[b]Anathet![/b]

The bar is a swirling maelstrom of chaos, one you flow through like water through rocks. You redirect attacks flawlessly, shroud yourself, and generally act like a ghost of bar brawls. The only thing that surprises you is when you bump into the bouncer, who’s wrestling down a Salamander.

Your eyes meet. She looks exasperated and sweaty, but when she looks at you, her eyes don’t look angry, but rather... well, her aura is that of someone watching a small, yappy dog do zoomies in the living room. She’s still underestimating you!

And that’s when there’s the sharp whistle of janissaries. They’ve arrived to break up your bar fight! By beating everyone senseless until they stop resisting. And they’re definitely not going to care who started it or who’s a bouncer or not!

***

[b]Canada![/b]

Right before you pull away from the vision of that shattered god, they look up. You catch a glimpse of a bloodshot eye, wide and staring, peering out from between trembling fingers.

You are [i]seen.[/i] Only for a moment, and maybe they won’t recognize you, it’s not like they’re an [i]actual[/i] god, but your fight-or-flight reaction kicks in [i]hard.[/i] There are things that should not see you, and [i]they[/i] are one of them.

“Tell me what you saw,” the Cat says, primly. She is very intent on you. But her gaze reminds you of that wild eye, that moment of [i]revelation[/i].

***

[b]Étoile![/b]

Tamytha rests her hand on your silly little head and smiles, her face crinkling into delight. “You’re such a good girl,” she says, her tone light and lilting. “You’re the best [i]lamassie[/i] a girl could ask for.” Her thumb rubs a circle on your face, gentle and adoring.

“I wish we could just play here, [i]lamassie[/i],” she adds, and you know better than to let anyone else ever hear those words. “I could take you on a walk, and you could tell me about all your quaint little customs. These buildings... they’re connected to your myths, aren’t they? Your festivals and your legends. I recognized the iconography of your Bears— what did they symbolize? Strength, wasn’t it? Oh, you could tell me all of that, and it could just be you and me...”

Yes! This is it! This is your chance to tell her how much you want that, too! How nice it would be to pack up the awful rifle and the pistol and stop caring about the hunt, and just walk her around the park, kept on a leash that’s never yanked or pulled taut, explaining the memories and stories. You could tell her about Walt Disney, and share your favorite stories with her (and which were those, again?).

You open your mouth to speak, and that’s when the tranquilizer dart hits you in the rump.