[i]The knee lands between her shoulders when she tries to push herself up off the deck. She hits the deck with plenty of padding, but the wind’s still knocked out of her long enough for the three to get to work. The lithe one, Prim, grabs her ankles and folds them back, lashing them crossed over each other before securing her legs again and again: shins, knees, thighs, making it impossible for her to so much as think about squirming free. With her feet like this, she can’t even hop; she’ll have to be carried. Quick Ji wrenches her wrists into the small of her back and cinches them securely together, before wrapping more rope around her arms, over and under her chest, forcing her shoulders back and emphasizing her heavenly mounds.

Blackleaf just waits. She sits and waits for Rose’s head to jerk up. “You! Ungrateful, wicked—“ That’s all Rosepetal gets to spit out. Then she’s got lace crammed in her mouth, and satin, and silk, and the strong taste of foxes. The pairs pulled over her head add the smell of foxes, too, and she’s mewling and struggling and trying to speak, to be heard, even as Blackleaf pulls the first of many scarves over her well-packed mouth. She doesn’t get to speak. She doesn’t have to. All she has to do is whine uselessly and give pleading, humiliated looks upwards.

And then they’ll bring Chen out, hopping so cutely, her ears perky and her tail twitching, and Chen will get to see her like this, and they’ll be tied back-to-back, or with Chen’s limbs wrapped around her Rosepetal so that Chen can get a front-row seat to her Rosepetal’s humiliation, helplessness, and objectification. Desirable, owned, used as a bargaining chip. Teased by four victorious foxes, forced to watch as Chen’s plan falls apart, as they rub it in that she could have stopped it, tear her top open, show off to everyone what a big girl Rosepetal is, as Chen does her best to tell the foxes off and mmmphs indignantly on her behalf and gives her reassuring looks papering over her own dismay, because even in the midst of failure she wants to keep her girlfriend’s heart safe…[/i]

Rosepetal stands up, and foxes tumble, and somehow end up in her arms. (Even if she had to catch Prim in the crook of one leg and then kick her up like the football.) “Girls,” she says, calmly, even though they can feel her heart racing, it’s impossible for her to hide it from them, the foxes have [i]always[/i] known what she wants better than she does, “you can betray me [i]afterwards.[/i] I promise. I’ll even give you [i]suggestions.[/i]” Now she can tell she’s got their ears perking, their squirming more perfunctory. “But for now…”

All three scream as they go flying into the pool, hitting the water flailing and shrieking and vowing vengeance upon treacherous maidservants. And Rosepetal is all squirming and melting inside over the thought of four vindictive foxes taking her up on her offer, especially if Chen will have to come save her, but she still knows her part in this play.

“Honored guest,” she says to Omets, sternly, “we will be docking at our destination shortly. I must ask that you retire below decks to meet with the captain, as we are clearing the deck for our entry.”

No fight. No opening for the other monks. No simpering or wringing her apron. Rosepetal lets just a flash of her old demeanor through, a reminder that she has [i]chosen[/i] to be just a maid. She is tall, and she is in command of her space, and she has just flung three foxes like they were even lighter and fluffier than regular foxes. Do not think you can brush her aside so easily!

[Rosepetal hammers her Defy Disaster with a [b]10[/b]. The foxes will have to wait their turn like good girls.]