World Tree MUSH

    The wilds of various worlds sometimes bump right up into more civilized areas of fully-integrated Branches! That's a thing that happens... but in this case the effect is that a dirt road becomes asphalt, and not too long after is a lone gas station, followed by increasingly common buildings and conveniences, with side roads of gravel leading to farms. A rural-ish area that is rapidly urbanizing! As seen by a certain very common and prominent sort of building with large golden arches.

    Traffic isn't bad, but cars pass by now and then, in this late 20th century sort of area! And some cars are slowing because of the sights. With a Vine nearby, strange sights are becoming common. Sights like new visitors. Or a tall, nine foot snow-haired woman with scales around her neck, holding a scythe and furred robe, staring at the entrance to the McDonald's like it is some great obstacle she is ready to tackle.

    On her feet, a pair of sandals.

    She is definitely not part of the modernizing area, though. It is still new enough that all the signs that light up, and the rapid motion of the cars, is fascinating, and it makes her a VERY OBVIOUS landmark.

  The dragon-woman isn't alone. Accompanying her is a figure on a fine dapple-grey horse. Dressed in finery that wouldn't be out of place in the Spanish Mediterranean, the horseman's most prominent feature is the figure's magnificent broad-brimmed hat with black and white plumes, and a brazen mask hiding the face. A long blonde braid hangs down the figure's -- her? -- back. Weapons, too: A cavalry greatsword over her back, rapier at her hip, and a buckled over her other shoulder.

  "What a strange place." Its a woman's voice beneath the steel, hard and low, or an effeminate man. The dapple-grey dances beneath her, but she keeps a steady hand on the reins. "What do you suppose this place is?" The mask turns toward Priscilla, and Lucatiel of Moreau's head tilts slightly. "Are those sandals still comfortable?"

  People are staring. It's probably a safe bet the horseman -- horsewoman -- isn't part of this area.

In this area, the conventional method of travel may well be a car. Temulin Dotharl is not operating a mechanical vehicle. She is riding a massive bird, easily large enough to match any of those cars in size, and when the bird lands near Priscilla and Lucatiel the sound of talons hitting concrete makes it clear it has plenty of weight too. Packs are strapped yowards the sides of the bird.

Raising the visor of her helmet, Temulin looks towards Priscilla, then to Lucatiel, then back Priscilla simply for the more equivalent eye level. Taking a moment to sigh deeply before asking a very simple question. "'scuse me if this sounds strange. Where am I?" Though clearly attempting to keep her tone neutral, there's no doubt the black-clad knight is frustrated.

    "I hath seen such edifices before, and was denied entry for petty reasons. It hath made mine curiosity rise," the taller woman says, speaking to Lucatiel. That's when the shadow passes over and the massive bird lands, so very close to Priscilla and Lucatiel. Given her own history, Priscilla shows no fright at it... but a certain wary curiosity now, grasping her scythe without readying it fully.

    When Temulin merely asks for directions, the tall crossbreed relaxes, and looks at Lucatiel. Then, back to Temulin. Her speech is archaic but easily understood even without magic. "Not far from here, lettering announced this location as that of 'Cobbesgrove' and containing a staggering number of what appear to be more humans. Dost thou seekest this place, or art thou lost between the worlds much like my companion and mineself?"

  As soon as the shadow of wings fall, the equestrian has a time trying to manage her dapple-grey. For all his training, the horse tosses his head, bridle jangling, but Lucatiel keeps him from bolting. The mask turns to regard Temulin and the great avian; whatever she may be thinking is hidden behind the mask.

  The horse is still trying to rear, but Lucatiel keeps its head forced down. She does so one-handed; her other rests on the rapier at her hip, though she does not draw it.

  "We are not lost," Lucatiel drawls. Her words are clear, precise; the inflections of aristocracy. So is her equipment. That light armour must have cost a fortune. "We merely choose to wander. /I/ do, at any rate."

  Ye gods, is Lucatiel cracking a /joke/?

  "As to that," she says, turning her head to regard Temulin, "what my travelling companion says, as near as we can tell. I am Lucatiel, of Mirrah," she states crisply, "and my sword is always ready. By what are you called, traveller?"

