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"I don't understand why you don't like me, Liv. We're actually quite similar." Rosie tried her best to reason.

Olivia scoffed, turning away. "We are not. All you are is an aristocrat, looking for excitement. And you think that stopping this war, the war that has tormented or killed so many of us... common people, will bring you some sort of peace in life."

"I'm not---" Rosie began.

"You are! That's what you don't get!" Olivia whirled around, her ice cold glare felt like pins digging into Rosie's skin. "This war is a serious thing. My brothers were conscripted. My family business was overrun by the Brass Army. You can't really think that you can somehow convince some of the most powerful people in the world to stop a petty, petty dispute over land and power that isn't even theirs."

"Your family is not the only one that suffered because of this war." Rosie retorted, struggling to keep her tone steady. "I am sorry for what you have gone through, but I cannot change that. We can only go forward--"

"And you know what makes things worse?" Olivia interrupted, taking a step towards Rosie. "You dragged Chris into this. He was fine - We, were fine." Olivia's voice began to quiver, yet her voice continued amplify in a passioned crescendo. "Well okay, maybe the tavern absolutely sucked, b-but we were safe. Mr. [name] protected us. We had beds! Food! And we weren't running all. The. Freaking. Time!"