, but her gut was giving her bad feels about this one. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something told her to keep an eye on this guy.

An abstract drawing of a crude, darkish, almost science-like blur of gizmos and trinkets, which entrances you in its complexity, along with a wolf, silver and brown, with drops of yellow, colored more like hope and light than piss. Both beautifully blending in stark contrast. In the background, are thousands of gears, surrounding them, seeming to grind at them, in their indifference to this beauty. He sheds a tear once done, and puts it in his bag.

Silver hums, scratching and scraping like metal. "Not bad, but you didn't ask before drawing us," she points out. She stretches like a cat.

Foundling shrinks in response. “Ah! Sorry....can I give this to you as compensation, then? I felt like drawing what I saw with my Sight that I forgot to consider that...”

"Is it just a normal drawing? Glory asks, still clearly suspicious.

“Other than drawing it with my Sight, there's not that much magic in it.”

"It is a beautifully done picture," Silver murmurs, crouching down. She's watching Foundling, ears flicking and cocking her head. It's hard to tell if she's trying to be intimidating or not, honestly.

"It's well-drawn," Glory begrudgingly admitted.

"Though I am curious. What does 'not that much' magic mean?"

“Hedging bets, I guess. Or at least an attempt at it. Nearly anything might be cursed, theoretically speaking. And if everything has a spirit, does that mean that a slight amount of practice is involved in even stuff considered mundane?” Foundling chuckles.

"That is true. The question is, did you purposefully put more Practice in this drawing than there usually is in a regular drawing done by a mundane artist?" Glory asks, still eyeing him suspiciously.

“Probably not significant more than a drawing done with emotional investment, by my belief.”

"I see. If you would be so kind, would you tell me what you do? I'm going to assume that you are not an Other."

“Dabble, I guess. I’ve done more Blood Magic and Heartless stuff, but I try to branch out when I can.” He seems to have visible trouble hiding his enjoyment of this conversation. “I don’t think I’m that much Other...though...”

Silver lies down in a scraping of blades, tail flicking lazily behind her. "Be glad of that," she remarks. "It's rather a lot of trouble, overall." She cocks her head. "What's involved in those Practices? I'm unfortunately not especially educated in them. Miss Eminence may or may not have mentioned that." Silver flicks an ear. "What has she been saying about us?"

“Not much bad about you, Silver. Doesn’t seem to like how uncouth and unladylike Glory is...might rub off badly on ya. Blood Magic seems to be mostly about paying and storing prices, and Heartless seems to be about strategically altering the Self. Well, at least by my perspective. Not much knowledge on them, admittedly. I could teach you a few spells in both, in exchange for a lesson on glamour.”

Silver makes an annoyed noise. "So judgemental. As if manners are what makes life worth living. People should think about other things, for a change." She scoffs, getting back to her feet. "It's good to meet you, Foundling," Silver remarks. "I might consider that exchange, sometime. In the meantime, though." She stretches again. "Too much energy." And she's abruptly moving again, twisting in a scrape of swords that scratches up the ground to lunge for the track again in a laughing blur, chasing the air.

Foundling has a lazy smile on his face, as that happens. “Good to meet you too, Silver.” He says, as he watches in simple joy.

Glory doesn't say a word, just continues eyeing him suspiciously.

Foundling smiles at Glory, and offers her some chips he got as part of his Subway pack. He’s eating his Sandwich and drinking his soda, while doing so.

Silver finally settles down after about twenty minutes, flopping down near everybody and stretching. There's no weariness through the bond, just the settling of Silver's incessant urge to move. It's not unlike Glory's link to the van, their urge to wander. "That's better," she murmurs. Some of her rust has scraped off, but she's still visibly damaged... and yet she's wagging her tail. "How is everybody?"

“I’m fine, right now. You seemed to enjoy that exercise quite well. Though, I do find a walk used to be pleasant, if my memory still works.” Foundling is smiling that same old lazy smile. Since glory seem to take his offer, he offers her with the unopened bag of chips. He lounges with the rest of them, and opens his toolbox. “Might I offer to draw the both of you again, this time a bit more professionally?”

Silver hums, thinking. She lightly, lightly nudges Glory with her nose, careful not to scratch. She's conditionally fine with this offer, it seems, but not something she'll say yes to without agreement. "And what would you do with this drawing?" she asks lazily.

Foundling shrugs “I can either keep it, or give it as a gift, your choice.”

"Why so interested in drawing us? Not that Glory isn't awesome."

"Yeah, why?"

“I like to capture the pretty colors, while they last. My Second Sight just makes those I consider friends more pleasing to see than the rest of the stuff. It’s not fun to draw without interesting material. It gets boring, to draw cold gear and meaningless scrap. I do have a few drawings of GCE, and I do wish to draw Grekhaus one day, to see what my Second Sight shows me.” Foundling says, while bringing out pen and pencil.

"A picture of Glory would be nice to have," Silver murmurs, noncommittal. "Not as good as the real thing, obviously." Somewhere under the scraping metal is a teasing note, affection. Her tail is still wagging lazily.

