The Sea of Stars [Catherine, Verdada]

It was about time.

The cold winds of her fatherland bittered her bones, even the heavy coat she wore didn't completely spare her from the elements. But it was fine, she was fine; if anything she felt lighter than ever, even the chill of the world couldn't hurt her now. She had invited someone to come up to this mountain that overlooked the city of Oslo below, someone she needed to talk to. Food and drink were offered, not out of exchange but rather interest, a very plainly spoken text indicating a desire to hang out with only the required information to both knowing when and where she was.

A fire crackled at her side, a pot of lammefrikassé gently bubbling on the hitch above it - she had cooked it precisely to the recipe upon that tattered page's specifications, instead of rushing through the process like normal. She didn't have time to lose, after all.

Sat beneath a misty night and a blanket of stars, were two fold out chairs - one waiting for it's own butt in the seat, the other already occupied. The first thing anyone familiar with her would notice, was her hair cut down to mid length, already regaining it's curly volume; it had been about two weeks since she sinned. The second, would be the small piling of practically ancient looking books at her side.

Felt her before she even bothered to look at her, in fact she still didn't turn her way, that shortened spilling of red locks barely shifting as she took another swig of beer. Of course Verdada was being more prodding than usual, she fully expected that - woman was already the type for it, and their last meeting didn't end too chummily.

She didn't respond immediately, having uncapped the lid of the soup, the scent of creamy meat and seasonings filling the frigid air, a quick stir given the pot. Seemed done, she decided as she decoupled the hot pot from it's hanging position and placing it on a cold stone she'd cleaned to simmer.

"Thanks for coming," Her voice sounded tired, lamenting. There was a visible difficulty in her movement, a close look would reveal one of her legs was heavily bound and braced.

"Tell him I said sorry. For breaking his limbs and dragging him over to you. And spitting on him." Her natural accent was on play; the fake American one Verdada was no doubt used to was no longer played up. She was serious.

"Wasn't planning on it. You never seemed like the type that expected reconciliation."

She needed a moment to think about those other things. Frankly, between studying the texts she drug up from her grandfather's stashes and getting the company in order, she needed a moment to think about a lot of things. There was no need to push feelings and thoughts aside anymore, not when survival wasn't on the line anymore.

"Should have a third coming about... Welcome back, Faust."

She could tell it was the tall scaly brute was back with the firewood, the sound of grunts long preceded the dragging of footsteps up the hill as the strange faceless Fullbringer came into view, arms full of dried wood she asked him to get. The dark veiled face vaguely looked in Verdada's direction, more like he was seeing with the side of his head opposed to the front.

"Faust, Verdada. Verdada, Faust. You can make a pile right there," She'd point to a space away from the fire. He was notoriously bad with instructions, and of course he'd fail to surprise her yet again by just throwing the pile into a scattered mess. She sighed, "Neatly and stacked."

Only thing that came her way was a grumble and a slap of the tail as the massive dark man went to cautiously stacking the wood pieces.

"Not much of a talker. Don't think he can talk," With another swig of her drink, she'd sigh, "Water and beer's in the cooler. Pick whichever."

Whenever Verdada decided to even attempt to settle, she'd actually answer her prior questions, "Can't have a new perspective if your perspective was never different to begin with. Even so... Still feels like shit."

Her gaze rose to the still unoccupied folding chair, then finally swept over to Verdada, "You can take a seat. That one isn't partial to chairs."

Right, the soup. She'd check on the pot, the lid having finally cooled down enough to be touched, though she'd lift the lid to find some still bubbling soup. Tch, she should've been pickier with what metal she made this pot out of... Hopefully the soup would be alright. Not that she had control over that right now; better to let the elements cool the steaming cooking implement off as she'd cautiously stir it with a soup spoon. It... at least smelled good.

"Fullbringers," She'd breathe out, leaning back and away from the steam for a moment, looking to Verdada with tired eyes, "Their favored object. Can be anything, right? Anything they feel strongly toward; the emotions and memories associated with it draws out it's true strength..."

Her hand reached into her coat, and out pulled a tacky old locket; looked like something you'd win at a claw game or something, even the hinge was broken.

"And what do you think happens, if they lose all care for that item? And why, do you think they'd lose all care for that item?"

"Because," There wasn't a hint of that usual irritation her voice as she'd stir the pot slowly, not looking up at it's soon to be recipient, "Despite your eccentricities, despite your dismissive attitude, your prodding, your disrespect, and your apparent glee in putting others in mortal peril - You are one logical, predictable person amongst a sea of unpredictable stupid people. At least you are consistent in your little bouts of mind games. That places you high, high above the majority of sweaty idiots I deal with regularly, and in turn I value your input and perspective, despite my own shortfalls, my own failures to listen."

She had set two wooden bowls, both with mesmerizing patterns that is unlike natural wood in their makeup, calmly taking spoonfuls of soup and pouring them into each dish. She hadn't eaten in nearly a day, she hardly had the appetite for what was in front of her.. But she wanted to eat it anyway.

"For someone so seemingly unbothered by everything, you seem pretty bothered by me; you haven't sat down, you haven't taken a drink, you haven't said a proper hello, you've been tensely engaging with me since we started. I'm not going to kill you, i'm not going to steal from you. I simply wanted to discuss matters with a person of a like mind. You don't want an apology? Have my honest thoughts instead, for once; I think of you as a friend, not a therapist. So sit down by the fire, have some soup, take in the view. Fy søren, It's freezing woman."

She'd jab Verdada's share toward her direction in offering, though her head would soon turn over to the sound of gnawing, a glare sharpening her gaze, "Faust, throw what you're chewing on the fire. And don't eat wood. Klossmajor..."