(1311-07-31) Between the Hosts and the Guests
Summary: Two foreigners meet two local ladies and things escalate pretty fast into a bloody fight.
RL Date: Wed Jul 31, 1311
Related: None
desarae andre philomene kalisha 


The impressive gilded roof of the Dome of the Lady with its many towers can be seen from afar, it is the glittering beacon welcoming ships back home as they sail towards the harbor. Sheltered behind thick walls, the courtyard has a fountain in its center, wrought from white marble. The pair of fish chasing each other above the waterline look almost realistic, due to a love for detail of the artisans involved in their creation. Water splashes from their maws into the uppermost of three basins, each feeding the one beneath it.%r%R From the cobblestone of the courtyard, stairs rise to the entrance of the ducal palace proper. The adjacent guest tower is where foreign dignitaries and visitors of high station have their quarters. The stables are accessible through a gate big enough to led a mounted rider through, just beside the gate house, that is watched at all times by guards wearing the Mereliot colors of blue and yellow above their chain armor. Under the ornamented arch of the gatehouse, an ever flowing stream of people are passing through, palace staff on errands as well as nobles and dignitaries, seeking audience with the Duchesse of Eisande.

Today is a beautiful day. The weather is just perfect for a stroll. The sky is clear and just a few fluffy clouds add a touch of personality to it. The sun is also quite high warming up both common folk and nobility. Some of the ladies are covering their pale shoulders with magnificent light silk scarves in order not to get tan. Noblemen have decided to leave their coats at home and they wear simply shirts not to overheat. However, one young foreigner is wearing her leather outfit adorned by different type of furs. But it is not that what attracts attention of many people who pass by the gates of the palace. It's her raised voice and the guard's firm grip on his sword.

Kalisha is waving with an old leather belt in one of her hands, while the other holds a long sharp dagger. She has a vivid accent when she speaks in d'Angeline tongue. So, she tries to do it very slowly and very loudly. "I did n-o-t-h-i-n-g bad. Old leather is g-o-o-d to sharpen blades. I remember that. I D-I-D N-O C-R-I-M-E!" But the guard doesn't seem to be convinced. "Put your weapon down, you filthy Skaldi." He states firmly. "Or I will drag you to the cell." However, even if Kalisha is reaching only the man's shoulder by her height, she doesn't seem to be threatened. "D-O Y-O-U U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D M-E? Waiting for a friend. Lord. He sleeps there. ANDRE. Did nothing wrong. Work for him." She still holds her equipment in her grasp and so the guard shouts out again, "PUT YOUR WEAPON DOWN!" But Kalisha just rolls her eyes again. "Oh, please, can you shut the fuck up?! Not now!" She angrilly glances at one of the commoners who stopped to take a look how the conflict will escalate. Then she looks at the guard. "O-K. I MEAN NO HARM. NO HURT. JUST WAITING ANDRE." She starts leaning down with an intention to put her dagger down on the road.

Andre has been out of town on some mysterious quest for most of the last days. Since he knows only few people in town, he didn't expect any kind of trouble on his behalf. But clearly he was wrong. Coming out of the guest tower, he hears his name being shouted. His first name no less, not even his formal name or title. So he hurries over. Luckily he's formally dress as becomes a prince and heir to a small but rich country. "Excuse me, may I ask what's going on?", he asks with all the formal politeness that has been instilled in him since childhood. Seeing the dagger in the hand of a Skaldic person, he can get an idea what's wrong, but he'll wait for explanations for now.

"Andre!" Kalisha shouts out happily. And raises up not releasing her weapon. She waves with the dagger to the man. "Friend! Work to you! Tell this. Tell him. He is stupid!" The guard does not turn his gaze away from the young Skaldi warrior because of how threatening she appears. However, he address the nobleman. "M'lord, do you know this woman? She states that she knows you. She was found at the side of the gates sharpening her dagger, speaking strange words. We do not think that she was speaking to anyone specific. We searched around. We heard that a ship full of Skaldi warriors were seen at our shores and was caught in a storm few weeks ago. We are not sure how many of them survived and what…" Kalisha speaks at the same time as the guard, trying not to listen to him. "Me. Tell him. I work to you. I did not hurt. You. Do not know people around. Tell him. Tell him that I do not remember things. Andre, I just remember war. Battle. Blood, sweat, soil taste. I REMEMBERED! I am a warrior! I know things, Andre!" She seems to be quite happy about her memories slowly coming back. But her words make the guard more tense. "M'lord, is she speaking truth?"

