It comes as no great shock to the knights they happen across that Faolan comes bearing gifts; his reputation precedes him, as it happens, and unsurprisingly, Ophelia couldn't be happier with this discovery.

She's bouncing on the balls of her feet as she trails behind Faolan, unconcerned with the sharp looks she receives every so often from her brother, who has refused to draw even with her on account of the fact that it somehow defies the rigid principles he's set for himself. Faolan, on the other hand, reserves the majority of his attention for the young girl who's apparently taken an interest in him and makes it a point to turn to her whenever she deigns to speak with him.

"Faolan, can I ask you something?"

Whereas her brother may have teasingly replied with "Didn't you just do that?" Faolan merely nods his assent, his eyes flicking between her steady blue-green eyes and the path ahead of them, keen to avoid causing any sort of commotion by mowing down any stragglers.

"Are there any guilds in this town?"

Faolan tips his head back, considering, though before he's come up with an answer Lukas has surged forward, hands clamping down onto Ophelia's shoulders, his mouth close enough to brush the shell of her ear.

"Are you out of your mind?" he hisses.

Pouting, she knocks his hands away and skips forward so that she can spin on her heel and face him as she continues walking beside Faolan.

"I'm marginally sane, thank you very much," she shoots back, to which he rolls his eyes and mouths something uncomplimentary that she prays escapes Faolan's notice. "Curiosity, my dear brother, never really hurt anyone. It's rare that we pass through a town big enough to have a guild, so I was only asking."

He huffs a strand of silvery hair from his eyes, revealing the full force of his disbelieving stare. Of course he doesn't believe her. Ophelia hasn't been able to lie convincingly to her brother for over a decade now, and with each passing year he only gets better at reading her. But that doesn't stop her from trying her damnedest.

She wasn't just asking. Ophelia's dreamed of joining a guild practically her entire life, and the very least it's been her goal since she and her brother set out on their own. As it's true they haven't had ample opportunities to visit guilds, she's never had the chance to try and finagle her brother into joining one with her.

Ophelia lets out a high-pitched squeak when Faolan suddenly grabs her by the hand, quickening his pace as he weaves expertly through the throngs of people milling past them on either side. She casts a look behind her, picking out Lukas following in their wake, and giggles to herself; so long as he's along for the ride, he can't complain - not publically, at least. 

Faolan leads her down a dizzying array of twists and turns, at one point crossing over a small, wooden bridge that she would have plainly overlooked if she'd been alone; from a few paces behind her, she can hear the sound of Lukas' griping, something about how dangerous it is to cross such a rickety structure. But he follows nonetheless, which is neither a surprise nor an unwelcome prospect.

Ophelia would guess they've been walking for a solid fifteen minutes when Faolan halts, tugging her to a gentle stop. Grinning from ear to ear, she glances around, looking for the guild she suspects he's brought her to. And Ophelia can't bite back the gasp that leaves her lips as she settles on the grand building before her, adorned with a dark banner bearing a symbol she's never seen before. A statue sits in front of the building, overlooking passersby like a silent sentinel; drawing closer, Ophelia matches the model for the statue to the symbol on the banner, a voluptuous woman with flowing hair and the twisting lower half of a serpent.

Her first thought had been 'mermaid,' but only closer inspection, she noticed the tail lacked any sort of protruding fin that would have marked it as an aquatic creature.

"I'd say I'm speechless, but then I'd be lying," she breathes, clasping her hands together in mock-prayer, wide eyes quite content to continue gazing upon the mysterious guild. 

Lukas, only just catching up, falls into silence at the sight of the guild. This somehow feels like another victory for Ophelia, though she couldn't say why; something about seeing her brother as enthralled with this as she is fills her chest with sunny warmth.