The horse's fear draws a response from the bird, but Temulin pats the side of its head to direct attention elsewhere from potential prey. "I do not know what you mean by lost between worlds." She admits with some concern, keeping her voice as neutral as she can manage. The dark knight's pitch black armour is well made and thoroughly maintained, but it is designed to be functional, not impressive.

"I am Temulin, of the Dotharl Tribe. Adventurer." She reaches back for the sizeable sword on her back, not to draw it but merely to gesture towards it. "My sword is familiar with the taste of blood." She then moves her hand back, "If you cannot tell me the way towards Limsa Lominsa, then I suppose I have no option but to find a place to make camp. Pray tell me where I could do so?"

    Priscilla waits a moment for the animals to be settled, having learned enough to know that interrupting would be bad. Even with fresh apple slices. Odd eyes look Temulin up and down, and decide to continue her advice... as much as she can. Neither seem that well-versed in being helpful, do they?

"Mine name? Priscilla," the crossbreed answers lightly, her tail doing a little swish behind her. "I hath never heard of Limsa Lominsa, however I am as said a stranger in this world. This place draws from many different realms, and is... very unlike home." She shuffles uncomfortably at that. "Thou should'st avoid the wide, dark roads, for strange devices of metal do not slow." She gestures at a passing car. "But, I believe some inn to be nearby. Surely such a large city must possess an inn for visitors?"

  "I am not familiar with a Limsa Lominsa." Lucatiel shakes her head in the negative, and the tallest plume in her hat bobs a little at the movement. "I have travelled much, but that name is not familiar to me from my travels. But there are many places in the boughs of the World Tree waiting to be encountered."

  Naruiel probably wouldn't mind fresh apple slices. He's taken to searching Priscilla's pockets when she walks too closely. But Lucatiel seems to have the dapple-grey well in hand.

  "There must be some manner of lodgings for travellers, here." Twitching the reins, Lucatiel turns her head to eye the enormous bird speculatively. Thank goodness the mask hides the sliver of envy in her regard. "A magnificent creature, truly. Are they common in your homeland? Truly, it must be convenient to leave the earth behind."

Temulin takes in the news of a lack of knowledge of Limsa Lominsa, and mutters a curse she's picked up in those locales. "Thal's Balls." She is visibly frustrated, but trying to keep herself calm. "Denhes is a Yol, they are native to the steppes I hail from; but I have never once met an outsider who could tame one. The city I was looking for is on the opposite end of the known world to those steppes." She explains, patting the bird once more.

"While in unfamiliar territory I prefer to camp if at all possible. My yurt is comfortable, and I would prefer to be certain Denhes is near and safe." She explains why she'd prefer to camp somewhere. "And I admit some doubts as to whether these lands will accept my gil. I'll make sure not to put up my yurt too near the roads."

    Of all the things said, Priscilla's expression shows more dawning understanding at the lack of viable oney than anything else. She nods, and agrees with Lucatiel, "A magnificent mount indeed. Thine goddess must favor you." She sighs whistfully, then shifts her scythe to the other shoulder. "Thine coin may not be accepted, but surely a money changer might be found. These strangers look upon us not with fear, otherworldly visitors art surely known."

    Then she peers at Temulin, and asides to Lucatiel, "Perhaps her lack of knowledge springs from a newness, much as we were weeks ago."

  "Truly magnificent. I see why few tame such creatures." Lucatiel doesn't smile by the tone of her voice, but she does raise her head a little to regard the Yol's looming bulk. Even with its wings folded, the beast is unquestionably enormous. "Naruiel is the finest of his breed, and worth a ransom of the lord I once served, and he has served me for many faithful and loyal years. Yet I still envy you that." She does reach up and pat the charger's neck fondly, though.

  She glances first to Temulin. "Some will change currencies, as my companion claims. There are often equivalents of some kind to whatever you use. The Mirrahi coinage I left home with has been changed many times over. Metals would appear to be a common meterstick."

  Lucatiel looks away to where more people are staring across the street, and then back to Priscilla, apparently unconcerned. "Mayhap. But have a care of where you put up your own lodgings," the fencer adds, mask turning back to face Temulin. "Some cities are particular about such things. Best you ask the residents, and see if there is a place preferred for that sort of thing."

