It was obvious, even to Oren, who'd only just come up from the guild's lower floors after a fruitless search for Gideon, that no one had been expecting such a declaration from their flighty guild master. She smiled airily at them from her perch atop the thick branch, chin still propped up on her hands, feet kicking in the air above her. She was barefoot again, the soles of her feet caked with soil and stray bits of plant matter, but she either wasn't aware of it or simply didn't care.

Hawthorne was the first to break the quickly encroaching silence.

"Uh... Master? You haven't been sniffing that weird plant again, have you?"

Varya pouted, childishly indignant, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come, and she was soon beaming once more. She twirled a lock of dove-gray hair around her finger, cheeks dimpling with her cheer - which, much to Oren's displeasure, was practically palpable even halfway across the guild.

"Nope! Not this time, Thorny!"

She slid forward on her branch, glancing down at the leaf-strewn floor for several heartbeats before she rolled to the side and straight off the branch. Oren's heart leapt into his throat, his feet glued to the floor in panic, before he mentally chided himself for overreacting. Lock was there, the master already safely in his arms. He set her down carefully, a mildly reproachful furrow between his eyes, and she giggled up at him.

Lachlan Zaveri, or Lock to his friends, was one of the only S-ranked adventurers among Starry Rose's ranks. He'd been affiliated with the guild for over a decade by this point, and he took on some of the more dangerous job requests they received. They took him all over the kingdom, far away from the guild and its riotous, rabble rousing members - something Oren was unreasonably jealous over.

When Lock had gotten home, though, Oren didn't know. Probably that morning, he supposed. Varya often made the man sleep as soon as he returned to the guild, seeing as he was known for running on only a few hours of shut eye while out on jobs. Sky made the announcement more than once that she'd had to (heroically) force him to sleep while they were out together so that he didn't collapse the next day. Oren doubted Lock wasn't made of sterner stuff than Sky seemed to assume. Because it was Lock. The man was Starry Rose's personal legend.

"Thanks, Lock! Now" - Varya clapped her hands together excitedly, snapping Oren from his thoughts - "I'm sure you all know what the tourney is"

"Suicide," someone muttered bitterly. "At least, the guild equivalent."

Oren could just make out the familiar tufts of red hair that stood out against the earthen-toned guild; Ilias stood in the shadow of the wisteria, hands shoved into his pockets. From what Oren could see, he'd blindly chosen his wardrobe for the day again; today he wore an offensively purple shirt and emerald-green trousers (two-sizes too big, judging by the length of rope he'd knotted around his waist), with his messy crimson hair held back by a bandana that could only have come from Cross. Ilias frowned, a muscle ticking along his jaw, teeth likely grinding together. The metallic talismans dangling from around his neck twinkled in the spotty sunlight of the guild.

"Why do you say that?" Varya wondered, cocking her head to the side, genuinely bemused.

Ilias ducked his head. "The others," he murmured. "The guilds that don't make it to the second round. You know what happens to them..."

"But that wasn't because of the tourney," Sia pointed out. "They disbanded because their members weren't pleased with their earnings anymore."

Which was only debatably true. The tourney was a chance to test your guild's mettle and prove your worth to the kingdom, ostensibly to the crown but to anyone wanting to post a job, really. Guilds that fail to stand out aren't likely to attract as much attention, and with their world being as competitive and oversaturated with adventurers as it is, that might as well be the death sentence Ilias claimed it to be.

"Still--"

"Who'd be going?"

All heads swiveled to face Oren. He blinked under their scrutiny, scuffing his heel against the wood flooring, but refused to turn away.

"We can't all participate, right?" he asked, louder, trying to infuse some backbone into his words. "It's eight to a team. So. Who's going?"

Varya's expression clouded over with confusion, and - not for the first time - the majority of the present guild members exchanged looks of vexation. They knew their current master well, and they could tell she hadn't thought that far ahead. This whole thing was probably a whim on her part, something she thought could be fun for the whole guild.