Andre blinks a little at the barrage of words from both, then arches one brow. "So you remember now, you are a Skaldic warrior?", he asks Kalisha and tries his very best to not laugh. "That will go down well here.", he mutters to himself, then looks at the guard with his best firm royal look. "Yes, she is with me, thank you for your trouble to ascertain the safety of the palace. Come.. let's go… elsewhere.", he decides it's best to not take Kalisha INTO the palace but somewhere far away. "And put that thing away!", he tells her firmly, "You do NOT want to be overheard talking about battles, blood and sweat around here."

"I TOLD YOU!" Kalisha sticks her tongue at the guard who does not let go of the pommel of his own sword. However, his posture relaxes. The guard turns to the nobleman and bows to him. "If you say so, m'lord. But she should know not to draw her weapons at the gates of the Palace. We could have just… M'lord." The guard decides not to finish his sentence and he moves back to his position. Kalisha puts the dagger back in the scabbards at her side. She comes closer to Andre and if he allows, she gently pokes him to the shoulder. "Where have you been? I was waiting for you for days!" She manages to say a full sentence without mixing in other languages. It's an achievement! "I do remember that I am a warrior. Skaldi? Not yet sure. But I guess. Everyone says so. They know better! I do not know why I know so many languages, though. But I am starting to understand this language more. Others still harder. Hearing helps."

"I was out of town, preparing for the Great Exhibition.", Andre explains. It sounds better than saying he was building a mancave with another youth. "Look, er… um, if you start remembering things, perhaps you also remember that Terre d'Ange and Skaldia are sort of at war and definitely not fond of each other?", he says more quietly, "You should not be shouting out that you're a Skaldic warrior. It's the fast lane to getting a dagger in your back. Say you're Vralian or Gotlandish or whatever." He pauses to consider all of this new information and narrows his eyes. "What WAS a Skaldic ship full of warriors doing in the Middle Sea though? What were you up to?"

A black carriage sweeps into the courtyard, the crest of blue and gold fishes emblazoned upon its doors, and the livery of the driver and footmen that cling to the back, denoting it as belonging to the ducal Mereliot family. As it clatters to a halt on the cobblestones, one of the footmen jumps down, pulls a door and lowers the hinged step so the passengers within might climb out. A grey-garbed Cassiline is first to step out, followed by what can only be presumed to be his ward and one of her maids. Dark-haired, young, and dressed in pale ivory silks, she chats quite amiably to the pair in her company, pulling her gloves from one hand as she prepares to enter the palace. Except she doesn't, not when there are others in the courtyard, and three pairs of eyes turn in Kalisha and Andre's direction. The atmosphere might be cut with a knife, and a faint growl that rumbles in the Cassiline's throat. "Into the palace, my lady. The guards will see it off the palace grounds." It's wisdom that he speaks, but Desarae appears not to hear. "No. I want to know what that animal is doing here…" With narrowed eyes she hitches her skirts and commences to walk around the fountain and across to where the pair stand.

"War? Exhibition? What?" Kalisha seems mildly confused. She puts the old unusable leather belt back into her shoulder bag. Her shoulder bag is made out of dark leather but it has many strange carvings, strange lines which look like runes or some sort of a different language. Symbolism, perhaps. "I do not know. I know I was. I mean, I was on a ship. I remember a mission. I mean…" Kalisha pauses, gently tugging Andre to stop as well, if he allows. "I remember a name. Kalisha. I assume it's my name. Then I remember a ship. I was sailing. I remember darkness. Mission. Something very big was coming up." She blurbs a couple of words in Skaldi and Caerdica unitas, and some made up words. At least it sounds like made up. "I remember this. I also remembered a war few nights ago." She raises her head up to look into the sky. She closes her eyes as if drowning into her memory again. "Rain. Heavy rain. Blood dripping over my face. Sweat. Heavy breathing. Shaking hands. Holding sword. Soil, sweat and blood mixes up in my mouth. Scream. Almost endless…." She pauses and then adds in a very quiet whisper, "Sssshhh… I know. We have been in a war. We are still at war…" Then she opens her eyes and looks back an Andre. "Why did you not forget anything after your accident?"

