Welcome to Gaia! ::

Blarney hummed to himself as he practiced his forms in the little clearing he had claimed as his own. He swung his shillelagh up and back and around, sidestepped invisible enemies and bonked them on their invisible heads. He was doing okay with his weapon, but he needed to do better - he needed to figure out a better way to work with his wall, too, but one thing at a time, he figured. He didn't want to burn his magic out when there was a non-zero chance he might need it, because...

Because Greive.

He didn't know much about her, except that everyone who knew her spoke about her with a strange sort of reverence/fear that Blarney could only equate to how he felt about Joy, and as far as he knew, Joy had never gotten anyone's help to bury a body, so...

So who really knew where the night would go? If she even showed up, that is. Blarney wasn't sure. For being aligned with Order, the chaotic vibes that Grieve exuded, even from afar, were overwhelming, which was why he'd decided that even if she didn't appear, he might as well get some practice in, if only so the night wasn't a complete waste of time.

"Thank you," Blarney said, deciding to leave off the 'I think' he'd been tempted to add, because he was fairly well-convinced that what she'd said was not only a compliment, but a pretty big one. At least about his current existence, if not his past decisions.

"I want you to teach me, so I can teach other Knights, how to go on the offensive without painting a big target on our backs. Or, failing that, if a target has to be painted to get anything done, how to...not die." Blarney grimaced slightly. "You come highly recommended, in the not-dying department."

Blarney blinked, winced, and winced harder - the Code wasn't exactly a god, but it did feel a hair on the side of disrespectful to refer to it as 'shitass'. But more importantly, he hadn't meant to be demanding--he'd just thought Grieve's curt introduction meant she was okay with a direct response.

"My apologies," Blarney said, trying to smooth his face out a little bit. "I don't--I didn't mean to be demanding. You just--asked what I wanted, so..." Blarney shook his head, refocused.

"I don't need you to be a sensei." If he had one, it was Joy, not that she relished the role either. "Advice is plenty enough for me." The idea of Grieve being a sensei-ish figure to anyone was, frankly, terrifying; it would be Blarney's job to filter what advice she gave into something usable for the Brigade.

"It's not just for me," he added, "if that helps. I'm trying to get some Knights together and--we want to do good, on purpose, and that might mean--pissing off the Negaverse. You're good at that," he said, hoping she would take it as the compliment he meant it as. "So...what are some ways you wish we would be more like you?"

Blarney kept his smile fixed in place, and he did not sigh or roll his eyes or scream from the top of his lungs WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO OTHER THAN GOOD???? like he wanted to. Instead, he took a measured breath, and nodded.

"I understand why you would say that," he said, as diplomatically as he could, because he did. A lot of people thought it was pointless to try - especially to try and organize a group the way he was doing, but - what was his other option? Give up? Do nothing? Continue to rage against the dying of the light all on his own? No. He would never claim to be the sharpest knife in the block, but even he knew that wasn't the way to win anything.

"Also, you're right, I apologize again. That was rude of me. I would be happy to..." Blarney trailed off, his smile fading as he considered. What would someone like Grieve need from someone like him? He had no idea. "Well, okay. What would you be interested in exchange? I'm sure we can figure something out that's fair," he said. Did she need, like, money? He had money. Not a lot of money, but some money, and if she was going to be like a tutor for him...or maybe she wanted something magical? Or maybe she just wanted to be able to call in an IOU? Blarney didn't know, but he was fairly sure that whatever it was she wanted, it would require some negotiation.

But - hey. She'd said it wasn't a bad idea! That was basically glowing praise, he was pretty sure, from someone who also called it a 'cop squad', and that alone made it worth it to find some way to come to a satisfactory arrangement.

Blarney relaxed slightly - slightly - as she sat down, and joined her happily. He couldn't help the snort that escaped him; that was perhaps the first and only time anyone had accused him of being the tightwad. Then again, Mads wasn't around for comparison, so...

So Blarney considered her question, leaning back on his palms as he studied the trees, the sky above them. What did he want to do with the Negaverse? Mostly - nothing. But that wasn't a viable answer here, so he dug a little deeper. He wanted to protect Pages from the Negaverse, especially those that had recently purified and were figuring out a whole new life, a whole new way of being. Someday, he wanted to help people actually do the purification itself, but that was a distant and perhaps unrealistic goal.

Be specific. He'd reached out to Grieve after the conversation with Halle, where Halle had told him Grieve had offered to teach people how to kill. It turned Blarney's stomach, but like he'd thought then: this was a war. People died, and killed, in wars. When - if - the time came for him to take someone's life, he needed to be prepared.

"I want my brigade," he said slowly, figuring the words out as he said them, "to make a real difference for our side. Part of that means, potentially, engaging with serious enemies." He was still looking up at the sky. How bizarre to be discussing something like this when the world was so beautiful around them. "We will need to know how to...do real damage."

Blarney finally looked back at Grieve, face serious, set. "We will need to know the best ways to do the most damage, without becoming nothing more than a moving target for Chaos." He took a breath. "How do we protect ourselves from their - vengeance? How do we make it so that messing with us - with any of us, individually or together as--as--as a unit, is seen as too big a risk to be worth it? Because if...if we start hurting them, really hurting them, intentionally and on purpose, hunting them...they're...they're going to want to put a stop to us. And right now, they could. Easily. Like. Really, really easily. How do we stand as a--a shield and a symbol for Order, to show our friends what we're about, why it matters, why they should get in line behind us, without--without also pointing a big neon sign right at our starseeds saying 'free buffet'?" Blarney realized he'd been talking increasingly quickly, and increasingly loudly, and he cringed a little. He really needed to calm the heck down, lest the Negaverse mosey on over and silence him themselves.

