It was obvious, even to Oren, who'd only just come up from the guild's lower floors after a fruitless search for Gideon, that no one had been expecting such a declaration from their flighty guild master. She smiled airly at them from her perch atop the thick branch, chin still propped up on her hands, feet kicking in the air above her. She was barefoot again, the soles of her feet caked with soil and stray bits of plant matter, but she either wasn't aware of it or simply didn't care.

Hawthorne was the first to break the quickly encroaching silence.

"Uh... Master? You haven't been sniffing that weird plant again, have you?"

Varya pouted, childishly indignant, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come, and she was soon beaming once more. She twirled a lock of dove-gray hair around her finger, cheeks dimpling with her cheer - which, much to Oren's displeasure, was practically palpable even halfway across the guild.

"Nope! Not this time, Thorny!"

She slid forward on her branch, glancing down at the leaf-strewn floor for several heartbeats before she rolled to the side and straight off the branch. Oren's heart leapt into his throat, his feet glued to the floor in panic, before he mentally smacked himself; Lock was there, the master already safely in his arms. He set her down carefully, a mildly reproachful furrow between his eyes, and she giggled up at him.

When Lock had gotten home, Oren didn't know. Probably that morning, he supposed. Varya often made the man sleep as soon as he returned to the guild, seeing as he was known for running on only a few hours of shut eye while out on jobs. Sky made the announcement more than once that she'd had to (heroically) force him to sleep while they were out together so that he didn't collapse the next day. Oren doubted Lock wasn't made of sterner stuff than Sky seemed to assume. Because it was Lock. The man was Starry Rose's personal legend.

"Thanks, Lock! Now" - Varya clapped her hands together excitedly, snapping Oren from his thoughts - "I'm sure you all know what the Games are."

"Suicide," someone muttered bitterly. "At least, the guild equivalent."

Oren could just make out the familiar tufts of red hair that stood out against the earthen-toned guild; Ilias stood in the shadow of the wisteria, hands shoved into his pockets. From what Oren could see, he'd blindly chosen his wardrobe for the day again; today he wore an offensively polka-dotted shirt and purple shorts, with his messy crimson hair held back by a bandana that could only have come from Cross. He frowned, a muscle ticking along his jaw, teeth likely grinding together. The Keys dangling from around his neck twinkled in the spotty sunlight of the guild.

"Why do you say that?" Varya wondered, cocking her head to the side genuinely bemused.

Ilias ducked his head. "F-Fairy Tail," he murmured. "You know what happened to them..."

"But that wasn't because of the Games," Sia pointed out. "They lost people, remember?"

"Still--"

"Who'd be going?"

All heads swiveled to face Oren. He blinked under their scrutiny, scuffing his heel against the wood flooring.

"We can't all participate, right?" he asked, louder, trying to infuse some backbone into his words. "It's five to a team. So. Who's going?"

Varya's expression clouded over with confusion, and - not for the first time - the majority of the present guild members sweat dropped. They knew their current master well, and they could tell she hadn't thought that far ahead. This whole thing was probably a whim on her part, something she thought could be fun for the whole guild.

"We'll nominate members," Sera decided from her place behind the bar; she winked at Varya when the woman flashed her a beaming smile. "That way it's fair! And no one can nominate themselves," she added meaningfully, smacking the eager expression from Cross' face without even turning to look at him.

Oren drew closer to the others as they began talking amongst themselves, casting each other not-so-subtle glances. He bit back a scowl as he approached the bar, finding Hawthorne settled beside Gideon and Sage; he couldn't kick up a fuss with Gideon now. Or Cross, for that matter, even though the man was right there, talking animatedly with Sia (who'd abandoned her job-hunting) and Sera while Keir (the freak) glared daggers at him every so often.

If he had to guess, Lock and Sky would get the first nominations. Being the only two S-Class members of Starry Rose, they carried a lot of the guild's reputation and power on their backs, even if Lock was only home for a quarter of the year sometimes. They'd be essential in the Games if they were going to win. Hawthorne was a promising candidate, too, as well as the twins and Waverly. Then there was Rhett and Gideon, both of whom often flew under the radar but had substantial talent.