"Perhaps because I wasn't whacked over the head.", Andre guesses dryly. Seeing Desarae advance, he smiles wryly. "Though I might be within the next minutes." He quickly turns back to Kalisha. "Kalisha. It sounds like you were in a battle at sea. If your ship was attacked, another ship was involved. Perhaps a D'Angeline one. My friend in the navy might know more. But hold your horses for now. Let me introduce you to a friend of mine." He turns to face Desarae with a genuine bright smile. "Good morning, Lady Desarae. How does the day find you?"

"It /did/ find me well, Lord Andre," Desarae says, her voice cold and distant in the face of his welcome. "Now it does not. You…" she turns to Kalisha. "are not welcome here." Her chin lifts, her shoulders tight beneath the delicate silk of her gown. Behind her, a good two paces or more, her maid stands pale and nervous, her eyes glued to what is perhaps the first Skald that the girl has encountered. There's no such nervousness to be found in Desarae's own eyes however, just cold hard hatred, bitter and unyielding. The hand her Cassiline places upon her arm is shrugged away. "Go. Before I have you arrested."

Kalisha frowns and, most likely, curses in a foreign tongue. She uses those words which can not exactly be put together into anything specific and can not be coming from any specific region. Then she straightens up to appear bigger. "NO!" She shouts back at Desarae. "I did nothing. I work to Andre. I listen to him. Tell her Andre that she has no… no… how you say it… right!" Kalisha snorts at the woman and looks at the man. "Tell her. Work for you. We are friends. I keep you safe." She then focuses her attention on the lady. The frown does not leave her forehead. "Not afraid of you, white hands."

Andre winces a little as he realizes he's stuck between two hot-headed women. It never ends well. "Kalisha.", he says firmly. "The Lady Desarae is niece to the Duchesse of Eisande and as such she has the right to tell people what to do in her realm. She also has the right to arrest people. Please… give us a moment?", he asks of the Skaldi girl and turns to Desarae with what he hopes are urgent dagger eyes and not the look of a maniac. "A word, Mylady? Please?"

Urgent dagger eyes appear to have little effect upon Desarae, and she stands cold and impassionate in the face of them. "I cannot begin to imagine what it is that you would wish to have a word with me about, my lord," she states to Andre, her voice dangerously quiet. "I will not suffer dogs such as this in my /home/. If you have business with the it, my suggestion would be that you conduct it elsewhere." Her chin lifts. "This is Terre d'Ange, my lord, and not your homeland. It is not welcome. Get rid of it."

Kalisha was standing quiet by the request of Andre. However, when a young lady continues to offend her, a hot-blood of a foreigner boils in her veins. She frowns deeply and it can seem that her ocean blue eyes shoot lightenings at the noble lady. The effect of anger is stressed out by all those 'war-like' looking tattoos. The dark blue ink covers one third of Kalisha's face as if a band. A young woman bumps with her fist into the leather band around her head which looks like a crown. "HEAR ME. HEAR ME!" She shouts out and bumps her fist into her own head as if encouraging the lady to think. "We know nothing about your stupid war. I did not hurt you. I am not an animal. You don't like me - you fight me. But you don't call me it. I am human. You lady are human too. I made of skin, bones and blood. You made of skin, bones and blood. We are same."

"Sssssssssssssh!", Andre tries to shush the shouty foreigner. "She has a point though. We're all made of skin, bones and blood, Mylady.", he turns back to Desarae and eyes her. "If you cannot imagine what I would wish to have a word with you about, then perhaps you should give me a chance to surprise you?", he asks, trying his best dimpled smile.

