Han feels the clack-clack-clack of Machi’s claws, as if it were her bare shoulder and not a sword hilt. Something in her stomach twists in anticipation.

Of the fight! That’s about to happen, and a move, that’ll definitely happen, because Machi is a big dumb doofus who doesn’t ever change her playbook ever, so she needs to be ready for it. Every single time they fight, Machi always [s]touches[/s] taunts her, to try and throw her off balance, and cheat, and win. Like the time that Machi ruined a perfectly good staredown by laughing and ruffling her hair. Or the other time she wasted an entire sneak attack to rub her shoulders. Or the time three months after that (and six months before the other one) when they’d locked swords and Machi’s free hand brushed the side of her arm and it lasted a little longer than it should’ve for what would’ve been a casual swipe in the heat of battles so she [i]knows[/i] she did it on purpose. The jerk.

So! Yeah! Han’s stomach’s twisting a little! She has to get close, alright?! Her sword’s not got the best reach. So of course it’s gonna happen, like it always does, and that’s that. Machi’d be doing it right now if she could! Just...just look at her stupid eyes!

It’s a valid concern!

Shut up!!!

(She’s spent so much of herself today. The Essence flows alone ought to have knocked her out cold, were it not for her birthright. Still, wounds and bruises exact their tax on mind and motion. The poncho holds together with cheap wax and unwanted thread, and without love to bind it together it leaves her chilled and soaked to her bones. Machi will not let her stand. She will wrap her in a gentle furnace. Soft heat around iron muscle. Always wondered how she kept her coat so soft, living under a mountain. Machi whispers; an answer? A secret? A prayer? Too quiet for her heart to hear now...)

[i]“Your[/i] raid-bride?” Uh. Han? “Excuse you, what makes you think you just [i]get[/i] me?!” Han, you’re shouting very loudly, she can hear you just fine. “What, you think I’m gonna swoon all over you just ‘cause you ‘happen’ to walk by, and ‘happen’ to find me a present?” Han your face is very red, are you- “What kind of moon-eyed idiot do you think I am, huh?!”

The hat comes off. (And is placed gently on the priestess’ exposed head.) The dumb poncho, she hurls to the deck in a sodden lump. Her auburn hair streaks behind her, over her bare shoulders, over a curling dragon claw of black ink, and trailing off into wispy embers. Her arms are covered in muscle, in bruises, in still-healing wounds, and in promise of fight yet to come as her blade hangs steady.

“You want me, Machi? Then let’s see it. [i]Convince[/i] me.”

...okay! Alright! She just said that! Great! No, really, great. This is fine. This can work. Because. Machi will need her entire warband to. Convince her. Which will, y’know, give the priestess and everybody a chance to escape. Or. Something. 

Cool cool cool cool cool cool.

[I am legally obligated to roll to Entice Machi: 1 + 2 - 1 = 2]