Malwine felt like a loading bar from her past life had frozen in her head. Certainly, things were happening, and she had witnessed them, but she couldn't even recall when the last time she'd felt so utterly stunned by something had been.

She knew everyone could have Skills and Traits for basically anything—at least in theory—but she hadn't dedicated much time to the question of just how much of a disadvantage lacking Affinities was. People acted like it was the end of the world to not have at least one, but all those concerns seemed to stem from how they were needed to advance and extend one's lifespan. The idea that more complex or specialized abilities might similarly be locked behind Affinities had been sort of a given for her.

Disadvantage, my eye. Malwine recovered as quickly as she could, enough to not stand there like a wide-eyed idiot, even if Thekla's display had her reeling. If she weren't able to feel and confirm her aunt was mortal, she would have been flipping tables by now, because that had very much not looked like an act constrained by 'mortal limitations'.

Bernie was saying something about how much that window must have been worth, but no one—and especially not Malwine—appeared eager to hear her out, not with the standoff unfolding before their eyes.

The siblings looked like they were sizing each other up, and Malwine had to concede, the bizarre escalator trick wasn't likely to be one-upped, not even by the guy looking suspiciously like an aspiring wizard.

After what must have been a minute of staring, Otto tipped his head in Thekla's direction. "I see you still know how to make an entrance."

"And I'm disappointed that you no longer do. Shame, shame." The moment she approached, she started patting his back as if he were a sulking child.

"I was rudely intercepted before anything came to pass," Otto grumbled, shooting Bernie a glare.

Malwine tried not to smile at her guardian's expression—at last, it seemed Bernie had noticed trying to get the last word here would be a waste of time. Soon enough, she spun on her heels and loudly stomped off—quite the achievement considering the grass should have muffled her footsteps.

The crowd parted for her without hesitation.

"How come we had to bribe people with food?" Malwine started pouting, glancing at Abelard.

"People generally do not see us and immediately fear they might get kicked out if they breathe wrong near us."

She couldn't help but snort at that. "Okay, fair."

"The trash took itself out," Otto 'whispered' at a volume few would have failed to catch, before moving on as if he hadn't even spoken. "So, sister dear. Who did you con into marrying you?"

Thekla wasted no time scurrying over to grab Abelard by the wrist, and the man let himself be dragged away with only a grumble. "Here. Meet Abelard! He's the world's worst Seeker and my soon-to-be husband."

"Of all the things you could have introduced me as, must you truly hurt me so?" the man in question was not doing a great job at looking genuinely wounded by her words—then again, given the context, he probably wasn't even trying.

This turn of events did leave Malwine in a bit of an awkward position, as she'd missed the window to just follow Abelard to approach the others. If she wanted to get any closer, she'd probably have to risk people looking at her… at her real self… She wasn't sure if she trusted herself not to start something if she did that.

Only she remained idle, however. It seemed it was Otto's turn to be yanked forward by Thekla. "And dear, this is my baby brother Otto."

Otto seemed outraged, trying to look over his shoulder as if hoping someone would back him up on this. Unfortunately for him, the woman who'd come with him was too busy grabbing hold of Abelard's ponytail—it was right about then that Malwine remembered she existed.

"How soft," the woman commented before separating a strand to examine in detail. "Do you have a haircare regime?" A pause. "And if you do, would you care to share?"

Otto's demeanor had cracked by now, and for the first time since he'd started talking, he looked like he might regret showing up to start shit entirely. Even his reaction to Thekla's actions and commentary hadn't made him look that sincerely distressed.

Thekla was nodding along, scooting over to caress Abelard's scalp. "I am jealous, at times."

"Understandable," the woman nodded sagely before reaching over to touch Thekla's braid. Their audience had started backing away by then, presumably weirded out by the turn the conversation had taken—this wasn't the drama they were interested in, not anymore.

"I know, I know," Thekla shook her head, as if already expecting disappointment. "We can't all be perfect."

In turn, the woman faced Abelard as she stopped harassing people's hair, her expression growing serious. "I implore you to take your future wife's feelings to heart and aid her in attaining perfection."

What the fuck am I watching? Malwine was entertained, sure—but that didn't take away from how utterly confused she was.

This was it, she realized. Opportunity. They were nearly alone by now, even if she didn't doubt for a second that at least some of those who had walked away probably had the necessary Perception or equivalent to keep eavesdropping anyway.

"I'll see what I can do," Abelard replied—it'd clearly been too noncommittal an answer for his bride's tastes, as she'd immediately started giving him the stink-eye.

Carefully, Malwine stepped closer and tried to give off her best impression of a curious child, saying the first thing to pop into her head. "Hi, miss. Why are you wearing a mushroom on your head?" Are you bald under it? She obviously was not, but the intrusive thought was a bit too much for her to hold back once she had it, and she couldn't help but add it. "Is it because you're bald under it? Is that why you like hair?"

