By now, strange requests are something of an expectation when it comes to interacting with Veliky. She often calls them 'missions' or, when she's feeling particularly professional, 'operations,' but they generally amount to the same thing: "Do this for me." Often, the "this" entails something highly dangerous, highly difficult or just highly bizarre. But, at the very least, she generally maintains an air of professionalism whenever making such requests.

This is not the case this time.

Veliky and Cyran just so happened to be in Moonglade at the same time - a fact that Veliky was fortunately aware of (or perhaps unfortunately, from Cyran's perspective). Via some sort of little, mechanical bat^[1], Cyran received a letter from the little entrepreneuress. Only, this letter didn't wear any of that professionalism; it didn't bear the mark of Platinum Corp, nor did it read with the neatly-formatted jargon that comes so naturally to Veliky. In fact, it was a rather angry letter, by her standards, effectively detailing (and deriding) the digging efforts of some archeologists that caused a significant population of sentient rock-creatures (called geonids) to be scattered across the landscape. However, Veliky isn't so concerned about the fact that they were scattered across the landscape as much as the fact that they were also scattered across her lawn (or at least whatever constitutes the lawn of what is probably some secret compound). The purpose of the letter effectively amounts to a simple request: "I need you to come by and shovel these damned rocks away."

And so that brings Cyran here, to a quiet part of the Luna Valley, where a conspicuous structure is nestled amidst the rolling hills and under the moonlit sky. The structure is a polygonal thing, peculiar in its architecture in the way that most Platinum Corp properties are. But not so peculiar as the fact that virtually the entire area surrounding the compound is utterly littered with little rocks that appear to be slowly meandering about.

---

Bringing Minions
Fisher-06 (Corsair)
Knight-05 (Warlord)
Rook-15 (Warlord)

Bringing Pets
BF-04 (The Goodest Boy) {Sleigh Bell}
Raider-01 (Baby Bone Naga)
Stalker-03 (Prismatic Spider)

Sometimes life brought you in odd directions - Cyran had learned by now that it was better, most times, to go with the flow than to question things too much. But there were some things that still made him stop, and ponder, ‘what the hell am I doing with my life?’

This particular moment was one of those times.

Cyran had gotten odd requests from Veliky before. The cat maid cafe came to mind, where he’d been shoved in a lacy dress and asked to act like a feline for tips. And now, the Specter, the living shadow, the untouchable assassin, was being asked to… shovel rocks of all things.

It was an odd use for someone of his talents, he had to admit.

When Cyran and Veliky had struck up this kind of odd friendship, he’d honestly expected back alley deals and covert assassinations for business rivals. Not cleanup duty at her compounds. Nevertheless, if she was asking him to shovel her driveway, he wasn’t going to deny her the favor. And so it was with no small amount of confusion that he made his way to the compound she’d given him directions for in the letter.

Or at least, he tried to get close to the compound, but when he arrived on the premises, he finally got his first proper look at these ‘geonids’ that Veliky had described.

They were actually kind of… cute, really, if he stopped to look at them. But with so many of them scuttling around, blocking the path, they were proving to be more of a nuisance than anything. Cyran sighed and rolled up his sleeves - with a flash of a barely-visible knife, he quickly made a cut on the side of his wrist to allow blood to flow. With a bit of concentration, the blood shifted and took shape - not a scimitar like he traditionally made, but a paddle, with a long, wide end that would serve well enough for scooping the geonids out of the way.^[1] With a sigh, he got to work, scooping up the rocks that weren’t quick enough to get out of the way of his makeshift shovel. Slowly but surely, he had carved a path to where Veliky was waiting outside, surrounded by some of her bots, a disgruntled expression on her face. So nothing out of the ordinary, then.

“Good afternoon.” He greeted, foregoing the usual bow for once. “I came as quickly as I could… and not a moment too soon, it looks like. How did so many of them manage to escape the compound?” He cast a curious glance at Veliky’s automatic companions for the day, surprised when he saw one that looked eerily similar to the Rook that had been destroyed last Cyran saw Veliky. Broken in a fight with a giant arcuila, hopelessly outmatched but determined to accomplish its mission.

