The first thing that saves Reshella is her shining eye, which sends a jolt of raw portent down her spine when Mynx approaches her, which means that Reshella is ready for her and not fumbling and bumbling into her arms. At least, her body is ready, shifting into a loose stance and ready to yield; her mind is busy staring, wide-eyed, at the could-have-been Dany. Taller, fuller, actually dressed (for all that her silks hint and tantalize, promising a glimpse of budding flowers if you simply come closer, closer), effortlessly graceful in a way that Dany, that even Reshella, cannot be, because for her every movement is conscious and hopeful, but Mynx moves like she has sublimated the Muses into her blood.

But the second thing that saves her is that Redana knows wrestling, and this is an anti-wrestling that Reshella can do. Giving ground, ceding way, backing up towards Bella, and wherever Mynx leans forward, Reshella invites her closer while still twisting her body away, and it almost looks like they’re dancing together, doesn’t it? In its own way, is this not as thrilling as entwining together, does this not drag the fear and yearning of touch out of her, is this not what her heart has been hoping for? Danger and peril, titillation and desire?

Behind her, she can hear, she can feel Bella, she knows that Bella is close, and maybe she won’t even be in real peril after all, maybe she’s good enough to keep the dance going, maybe she’s one of the heroines tonight too, maybe Bella will sniff and then say that her disguise was silly but that it still worked, and—

And she stumbles and nearly falls, her heel caught on the foot of a careless Alcedi, and Mynx is there, catching her by the wrist, and there’s applause, and her pulse is racing as Mynx slips her other hand under Reshella’s back, brings her close, and Bella is about to spring, but it’s too late for Reshella, and Mynx is smiling so kindly, but there is Aphrodite’s lighter guttering in the light of her eyes.

“Sweet dreams, Princess,” Mynx offers, and releases Reshella’s hand to lift the veil and kiss her on the lips, which is what an Imperial Princess deserves from the Assassin who knows her best—

And stops, confused for a fatal second, because she was not expecting those lips to be hidden under black and gold, pulled so tight over Reshella’s cheeks, hidden underneath her veil and her hair, and did not think that Redana would be so daring already, and perhaps wonders how Bella could have brought herself to do it for her Princess, and so the recontextualization, the adjustment of the story, is the difference between the kiss happening before Bella can reach her, and the pounce reaching Mynx first, and thus Epistia’s gag is the third thing that saves the lovely dancing-girl.

And Reshella crumples, veil fluttering, hand lifted to her triangles, and, oh, she did need to be saved, didn’t she? And how her heart hammers at being [i]saved.[/i] How she watches everything that comes next with the wide-eyed admiration that Reshella is allowed to display! Redana would jump in, get involved, make a muddle of the struggle, maybe even risk Bella’s ire, but Reshella is being [i]fought for[/i] and she couldn’t stand up right now if she was told that the [i]Plousios[/i]’s reactor was overloading.

Not until Bella offers a hand to help her up. And let that fourth salvation be the sweetest and the best, please, [i]please.[/i]

[[b]10[/b] to [i]Overcome[/i] the risk of being kissed by Mynx. Thank you, Epistia. Thank you, Bella. <3]