[Fran is waiting for Balthier to step off the second level after he's done talking to Ashe, sitting in a chair, a mug of tea before her. The look on her face is one of mild surprise, which for the Viera, is quite telling.]

'Think nothing of it'?

A masquerade, hm?

I shall attend, I think. Balthier, are you going to go as well?

[And Fran is taking her time through the streets, sniping at cops with her bow, a small smirk on her face. The radio is clipped to her clothing.]

You were correct, Balthier. Fate would have a chance.

[Fran is cautiously staring out a window, eyes narrowed at the wind, rain and fire.]

Is the game beginning, then?

[It's the sound of the hail that awakens her inside the church, and the freezing temperature second, the Viera much more used to the humidity of her home jungle or the dry heat of the Dalmascan desert. Fran shivers, and sits up, unfolding herself from the prone position she'd been lying in, and stands, slowly making her way to a window to observe ( Read more... )

( the archers bows are broken )