Cyran reached over and pat the Rook on the head.

---

1. Crimson Armaments - paddle (polearm shop)

"Tch," Veliky scoffs in greeting, with a significantly greater output of frustration than was input, "I wish it were afternoon. They wouldn't be cutting into anyone's rest, that way. And, for your information, they didn't escape from the compound; some maadpite-archaeologists down the way didn't know what the hell they were doing, and dug into one of these things' nests. They practically rolled onto us from down the hill, and now they're our problem."

She hops off her crate-perch and into the thick of where her bots are... really not doing a hell of a lot. Even when Cyran pats the Rook's^[1] head, it gives no response whatsoever, merely standing at-guard.

"I tried to get the bots to clear some of them away, but they just spooked the geonids. You'd think they'd have some sort of bond with creatures made of metal, but apparently not. That's why I called you." And at that, her eyes are drawn to the peculiar and crimson implement that Cyran carries with him, still holding one of the geonids in its cupped head.

"Good to see you came prepared." With a crick of her neck, she gestures to the wagon^[2] behind her and her entourage. "Just stick as many of them as you can in the wagon. When it gets full... well, 'we'll cross that bridge when we get to it' I think is the saying humans use."

---

1. Rook-15
2. (Wagon) Type-XVIII "Rolling Stone" Land Transport

Cyran looked suitably sheepish at Veliky’s correction of the time of day. Considering most of his work took place during the night, one might say this was technically his early afternoon, but who really cared about the semantics at a time like this? He nodded as Veliky explained where the geonids had come from, but considering some of the strange things he’d seen in her laboratory before, it didn’t feel like too much of a stretch to assume that these were creatures she was studying for some reason.

“I’ll do my best to round them up.” He glanced around the glade - there wasn’t anyone else outside but him, which meant that if the bots couldn’t help with this task, then he would truly be on his own. At least she’d provided a wagon, which would make cleanup easier… he wondered what she planned on doing with them.

If they could sense people moving on the ground, though, then Cyran would have to be careful about how he moved. He was leagues lighter on his feet than large creatures made of metal, but even his footsteps still made an impact on the ground when he walked. With that in mind, he summoned his wings, which allowed him to hover about half a foot off the ground while he captured the geonids and loaded them into the wagon.^[1]

With that in mind, Cyran got back to his task, flinging the geonid still wriggling around in the paddle into the wagon. One down… hundreds more to go.

This was going to be a long night.

If he was going to be at this for a while, he may as well make small talk while he worked. Despite the fact they’d met a few times by now, he and Veliky still didn’t have much in common to speak of, but there was one safe topic Cyran knew for sure that Veliky would be okay with. “Have you seen Cirice lately?” He asked, scooping up one of the geonids and throwing the second one into the back of the wagon. “… Come to think of it, I still don’t know how the two of you became friends in the first place.” There was an unspoken question in his voice - his tone was casual, but there was no denying that this was turning into a protective godfather’s interrogation.

---

1. Bat Wings (1/3)

As Cyran chugs along, making tiny dents in the veritable horde of waddling rocks, Veliky merely sits back with crossed arms. Indeed, her frame would make her highly unsuited for such a task (for reference, a single one of these creatures weighs approximately six times as much as a singular Veliky), but one feels inclined to ask how much is *too* relaxed.

Even so, she visibly flinches -- not at the question itself, but at the usage of the word 'friend.' Widened eyes quickly turn to an expression best described as 'vexed.'

"...Let's just say that your whole 'breaking and entering' thing seems to run in the family."

But then, an idea seems to take her, after watching Cyran's laborious efforts, and she hops down again.

"Hold on... You keep doing what you're doing, I'll be right back."

Leaving Cyran to his own devices, and having a Pawn-unit^[1] lift her above the rocky terrain, Veliky makes her way to the main door of the compound, which opens at her behest^[2]. Some minutes later, she emerges from that same door, now carrying what appears to be a small, red coat^[3]. And when 'small' is written here, it refers to the same 'small' which would be used to describe Veliky - that is, *extremely* small. And yet, in spite of this fact, Veliky presents it to Cyran nevertheless.