"I can only hope their rates are reasonable then." Temulin answers in contemplation, tilting her head at Priscilla's aside to Lucatiel. "Newness?" She asks. The praise for her bird makes her smile. "Among my people, it is required to tame a Yol if you wish to become a warrior of the tribe. My tribe is small, but fierce." She explains, "The birds do not make it easy, but the reward for earning their loyalty is worth the risk."

There's another headtilt when Lucatiel suggest she does not place her yurt where she may please. "If the land is empty of crops or buildings, and I am not blocking anyone's path. Whyfor would they care?" There's clear frustration in her voice there.

    "Such things are not that which I am familiar with. Mine mother's faithful offered their loyalty freely..." she trails off and sighs. "Hmmn, yet mine wealth was lacking as well. Perhaps thine questioning might also reveal an alternative, wherein thine services could be purchased as mine were." She looks at Lucatiel as if to ask if she had done the same, even though she'd already mentioned exchanging money.

    She grimaces, "Yet mine earnings are nearly gone, now..."

    Finally, she shakes her head to Temulin, "Your tribe may host fierce warriors, but the ways of humans in these worlds are strange. Perhaps thine answers lie inside. We can inquire whilst I dine upon this 'Em-See Rib' that is touted as rare and divine."

  "Mayhap." As to the rates, Lucatiel only shrugs one shoulder. For all the ornamentation on her equipment, it looks just as functional; each piece boiled and layered leather, elegantly tooled in real gold. The silk shirt is good for hotter climes, and the light leather armour lends her freedom of movement.

  The bird is eyed speculatively. "I would imagine not. The sand-dancers of Mirrah are willful, and difficult to train, but they are intelligent and loyal." She reaches forward to pat the dappled stallion's neck. "This one, I would wager, is worth every denaar of my former lord's ransom. He has been my companion for many a year."

  Rare and divine? Without ever changing posture, the fencer looks somehow dubious. "We will... see about that," she mutters. "Have you the smell of the place? Grease, and offal..." Food is food, though, and she's a little hungry, enough to be adventurous. Lucatiel looks to the restaurant's facade again, as though mulling over just how brave she feels.

  On the other hand, what's the worst the stuff can do? Kill her?

  "Very well." The concession is given with a long, drawn-out sigh of mixed resignation and exasperation. "First we will find a place where Temulin of Dotharl may put up her steed, and mine. Then we will investigate. There was what appeared to be an abandoned field some ways back. Perhaps you would find it better from the air," she adds, to Temulin. "I will show you."

  With a sideways pull of the reins, she encourages her stallion to side-step away from Priscilla and Temulin, and then, with the barest tap of her heels against the stallion's ribs, the horse trudges forward with a swish of its black and white tail. "I imagine no one is using it, and it is far enough away from the rest of the city to raise little fuss. That is, at least, my thinking. I do not confess to know the ways of this place. We have ourselves only just arrived... and I will cover your meal, Lady Priscilla," she adds, head twisting to regard the dragon-woman. "I have been finding work, of late; enough to keep the both of us fed, and staying at inns along the road..."

"As mentioned, I am an adventurer, I am used to doing odd jobs; whether dangerous or merely tedius." Temulin agrees with the concept of offering services in exchange for money. At the mention of the Em-See Rib her face betrays her doubts at the divinity of this meal, but she chooses not to express said doubts. "Let's." She agrees. However, she does not encourage her bird to fly, rather letting it walk the route and stay within range of speech. "If I can save a day's hunt as I get a better idea of the lay of this land, so much the better."

    "I would'st also have doubts," Priscilla agrees, "For the touted compensation seems remarkably low. Still, such things as this are to be experienced, yes?" She swishes tail, and the half-dragon approaches the door. "If it is as you say, then you shall have little trouble finding employment. Many in these strange lands have tasks that are better-suited for those capable of battle. I wouldst learn the lay of the land as soon as thine are able, for I believe the means of transport here to be strange and overwhelming at times."

  "Such work is what has sustained me," Lucatiel comments, somewhat dismissively. It's paid for the room and board of the two oddfellow travellers since leaving Anor Londo. "I am no stranger to difficult or dangerous work. I find it preferable to other pursuits."

