cast in this unlikely role, ill-equipped to act, with insufficient tact

[railgunning]

[It's the awfully fresh air that causes her to wake up, head bobbing forward, blinking blearily. The air of Academy City isn't this easy to breathe, and this air lacks the undercurrent of smog and who-knows-what-else due to the rampant urbanization of the modern age. Grunting woozily, Mikoto rubs at her eyes.

And stares once her vision clears. Her ears perk up at the sound of horses' hooves clopping against the cobblestones, replacing the rumbling of engines and beeping of horns so familiar to her. Her eyes widen at the sight of castles and wooden houses and wow is she seriously on a friggin' horse-drawn cart?

Mikoto swallows.

Well, she's definitely not in her proverbial Kansas anymore. All she's lacking is a small black Scottish Terrier and ridiculous bedazzled red shoes. Actually---when the hell did she change clothes? This humble dress wasn't her Tokiwadai uniform.

She frantically starts to look around in a futile effort to try and piece things together. Yet, absolutely nothing was striking her as familiar or jogging her memory as to how in the name of arse she could've possibly arrived here to begin with.

The carriage slows upon reaching a rather imposing-looking fortress. Men---armed men, with rather archaic weaponry---are starting to file out of it, surrounding the cart.

The women, elderly, and children around her are murmuring and shifting in what seems to be excitement, but Mikoto's body tenses.

She slowly rises, electricity briefly sparking by her head.

Holy shit if she's being taken prisoner, they've got another thing coming.

Actually, no, someone should just subdue her before a massacre takes place.]

Comments

[broroona]

[There a thousand other things Baroona wishes he could be doing than standing on the ramparts, his own cape slapping him in the face. A uniform once established by the previous Temple founders and reclaimed by Ares because it "looked cool" had quite simply become the bane of his existence. The ramparts too. By far the windiest part of the fortress and he had to be on it when the guests arrived.

"You have to greet Ariadne for me!" As if that was the reason he was waiting. Pleasant as she was, Ariadne wasn't worth standing on the windy ramparts for. Not when Ares usually fulfilled that duty. Unfortunately, Ares was away and Baroona was instructed to take his place. Ordered, really.]

Neil! Give me a light.

[Neil, a B rank, complies. Baroona catches the lighter with a nod and eases a flame out of it, watching the crowd disembark from the carts below. Neil watches him, with both awe and hesitance before casting an excited look down.

"My girlfriend's down there. And your little lady, too, sir."

Baroona glances at him with the faintest touch of annoyance.]

Don't call her that.

[It's mumbled but it shuts the B rank up quick. Baroona tosses back his lighter. He fumbles when he catches it, looking down shamefully.

"Sorry, sir. Wh-what I meant was the princess. It looks like she's here." Baroona smirks to himself, taking a long drag. The nickname hadn't been implemented by him but by Douglas; he hadn't protested. Another abuse of power–not that any of the troops complained. Clara was the most beloved visitor the Temple mercenaries had.

"... Sir, it looks like she brought someone with her." The statement catches him off guard and he follows Neil's finger downward, watching Clara help and escort a bob of brown hair that had been burned into his brain years ago. Disbelief seizes him and catches hold-he has to wait for a sign, some significant confirmation that it was her. A moment or two later and he has it, a small spark of electricity sparking past her head, faint but definite from his height. His grip on the battlements tightens. A grin forms around his cigarette.

"... Sir?" Neil's voice again, questioning and apprehensive. Baroona glances up, the grin gone.]

Send an order to the guys below. Tell them to send the girl Clara's escorting out back to the testing grounds. Have them tell her the Sub-Commander wants to see her.

[He's already jogging towards the stairs as he gives the orders, shooting back one last bit before descending:] Treat her nice! Don't let her get cross!

[railgunning]

["Daddy's sure to notice. I bet he won't be a big jerk about it this time, either"

Mikoto has to swallow a sigh as she remembers the above remark made by Clara once dress-up was done and over with. Notice what? She didn't get any of this; not Douglas' fairly off-color remarks, not the sudden plague of chuckling and whispering amongst the rest of the mercenaries, not being all prettied up in a light blue dress with flowers on the side of her head (and Ariadne wouldn't stop gushing and rearranging them and going through several different dresses with her until Helena had to alert her to the time constraints---girl was nice and really funny, but it was clear she was having too much fun.), and definitely not how Baroona even tied into all of this to begin with.

Because, seriously. What was there to notice? She didn't feel any different. A bit awkward, self-conscious, and irritated at having to lift up the skirt of the dress to walk, seeing heads turn as she passed by, and catching snippets of whistling and more weird whispering, but for the most part? There was nothing mind-blowing about any of this.

Not in the slightest---until she hears a particularly loud whistle and looks up. It's Douglas, who's standing (while grinning suavely and winking in her direction) next to Baroona, some tall, rather elaborately-dressed guy she's never seen before (Icarus), and Gohu, who gives Douglas an exasperated look. Ares, meanwhile, blinks and frowns.

Mikoto has to swallow back a grumble, waving at the group while passing by.

You know what? She's suddenly thirsty. She'll be perusing a drink, dear sirs. Minding her own business.]