Blarney sighed, looked back up at the sky. "Sorry. That was rambling. Was that specific enough?"

Blarney sighed. He'd been afraid of that - that what he wanted was like a pool of water containing a lit flame. Diametrically impossible, opposing systems. Dang it.

(Also, now he really wanted cake.)

"I'm not really asking for me and my sake," Blarney said, choosing to ignore, for now, the implication he was just doing this to puff himself up. "I'm thinking about the people I'm asking to join this thing. Because, like--the main point of it is to protect and teach Pages, right? They don't have any magic at all, and entering a whole new world of things that really should be impossible--teaching them, showing them how to do it right. Less dead or terrified or corrupted Pages, is the idea, right." Blarney sighed. "And it's hard to show Pages what we're supposed to be doing when part of what we're supposed to be doing is taking out the bad guys, defending innocents, that whole thing, while also not painting a target on our--their backs. Does that make sense?" Blarney wasn't sure it did, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't care about being a hero or not. I didn't even want to lead this Brigade, but a friend convinced me to do it, that I could be good at it. That--that people would listen to me, if I asked them. And so I did. I've gotten a couple of people like, tentatively on board with this thing. And that means I'm responsible for them. I can't - I will not - be the reason they get themselves killed. I can die, whatever," not really whatever since he was pretty sure if he died his sister would find a way to revive him just to kill him herself, "but I cannot live with the idea that I'm getting--I don't want to say kids, 'cause some of them are older than me, but like--newbies to this world involved in something that's too dangerous for them. But I don't know how to protect enough of them, how to use this group, without doing that."

Blarney sighed. Maybe he wasn't even answering her questions at all. Maybe he hadn't realized how anxious he was about that part of it - about it being his fault if something happened to someone he'd asked to join this stupid thing - until the words had come tumbling out of his mouth. God he was an idiot.

"Sorry. I'm an idiot," he said, mouth in a thin line. He should've made notes on what he wanted to talk to Grieve about, ahead of time, like he had with the Code and other important people he'd met. When had winging it ever worked for him? Why hadn't he told Madeline, so she could've dressed him down and made him work harder before he got to this point? Ughhhhh.

"I know that's--that's part of the deal. And if people--join, you know, they should go in eyes open so it's not like I'm promising them some--some fantasy easy peasy thing. I know it's their choice as much as it is mine to lead it, and now that I've agreed to do the thing, I'm doing the thing. It'll happen. The point is to work, and work together, because--we can't all be you," Blarney said with a wry smile. "We can't all rack up our own body counts and not need someone to cover our back when we do it."

Blarney hesitated a moment, chewing the edge of his lip as he fiddled with a few strands of grass between his fingers. "When you say no witnesses. Do you mean that you've..." he briefly considered a euphemism, but if ever there was a time to be blunt and say exactly what he meant, it was now, with Grieve. "...killed civilians? Like, people who aren't magical at all? Because they saw what you'd done?"

He asked this question softly, without judgement, but with the energy of a held breath, like he was bracing for impact. If that was what it would take - he needed to know, more than he needed to preserve his own innocence. He needed to know what it actually took, and then he could decide if he was able to do it - and able to ask others to do it too.

Blarney nodded grimly along as she spoke. The ancient Knight Academy - it was a thorn in his side, because of how little information they had about it. When he'd asked The Code, it had said he'd asked 'for a history of the entire universe and the telling of it would take this lifetime, and the next, and the next'. Which was not, you know, the most helpful or detailed information ever.

But Grieve - she'd been around forever. Almost literally, probably. If she'd known about the Academy...

But he pocketed that thought. For now.

He was, to say the least, relieved that the general Grieve modus operandi did not require the slaying of the very people they were supposed to be saving. That would have pretty much been the end of this conversation, and as difficult as it was for Blarney, he didn't think he wanted it to end quite yet.

"Two halfway attempts might be better than the zero attempts currently going on right now," Blarney said with a snort. "But--you're right. About the personal choice thing. That means that--okay. Hang on." Blarney flipped to another section of his notebook, where he'd kept all his notes about the Brigade, and quietly scribbled a few more lines down there. Nobody had to go and fight - it was a personal choice. But even if they didn't go and fight, they still should know the basics. They should still get training, so if they do find themselves in a dangerous situation, they could still defend themselves, and more importantly, call in help if they needed it. Help that would always be there.

"Okay, sorry," Blarney said, blinking rapidly as he returned himself to this conversation, here in the now, and not in the future, where his Brigade was already strong enough, populated enough, to support all the ideas that swirled around his mind. "You're not wrong - about the goal thing you were talking about earlier. That's why the main goal is the teaching, communication thing - that's like, quantifiable, right? You'll be able to tell when you've done it, because you can define what success looks like. It looks like more Pages getting up to Squire and Knight. But theoretically, even if not everyone we train and teach is like, ready to go out and fight God and walk backward into heck or whatever - some of them will want to put this stuff to good use. Some people will want to just--take the fight to Chaos, you know what I mean? I need to be able to guide them, too, show them the best way to do this whole thing.

"So I guess--as someone who's pretty much universally considered the best at taking the fight to anyone who needs fought...if you were me, how would you do that? Pick a known high-powered target and stalk them for a year and then trap and just--take them out before they know what hit them? Focus on Lieutenants and pick them off, either by killing or getting them to purify somehow? Do spy stuff and thwart a big plan?" Blarney shrugged helplessly. "I don't know enough about what's been done already to know what would be genuinely the most helpful, right now, aside from--like you said, fewer dead Pages, and I have more of an idea of how that could work and what that might look like than I do--this part of things."

Blarney let out a slow breath. Maybe that was specific enough for Grieve.