Glory momentarily broke out of her suspicion to smile back at her, and try to rub the blades that made out her ears.

“Sure. I do like seeing you two all lovey dovey like this. It’s cute, and it’s exquisite to see with my Sight. I’m warped though, I admit. Samuel Foundling’s the name. Used to be part of the Hunt family, of Northern California, and previously Germany. Though, I am of them, no longer.”

The silver is smooth and cool to the touch, and Silver holds still so as to not cut. She seems to enjoy the affection, though she's hard to read from the outside. Glory, of course, gets access to the underlying happiness. "California and Germany, hmm? How did you get yourself disowned? It hasn't seemed to be the easiest thing to do."

“And what kind of name is Foundling?”

“Ideological differences. The Hunt family dislikes goals too broad and abstract. They feel like it ‘invites weakness, to have more than a pure and unadulterated focus.’ I picked Foundling ‘cause I felt like it. I rarely feel like I was at ease in their home. A “gut decision”, as Glory might put it. I made.... quite a lot of big decisions when I Awakened....”

"Chosen names can have rather a lot of meaning, yes. Why an abstract goal, though? Why would one of those appeal?"

“Hunts pick a singular goal at Awakening, and devote their entire lives to that objective. There’s a high rate of death and turning Other as a result.

“I desired to make friendships, and help those friends. The Hunt head thought that only Family were anything more than a means, and not an end. I disagreed. Whether or not which was true, it was clear who had more sway over Family politics.

“Admittedly, abstract or broad wasn’t quite the word for it. Clashing or contrary may be more accurate.”

Silver's ear flicks against Glory's hand, smooth silver pressing safely into skin. "... That sounds very limiting."

“Yes. Quite limiting. Though the mix of tempered specialization, frankly insane family culture, and immortality made them feared within the area. If you’d like, I could offer to explain what I learned of the various family members of the Hunts.

"How likely is it that we'd run into them, do you think?"

Foundling shrugs.

GCE sees them from a distance, from her room. She DM’s Silver “There is a reason Fool lived primarily in Southern California instead of Central California.”

Silver flicks her tail, back and forth. "I'll try and remember this offer." Her ear twitches. "How's the drawing going?"

“Pretty good. You seem a bit tense, which is kind of messing up my Second Sight sketch.”

Silver yawns... which is far more threatening than it sounds, given how many swords it abruptly reveals. "Not much to be done about that, I'm afraid," she remarks. "We're in Sanctuary for a reason."

“Understandable. It's almost done anyways...”

Silver wags her tail. "I want to see it!"

Foundling flips it, so Silver can clearly see. It's a beautiful and layered sketch of a wolf of silver, wounded and dirty, vulnerable, and prickly, yet resting. The wolf looks hopeful, tired, and defiant, despite everything. The gears around the wolf seem to resist her around every turning, breaking and grinding, and slowing her down. All in all, beautiful, in a way that only Dark Summer or Dark Fall can really pull off.

Addendum: Glory looks like a somewhat butch, knight of sorts. A mix of token-medieval, and sci-fi. Sitting near the tired wolf. Arrows in her back, and gritty. She’s also gritted by the cold gears of adversity, miring her at every turn. Something like a dash of Dark Spring mixed with Dark Summer.

"It's lovely." The wolf shifts to its feet, and then there's a girl standing there, young in pink and blue with silver in her brown hair. She steps over, and extends her hand for the drawing, tilting her head. She's watching Foundling alertly.

Foundling gives a jubilant...dance.... I guess..., and gives Silver the drawing. Foundling gives a radiant, genuine smile.

"It's alright, I guess," Glory growls.

Silver takes it, looks it over thoughtfully, and very calmly offers it to Glory. Her smile is teasing.

Foundling watches the both of them, with a smile. Fascinated at their every move. Not intent at interacting unless necessary.

"Are you done, or what? I don't want to be standing here all day."

Silver rolls up the drawing like a scroll, amused. "It's been well, meeting you, Foundling, but I think it's time we headed back in."

"Yes, let's go!"

Foundling shrugs. “Sure! Have a nice time, you two! You guys are adorable!” He packs up to leave.

Glory flips him off as he turns and walks away.

Foundling pouts at that, but brushes it off as nothing important. “Well, as expected of the butch one. Aptly put, my crudest of friends. Aptly put. Do be careful doing that for too long. Would not be fun for that finger to be too strained to flip when you need it most.”

Silver shakes her head with a sigh, utterly amused with her partner, and tugs Glory by the elbow as they walk away. "What was that all about?"

"My gut is telling something is off with that guy," she growled out, giving one last glance at the Foundling.

"Well, yeah. 'Tis to be expected. If I recall correctly, he said he's friends with Eminence." For once, Silver doesn't actually have her bag - and she doesn't have the three items Eminence gave her. "Still doesn't quite explain why that made you inclined towards aggression. Enemies can be charmed and misled."

"I don't roll that way. I like to make my feelings very clear and up front. And besides, my aggressiveness made your friendliness more convincing anyway."

Silver laughs. "So we're good cop and bad cop, metaphorically?"

Glory smiles. "Nah, just being who we normally are."

