Smokeless Jade Fires is a spearhead. The conception of her self narrows until she is sharp, focused, a thrust. The feedback of the systems of the idol is tinder to her fires, until— as fast as thought— she is almost slavering, jaws flecked with digital spittle. Her claws/talons/knives do not cut Dolly, but they prick her as they swing her legs up and clench them around Ksharta Talonna’s midsection, tight, and Dolly’s squeal as she squeezes fills the cockpit, her head thrown back, the idol matching, grinding the back of its head against the muddy earth.

Then Jade flips Dolly over, and the idol flips with her, pivoting from the hips and shoulder, the fulcrum point perfectly known in the space of a breath. Jade lets out a wild yawp that rings through the forest, even as her drones begin a swirling targeting formation around the two, tangled together in the water, which makes that constricting net spark where water fountained up from the fall.

[i]Dolly, eyes squeezed shut, still squealing as the lightning arcs around her torso, hissing and caught in rope, sending pulses of warmth and modulated stinging through her body, her fur floofing out like an army of speartips, teetering on the edge, trying to pant her goddess’s name through sealed lips, but she can’t think her way through the labyrinth of lightning to the next thought, and it’s getting tighter and tighter, and the compression is so intense, her nose flaring as she tries to breathe through what her mind tells her is covering her face, and Jade hasn’t had to push this hard before except for that one time and that was just training, Jade was in control of the pacing, but here, but here…[/i]

“Impressive,” Jade says, luxuriantly stretching her back, grinding against Ksharta Talonna’s front. “As expected from a huntress of Hybrasil. I see you came prepared to worship me.” Her talons spark where she tries to cut through the net, and she hopes the sparks make it seem like she’s succeeding. “What a good girl you are, Ksharta Talonna.”

The pack snaps fire, stinging little nips and pinches along Ksharta’s front, as Jade lets loose a husky laugh. Control. It’s all about control. Huntresses crave to know that someone else is in control, that the gods are guiding them, that they are not the arbiters of their own fate.

“But it’s over.” It is not over, if Ksharta remembers her cannon. “The only question is how long you want my jackals to bite.” A second strafe, a little rougher. “All you need to do is admit you are ready to be my trophy, Ksharta Talonna. I will honor you. Sign you, if you choose.” She leans in closer, taking a risk, hoping Ksharta Talonna is staring at her idol’s head and not the net she still strains against. “[i]Bless[/i] you for entertaining me. Daughter of huntresses, daughter of Hybrasil.” Their faces are so close that were Ksharta to say anything, the backwash of their speakers would mingle.

Keep it up, Dolly. You’re being such a good girl. Hold it a little longer. Bend lower; I love your tummy when it folds like this, so much to love, good girl. You’ll be rewarded even more than Ksharta Talonna.

Smokeless Jade Fires, goddess, is a spearhead with a broken shaft, telling her quarry: [i]”see, I have already pierced you,”[/i] and expecting them to fall over as if dead. But will she? Is Ksharta Talonna the kind of silly girl who will let those honeyed words drive out thoughts, drive out a possible victory, drive out anything but the squirming need to be a [i]good girl?[/i]

[Jade refunds the String and counterplays by pulling her own: take an XP, Ksharta Talonna, if you are reduced to verbal keysmashes and useless flailing. Notably, if she does [i]not,[/i] she wins the match; this is all Jade’s got left, and silencing her renders the match won.]