[b]Adila![/b] The engine room is filled with more gold. The engine that keeps you afloat is a huge, sprawling, hulking thing, made by goblin artifice, bound with the magic of the winds, and then decorated by Jedadi sensibilities; the levers and runes are so bejeweled, an enterprising thief could get away with stripping it down and then live like a queen for the rest of her life. And it's here that you find Hornet, wearing a simple leather apron and her goggles, disassembling the engine. She's got her tools spread out on the floor, her spiky hair covered by a handkerchief, and her arms are elbow-deep in the mechanisms as she tries to... well, presumably improve it. Or add a turbo mode. Or make it powered by applause. Who ever [i]knows[/i] what Hornet's thinking? When you enter, she stiffens, but doesn't otherwise acknowledge you. She picks up a wrench and starts loosening a bolt holding a panel over the crystal matrix, her cow-tail agitatedly twitching. And that's it. Grim silence. Not even an invitation to BEHOLD, or a victorious cackle, or a request to hold one of her tools for her. Maybe it's because she knows she was caught in the act of messing with the thing keeping you up in the air [i]while you're up in the air[/i]. She defiantly pulls the panel off and shoves it at you. *** [b]Alina![/b] "When we get married, do you think we'll do the summer-and-winter?" Rita can't even look at you when she says it. She's got her little hands in her lap and her cheeks are red and she's studying the window so, so intently. And her question... she's suggesting an old tradition for married queens. Summer in one kingdom, winter in the other. But how she says it! Like it's not even a question that you're going to get married. Of course you are. Of [i]course[/i] you are. "Because, um, I know you always liked summer back home, and I love seeing Ilumina in the snow, and... and I do need to go home, but... mew!" She shrinks in on herself and becomes a beautiful, sleek cat again, and wiggles into the blankets on the bed, all of her courage used up in the question. In a moment, only her twitching tail is visible. It's [i]so[/i] cute. But you're already trying not to melt on the spot, aren't you? You're already imagining waking up on a balmy summer morning with incense hanging in the air, in that Askaian glow which suggests your dreams will come true before your very eyes, holding your Rita in your arms as you lie on a bamboo mat together. You're imagining snowball fights with your [i]wife[/i] in a proper Iluminan winter, and any memories of the Rider occupation would be soothed by her laughter and the sight of her bundled up in a giant poofy coat. You're imagining [i]proposing[/i], right here, right now. Aren't you? *** [b]Kazelia![/b] "It would be a shame to waste your father's wedding preparations, you know." Kyouko's suddenly [i]there[/i], smiling so smugly. She wraps her tail around your forearms and taps her fan underneath your chin. "How would you like to be married by the High Queen herself? I'll show you the glories of a Konkon wedding: how you'll hop so gracefully down the aisle, how the High Queen will look so radiant in her harness, how you'll be prodded by the traditional bamboo spears, how I'll shower you in cherry blossoms after you're asked if you'll submit to me in happiness and misfortune alike and you nod your agreement..." She laughs, holding one hand up to the side of her mouth, and it's hard to tell whether she's just trying to get a rise out of you, flirting in her people's way, or actually proposing. That's when you notice the figure standing on the tea platform at the very top of Argossa. You jerk the wheel desperately to one side, knowing that it's already too late. This thing maneuvers like a lazy cow, and all of your maneuvers have to be planned well in advance. It's already useless. Which means you need to get Azora to do [i]something[/i]. Or announce it over the ship's speakers so that everyone has a chance to brace themselves. He's supposed to be preparing the wedding! *** [b]Oberon.[/b] The wind kisses your hair as you stand beneath the storm. Your storm; you conjured it up using the Seven-Tempest Horn. The sun and moon will [i]not[/i] be interrupting your wedding to your beautiful beloved, and neither will these frustrating princesses. At every turn they defy you and tie your plans in knots, and you are [i]tired[/i] of indulging them. Coddling them. Letting them remain unpunished for their misbehavior. You draw back the string of Blinding, and the eclipse-bow groans terribly. Even this terrible weapon cannot withstand your titanic strength, stolen from the Grandmothers of Devilhome. You will have to strike true; you will only have the one shot. Already, the pilot is attempting to turn aside, but it's useless. You are Oberon Greymane, the Hunter in the Dark, the King of the Riders, immortal and invulnerable, new king of this pathetic world. You let fly, and Blinding splinters into a dozen quivering pieces in your hands. The eclipse-shot howls out, and strikes the airship dead on; for a moment, there is a terrible thirsty silence, and then a vast explosion of hungry darkness undoes the ship, causing rips and rents in metal and fabric alike, unweaving every part of artifice, stunning those inside and taking their senses. Debris begins to fall, a confused cloud of raw materials and furnishings and limp bodies. You turn, and proceed down the stairs. You will tell Cassian to have the constructs gather up any fortunate survivors, if there even are any. Knowing the luck of these wretched princesses, there will be. But even this will be for your glory. After all, you still have room for bridesmaids in the ceremony.