"Put this on, just... I don't know, tie it around your neck like a scarf or something. Once you've done that, close your eyes and think about being really big. Trust me."

...On one of the pockets is an embroidered symbol of a moon, strangely reminiscent.

---

1. Pawn-05 (Scarecrow Squire)
2. Minor Trickery
3. Red Rogue's Coat

Cyran was immediately on alert at Veliky’s vague, deflecting answer.

Breaking and entering? What the hell had Cirice gotten into when they’d separated around Winter’s Crown? He narrowed his eyes as he tried to piece together what possible motivation Cirice could have had for breaking into a PlatinumCorp building in the first place… but he had a feeling it wasn’t to bake muffins this time. And why hadn’t she told him about this? She could have gotten herself into so much trouble - considering the kind of dangerous bots Veliky had, Cirice had the potential to get herself seriously hurt! Oh, that young lady was in so much trouble when he saw her next. He couldn’t exactly ground her, but he was already mentally preparing a lecture on the dangers of irresponsible vigilantism.

“… Oh?” He kept his voice carefully even, though it was obvious that he wasn’t exactly pleased with the answer. “Breaking into one of your facilities, I’m assuming? What exactly was she doing in there?”

This question was accompanied by another scoop of a stray geonid, one that he flung at the cart and missed wildly. The little creature landed on his back, legs wriggling in the air.

Veliky seemed less interested in continuing this line of conversation than she did cleaning up, though - an idea seemed to have occurred to her, and she quickly made her way inside before returning with a red piece of cloth that she handed to him. Cyran stared at it, confused.

“… This isn’t going to fit me.” He pointed out.

But when Veliky explained what it could do, Cyran… supposed that made sense? Maybe it would grow with him? He tied the ends of the cloth around his neck, fashioning it like a cloak of sorts, before closing his eyes and concentrating on what Veliky told him to. When he opened them again, the ground was considerably further away than it had been moments ago.

“Huh. This is weird.”

But it did give him more reach than before. Cyran went back to work, able to scoop up more geonids now that he was a tad bigger than before, which thankfully made things go a little faster. “So what did she break? I can compensate you for the damages if need be.” Spoken with the weariness of someone who was used to cleaning up the messes of a precocious young woman.”

Veliky, of course, is ordinarily tiny - not to say that her size is small in any ordinary way, but that this absolute minusculity is her ordinary state of being. But with Cyran, normally six feet in height, now standing almost precisely double that measurement and boasting the wingspan to match, Veliky needs to stare upward at an almost-90˚ angle in order to make eye-contact with the behemoth of an elf.

...Granted, she's still seen taller. But that doesn't mean she has to *like* being at someone's ankle-height. But she supposes she asked for this, letting out a somber sigh.

"Well... she severely damaged a loading bay door; partly destroyed one of our wagons; stole five-hundred solars worth of products - not including an experimental Blixtbot™ model, which costs a thousand solars on its own - destroyed about twenty Type-II Infantry-Models, two Type-III Infantry-Models and a Type-I Magus-Model; so... all in all, it came to around five-thousand solars."

For those uninitiated in the complex financial system of Charon and the ever-changing economy, five-thousand solars is not an insignificant amount of money. It's a number drastic enough to hang in the air for several seconds before Veliky breaks the silence.

"...It's alright, though. It definitely set us back somewhat, but we've got safety nets for this kind of thing. Besides..."

In a moment of odd humility, she hugs her arms close to her chest and looks downward.

"It was my fault. A bad business-decision on my part. My responsibility to make up for it."

Cyran’s face grew progressively paler as Veliky listed each piece of equipment that Cirice had broken. Why had she done that? … How had she done that? Cyran wasn’t even aware that she was capable of causing so much destruction. But five thousand… Lunala, that was going to be a lot of money. More than he had at the moment. Not that it was impossible for him to get such funds, but it would take some time.

“… Do you mind if I pay in increments?” He asked meekly.