Had the woman been sitting, she'd have probably fallen off her seat with how clumsily she swiveled—it was actually somewhat impressive to see someone manage to stumble so badly while standing still. "What? No! My hair is just nearly the same color as these vines!"

Malwine would have disagreed on that point, but it was kind of cute that the woman's first assumption would be that a genuine misunderstanding had occurred, as opposed to, well, Malwine admittedly trying to make the most of this opportunity to be an ass. Harmlessly, of course.

Truth be told, she should have realized her mistake sooner—she'd put herself within arm's reach of Thekla, and no amount of fleeting amusement was worth the sinking feeling in her stomach as her aunt pulled her into a hug before dragging her closer to Otto.

Oh, no.

Her uncle was looking down through narrowed eyes, impassive. Something about his expression annoyed Malwine, for all she couldn't wrap a finger around why she felt that way. She just did. That said, disliking people who gave you strange looks felt perfectly justifiable to her. What? Never seen an eight-year-old before?

Only the fact that Thekla spoke before she could do anything kept Malwine from staring judgmentally at the man, as she didn't have time to figure out what the best pose for staring menacingly at someone taller than her would be.

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"Look, Otto," Thekla started, seeming to measure her words despite the abandon with which she had just descended through those magical stairs. "I suppose you would have met her sooner or later, so I will handle this. This is Malwine, Beryl's child. Your niece."

Otto pursed his lips, not answering immediately. The fact that Thekla kept her hand on Malwine's shoulder, almost squeezing it, only made this interaction feel stranger and stranger. Her grip might have actually hurt someone weaker than her.

Distantly, Malwine wondered if that was why adults seemed to avoid their children so much. Could the eventual gap in attributes be such that they risked injuring them accidentally? Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, with that more family-oriented part of her clinging on to the hope that there was some reason for their isolation instead of just a cultural pattern of neglect.

To her surprise, her uncle's stare got him elbowed by his companion, who motioned towards Malwine while wiggling her eyebrows. Otto scowled at her, crossing his arms over his chest before sighing and shaking his head. Okay then…

Otto leaned forward with a nod. "Hello, Malwine."

"Who are you?"

Her mostly-absent uncle briefly looked at her like she was insane before shooting Thekla a glance—the woman just shrugged, not even bothering to hide her laughter.

"You haven't introduced yourself," Malwine explained in the most deadpan tone she could manage, trying to keep her blinking slow and innocent. She was probably off the mark, but she'd long since concluded it wasn't as if these people were any more socially adept than she was.

Besides, [The Way of the Clave] seemed to approve of her actions—though probably not as much as Otto's companion presumably did, as she tried and failed to suppress her snort by covering her mouth with a hand. Hopefully, that meant she'd gotten over the comment on her head. As funny as it had been at the time, Malwine was starting to suspect she wouldn't enjoy the day very much if this woman kept being self-conscious about her mushroom hair, especially after everything she'd told Abelard.

Presumably resigned to how no one was going to support him after Abelard refused to make eye contact, Otto tipped his head at Malwine again. "I have erred, it seems. My name is Otto Rīsan, son of your—"

Keeping her eyes on her uncle, Malwine had no idea who did what, but someone's face must have convinced Otto to change his tune, considering his wince before he continued. Oh, damn. I was hoping he'd list the whole family just to be certain I understood.

"—I am your uncle. That is why Thekla called you my niece. An uncle is a male individual who shares your mother's parents. Meaning, I am your mother's sister, as Thekla said. Beryl is your mother, of course."

…I guess I can't really complain after playing the fool, can I? Ugh. She wouldn't go as far as to say she'd been an asshole to him for no reason—he was the one who glared at her in the first place, after all—but perhaps a better person would have had an easier time handling the meeting.

…And she was very much not about to be the better person here.

"Okay!" Malwine smiled. "So where'd you come from?"

"The Peregrine Wheels sect," the stranger with a mushroom on her head supplied, as if she'd been the one to be addressed.

Looking briefly startled, Otto mouthed something to his companion before scowling—Malwine felt momentarily jealous at the concept of people who could read lips, because she sure couldn't. "We have been around, seeing the world. Putting some effort into finding your mother, in fact."

"What's a sect?"

Otto seemed surprised. "…You aren't going to ask me about how our search for your mother is going?"

"Why would I, though?" Malwine let her hands rest upon her hips. "No offense, but since she isn't here, I'm guessing you haven't found her."

"Fair," the stranger once again inserted herself into the conversation. That got her another stare from Otto.

"Whose side are you on?" he muttered audibly.

"Whichever one gets back at you for making fun of me."

"It was a stupid theory!" Otto nearly shouted, before presumably remembering where they were when a few random guests turned to him. "What are you looking at? Go on with your business."

In an oddly relevant turn, Malwine found herself undecided on the matter of whose side she'd be on if this rediscovered uncle of hers got into a fight with Bernie again.

Shaking her head, she turned to the woman with the mushroom hat. "You know, you deserve better. You don't have to put up with a man who mistreats you—divorce is always an option."