Faolan cocks his head to the side, eyes half-lidded in thought, before he reaches into his jacket, rummaging around until he can pull out a wrinkled scrap of paper, which he then folds over once, twice, and extends it towards Ophelia. She tears her eyes away from the guild (mentally chastising herself for believing that a mystical glow had appeared around the building) to peer at the paper, and Faolan directs her eyes down to the bottom by tapping at it with his finger.

If Ophelia's right, she's looking at what used to be a newspaper article, and where Faolan is pointing lies two words:

Lamia Scale

"Lamia... Scale?" Ophelia repeats aloud, looking up at Faolan. His eyes have drifted towards the building, and she chases his gaze, realization dawning on her as she whips her head back around to stare down at the paper. 

"This is... Lamia Scale? That's the name of this guild?"

Faolan dips his head, confirming her guess, and Ophelia lets out a squeal so loud it has Lukas clapping his hands over his ears.

She repeats the name, over and over, reveling in the fact that she's here, only steps away from entering the guild - her first guild - and her brother's possibly too busy admiring the architecture to scold her if she decides she needs just a little peek to satiate her curiosity.

"Ophelia. Step back."

Ah. So Lukas has come back to his senses after all.

She stubbornly plants her feet, her face screwed up in childish persistence. Lukas heaves a soft sigh, fitting his fingers around her upper arm, very much prepared to drag his sister kicking and screaming into the depths of the city in the hopes that it's just the close proximity to the guild making her act so petulant - but then there's Faolan, curling a hand into the fabric of Lukas' jacket, eyes like the ocean and lightning in the tilt of his lips.

"I'm her brother," Lukas growls, jerking his hand back from Ophelia and watching as Faolan retreats as well, "so I would say I have a right to stop my sister from making a fool of herself."

"A fool of..." Ophelia sputters, rounding on her brother with a look of indignation coloring her expression. "Wanting to join a guild, that makes me a fool?"

"The fact that you have to ask that question already gives you an answer," Lukas replies cooly.

 Ophelia's poised to retaliate (though she may have already graduated from words to fists), but Faolan drops a hand atop her head, with just enough force that she quickly closes her mouth and rolls her eyes upwards in an attempt to see just what he plans to do. From the corner of her eye she sees him shake his head slowly, a silent warning that fighting now is futile. 

 Though it isn't immediate, the longer she looks at Faolan - calm and collected even as Lukas stares him down with a metallic glint in his eyes - the anger slowly drains out of her, and she deflates, both physically and emotionally, her shoulders sagging and her head drooping. Lukas, seeing her, lowers the hand he'd been reaching towards Faolan and turns away, huffing another breath to dislodge the clumps of bangs falling into his eyes.

"...just let me look, Lukas."

He doesn't turn to face her, but merely lifts a shoulder, arms drawn tight over his chest and feet spread slightly, as though he's forcing himself not to run right now. 

 "Ophelia, you know why I act the way I do. If you want to explore Lamia Scale regardless of that... then do whatever the hell you want. I'll be waiting out here."

Ophelia tries to channel the guilt that's suddenly latched onto her heart into something more productive, but it's a difficult thing to do when her brother looks like the puppy he had her turn away just a short while ago. Still, now that he's agreed to let her go, she's not about to dismiss this chance, so she nods her head emphatically and swings around to rush the steps that lead up to the guild's ornately crafted door.

Faolan lingers a moment, studying the hard lines of Lukas' face, the rigidity of his posture, how he holds himself so stiffly when his hands are clearly shaking, fisted around the fabric of his jacket - then he drifts after Ophelia, of that mind that he shouldn't allow the young girl to scamper off on her own when he's the one who introduced her to the guild.

She doesn't hesitate to knock - once, then when she receives no response, another two or three times. Stepping back as she waits, she holds her arm behind her back, rocking back on her heels, excitement buzzing through her system and casting a blinding smile on her lips. 