  The fencer watches as the bird walks aground; perhaps she'd expected the stilted hopping of a bird of prey, but the creature seems to have a much smoother gait. "Do any outside of your people seek to tame such creatures?" She may or may not be thinking about what a useful creature that might be. It would probably rip her in half and eat her for breakfast, but damn if she didn't have fun trying.

  Besides, surely that wouldn't kill her. Not permanently, anyway.

  Probably.

  ...Maybe.

  Strange and overwhelming. That seems like a pretty accurate term; when Lucatiel looks up, it's to see a fresh bunch of traffic rush by once the light turns green. Given enough time, she could probably figure out the patterns, but for now she's more interested in leaving her horse in this field, and maybe that stranger's bird, and--

  "If your bird eats my horse," Lucatiel says smoothly as she slides off the saddle and ties the reins to a chunk of concrete with a piece of rebar sticking out, "I will be somewhat upset, and expect suitable compensation. Perhaps you should hitch your bird over... there." She points to the farthest corner of the abandoned lot across the street from the restaurant.

"I prefer dangerous work, the pay is often better, and some dangers are best faced by people who know how to handle themselves in a fight." Temulin sort of agrees with Lucatiel as they move towards the the place to for the moment leave their mounts behind. "I have not seen them try, but they dwell deep within the steppe and few other than my people ever venture beyond the edges of the steppe, where we trade with them."

She jumps off her bird once they arrive, and guides the creature towards the indicated spot. "I will have you know that Denhes has never once tried to eat the horse-birds of the Eorzeans" Temulin complains at the mere notion her bird may not be well-trained. Nonetheless, she keeps the distance. Can't hurt.

Once she closes back in, it becomes clear just how short she is. Her tail swishes back and forth a little as she walks, and her gait is relaxed but prepared. It's clearly the gait of someone who expects trouble could start at any moment. "Shall we try this 'Em See Rib' then? If you pay for me, I will make sure to pay you back later. Unless you think they will have a moneychanger in this ... establishment."

    Priscilla points out, "I possess some funds, so shall split thine cost with Lucatiel." The offer is said with a small nod, and she observes the bird with some interest now. "Hmm..."

    Something about that bird must interest her, but considering her mother that makes sense.

    However, approaching the door has an employee suggesting, "Um... you're above our door meter. Could you go around through the back, miss?" Well at least they aren't kicking her out. Priscilla sighs, and inclines her head, tail swishing in annoyance. "I shall rejoin thine presence inside."

  "We are in agreement, then," Lucatiel states, on the nature of dangerous work. The fencer is tying the reins of her fine dapple-grey charger to a piece of broken rebar in an abandoned lot, and Temulin is doing the same for her giant bird mount. Lucatiel herself is wearing her hat and mask and, aside from the braid trailing down her back, is more or less completely concealed from view.

  The fencer straightens, tilting her head a little and snorting behind the mask. "I should like such a challenge, someday, if outsiders are permitted. Reason to assist you in finding your homeland, I suppose..."

  Lucatiel by turn is not outlandishly tall, but she's taller than the usual human average for a woman. It's enough to lend her a slightly imposing figure with all that armour and that mask and hat. She rolls a shoulder in a careless shrug. "Perhaps they may have a money-changer."

  The group is headed for a McDonald's across the street from the abandoned lot, its cheerful golden arches beckoning in the weary (or curious) travellers. She regards the facade somewhat dubiously, although her frown is hidden from her travelling companions. "I mislike this," she states dubiously, under her breath. "What /is/ that smell?"

     Off from the distance walks a figure. He's dressed in a simple white sleeveless shirt. His pants are pinstripe with mud around the base of each pant-leg. His shoes are a bit muddy as well, clearly he's been doing some sort of work out here. Over his shoulder is slung a muddy shovel, and in the hand holding it rests a very nice matching jacket. Smoke trails off behind him from the dimly orange glowing cigar stuck out the corner of his mouth, most of his face hidden in the shadow of his overly wide brimmed matching hat. 

     Each step is made with a confident gate. He quietly whistles to himself as makes his way into the abandoned lot, moving towards a parked pickup truck that looks to be an antique by this regions standards, something much more comfortable in the far early 20th century. By extend he's also moving towards the group.

