It was a metal pipe that led from amidst the embers of the firepit to what Zelsys recognized as a repurposed Fog Engine, atop which there sat a befuddling tangle of rune-etched flasks and tubes, held together with wire and pieces of scrap metal. There were two fragments clearly taken from the shattered barrier-stone suspended in the tangle, apparently somehow involved in condensing Viriditas, which ran down the stones and into a tube that led into a half-full bottle on the ground. As Zelsys tried to work out why the engine was involved in this setup, she noticed a number of roughly-welded pipes that led from its exhaust ports to just below a flask, serving as burners to heat its contents of vile, rotting meat, black Fog roiling above it. 

“Putrid meat?” Zelsys blurted out, furrowing her brow and tilting her head as she tried to grasp what exactly was going on with the alchemic apparatus. It was clearly multi-purpose, as less than a third of it seemed to be in use, though she didn’t quite understand why rotting meat was being used to produce Viriditas. 

The Swordsman - who she didn’t notice had disappeared - stepped out of the transport, no longer wearing his chest-plate and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, green Fog rising from his nostrils, intricate tattoos composed of alchemical symbols covering his forearms from the wrists to the elbows. “It was supposed to be an alkahestry setup, at one point,” he said as he walked towards the alchemic abomination with pride evident in his gait. “Figured out the barrier-stones can turn Nigredo into Viriditas even when in pieces, so I’ve been usin’ it to make loads of the stuff since… As long as we’ve been here, really.”

“Black Fog comes from rotting meat and it’s called Nigredo. Got it,” Zelsys thought, making a mental note of this fact.

“Couple’o months. Four, six, eight. Can’t remember...” Wire muttered from behind, still standing behind Zelsys with his gun pointed at her back. His demeanor was still twitchy and cautious, but he spoke with surprising lucidity. His right eye twitched towards the Swordsman, and he let out a wordless grunt. 

With a clap of his hands, the Swordsman replied “Right, gotta purge your system,” as he approached his bearded compatriot. Her curiosity drawn to the scene, Zelsys felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Spliteye, subtly nodding towards the transport vehicle. “Let’s see if we can find some spare clothes that fit,” she said, the implication of something else loud and clear in the way she said it. Zelsys gave a smile and a nod, following after the blonde and watching what the Swordsman was doing out of the corner of her eye. Wire’s gun tracked her with unerring accuracy, yet his eyes looked to the Swordsman. 

As she passed by the vehicle, Zelsys took note of what its door was really used for - it was covered in dried blood and fragments of bone, a cleaver of prodigious size sat atop it. It was matte-black with a silver shine to its edge, and somehow the only thing on that door-table that was completely clean of blood. She couldn’t tear her eyes off it until she walked into the transport and its wall did it for her, and she immediately scanned her new surroundings out of instinct. 

Where she had expected a cramped and filthy arrangement of as many seats as could fit, she was met with a mostly complete living space for four people - two bunk beds, metal lockers, even a sink, whose faucet connected to an exposed pipe which in turn led to a caged slot in the wall containing a dull-grey gemstone, the word “Aqua” stenciled in blocky blue letters above it. Under the sink, there were five large and eight smaller seal-covered bottles full of pale-green Viriditas, some still bearing barely-legible labels like “Kaiser Pilsner”. Next to them stood two large and five small empty ones, some bearing fresh seals, some plain, and one covered in so many old seals that it was completely opaque. It was corked shut, so perhaps it wasn’t empty.

Modifications to make it more spacious had clearly been done, but even in its default configuration it must’ve been at least bearable. Spliteye opened one of the lockers, its hinges creaking almost loud enough to conceal a pained grunt from Wire.

“What’s up with the bald one?” she asked, watching as Spliteye pulled several things out of the locker, placing them on the lower right bunk. Steel-toed, armored knee-high boots, a pair of trousers, a pair of armored bracers, and several belts of varying sizes. The blonde sighed at the question, looking out the door, then at Zelsys, remaining silent until there came another pained grunt, a quieter one this time. “Rubedo Sickness,” she said. Before Zelsys could ask what that was, the Swordsman’s voice interrupted her thought process. 

“Purgation Arts: Rubedo Dissolution!” he exclaimed. Wire’s voice was heard immediately after, but instead of a yell or a grunt it was a very, very long wheeze, as if a large quantity of something gaseous was being expelled out of his mouth - not unlike a deflating balloon.

Spliteye remained silent, letting the sound ring out for a few seconds before she stood up with a sigh, shutting the locker. “Take your pick,” she said with a light gesture at the items laid out as they were, adding on “Feel free to use the bunk as well.” as she passed Zelsys on the way out.

She took a seat on the bunk, placing down the Tablet as she unwrapped the bandages from her feet and legs and shed her cloak, a good portion of the fabric now filthy and tattered. The trousers came first, and to her surprise they were clean - certainly not pristine, but far from the level of filth that the soldiers’ clothes exhibited. “Too small…” she thought as she tried to put them on, the waistband not even wide enough to get halfway up her thighs.