 There's silence for a few heartbeats, an absence of movement and sound that sets Ophelia's teeth together unpleasantly - but then the door swings open and out steps an elderly woman, decked out in a crimson cloak and gray hair piled up to an unreasonable height atop her head. Through slitted eyes she surveys the duo at her doorstep, and Ophelia stiffens at the scrutiny, her heart leaping into her throat and clogging up any polite greeting she could have conjured.

Seemingly unconcerned with the way that Ophelia keeps opening and closing her mouth in a vain attempt to speak, the woman switches her gaze to Faolan.

"Faolan," she says, her voice rough with age but very much warm. "It's been quite some time since you visited here."

He smiles slightly, eyes closed. But there's an edge to his smile, like he's bracing for something...

And Ophelia figures out what that is in the next heartbeat.

The woman suddenly explodes, lifting an arm and twirling it around, which - much to Ophelia's shock - sends Faolan into a dizzying spin that he neither fights nor apparently begrudges.

"Just join our guild already, Faolan!" the old woman snaps, still twirling her arm, still forcing Faolan to spin in a maddening display. Ophelia covers her mouth and averts her eyes, feeling sick just looking at him. "We'd be unstoppable in the Grand Magic Games if we had you, Lyon, and Jura! Don't you want to bring some glory back to your home town?" 

Of course Faolan says nothing. If he hasn't spoken up in all this time, Ophelia sincerely doubts that this treatment (which he seems to be used to, judging by how little he's reacted to it) will have him chattering like some overexcited songbird. But that doesn't stop the woman from trying to coax a response out of him, and perhaps she's thinking of keeping up this outrageous punishment (if that's what this even is) until he does what she wants him to. 

 Fearing Faolan might lose his lunch before he utters a word, Ophelia braves a step forward, waving a hand to draw the attention of the fiery old woman. Despite the distraction, she continues her twirling, though she's definitely focused on Ophelia now. The multi-tasking is impressive, admittedly, but Ophelia wishes she' just release Faolan already. God knows her brother must be laughing his ass off at the predicament Faolan's fallen into.

"Excuse me," she says, trying for a smile and achieving something somewhat believable, "my name is Ophelia Vitae, and if you don't mind, my brother and I would really love to join your lovely guild."

The woman pauses - even her rolling hand, allowing Faolan to glide to a stop. He braces a hand against the doorway, hanging his head, his other hand threading its way through his mess of dark hair. His eyes are spinning, and the world feels like it's two seconds from dropping out from under him. But, other than that, he'd say he got off fairly easy. Once, this wonderfully sadistic old woman had him spin for over an hour because he refused her offer to join the ranks of the Lamia Scale mages. When she finally had him stop, he promptly threw up into the canal that splits the city in two.

He then - politely - shook his head, once again informing her that he would rather not join her guild at this time.

Needless to say, it had taken the combined efforts of the other guild members to stop her from trapping Faolan in an endless cycle of spinning.

"Would you now..." The woman looks Ophelia over, a look of contemplation on her weathered face. Ophelia tries not squirm, but it's hard to shake the feeling that the woman is staring right into her very soul. And it's not a pleasant place to be, as far as Ophelia's concerned. "You're a mage, then? What magic do you and your brother use?"

"Water magic for myself, and ice magic for Lukas, my brother," Ophelia says, a touch of pride in her voice, as it isn't often that she and Lukas get to show off their magical skills. 

"Ice magic? Not Ice-Make?"

Brow furrowed, Ophelia shakes her head. "I've actually never heard of Ice-Make magic... Lukas learned what he can do when he was younger, from our parents..."

After a moment of silence, the woman nods, accepting this.

"I am Ooba Babasaama, Guildmaster of Lamia Scale."

Though she'd already expected this, a trill of electric excitement shoots up Ophelia's spine, and she stands a little straighter, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes wide and waiting.

Ooba seems mildly amused with her antics, a slight smile on her face - and it reminds Ophelia of the swell of victory she felt for eliciting the same reaction out of Faolan.

"If you can convince Faolan here to join with you, then I'll accept you."