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."