Varya chatted amiably with Lock while the others traded nominations with each other. They made a comical sight, Lock, with all of his six-feet-two-inches of height, standing with their master, whose head barely came to his shoulder. But they somehow stood as equals, in a way Oren didn't even bother trying to make sense of. Especially after Varya disappeared for a moment, scampering off to who-knew-where, only to return with a handful of flower heads, which she weaved into Lock's blond hair.

And he didn't complain. At all.

Oren decided there were less impossible things to ponder and left it at that.

After a few more minutes of discussion (and an attempt from Cross to flirt his way into the nominations). the guild members came together again. Varya, seated now atop a vacant table, rocking back and forth pleasantly, stuck one hand into the air, pointer-finger extended.

"Aaaaaand.... go!"

Sera took that as sign to offer up the first of her choices, and she wrapped her hand snugly around Sia's wrist to raise her arm into the air.

"I say Sia should go!" she grinned, even as the girl looked at her in stark surprise. "Her magic's come a long way since she joined up with us, and I think she could hold her own against anyone out there."

A rumble of approval spread through the guild, and Oren grudgingly had to admit Sia was a good choice. Her magical ability was impressive, even if her stamina left something to be desired. But if she ended up in a duel and managed to end it quickly, then there wouldn't be anything to worry about.

"Sia?" Varya prompted. Flighty and scatter-brained as she was, their master didn't force her guild members into anything they didn't want to do.

Sia glanced around, saw only encouragement (for the most part - Ilias was still sulking) from her guildmates; she drew herself up to her full height, a small smile twitching at her lips. She was pleased to be make it into the running, Oren could tell, as it meant the guild thought well of her talent - the only thing she would accept compliments about.

"I'll do it."

"Great!" Varya chirped, swinging her legs. Green, growing things sprouted from the cracks between the floorboards beneath her feet, filling the air with fragrant, flowery aromas. It was evidence of just how excited she was, that tendrils of her magic were seeping into the air, the ground, and taking root. "Who's next?"

Oren got the feeling the whole selection process was something of a game to Varya.

Like he'd thought, Lock and Sky were both nominated. Sky accepted enthusiastically before visibly checking herself. She cleared her throat, put on a winning smile, and gracefully informed the guild that she would be happy to take up Starry Rose's mantel and participate in the Games. Lock, in contrast, had to be coerced into it by Varya.

"Looooock, please?" she begged, having shifted so that she was sitting on her knees and staring directly into Lock's gray eyes. "We need you to make the guild look cool!"

He cocked his head. "Really, Rya?"

She nodded fervently, and another round of flowers bloomed from the various pots of soil Varya placed around the guild's main floor.

"Then that's fine. I'll join."

That left two spots open, and entirely too many people who thought they'd be best to represent the guild.

Oren sighed, slouching against the bar. Sera was busy keeping Cross by violating the single rule she'd set down, as he flirting apparently hadn't gotten him anywhere. Sia, rolling her eyes at their banter, sipped from the drink Sera had given as congratulations. And Gideon and Sage...

Oren sat up slightly, angling himself to better hear their conversation.

"Guys, I'm not--"

"Thorne! You are, too!"

"Sage is right, Hawthorne," Gideon cut in, hooded eyes trained on Hawthorne's pensive face. "You're good enough to stand with Sky and Lock. It's just you who doesn't believe that."

"Because I'm--"

"Only good at defense? We both know that's not true."

"Just let Gids nominate you!" Sage added, her bright eyes sparkling and far too puppyish to ignore in good conscience. "You'll do so, so, so, so well in the Games, Thorne! I just know it!"

Hawthorne still looked unconvinced, and Oren couldn't understand why. Thorne joined Starry Rose when he was young, with barely a flicker of magical experience. But he was determined, at least as far as the story goes, to get better, to compete with the most powerful mages in the guild. And he'd succeeded. Maybe he couldn't take down Lock all on his lonesome, and maybe he was still no better than Cross at one-upping Sky, but he'd improved dramatically.