"We'll nominate members," Sera decided from her place behind the bar; she winked at Varya when the woman flashed her a beaming smile. "That way it's fair! And no one can nominate themselves," she added meaningfully, lightly smacking the eager expression from Cross' face without even turning to look at him.

Oren drew closer to the others as they began talking amongst themselves, casting each other not-so-subtle glances. He bit back a scowl as he approached the bar, finding Hawthorne settled beside Gideon and Sage; he couldn't kick up a fuss with Gideon now. Or Cross, for that matter, even though the man was right there, talking animatedly with Sia and Sera.

If Oren had to guess, Lock and Sky would get the first nominations. Being the only two S-rank members of Starry Rose, they carried a lot of the guild's reputation and power on their backs, even if Lock was only home for a quarter of the year sometimes. They'd be essential in the tourney if they were going to survive the first round of eliminations, let alone win. Hawthorne was a promising candidate, too, as well as Kier and Waverly. Then there was Rhett and Gideon, both of whom often flew under the radar but had substantial talent.

Varya chatted amiably with Lock while the others traded nominations with each other. They made a comical sight: Lock, with all of his six-feet-two-inches of height, standing with their master, whose head barely came to his shoulder. But they somehow stood as equals, in a way Oren didn't even bother trying to make sense of. Especially after Varya disappeared for a moment, scampering off to who-knew-where, only to return with a handful of flower heads, which she weaved into Lock's blond hair.

And he didn't complain. At all.

Oren decided there were less impossible things to ponder and left it at that.

After a few more minutes of discussion (and an attempt from Cross to flirt his way into the nominations), the guild members came together again. Varya, seated now atop a vacant table, rocking back and forth pleasantly, stuck one hand into the air, pointer-finger extended.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Aaaaaand.... go!"

Sera took that as a sign to offer up the first of her choices, and she wrapped her hand snugly around Sia's wrist to raise her arm into the air.

"I say Sia should go!" she grinned, even as the girl looked at her in stark surprise. "Her magic's come a long way since she joined up with us, and I think she could hold her own against anyone out there."

A rumble of approval spread through the guild, and Oren grudgingly had to admit Sia was a good choice. Her magical ability was impressive, even if her stamina left something to be desired. But if she ended up in a duel and managed to end it quickly, then there wouldn't be anything to worry about.

"Sia?" Varya prompted. Flighty and scatter-brained as she was, their master didn't force her guild members into anything they didn't want to do.

Sia glanced around and likely saw only encouragement (for the most part - Ilias was still sulking) from her guildmates; she drew herself up to her full height, a small smile twitching at her lips. She was pleased to make it into the running, Oren could tell, as it meant the guild thought well of her talent - the only thing she would accept compliments about.

"I'll do it."

"Great!" Varya chirped, swinging her legs. Green, growing things sprouted from the cracks between the floorboards beneath her feet, filling the air with fragrant, floral aromas. It was evidence of just how excited she was, that tendrils of her magic were seeping into the air, the ground, and taking root. "Who's next?"

Oren got the feeling the whole selection process was something of a game to Varya.

Like he'd thought, Lock and Sky were both nominated. Sky accepted enthusiastically before visibly checking herself. She cleared her throat, put on a winning smile, and gracefully informed the guild that she would be happy to take up Starry Rose's mantle and participate in the tourney. Lock, in contrast, had to be coerced into it by Varya.

"Looooock, please?" she begged, having shifted so that she was sitting on her knees and staring directly into Lock's dispassionate gray eyes. "We need you to make the guild look cool!"

He cocked his head. "Really, Rya?"

She nodded fervently, and another round of flowers bloomed from the various pots of soil Varya placed around the guild's main floor.

"Then that's fine. I'll join."

That left five spots open, and entirely too many people who thought they'd be best to represent the guild.

Oren sighed, slouching against the bar. Sera was busy keeping Cross from violating the single rule she'd set down, as his flirting apparently hadn't gotten him anywhere. Sia, rolling her eyes at their banter, sipped from the drink Sera had given as congratulations. And Gideon and Sage...