Silver tucks herself into Glory's side. "Just fine with the talky sorts underestimating you, then?" Silver taps Glory's headphones. "Mm, this could be quite fun, potentially."

Glory grins back at her. "You want to listen in?"

"Well, yes, but I'm rather more entertained by the idea of people thinking you don't have any subtlety, when..." She makes a happy humming noise. "You got one over on me when I know what you can do, after all."

"Yeah, it's pretty fun to look at the other person's face when they realize I'm capable of a lot more than just violence and swearing."

Silver makes a very happy noise. "Beautiful. Kind of wish I could collect up those expressions and keep them in a box. Well, I could, but it's awkward to manage." She looks over at Glory. "Were you jealous?" she asks, arch but also confused.

Glory grimaced. "I don't like the way he looked at you. I could see exactly what he was thinking in his eyes."

"I'm yours, Glory." The halls are thankfully quiet as they make their way inside. "If people are thinking foolish things like that, well, that's just another way for me to mess them up, isn't it?"

Glory nodded. "Yeah, I got that. But, can you blame me for being defensive?"

Silver ducked her head a bit. "Well. No. I can be just as bad." She sounded embarrassed. "Arguably worse."

Glory smiles, and puts her arm over Silver's shoulders. "C'mon, let's get back to our room."

"Happily. But it was good to get out." She sighs. "We're going to need to have some serious talks soon, though, I think. Not yet, but. We can't put off figuring things out forever."

"Yeah. Hey, by the way, I saw that post about you being disowned, and one of the comments caught my eye. From the "#1Atheist" or something? He wanted to arrange a meeting, or something like that?"

Silver leans into Glory. "Something like that, but from what I can tell the price would be... serious."

"I kinda skimmed over it. What was the guy's deal again?"

Silver pulls out her phone, skimming herself. "Okay. They... they suggested either getting us hired by the fucking August Men, trading for what I think are the remains of minor gods, or getting us into a... school of some sort, if I've understood correctly, and in return they seem to want... uh. Our entire knowledge of the Practice, self-applying a geas, and then an attempt to figure out how to neutralise them.

"Frankly I'm a little scared to answer them."

Glory raises an eyebrow. "Who are the August Men?"

Silver makes a noise of thorough disgust. "Sorcerers who use Glamour to be capitalist experts, as far as I recall. One of the kinds of folks Mother warned me off, before setting me loose; they use Glamour a bit how I used to, but rather more refined, for having multiple identities. I don't know much about how they work. They're a bit more invested in the mundane world than I've ever been."

Glory frowns. "They're capitalists? And they want us to trade in minor god remains? Or get us into school? And in exchange, we gotta do... all that stuff you just listed?"

"They were recommending contacting the capitalists - I don't know if that means they're one of them. But... yeah, I think that's basically the gist. I could ask for clarification."

Glory sighed. “May as well look for whatever option we can find. Should probably at least hear these guys out.”

"Alright. I'll ask." They stepped inside their room, Erectus brightening at seeing them. "I haven't heard back from the Smith, so I'm guessing that didn't work out. Unfortunate."

“Damn. You gotta any other high-level allies to call up?”

"The City... apparently would care that I'm in distress. ... Unfortunately, I'm not nearly as influential as I'd like, because I don't think I've got anyone else straight up powerful worth contacting. I'd consider Landis, but I highly doubt his Lord would care about us at all. Likely the reverse."

Glory nodded. “I, unfortunately don’t know that many big guns. The biggest ones I know are Stella, and...” Glory pauses, and sighs. “I really hope it doesn’t come down to that guy.”

"Is this the same one who you were suggesting for eating my curse?"

Glory shook her head. “No, this is the guy who knows the guy who I said could eat your curse.”

"... Goblins?"

Glory nodded. “And big one. He’s a real oldie too, from I what I can gather on him.”

"That doesn't sound like a friendly appeal."

“Not really. I’ll only consider going to him if this Grey gets that bad. But, he doesn’t hate. He’s old, and looking to modernize, and I’m good with tech. So, I think would at least prefer me alive. Not sure about you, though.”

"Judging by your goblins, I rather doubt he'd approve of me even slightly."

“Yeah, maybe you should stay out of the room if I ever go talk to him.”

"Maybe I'll borrow your headphones." Silver settles her saddle nearby and heads over to her crafting desk, pulling out cloth and other sewing materials. "Damn it. How do we get in these situations?"

“Well, my karma’s pretty shit, so there’s that.”

"Well, we're getting through this, so our karma had fucking better even out afterward or I think it'd be pretty darn unfair." Items and a sketchbook collected Silver settled down onto a pillow. The sketchbook was open to a strange hat with a design that looked like bus seats. She looks up at Glory. "Starting fresh, much as we can?"

Glory nodded. “Yeah. A clean slate. We’re already halfway there with your family disowning you.”

"Pretty sure you're already cut off from your family." Silver sounds amused, before sobering. "We are going to get through this." A blunt statement. Too blunt, perhaps... but if they didn't get through it, what did a gainsaying matter? "I rather insist."

Glory smiled. “Yeah. We will.”