"The same? I think not," Desarae says. "Were /I/ to find myself alone and lost in Skaldia, would I be allowed to walk freely around their cities and towns? I think it far more likely that I'd be attacked and taken hostage. I'd be tortured and defiled, sold into slavery and worse." She turns to Kalisha. "You look like an animal, act like an animal, and smell like an animal." She pales, knuckles whitening where her hands clench into fists at her sides. "You have the /nerve/ to stand in /my home/ and shout at /me/. Not only shouting at me, but threatening me too. You will leave now, or be arrested. I will not tell you again."

Kalisha sighs and she turns to Andre. "She does not understand me. Tell her, Andre. Tell her that I do not know. What would happen to her in Skaldi. Tell her I know nothing about Skaldi. She doesn't want to hear me. She comes, shouts, threatens me and when I answer back to her the same, it's my fault? This is stupid. I am leaving, Andre. I will wait further away for you. Sorry." She bows her head to the man. Then she briefly looks back at the Desarae. "I do not know who am I, m'lady, or where am I, or why. But I know that /I/ would never offend a person not knowing them." Kalisha then turns around and walks off through the gates into the city. But she can still be seen in a far distance stopping and waiting for Andre as promissed.

"Mylady…", Andre tries to soothe Desarae's temper, but looks relieved when Kalisha actually moves away and avoids being arrested, "I am a stranger to your shores, too, and very much relieved by your kindness and hospitality. Were you washed up in a foreign land, would you not hope for the same? And don't you think that it will reflect well upon Eisande to offer hospitality even to those who are considered an enemy?" He then lowers his voice and leans in to whisper something, even if he ventures within slapping range now.

In baleful silence Desarae watches Kalisha as she turns and walks through the gates, and her green eyes glint dangerously bright when they flick to the guards. If looks could kill, the palace would be six guards fewer, and if they could, then Andre would very likely be pushing up daisies too. "Reflect well on Eisande?" There's a sneer to the tone of her voice. "I wonder how well we would look in the eyes of our Camaeline cousins. You know, those d;Angelines that are at the forefront of our war with the Skaldi. Those who's families have been decimated by the actions of the Skalds. Who have suffered kidnappings and slaughter. Hold them close?" A shake of her head. "I'd rather hold a viper to my breast. I know nothing of Skald warships, but if you have information on such, then I suggest you speak immediately with my aunt and convey what you know." A pause. "I was starting to think better of you, my lord, but I see now that I was wrong. You consort with the enemy, and it bids you follow."

"And a Camaeline mother who fears her son or daughter lost in Skaldia and would pray for a humane treatment and survival of her dearest?", Andre tries once more and sighs. "War is terrible and little kindnesses in the middle of cruelty and despair are what keeps a flicker of hope for peace and a better future alive." Someone give him a soapbox. "The young woman there lost her mind in a shipwreck. It's not even certain she IS Skaldic.", he then points out, "She could be Gotlandish or Vralian or any other of those garish places in the far north-east. I will, however, speak to your aunt, who might understand the value of a Skaldi in our midst.", he adds pointedly.

"Perhaps she will." Desarae says, her voice brittle and sharp. Imperious and unbending, her eyes dig into Andre's, and after a moment of being held, her breath is exhaled. Naked disappointment for the man before her flares in her eyes, and a small shake of her head is given before she addresses her maid. "Celeste. Come. We have things to be doing." Stiff and proud, she turns on her heel without another word; neither to Andre or the guards, and heads instead for the doors to the palace.

Andre looks like he's about to be hit with a massive migraine when Desarae marches off. "Dom ding.", he mutters in his own language and shakes his head. He heaves a deep sigh and starts wandering to where he can see his own Skaldi warrior, whom he somehow acquired, waiting for him. Steeling himself for a lecture in d'Angeline.