The Eriksen siblings sat at the bar with Hawthorne, boxing him in. From the look on Hawthorne's face, he was very much not in agreement with whatever they were saying to him.

Oren sat up slightly, angling himself to better hear their conversation.

"Guys, I'm not-"

"Thorne! You are, too!"

"Sage is right, Hawthorne," Gideon cut in, hooded eyes trained on Hawthorne's pensive face. "You're good enough to stand with Sky and Lock. It's just you who doesn't believe that."

"Because I'm-"

"Only good at defense? We both know that's not true."

"Just let Gids nominate you!" Sage added, her bright eyes sparkling and far too puppyish to ignore in good conscience. "You'll do so, so, so, so well in the tourney, Thorne! I just know it!"

Hawthorne still looked unconvinced, and Oren couldn't understand why. Thorne joined Starry Rose when he was young, with barely a flicker of experience in adventuring. But he was determined, at least as far as the story goes, to get better, to compete with the most powerful members of the guild. And he'd succeeded. Maybe he couldn't take down Lock all on his lonesome, and maybe he was still no better than Cross at one-upping Sky, but he'd improved dramatically.

Oren, for one, trusted Hawthorne with his life.

Not that he'd ever tell him that.

Despite the man in question's protests, Gideon looked about to throw Hawthorne's name into the proverbial hat when Cross exclaimed, "Well, since I can't nominate myself" - with a pointed look at Sera - "then I'm casting my vote for good ol' Rhett!"

You could have heard a pin drop, the floor went so silent.

Rhett, sheepish, rubbed a hand roughly at the back of his neck, his sightless gaze dropping to the floor. Kier, still seated atop Rhett's lap, stiffened. He glowered at Cross, who merely grinned, waving a hand, as if to say your move now.

"Why would Rhett go?" Kier asked. "I'm not going, what would be the point? And he might get hurt!"

"So could everyone else!" Cross countered cheerfully. "Besides, they might go easy on the guy. Blind guys get all the sympathy points, ya know?"

"Cross!"

"Ow- Sera, you better comfort me when you put me in the hospital!"

Rhett sighed. With a gentle smile, he eased Kier to his feet and followed him up, raking his fingers through his hair. He frowned thoughtfully, turning in the direction of Varya, who still sat atop the table, legs still swinging, that same gleeful smile on her lips. That smile brightened as she looked Rhett over, reading his indecision as easily as she read the needs of her plants.

"We need more cool guys, Rhett! It's up to you."

Rhett smiled slightly, amused.

"If you'll have me..."

"Rhetty!"

"I'll be fine, Kier," Rhett assured the green-haired man, patient as could be. He'd had a lot of practice, Oren thought, so it made sense. Somewhat. Oren still couldn't quite grasp how anyone could put up with being the object of Kier's obsession . "I'm... sort of capable of handling myself. It's not like I trip over every pebble and crack in the pavement, right?"

It wasn't that Kier didn't trust Rhett, he was just that possessive. He didn't like to leave his side on the days he wasn't trailing after Waverly. And he was right about one thing - he wouldn't be getting a nomination. Kier's abilities were exceptional, but they were also, well, explosive. Literally. And he didn't have much interest in damage control. If Starry Rose wanted to come out of this with their already less than sterling reputation intact (or, gods forbid, marginally improved), they'd need to put their best foot forward. Which meant Kier would be watching Rhett from the stands rather than from beside him on the field.

So Kier pouted and complained and tried coaxing Rhett into staying with him, until Rhett made a point of saying that joining the tourney party was something he very much wanted to do. That shut Kier right up. Oren raised a brow at that. Kier looked almost apologetic, like he'd realized his stubborn refusal was only hurting Rhett in the end.

"I want to do this," Rhett said again, and Kier slumped against a table, arms crossed but mouth shut. He nodded after a moment and stepped in to lean against Rhett's side, acquiescing.