Oren, for one, trusted Hawthorne with his life.

Not that he'd ever tell him that.

Despite the man in question's protests, Gideon looked about to throw Hawthorne's name into the proverbial hat when Cross exclaimed, "Well, since I can't nominate myself" - with a pointed look at Sera - "then I'm casting my vote for good ol' Rhett!"

You could have heard a pin drop, the floor went so silent.

Rhett, sheepish, rubbed a hand roughly at the back of his neck, his sightless gaze dropping to the floor. Keir, beside him, instantly moved to throw his arms around the man's waist, drawing him closer. He glowered at Cross, who merely grinned, waving a hand, as if to say your move now.

"No way!" Keir snapped. "Rhetty might get hurt!"

"So could everyone else!" Cross countered cheerfully. "Besides, they might go easy on the guy. Blind guys get all the sympathy points, ya know?"

"Cross!"

"Ow-- Sera, you better comfort me when you put me in the hospital!"

"He's not going! He's mine!"

"Keir, buddy... that still doesn't--"

"Mine!"

Rhett sighed. With a gentle smile, he eased himself from Keir's grip (with much difficulty), raked his fingers through his hair. He frowned thoughtfully, turning in the direction of Varya, who still sat atop the table, legs still swinging, that same gleeful smile on her lips. That smile brightened as she looked Rhett over.

"We need more cool guys, Rhett! It's up to you."

He smiled slightly, amused.

"If you'll have me..."

"Rhetty!"

"I'll be fine, Keir," Rhett assured the green-haired child, patient as could be. He'd had a few years of practice, Oren thought, so it made sense. Somewhat. Oren still couldn't quite grasp how anyone could put up with being Keir's object of obsession. "I'm... sort of capable of handling myself. It's not like I trip over every pebble and crack in the pavement, right?"

It wasn't that Keir didn't trust Rhett, he was just that possessive. He couldn't let Rhett out of his sight for more than five minutes, and Oren had heard a rumor from Sera that Keir even sometimes snuck into Rhett's apartment in the middle of the night to keep watch for him. Whatever the hell that entailed. Oren really didn't want to know the details.

So Keir pouted and complained and largely demanded that Rhett stay with him, until Rhett made a point of saying that joining the Grand Magic Games party was something he very much wanted to do. That shut Keir right up. Oren raised a brow at that. Keir looked almost apologetic, like he'd somehow wronged Rhett (and he had, but Keir usually wouldn't admit that).

"I want to do this," Rhett said again, and Keir slumped against a table, arms crossed but mouth shut.

"...Right." Gideon stood from his place at the bar, hauling an unwilling Hawthorne up with him. "I've got the last nomination, then. Does anyone have a problem with Hawthorne taking part in the Games?"

As if. Hawthorne was a favorite in and out of the guild. No one would contest him being the fifth member, and even if they did, it'd be a minority vote. And Hawthorne knew that, which was probably why he didn't want to be nominated in the first place. He wasn't the type to show off, and he didn't particular like attention when it was focused on his skill set alone. He didn't think he was worthy of representing Starry Rose.

Which was absolute bull, in Oren's opinion.

Again, though, he'd die before he told Hawthorne.

But Hawthorne's acceptance of his position (reluctantly given) marked the end of Varya's game, and, predictably, she let out a giggle of approval, spreading her arms to either side of her.

"Hehe, we're going to be the best team there! They'll never see us coming!"

"Mostly because we've never been there before?" Sera quipped, an amused curve to her lips.

"We've got the element of surprise!" Varya agreed. "And the Games are in a month, so we've got plenty of time to prepare! Everyone should work extra hard, okay?"

That said, she hopped to her feet, dropped gracefully to the floor, and proceeded to lead Lock around the guild, introducing him to all the new additions she'd made to her impressive collection of foreign plants while he'd been away on his last job.

And despite the newfound buzz of excitement that permeated the guild's flowery air, at least for one last day, everything seemed normal.