"Reason enough, no doubt. I don't think anyone will stop you from trying." The black-armoured au ra raises eyebrows when Priscilla is asked to go around the back. "I question the hospitality of a place which makes people of unusually tall height use the back entrance. Granted, she's taller than all I know, but nonetheless it makes me wonder whether they'd permit my father." She shrugs and looks towards the newly arrived person, but rather than greet him considers the smell of the McDonald's. "It reminds me of Garlean magitech armor."

  Off goes Priscilla to the back entrance, which earns a frown from Lucatiel that nobody else can see. They might be able to sense the annoyance that rolls off of her at the request. Maybe Priscilla is just too tall for the front door. It's a perfectly reasonable concern, as most doors are not made for people nine feet tall.

  Turning back to the entrance, she shakes her head at the au ra. "Fair enough. Mayhap I may try my luck at such an endeavour, then, if you find your homeland." To the smell, she wrinkles her nose, which carries across in her tone of voice. "It smells like... the slums, of Mirrah's capital. Of cookfires and rancid oil. I must question the wisdom of this... perhaps I would be better off with the dried jerky in my pack."

  She shrugs and moveson, though, eyeing the sharp-dressed arrival of Benito Bontade. A hand is raised in greeting, and the woman even waits long enough to let Benito cross through the doorway ahead of her, since they all reach it at about the same time. A gesture is given toward the door to the same effect.

     Shaking off his legs at the doorway all the mud that looked to be caked on falls off harmlessly to either side. With a light tuck of his arm the shovel gets thrown right back to his pickup truck. It clatters lightly back into place harmless in its nature. 

     Shovel no longer in hand he quickly flicks the jacket back on into place hiding away with it the leather bandoliers strapped up on his simplistic white shirt, a button-down slid down in the same motion. "Why thank you." He offers with a bit of a smile passing through the doorway. "First friendly face I've seen round these parts."

"At the end of the day, food is food." Temulin responds to the smells from this establishment. When Benito mentions seeing a friendly face, Temulin's tail sort of wraps around her left leg, and she tilts her head with a mild frown. "Can you see through masks?" She asks bluntly. She follows into the McDonalds, looking around for a weapon rack just in case there's that kind of social expectation to deal with.

    It isn't that inhospitable to ask Priscilla to go around back once people step inside... promotional materials are dangling from the ceiling, and they'd have smacked Priscilla right in the face if she hadn't ducked. Going around back was probably a lot safer for her. McDonald's isn't known for being SUPER customer-friendly, but this seems to be on the up and up!

    "Hmm. I hath known not this sort of meal, but it claimeth to create giddy feelings within one," she is saying. Upon seeing the others she levels her eyes at them. "My companions of the moment. And another. Is this establishment likening one that thine finds familiar?"

  The fencer holds the door as long as she needs to in order to admit everyone. Once everybody's in the building, Lucatiel follows, glancing back toward Benito as the businessman thanks her. She merely removes her hand and lets the door fall closed, trailing after the group.

  Friendly face. Lucatiel issues a dry chuckle from beneath the mask. "You must not have seen many faces, then," the woman murmurs.

  "We shall see," she replies, to Temulin. "There are many things I am willing to compromise on, but the things I am willing to eat... there is a certain lack of flexibility, there."

  Can she see through the mask? Rather than respond, Lucatiel merely points to where the eyes of hte face should be, and several slots permit a glimpse -- her face can't be seen, but the reflected light from her eyes can.

  Giddy feelings? Lucatiel somehow lends the impression of dubiousness, but she only spreads her arms in a gesture of unknowning. "I have never laid eyes on a strange place like this, in all my years."

     Benito gives a light shrug of his shoulders making his way up to the front for an order. His hands drop down to his side as he leans over towards the counter for a moment placing a quick order before calling back. "Assuming I could, it'd make sense I'd play off as if I couldn't." He collects his receipt after paying for the meal with a toss down of cash. "Best asset is one no one outside of your group realizes you have in the first place" He's got that calm in control air to his motions as he moves about puffing away on his cigar. "Find the weaker someone thinks you are the more likely they are to make a blunder." 