But Veliky didn’t seem especially worried about it - even remorseful, to an extent. But the more she explained, the more Cyran was left with mounting questions about why Cirice had felt the need to rob Veliky, or if it had even been her idea at all. He hummed, scooping up another handful of geonids and shoving them into the wagon. The cart was starting to get full of the writhing creatures - it was almost at max capacity.

“I’ll still do what I can to pay for the damages she caused.” Cyran insisted, tone firm. “I swore I would watch over her and keep her out of danger, and that includes helping her when she makes mistakes.” Calling grand larceny and destruction of property a mistake might have been a bit of a stretch, though. “I had no idea she would do something like that. The work I do… it’s not a family business. You have my formal apology for her actions.” He was glad, at the very least, that Veliky didn’t seem too upset about the whole ordeal. That didn’t make him any less guilty, or worried about what other kind of dangers Cirice might have been getting herself into behind his back.

When he finished putting the geonids in the cart, it looked decently full. He turned back to Veliky with an expectant look on his face. “By any chance, do you know what you’re planning on doing with these creatures?”

Veliky just lets out a sigh. "Listen: as long as you keep doing odd jobs for me, we can consider your part of the debt fulfilled."

The force of Cyran dumping the last load of geonids into the wagon is enough to make Veliky visibly bounce as she stands. Indeed, the wagon is quite full. Veliky peers inside and sees the progress that's been made... and then looks back, at all the other geonids, to see all the progress that *hasn't* been made. She's gifted with the ability to measure by eye, which feels quite more like a curse in this scenario where she quickly realizes that they've only cleared about sixty-eight of the stony pests, leaving four-hundred-and-thirty-two of them to scamper about.

"Well..." she begins hopelessly, though she does seem to lighten up somewhat as an idea occurs to her. "yeah, maybe I do. But still, it's going to be a long night."

---

Morning light shines down upon the valley - upon a valley and compound that's at last free of stony critters. What lies before the compound now is but a verdant field. Though Cyran's muscles are quite worse for wear, the rock-free grass is evidence of a tremendous amount of hard work.

Veliky takes the reins of the wagon which, too, is free of geonids. She's summoned^[1] an Envy^[2] unit to take them along, as Veliky has offered to ride Cyran to the village from whence he came - gods know he's earned such a luxury, given that his arms and legs are each ready to launch an organized protest should he make any attempt to travel on his own. They ride down the valley trail, occasionally bumping on some rock or another - thankfully non-sentient rocks, that is.

"I'll make sure you're compensated for this, Cyran. Your work is well-appreciated... You okay?" Her question comes as
something of an absurdity, given that the elf is now decorated with more ice-packs than ornaments of a Winter's Crown tree.

---

1. Summon Mount
2. Envy-04 (Nightmare Steed)

Cyran had thought he was making progress… up until the moment he turned around and saw that he’d only made a dent in the mountain’s worth of stones that were still shambling around the lawn and bumping into one another. Veliky’s lament was one that he mirrored - with a sigh and a heave of his paddle, Cyran readied himself for another couple of hours of all this bullshit.

It was only his experience with all-nighters - and a plethora of electrolyte-packed Blixt^TM drinks - that kept Cyran up and moving through it all.

By the time morning rolled around, his body felt like it was ready to fall apart at the seams, every muscle screaming in protest after being forced to constantly move heavy rocks with little break. He could have burst into tears when Veliky offered him a ride back to the inn he’d been staying at, but he managed to keep himself together while Veliky handed him compress after compress to press to his sore shoulders.

He was so exhausted he nearly fell asleep on the ride back, but as they passed by another facility, a loud sound pulled him from his half-meditative state. Perhaps he was simply dazed and confused, but it almost sounded like a scream.

“What was that?” He muttered, craning his neck to get a better look at the building they were passing by. He couldn’t see anything from this angle, but he could definitely hear the panicked shouts about living rocks and frantic yelling from people wondering where the hell they’d come from.

He turned to look at Veliky, opening his mouth to ask until he saw the smirk on her face, and thought better of it.

After all those hours he’d spent shoveling them, it was safe to say he didn’t really care what Veliky had done to dispose of those geonids. That was someone else’s problem now.

---

1. Fade from Memory (on Veliky)