[b]Giriel and Piripiri![/b]

Uusha’s breath is hoarse, echoing in her terrifying helmet. She’s very deliberately not limping as she makes her way towards you. She’s also got that great spear slung over one shoulder, and an intensity rolling off of her in waves as she approaches.

“Nice catch,” she says to Piripiri. The mockery is thick, but deniable: of course you would play with a pretty snake. Then, to Giriel: “There’s the warlock.” She points down to where the knight is— oh. Oh, well. At least someone’s having a moment. “Be ready to leave.”

Back to Piripiri, looming huge and terrible. “Stay with the witch. She speaks for me.” A moment of trust? Or simply necessity? Does she think Giriel would side with her, or is she simply out of options?

Then she begins to march down towards the knight and the warlock, stiffly, like a boulder slowly picking up momentum as it rolls. Now, Giriel, you have a dragon-blooded at your disposal. Use her wisely.

***

[b]Kalaya![/b]

Ven is breathless, and for a moment, unguarded. She’s drowned everything else out: the struggle between the Generals, her own plans, the fact that the two of you have sunken in the waste (somewhat uncomfortably) down to your ankles holding still like this. She nuzzles into you and looks up, open, vulnerable.

“Stay?” She asks, and cups her brass hand against the small of your back. “I can keep you safe. Show you wonders. Introduce you to Whirling-in-Rags.” She’s trying. She’s wedging open her life, the life she’s made here, and all but begging you to step inside, instead. Her eyes dance with visions of you in hellish armor, someone she could trust, someone she could believe in, someone who she can show the wonders and horrors of the Demon City. “Please. [i]This[/i] time. Stay with me.”

Behind her advances the Stag Knight.

There is danger in every stiff, deliberate step she takes across the waste. She’s found the warlock, and she will treat Ven with all the gentleness and care that a traitor to the Flower Kingdoms deserves. You don’t have very long at all to think about this.

You can accept her offer and defend her from the Stag Knight. You could try to stand between the two and defuse the situation, but that would just result in you being stabbed from both directions in the tumult; there’s no way to stop them from fighting.

Unless. You [i]could[/i] take Ven prisoner.

You could clamp your hand over that perfect mouth you just kissed and convince Uusha that you [i]seduced[/i] her into letting her guard down. You could wrap one arm around her torso and march her, flailing like a cat, into cuffs. She would be furious, she would feel betrayed, she would stare furious daggers into your heart.

But your options are narrowing down to betraying her for her own good or drawing your sword on a fellow knight to defend a warlock. And if Uusha rolls over you with her expertise and reach, then she’ll be at Ven’s throat anyway.

Or you could take her hand and try to run away, but where? You’re in a sea of the trash and detritus of war, there’s not exactly any place to go [i]to[/i] unless you let Ven take the lead, and then you’re back to accepting her offer.

What will it be, knight of the Accord of Thorns? How will you protect the heart of the girl who’s falling for you, hard? How will you uphold your knightly vows and keep Ven safe from the scariest knight in the entire Flower Kingdoms?

Run or seize or draw?

***

[b]Fengye![/b]

We all knew the General would yield. He thinks of it simply as a tactical withdrawal. He gives ground in this way; he will then be in position to make a second advance and strike you where you are weak. Such is his thought. Such is his hubris. Such is his fear of being unmade. He is, after all, a fragment of the Broken King, the part that will never believe the war is truly over, no matter how long he has to fight— but to fight, he has to survive. He has to continue. He has to [i]be.[/i]

And what he ignores is that he will be something very different; that, perhaps, when you are done with him, he will be unrecognizable, that he will no longer think in terms of grand strategies and the war that [i]must[/i] not end.

He is yours, now. Show him the enormity of his error.

***

[b]Han![/b]

Her hands are so wonderfully soft on your scaled cheeks. She is dainty and small but when she moves those hands, you follow; you allow her to move your chin up, to be made to look at her, into those golden rings that protect such deep, soft eyes.

“That’s me,” she says, her fingers fluttering so soft against your scales, as if she’s playing you like a noblewoman’s harp. “Your little bud.” Her unveiled smile is shy, but sweet, and when she looks into your eyes, you don’t see fear. You see awe, which could become fear, but you also see happiness. She’s overwhelmed to see you, here, for her.

And maybe that’s why she makes you turn your head so she can brush such soft kisses against your cheek, warm beneath her lips: because she’s rewarding her rescuer. Prematurely, but the Generals seem busy and nobody’s bothering you right [i]now[/i] and, besides, can you really think at a time like this? When you’re getting reward kisses? Or one hand reaching up and rubbing you at the base of one horn, so bold, and don’t you dare think about her taking it in her hand and leading you around by it, knowing you’d follow wherever she went, knowing you wouldn’t dare tug it out of her slender fingers.

You’re allowed to be happy, even as the two of you start to sink. Or, well, the one of you does. Melody doesn’t— is she really that light? Or is she just somehow balanced perfectly on the beams of a shattered catapult? But you’re the one finding her claws sinking under the waste as she shows you her gratitude. Don’t worry about that. You’re strong. You could sink all the way to your neck and still break free, as long as Melody asked you to. So relax a moment longer. There’s no danger in it. You defeated the danger and some other danger is getting rid of it. And you can just spirit her away when the time comes. So don’t worry. Just be happy, for once. It’s allowed.