Kalisha is standing outside the gates, a bit further away from it, as demanded by the royalty. She still seems to be quite angry and so she is kicking a small poor pebble with every step she takes. She is walking in a circle with her hands crossed behind her back. A young woman is mumbling, grumbling or perhaps cursing in a foreign tongue. Sometimes she even lets out a growl. Of course, those who pass by her, imagine that it was meant to them and so they almost jump aside. But then Kalisha's tone briefly softens and she waves with her arms around as if talking to herself before she gets angry once more. This is going on for the whole time while Andre and Desaeae are having their own conversation.

At almost the moment Desarae departs, from the other direction comes a majestic looking dun mare. The person leading her remains obscured by the animal's flank as she approaches the palace gates and the stables there, but the pair of them are mirroring the same distinctive limp right now. The horse favours her front right foot; the person leading her the left. The horse, however, does not have tailored tall leather riding boots, one with a slightly taller sole to try to alleviate the difference. Philomene does.

Andre spots the limping duo and recognizes the two-legged half of the pair whom he encountered briefly before. "Mylady.", he greets politely and bows to her. Seeing as it would be rude to just walk away now, he waits until Kalisha might look his way and he can gesture for her to return now that the angry little lady has departed.

It takes more than a few moments before Kalisha raises her eyes to the direction of the Palace. She is a bit hesitant to come closer again even if Desarae is out of sight. But if Andre gives her a wave, that will encourage another foreigner to approach him again. Though, when she starts moving closer and her eyes notice that Andre is greeting another noble who might be of the d'Angeline birth, Kalisha pauses. She clasps her hands on her chest and observes from the distance. Cautiously.

"M'sieur," comes Philomene's rather distracted response, polite but nonetheless distant. With a comforting pat for the poor horse's side, she makes her way to the stable door where she raises a hand to attract the attention of what is clearly a pre-arranged groom to come and see to her injured animal. Clearly pre-arranged, as the groom is happy to lead the animal further into the relative gloom of the stables with barely more than a few words spoken between them. Only once the mare has disappeared from sight and Philomene has watched carefully after her for a good ten or fifteen seconds does she turn on her good heel, square her shoulders, and smooth the concern on her features to a well-practiced neutrality. "Good afternoon." Kalisha is noted with a glance but little more, although it's possible that the Chalasse's inordinately well-sculpted chin lifts just a fraction, lending her a somewhat more ominous air.

"An accident while riding out?", Andre inquires politely, "I hope your horse is not too terribly affected. I find the grooms here very well trained though." He eyes Kalisha since she's still hovering in the distance and not close enough for a proper introduction. "I was just on my way to the port. A ship from the Flatlands is due any day and I expect it to bring news from home as well as supplies, which I look very much forward to."

Watching exchange between Andre and the stranger, Kalisha seems to judge that woman. She does some counting in her head, taking everything into the account. Limping. There is politeness in her whole demeanor. Doesn't look dangerous. The posture does not suggest nor defense, nor attack. And so she careful like a cautious wolf starts approaching. A step after step. She even makes a turn few times as if to approach the pair from a different direction. After making a few of those circles, she finally ends up to stand behind Andre. Though, a few steps away.

"An incident," Philomene agrees, absently straightening her cuffs and flicking her cool blue gaze to the circling Kalisha. "Monsieur Guillaume has a liniment about which I've heard great things. God willing we shall see some improvement soon for my poor Hirondelle. Like all of us, she's getting on in years. Your ship from the Flatlands, will it bring supplies of mainly potatoes or are there other goods you're expecting?"

"Potatos.", Andre confirms with a good-natured smile, "Cheeses. Beer. Jenever. Some tapestries that had been ordered, some lace which is popular with the ladies here…" His voice begins to falter when Kalisha's antics begin to ditract him and when she's near enough, he clears his throat. "Lady Philomene, this is Kalisha, she was a shipwreck victim of the same storm that saw me washed upon these shores. Different ship though. And sadly she has lost most memory of her past, so she is not certain of anything. I have offered her a helping hand."