     Walking over to the drink machine he pours himself a Dr.Doctor from the fountain. "Or maybe it was just a turn of phrase." He smirks lightly. "Either way it's a fun conversation starter when dealing with new people." A light bump into another patron sees a quiet exchange of goods for cash. In the motion he tucks the brown bag into the inside pocket of his pinstripe suit jacket.

"Pray recommend something. I have no clue what this menu's offerings entail." Temulin asks Benito, who seems to stand out the least from the environment from any of them. She takes a further look around the place. "It does seem to be some kind of inn or tavern, though perhaps they are overdoing it on the magitech lighting. I would not enjoy spending much time in this kind of environment." She sort of answers Priscilla. Then tilts her head a bit towards Lucatiel. "I shall not begrudge you the fortune that you must have had to enable such inflexibility in your choice food."

    Priscilla looks at Temulin and declares, "I will be having the Em See Rib Happy Meal!" She looks at Benito... then chooses not to say something, after what looks like a second of thought. Lucatiel and Temulin are nodded to. "Nor have I seen such a place as this..."

    Oh dear. The half-dragon's tail swishes in agitation! "What dost thou mean that the... Mic-Rib is not for the Happy Meal? Dost thou wish to state the Mic-Rib will not make mine palate Happy?" Oh no, she's going to be one of THOSE customers.

    Something Temulin says has caught her attention. "Magitech lighting? The sorcery that illuminates this place?" She looks up at the dull glow of the lights. "..."

  Ah, welcome to the counter. The menu is an exercise in bewildering options, and none of this food looks either familiar or remotely edible, when it comes down to it. Lucatiel tilts her head uncertainly as she reviews her choices. Is any of this stuff actually safe to eat? She's eaten some pretty terrible things on the streets of Mirrah's poorest slums, but this is somehow different.

  "It was a lack of fortune, if anything," Lucatiel comments to Temulin, distractedly. "I ate what I could, when I could. Now I must enjoy a certain freedom of choice. And I think it may perhaps be better to choose not to eat..." She gestures helplessly towards the illuminated menu board, "...this. After a few unfortunate incidents in which I ate something it would have been better not to eat... well. Sufficed to say, 'tis only in recent years that I have managed to afford such freedom of choice."

  She finally shakes her head. "I will pass. I am not especially hungry, in any case, but do not let me stop you from ordering if you are hungry, Lady Priscilla; or Temulin, of Dotharl." The mask turns back to regard Benito, evidently curious, although her face cannot be seen. "And by what name are you called, stranger?""

  Lucatiel may or may not be ignoring Priscilla's fuss at the register. She does eye the hapless clerk speculatively, though. Will this be enough to crack the facade of corporate calm? Let's find out!

     "Mr.Bontade works fine enough." A smile crosses his face. "And I'd just ask for a cheeseburger," Benito calmly moving back over to the counter a hand reaching out of that same pocket that had the bag, now to the keen eye holding a small stack of cash by the finger under the tray as he grabs it with a smile. "Never trust a rib that don't have bones in it." The small stack of cash passed from one set of hands to those belonging to the clerk. Something of a smooth operation in progress right before their very eyes even as Benito doesn't skip a beat carrying all of this on right in front of a police officer sat by the window. 

     "Always a pleasure doing buisiness with you Mr.Bontade" coming from the man behind said counter as he scratches the back of his head as a way of tucking the cash into the back of his ballcap. 

     "This is the kind of a place you go when you want something fast and don't care how it's made." A small something tucked into the other hand held up to the tray after the twos exchange. He's looking right at the group. "I also wouldn't recommend the salad." Said as he pats a patron on the shoulder shaking hands with them in the process, before taking a seat of his own.

Temulin looks at what Priscilla is getting into a debate about with mild curiousity, but doesn't step in. "It looks like magitech to me, at least. This entire place reeks of Garlean 'innovation.' Both literally and figuratively." She nods to Lucatiel and adds, "Pray forgive me. I meant no offence." She listens to and observes Benito "Temulin of the Dotharl tribe. A pleasure, mister Bontade." She orders a cheeseburger upon his recommendation.

    It would seem that getting paid off and the like has helped Priscilla's case! She gets her McRib Happy Meal. "I wish to sample this, it is nothing like mine own dining..."