Since she'd yet to find an opportunity to tell that to Bernie, this would have to do as the next best thing.

Thekla started hyperventilating almost immediately, locked between choking and laughing as Abelard rubbed her back—not that his attempts at keeping a neutral expression had any hope of success.

"I knew I made the right call inviting you," Thekla managed, looking on to her younger brother with a glint in her eye.

Hey. Where's my credit for your fun? Malwine pouted. At the very least, she'd been doing her part to make her aunt's special day be enjoyable.

"We are not married or to be wed, so while your advice is noted, it is not applicable," the stranger spoke slowly, as if choosing her words. Oh, bless her heart. While Malwine had been serious when it came to the words themselves, she hadn't expected them to be scrutinized at all. "In any case, as dearest over there was most certainly about to explain, we are… part of a sect. Sects are simply groups of likeminded individuals who stick together for research and growth on shared interests."

"So, like a cult?"

"What? No. Did I imply that?" the poor woman seemed to secondguess herself so swiftly that Malwine almost felt bad. "I believe a closer comparison would be a club, albeit one in which members tend to travel together. Our sect indeed gets its name from being based on a structure capable of travel. I apologize for any confusion."

Okay, fine, I am just being a dick for no reason now. "No, I should be the one apologizing. My teacher always says I need to work on that. Apparently, not all things we think should be spoken aloud."

"Apology accepted, then… And those are wise words," the woman tipped her head. "That said, it goes without saying that there is no such thing as thoughts that should not be had. Are there wrong thoughts? Yes. Yes, there very much are. And it's true that not all that comes to mind should be said. But we are not the thoughts we have. We are simply their masters—it is our responsibility to conquer them, to vanquish any which are wrong by the force of our own will, and to govern that which we project to the world in accordance to our own knowledge of right and wrong."

…Girl, I was just trying to say 'sorry'.

"Oh, no, you got her started," Otto muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Thekla squinted, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know, brother, I'm starting to think, perhaps you should get a divorce while unmarried."

"Did I hear 'divorce'?" someone said from behind them. "I certainly hope it isn't the couple I'm here for!"

Malwine turned, watching a pale blonde man practically part the crowd as he walked closer. He looked utterly different, when most Grēdôcavans tended to have visibly dark hair. Outside her own family, she'd rarely seen any blonde people—and even then, Kristian looked more like the widow's memories of fellow Hispanic people than anything else.

And speaking of people who didn't match her preconceptions of Grēdôcavans, Ximena went from beelining towards the man to practically flying to him, wrapping an arm around his chest as if to hold him back—and succeeding. "You are Sybrandt's man, no?" she asked as she let go. "The bride's brother is being an idiot, ignore him. He is naught but kindling to the usual passions found in these type of event—I implore you not to let that be your first impression, if I may."

"My first impression was the bride's father chasing me, thank you very much," the man said. "But I see. Tell me—she who's never lost, is it?—who are the lucky bride and groom I will be looking after today?"

Ximena smoothly steered him towards Thekla and Abelard, before stepping aside and grumbling. The only words Malwine could make out were something about Hildegard and her having to do everything herself. Oh, yeah, where even is Hildegard?

"The officiant, I take it?" Abelard shook the man's hand. "I was told you would be showing momentarily, but I confess I did not expect your arrival to be this soon—else, I would have taken steps to ensure you did not run afoul of my future father-in-law."

"I pity your poor soul," the man shook his head. "Lambrecht's the name—at your service."

"Abelard Lange, likewise."

"Ooh, Lizanąn?" Lambrecht grinned at Thekla—it was quite the shift from his initial attitude. "Exotic, huh?"

"I wouldn't disagree," Thekla nodded in his direction, though she did look torn between interpreting that as an offhand remark or punching the man. "Thekla Rīsanin—this little man and his hair will soon be legally married to me, or so I hope."

"I do believe hair is normally included in the deal."

For someone who had probably missed the earlier events, he seemed oddly willing to simply go along with the comment. And speaking of the culprits, Otto had slunk away, having found seating on a table with a nameplate that very much did not match his name.

His companion was orbiting Ximena, to Malwine's surprise. From what little she'd seen of the seamstress, they might actually get along, depending on whether Ximena had any strong feelings about… fashion statements.

Feeling suddenly abandoned, Malwine wondered what she was supposed to do next—aside from following Thekla around, she hadn't really put much thought into anything she'd do today, now that she'd given her gift to her aunt. She'd watch the proceedings, at least—it would be good to understand a little about that, if only for the cultural context.

So the wedding officiant's this dude… And he has something to do with a guy name Sybrandt… Where have I heard that name before? Hildegard? Malwine had no idea. Oh, whatever. It's probably some connection someone called on, since Hildegard and Ximena seem to be friends… Uh, that's it, I have no idea.

In any case, she'd probably find out soon enough, assuming no one set the wedding event on fire.

Oh, who am I kidding? I just hope they can actually get married once the drama gets put out.

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