When Kalisha is introduced, she moves to stand beside Andre instead of behind him. She extands her arm towards the woman as if in offer to shake it. Her arm has a blue ink circles going round and round from the wrist to her shoulder. The same blue ink covers one third of her face as if a band over her eyes. The eyes which curiously study Philomene but with some caution as if not sure how she may react. "I protect Andre. His guard. He hired. I have no coins and no home. Was not sure where am I." She explains.

Philomène eyes the hand and rather pointedly ignores it, choosing not to even tough it let alone shake. "Where you are, young lady," she insists, eyes narrowing a little, "is Terre d'Ange. I suspect you're very fortunate to be here and to be alive." She eyes Andre, raising a brow in question. Really? Really, though?

Andre shrugs at Philo. Desi already tore him another one. "I believe in extending kindness and hospitality, so I offered her sheltered while she was hoping to recover her memory and thus know where to go home to.", he explains gently, "After all, Eisande did the same for me when I was a penniless stranger washed up on this shore."

Kalisha takes back her hand. She cleans it off into her side for no reason. "Andre was kind to me. Not Terre d'Ange. I was attacked by guards and then ladies. No." She shakes her head in disappointment. "However, Andre is kind. I will serve him till I get my memory back. Once I will know more who am I, then I will be able to help him more. Like know how can I pay him back for hospitality and respect." She explains and straightens up now feeling more comfortable.

"You forget that none of us have spent years of our life protecting the borders from Flatlanders," Philomene points out, her voice deceptively quiet. "I would suggest that you take your guard home with you as soon as is reasonably possible. She'll not protect you here, and she'll get no help from any patriots in this land."

"You do not need to pay me back.", Andre assures Kalisha, "I believe that if I'm good to people, people will be good to me. Besides, the Flatlands have no beef with Skaldia. We are neutral. If we could make you realize that more could be gained from friendship and trade than from being constantly at war…" He sighs and gives up. It's a lost cause.

Kalisha looks from the local to the foreign friend. Then back to Philomene. "I do not know if I am Skaldi. People say that I am. I do not remember where I am coming from. Yes, I remember battle and I remember a ship. But that is all. It doesn't mean I am Skaldi. I may be one, but I may not be one. I would prefer to be judged by my own actions not by others. If you hear me. I mean, understand." She does not answer to Andre's remark that she doesn't have to pay him back. Probably, she will do so anyway.

"And why," Philomene fairly spits out, eyes narrowing at the foreign young lady, "would I give two shits what you would prefer? Blood will out. If you don't want to be judged, then don't be here. Cross me and I will damn well run you through like the vermin you are. We haven't spent years defending the border from you people just to invite you in because you 'prefer to be judged by your own actions'. A rat is a rat, and should be exterminated."

"And what if she turns out to be a Vralian princess instead of Skaldi?", Andre suggests mildly, "She speaks some funny language nobody recognizes. I think it might well be Vralian."

"Offend me one more time and this rat will take three seconds to slice your throat right here and this right moment before you even run through me!" Kalisha holds her glaring gaze on Philomene while her hand wraps fingers around the pommel of her sword that is decorated by a demonic monster of the seas. Not turning her gaze away from the woman, Kalisha speaks to Andre. "I think we should go to the port, Andre. The smell of rotten flesh around this castle makes me ill."

Oho! Escalation! This is more to Philomene's taste, and a small, thin smile settles on her face. Her own hand, thinner, definitely older and well worn, goes to a far less decorative and more functional blade of her own, withdrawing it from its sheath in a flash, the steel reflecting in the bright July sunlight. In an unusual twist, her left hand finds a smaller blade of its own, sheathed beside her sword, and that one comes out to form an uneven pair. Limp or no limp, the transformation from middle aged noblewoman to the fierce warrior she once was is achieved in the blink of an eye, only the wrinkles and the odd position of her left leg belying the many years that have passed since last she drew blades in anger. "One," she begins, drawing into a high guard. "Two…."

Andre literally facepalms, then eyes Kalisha. She really needs to learn to read a room. "You are a guest of Eisande. It doesn't do you any good to be rude to your hosts.", he comments. But there's Philo going into full psycho mode and he knows when he better get out of the way of women in a mood. So he takes a few steps back and just looks worried. "Ladies, please?"