    Now she can pay more attention to Benito and Temulin, staring awkwardly. "I know not many things about human culture, as Lucatiel knows. I appologize for offering none of the comforts thine expectations would demand. This realm is alien to mine own experience as well. But magitech... this sounds like the sort of art mine mother wouldst find of interest."

  "I am quite certain the sand-princes of Mirrah would be willing to murder one another in the coldest of blood for innovations like these," Lucatiel comments distractedly, mask tilting up as though she were looking to the ceiling. Torches that burn without smoke? Lights that require no fuel; no lamp-oil?

  Her head lowers again to regard Benito, and then Temulin. "None taken," she adds, to the latter, before regarding Benito levelly. At least, one might assume it's a level regard. It's hard to tell with the mask, although her posture is eerily still when she isn't moving. Self-discipline? Training? Or something inhuman? Hard to say. "A pleasure," she finally says, to Benito. "I am Lucatiel, of Mirrah; a land far across the World Tree, 'cross the mountains and the sea..."

  She trails off, not uncertainly, but because Priscilla manages to get her McRib Happy Meal, which prompts a little staring. It is entirely possible that the Elite Knight of Mirrah is a bit green around the gills behind that mask.

  "Gods above and below," she murmurs flatly, "are you /certain/ you want to eat that, Lady...?"

  She is, in fact, inordinately proud of herself for not shuddering.

     "It's still made of Meat" Bontade assures at the commentary towards the McRibb. He motions over to it slightly with his hat still making his way to do a bit of business here and there even as he tapes something to the bottom of the table. "It's not always the choicest cuts, but it's still cow." Shrugging. "I mean I wouldn't trust it myself but it's not cursed or anything." As he chows down on a single burger washing it down with his Dr.Doctor. "Don't worry too much about me, just an average business man doing what he can to make the world a better place."

"I am hardly an expert on magitech. My principal experience with the stuff is smashing it to bits, nigh all of it is of Garlean make, and the empire isn't on great terms with most of their neighours. The city states of Eorzea have magitech airships, but that's it." Temulin explains what she knows of Magitech, "It's reasonably effective."

"You that as though it was reasonable to doubt it was made out of meat. That is quite the opposite of reassuring." She nonetheless takes a bite out of her cheeseburger and kind of squints at it. "I can see why you feel the need to reassure me of it, now." She still finishes it up, "It seems edible enough. Waste not, but I can certainly see why you'd be concerned about this food, miss Lucatiel."

    Sniff. "Mine nose speaks that thine judgement may be correct, but..." Priscilla rolls her shoulders into a shrug before approaching a table, squeezing in so she can try munching on the fries. "Mmf. Mine meals thus far have been... strange." She tries to get comfortable.

    "And every world we encounter, it becomes stranger." This is to Temulin, but her gaze slides to Benito, who seems comfortable(ish) here.

  Despite having come indoors, the Elite Knight of Mirrah makes no motion to remove either her hat or her mask. Half a glance is cast back at Benito, but she offers no answer to his running commentary; and something about her seems to radiate a coldness, somehow, when he mentions anything being cursed.

  She glances over to Temulin, regarding the cheeseburger with a long, motionless stare. That stare soon includes Priscilla, too, although it's more baffled than challenging. Really? She would have expected Miss Ariamis to err on the side of caution. Fascinating.

  "By all means, take your chances, Lady Priscilla." Lucatiel waves a gauntleted hand, unconcerned. "I have no quarrel with those who do wish to try this bizarre... cuisine. I, however, shall not. It would be best if I returned to check on my sand-dancer." That must be the horse outside. "While I hardly expect those with access to these strange and wondrous machines to steal a horse, I will take no chances, and he cannot be replaced."

  Reaching up to touch her hat in courteous gesture, she inclines her head to the group. "Good journeys to you all."

  With that, the Elite Knight slips out of the restaurant, weaving her way through the crowds with perhaps surprising agility, considering that obscuring mask she wears. Maybe she's better aware of her surroundings than she lets on... or she can see through that mask better than it might seem.

"Thank you for your aid." Temulin offers Lucatiel and Priscilla, "I should find a place to set up my yurt before it gets too late." She comments to explain her desire to depart, giving a nod to Benito as well, and thus she gets up from her seat and follows Lucatiel out of the McDonalds and towards her bird.