Too much. There's too much happening all at once. Pay attention to the fabric being used on stage. Unusual material, very fine stitching. The attention to detail speaks to a mindset completely separate from the attitude displayed by Prime Couture. The embroidery, the glorification of culture and mythology, even the cut of the robe is such that the thick, covering garment manages to glorify the body underneath it more than it obfuscates it, somehow. She'll need to buy several pieces from this line, wear them around for a while. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't

What is Valentina doing what is she doing what is she doing what is she [i]doing[/i] how many different ways does one person need to turn conversation into ritual was the whole Consortium like this it's exhausting it's obnoxious just give in already just push her away already just let this stop being work just let her rest just let her have her night just let her give you yours just, just, just, just, just

Gold and pink, the coral colors of the dragon. Silver the foam washing over the tides they rest under. The sash tied tight around the waist gives the model the kind of sharp silhouette that draws attention to the curves of her body as much or more as nudity could manage. It is possible through the mind's eye to see the blemishes on her skin, hiding under the breath of the dragon. It is alluring to imagine where her body is soft and where it is strong. It makes the palms itch with want to touch the shimmering fabric and cinch it tighter around her and feel her bones and her muscles and the rustling, stimulating material all at once. Every step another shift, every shift a mesmerizing shimmer. There's more here than

Anime. Solarel. What does a brute need to train in heart magic for, anyway? Isn't the obnoxious power of her God more than enough to make her invincible? As if every advantage in the world wasn't enough already, now she needs to take the greatest secrets of human martial arts into herself?

[Stars Blotting Out the Moon], that dress fits her well. She fights like she's worried about it breaking. It fights like it wants her to shine. She could be a Priestess. But she would look better in a swimsuit, undoubtedly. And even better in nothing at

"Annoying," she says, with unintended venom and a voice loud enough for the entire bar, "Distraction. Distasteful. Annoying."

Mirror blinks. Her eyes flicker all across the (coral) room and the many faces that are now (coral, coral) watching her. She licks her own wrist and (coral) rubs the cool fur across her (coral, resting under waves) forehead before she (coral, coral, coral) clears her throat and sticks her hands in her pockets. It's possible (coral, coral) to hide the curling of her fingers from the safety of the suit. No one can see her center herself. No one can figure out how off balance she is. No one will realize how much is happening. How too much is happening.

Nobody except the one who should be wearing coral. Sink her teeth into those scales. Grind her fangs into those muscles. Her teeth are sharper, her technique is better than some Tigress'. Doing it wrong you moron, weren't you watching her hand? She called out the name of her Heart Technique! Idiot girl, she handed you every advantage, are you too hopped on on the smell of that cream to see the opening? Disgrace disgrace disgrace, you're an embarrassment to cat kind! Step back and let a professional handle it!

She breathes in slowly through her nose. Holds it, one, two (coral, coral, coral), three. Lets it out in sharp puffs, two, three. One hand comes free from her pocket and wraps itself possessively around Valentina. She pulls the other woman close, as close as she's allowed to without having to use force. Threading the needle, finer than embroidery. Strength without force. Strength applied with consent. Let Ms. de Alcard keep her dignity, if it's that important to her. She'll take it later, in privacy and darkness. Her breath feels hotter in her chest when she thinks about it.

"I don't appreciate these kinds of displays," she says with the same loud voice she'd snapped out before, though every word feels careful now. Thoughts pushed through mesh. Filter them till they're 'normal', "Don't you think so, Milady? If these are the forms she chooses for courtship, she should choose her battlegrounds better. She's making a mockery of these sacred arts. I'm sorry you have to watch this, I would much rather be paying attention to the walkway. I didn't think I'd enjoy it, but I--

"What are you doing, you idiot?! The base of the neck! Are you really going to let her beat you without a fight!?!"

In her pocket, Mirror's knuckles squeeze together. That should be her. But she has so many other things to do tonight already. Her tail is bushed out to maximum floof, but if she notices it she doesn't show any sign. Too much. There's too much. Coral, coral. Everything is coral. Something please, break the pattern. Someone please, understand her.