For Dolly, the world is full of fireflies, a storm of them, roiling and humming and streaking through the night. Her heart races as she realizes that her goddess is going to hold, is going to make her wait for the very last second, and only then will she let her Dolly move, show her the right moves to make. A thought flashes through Dolly's head as the fireflies streak fearfully close, and she strains slightly, offering a suggestion. Smokeless Jade Fires' attention alights upon her like a halo, like the sun that cuts through the treetops, and then she is pushed, tumbling into the motion she offered.

Dolly does the splits: heels out, palms on the earth, fireflies streaking through her headdress, back low, head up. She brings her heels back behind her, toes digging into the stone, and lunges forward on all fours. The storm tracks her movements, descends to meet her, but Jade already knows what they need to do. Dolly does a headstand on one hand, lets the momentum flip her over and carry her back onto her feet, and now she's up on her arches at the very edge of the water, heels up, as much hopping as running, and Jade's laughing for her, and now the fireflies are setting the very ground beneath her feet alight.

Dolly drives her dancer's stave, hung with feathers and bangles, onto the stone and vaults up into the air. There's a moment where her stomach lurches, even though the hundred hands are holding her tight, pulling her up into the sky, as if Jade means to make her a constellation, or as if she's going to be one of the bird dancers, soaring down to earth with the rest of her flock, making the thirteen circuits around the heart of the world. And there, hung in furs, her rival: one of the Dead Wolves, the [i]tzitzi[/i], her ribs all lit up with fireflies. Dolly knows better than to compare Jade's enemy designs to [i]Starless Skies[/i] bosses again unless she really wants to [i]get it good[/i], but she can still think it: the baroque and over-the-top arms and armor, the skeleton iconography straight out of late-Kaliko temple art, the reverb on their laughter as they point up higher than Jade thought they could and--

Oh.

The fireflies are like hot embers washing over her bare fur (and, more to the point, her bare chest) and she lets out a muffled, mortified squeal as she tumbles backwards, but Jade's hundred hands have her, cradling her spine and head, slowing her tumble as much as Jade can without breaking their connection. Dolly lets those hands spin her around, loosening her grip on the pole, and then snatching it back out of the air as she hits the ground on one knee. Her front throbs with the feedback, and Jade's fingers are rubbing her in soothing circles, almost shyly, almost apologetically. Almost.

Not that her Jade would show weakness when she knows her Dolly needs her to be strong, needs encouragement and bravado.

"Is that all you have?" Jade roars, cackling. "I barely felt it!" One open palm cracks on Dolly's rear to get her moving again, and Jade excitedly guides her through flinging the pole straight at one of the [i]tzitzi[/i]'s arms. Her choice whether to let it get hit or to twist out of the way, buying Jade the time she needs to close. Sure, Jade's down one weapon, but that's why she has two. Dolly looses the thongs at her hip, the cords of a huntress, and spins them to life, taking deep heaving breaths from her exertion (which are translated into the fluid, organic shudders of Jade's body, just as any other mech interface would). "You must [i]want[/i] to pay homage to a true goddess." The hundred hands tighten their grip. "Well, I already have a bride, but I might accept your pathetic prayers..."

[Dolly and Jade, working together, manage a desperate [b]7[/b] on [i]Defying Disaster[/i], and are willing to give up their electrolance and any hope of winning without wrapping up the foe. Or, you know, it could turn out that Jade's once again underestimating Angela Victoria Miera Antonius.]