"Is this how Terre d'Ange is treating their guests?!" This is an answer to Andre. "I will defend my honor till my last blood drop!" She says that by withdrawing her own sword as well and crounching into a position of a defense. "Andre, you should move aside. You shall stay safe. But people should take into account that I am not the first to offend, threaten, draw a sword or attack. I extended my hand."

"Skaldi scum have no honour!" Philomene snarls, her limp only adding to the irregularity of the way she stalks closer, the main gauche held out wide to the side while she flicks the point of her sword forward to point at the younger woman. "But please, feel free to water the ground with your blood. It's the best fucking use for it."

Kalisha doesn't say anything. Her eyes seems to grow darker and it might be lights but something flashes in them. A glimpse of madness or an inner monster. But the young girl's personality and posture completely changes. She is a wolf. A wolf who circles his prey. A wolf who patiently waits.

<COMBAT> Philomene has started the combat! Pose and pick your first action.
<COMBAT> Philomene will attack Kalisha this turn.
<COMBAT> Kalisha will attack Philomene this turn.
<COMBAT> Kalisha attacks Philomene with Broadsword - Serious wound to Chest (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Philomene attacks Kalisha with Broadsword but Kalisha DODGES!
<COMBAT> Philomene has started a new turn. Pose and choose your action.
<COMBAT> Philomene has been KO'd!

There's a moment or two of complete silence and stillness, then the pair of them simply lunge at each other, neither one willing to give ground. Even if they didn't have blades, one can imagine that teeth, nails, anything would be used. It's all over in a flash, though, almost as soon as it began. Steel rings on steel, a blade comes up, Philomene lunges forward for a straight blow at a target that's suddenly not there any more, her eyes widening as blood suddenly begins to well from a wound in her chest, leaking dark crimson against the chocolate brown of her riding jacket. And then she's on the ground, crumpling down in a manner that cannot be normal.

"GRRRRAAAAHHHHGRRRRRRR!!!!" Kalisha shouts as loudly as she can. Instead of remaining in the defensive position, a foreign warrior jumps into the air and forward at the same time. She raises her arm up, the one which holds her sword, and she has the sharp tip of it turned down. The blades meet togetehr and the metal clashes. But Kalisha does not waste her time. She squats down, rolls on the ground twice to appear behind Philomene and then suddenly under her. It's good to be of a very small height. And that is when she stabs her blade straight into the other woman's chest. It's a quick motion and soon her blade is withdrawn. The blood is dripping on the ground from it when Kalisha slowly stands up and lowers her arm. She is breathing as fast as a wild animal. "Grrrr… grrrr…. grrrr…." She growls.

Andre had certainly not expected things to get bloody so fast… or for the old woman go down so quickly. Luckily the noise has already attracted people and he's quick to shout at them to fetch the guards. They come clanking in their armour and frown at the scenery. Since one woman is down and one is up, it makes sense to go for the one who's standing to arrest her. Andre offers her an apologetic look, but doesn't make a move to stop them from doing do.

Kalisha seems not to notice the guards who approach her. Instead, her gaze full of anger changes into something more similar to deep sadness. She lets go of her sword which falls down. A strange foreigner herself springs just a bit forward and falls down to her knees. She grabs nothing more but a soil, dusts and thin air with her hands, "Mother. Mother. NO! MOTHER!" She tries to press whatever she has grabbed closer to her chest. "NO. MOTHER!!!" And that is when the guards get to her. But she does not see them. "NO NO NO!"

"Off we go, Missy.", the lead guard grunts gruffly and with the help of another one, hauls her away. "You two suss out what happened here!", he tells two other guards who have come along, "And secure that!" He points at the fallen sword.

Kalisha will have to be dragged out, because she just keeps shouting, screaming and grabbing an air in front of her. D'Angeline words change into some Skaldi, where she still calls for her mother, and then to all those other languages which are not familiar to some, or perhaps quite well known to others. Or perhaps, they are known only to Kalisha herself. She is kicking her legs, screaming and sadness mixes up with anger in her tone.

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