[b]Chen![/b]

+Good evening, Princess Chen.+

The thought was soft like tracing one's fingers along a silent engine was. Hard and fierce and capable of filling with fire and heat... but choosing not to do that. Soft for all it wasn't in that moment.

Princess Jessic had come to sit below you, her head almost but not quite coming up to your eye level. She radiated the warmth and shine of having been bathed, cleaned, and made up. Her clothing was rugged and fashionable; a dragon-sized leather aviator's jacket, lined with fur, set with a crimson thunderbolt pin. Well worn and traveled, thick with pockets - clothing to brave exotic lands in. She also wore scarf, gloves, and boots - autumn's wind was here and she evidently was not somebody who liked the chill.

+Qiu told me you were having trouble,+ said Jessic. +Is this a good time?+

[Take a string on Jessic]

[b]Rose![/b]

You are washed. This is not left to your own care, it is the work of many hands, many soaps and many gentle sponges. Your hair is cleaned. This is not left to your own care, it is the work of many brushes, many shampoos and conditioners, and many light and gentle scissors. You are painted. This is not left to your own care, it is the work of many artists who can work on eyes and skin and lips in tandem, all working towards an outcome that seems so natural as to be invisible. You could not tell where the makeup ends and you begin, you could not say for sure where the you of this morning ended and where this new you arrived, perhaps all of the changes might be a trick of the light. But it's a good trick. It holds no matter what angle you look at it from. You can't see the seams or the paint or clearly express what has changed, but somehow everything has. Your eyes are bigger, your cheeks are warmer, your shadows are softer. 

You have seen this face before. But this time, as much as you would like to, you cannot blame fox magic. All the paints and brushes and artists are still here before you, as real as the daybreak.

"Absolutely lovely," said handmaiden Thain, the director of this work, leaning back amidst her cooing assistants. "Absolutely. I can see why the Countess likes you so much, there was so much beauty in you waiting to get out." 

[b]Yue![/b]

Tail! Tail! [i]Aackpbbt![/i]

Once again you're sneezing away a faceful of tickly wolf fur. Once again Hyra's crimson eyes are sardonic, amused and confident as she scores yet another win. Once again you struggle to come to grips with how little the sword matters in this sword duel. 

Those crimson eyes flash and fill with confidence, brilliant and sardonic and amused but with that wary, attentive edge of a consummate performer sizing up her audience after each new trick. Then she turns and her eyes are sharp and intense and powerful and while you're catching your breath she's in so close swords are useless and she's tangled amidst your legs such that she only needs to flex her back to send you falling to the ground. A paw presses on your collar and a cold nose touches yours and a smirk - and then she's back again, standing on her hind legs and leaning on the crossguard of her sword.

Do you see it yet, Yue?

Do you see it when Hyra leans against the coat-rack, sending it toppling? You might not then, because that rack is carved mahogany and is fancier than Mr. Witthord's coat rack and you can't let it break! Who knows what they'd do to you if you broke the prison furniture!? You go for the save but - thwack! Thwack! Two more sword-blows across the thighs and Hyra is trotting away again as content as the devil.

Do you see it when she drops your sword on the ground, causing you to lower your guard and letting her rush you? Do you see it when she carves a magic pattern on the ground and you're so freaked out by all the possible things it could be that she can rush you? Do you see it when she suddenly barks and makes you flinch so badly that she's able to rush you?

Don't worry, Yue. Even if your brain is a useless fluster, eventually your bruised butt will get the message and your body will start reacting on its own. The lesson will dawn, one way or another: fighting like this isn't about [i]skill[/i] at all. If Hyra wasn't a wolf she could no doubt move faster, more precisely, hook your chin under the tip of her blade rather than giving a clumsy whack with the flat of the blade across the thigh, but that's not what's letting her get close in the first place. What lets her get close is that she's confident. That she knows you, your habits, your instincts, your reflexes, your weaknesses. That she can stare you in the eyes so intensely that she can walk right up to you and your heart is pounding so hard that you can't lift a finger. 

Hyra of the wolves is teaching you that the truth of the blade is in the heart. The head, the hand are useful. But it's the heart that sends maidens falling.