The rest of the nominations went largely uncontested. Sage thought Waverly would make an excellent (and super cute) addition to the party, and while Waverly wasn't there to accept, Varya approved her regardless. Whoever saw her next would tell her (Kier, probably, whenever his Rhett-sized itch was scratched for the time being), and if she took issue with the nomination she'd be free to pass on it. Not that Oren thought she would; Waverly might've seemed apathetic to most everyone and everything at the best of times, but she'd been raised in this guild - they were her family, and not once had she ever shied away from a chance to help them when they asked her directly for it.

Lock's nomination did cause something of a stir.

"Cross should go," Lock said once the murmurs following Varya's announcement regarding Waverly had died down. Varya tilted her head to look at him, smiling brightly, unconcerned, and Lock's own mouth curled up in response. "The kid's good, so long as he doesn't overdo it."

"His magic's rare, too," Sera mused, drumming her fingers rhythmically atop the bar, the glass she'd been drying forgotten next to her. "Doesn't matter what you are - paladin or sorcerer, if you're up against something that unfamiliar, you're bound to slip up somewhere."

Oren didn't want to slide his gaze away from Sera, didn't want to look at Cross, but the demon was making that incredibly difficult given the frenzied movements of his tail as he practically vibrated in his seat; it thumped, loudly, against the bar with every errant flick, until Sera pulled sharply on a lock of his dark hair and he jackknifed to his feet. The smile he wore could put Hawthorne's to shame, and every ounce of it was directed at Lock.

"See?" he demanded, making a sweeping gesture to include all the guild members he'd failed to charm into nominating him. "This is what I'm talking about! I'm vital to the team! The morale would plummet without me there and you guys know it." Cross smirked, either oblivious to the incredulous stares he was garnering or ignoring them. "Lock gets it."

"...Right." Gideon stood from his place at the bar, hauling an unwilling Hawthorne up with him. "I've got the next nomination, then. Does anyone have a problem with Hawthorne taking part in the tourney?"

As if. Hawthorne was a favorite in and out of the guild. No one would contest him being the next member, and even if they did, it'd be a minority vote. And Hawthorne knew that, which was probably why he didn't want to be nominated in the first place. He wasn't the type to show off, and he didn't particularly like attention when it was focused on his skill set alone. He didn't think he was worthy of representing Starry Rose.

Which was absolute bull, in Oren's opinion.

Again, though, he'd die before he told Hawthorne.

Hawthorne flushed at the attention, subtly twisting his arm free of Gideon's grip. "I'm really not..." His nose wrinkled in annoyance, probably guessing that point - tired at it was - wasn't going to get him anywhere. "If I'm going, then Gideon should, too! He's just as capable as I am."

Why Hawthorne thought that would dissuade Gideon from insisting Hawthorne participate in the tourney was anyone's guess. Gideon merely shrugged and tipped his head to Varya. "If that's him genuinely nominating me, then I accept."

Hawthorne opened his mouth for a retort, then just as quickly snapped it shut again, avoiding Gideon's knowing gaze. He scrunched up his face, debating with himself, then slumped back into his seat. "Alright, I'll do my best, then. For the guild," he added, sheepishly scratching at the back of his neck. The gathered Roses cheered their approval (Sage the most audible among them) and a bashful smile bloomed across Hawthorne's face as he ducked his head

Hawthorne's acceptance of his position (reluctantly given) marked the end of Varya's game, and, predictably, she let out a giggle of approval, spreading her arms to either side of her.

"Hehe, we're going to be the best team there! They'll never see us coming!"

"Mostly because we've never been there before?" Sera quipped, an amused curve to her lips.

"We've got the element of surprise!" Varya agreed. "And the tourney is in a month, so we've got plenty of time to prepare! Everyone should work extra hard, okay?"

That said, she hopped to her feet, dropped gracefully to the floor, and proceeded to lead Lock around the guild, introducing him to all the new additions she'd made to her impressive collection of foreign plants while he'd been away on his last job.

And despite the newfound buzz of excitement that permeated the guild's flowery air, at least for one last day, everything seemed normal.