[i]Yes[/i], says Zhaojun - and so too does she say [i]no[/i]. Half of her falls into the strength of the N'yari and the other half strains against it and in a moment there is the distortion of souls straining against themselves.

But water will not break so long as a path to retreat remains open, and Zhaojun flows up and away and to her feet, back turned on the N'yari for the duration of a couple of deep breaths out of fear that her blush might shine through the mask. She can't hear the frenzied beat of raindrops, can't feel the shining array of cerulean constellations, not over the pounding of her heart. Her heart! Far too mortal for such a responsibility.  

Long fingers push her mask firmly into place. With the third breath the blue aura returns and the ethereal wind again brushes at the hem of her dress. Professional. If you can't decide, be [i]elegant[/i] in the indecision.

"It remains," she said, "to be seen if you will even overcome lady Kalaya at all. Your record, after all, is not currently inspiring confidence."

Her fingers, though, trace and play with a silver button torn from Machi's shirt during her retreat. She folds her arm behind her back to hide the way it dances through her fingers and makes its way into one of her hidden pockets.

[Too Many Feelings: 2]