[ Leaping from Vorspiel to this war zone hadn't been an easy transition. While the creatures of that strange place were dangerous, they weren't altogether unfamiliar territory. Ignis is used to creepy things that come out in the night, especially ones that are difficult to kill.

This, however, is different. He's spent too much time isolated in the trenches, too much time fighting with weaponry he's completely unsuited for. But with the fighting well and over, he's happy to take up an advisory role. Bent over a water-damaged map, detailing places he's never heard of before, he attempts to make sense of the possible routes they may take to evacuate the wounded. ]

We'll need to mark the paths destroyed in the fighting: the dead ends, the uneven terrain, enemy lines. The battlefield may be quiet now, but I do not trust the follies of war. The faster we can make our retreat the better.

[ He's grabbed anyone that might have a BCE around him, regardless of skill or knowledge. ] We'll need to secure rations for those making the journey down. Sustaining the injured person and those transporting cannot be regarded lightly. It's quite the journey to make.

[ Securing supplies won't be easy, either. ]

[ The snow erases the footpaths of the soldiers ahead of them, and make the terrain slick and treacherous. The climb down was never going to be simple, but the snow only makes things worse.

The low, intermittent pop of shots overhead does nothing to calm the nerves of the soldiers. Ignis keeps as low as possible, using the craggy, icy landscape as a buffer between him and the snipers. He's heard the fighting, the screaming up ahead but the ice prevents them from moving too quickly to the aid of others. There's whispers of jackal-masked soldiers, and the tell-tale body lying leftover, bloody in the snow.

He hears someone crunching and slick footed steps in the snow and without second thought, grabs the person nearest him and drags them down below the ridge line just as one of the jackal-masked soldiers throws themselves over it and down into the footpath. ]

Up. [ The masked soldier seems stunned (maybe shot by mistake by one of the Regency snipers), but they don't have much time before he realizes they're there. ] Quickly.

[ Victory is hard won and bittersweet. Though most seem to remain in communal areas, sharing in the wine and the celebrations, Ignis has taken to wandering. The ship isn't any more comforting than the battlefield, and he treats it as though it's an enemy itself. He takes to mapping it out, not relying on the BCE and all that it might offer. He knows better. Technology can fail, especially when crafted by those he's yet to trust.

Anyone seeking some quiet away from the commotion might find a tired, ruffled bespectacled man in the galley. He's tutting over the rudimentary supplies and technology. It's sparse at best, and he's already pulling what few food items he can find. Even if he can only make a lukewarm broth, it would be better than the detritus they called food back on the battlefield. ] Astonishing... you'd think there were no living, breathing human begins aboard, with stock like this.