Spoiler
Show
"...Marchande." Rose's voice is strained and quiet, "I... thank you. But please leave the fighting to me. Do not even worry about the fighting. I have done more of it than you ever will, if you live to be one hundred years old."
She pauses, stirs. Stares deep into the eyes of Marchande and Charlotte. No, she decides in an instant, she has no right to ask them to involve themselves. Stephanie knew this sort of living, but not these two. The fire is there, but the panic is proof that they might die, and... well, really. This is her last stand, too.
"Once upon a time, I found a sword that rivaled any weapon for beauty and power. With it, I was invincible. With it, I could cut down this entire organization in a single night. But when we came... home, I left it behind. Now I have nothing to fight with. What I would ask for, the help I need more than any other, is finding something, anything to act as a replacement. You're good with these things. With people. I am not. Help me find him, help me get people to safety, help me find a way to act quickly. Leave the rest to me."
It tumbles out of her mouth now, getting easier with every word. When was the last time she said so much in front of anybody? Her eyes glance down at her red soaked stone with the tiniest measure of hope. Maybe Rose and Kalina Rogers weren't too different after all...