“Hear me!”

Dolly lifts her arms wide, and the spotlights click onto her, standing on a platform between Jade’s thighs. She’s got the cloak now, the rainbow of feathers, the brooch secured to her suit’s clasp. It’s borrowed power, borrowed authority, borrowed courage. If she thinks about what she’s doing, she’ll fall apart.

No, that’s not quite right, either. The physicality of just doing it is the solution, but it’s the fact that she’s doing it that’s dangerous, that will have her blushing and stumbling over herself. What she clings to is that this is her responsibility. This is what she agreed to do; this is what Jade has commanded her to do. She is the person who gets to speak for Jade, but she is also the person who gets to try and change her mind.

“Smokeless Jade Fires has heard my pleas on your behalf…” Supplicants? Pirates? Faithful? None of them right. She lets the thought trail, tries to make it seem intentional. “She is willing to believe that you are overexcited.” (The word she uses is closer to “overstimulated,” and is more often used to describe the actions of children.) “And because [i]I[/i] asked her,” and in her heart she puffs herself up a little bit, draws her knees together, and tries to believe that she is a real high priestess, “she has chosen to grant my plea, and show you mercy, and withdraw her fury. Now, you must go and wash yourselves.” Ritual work; hands, top of the head, back of the neck. “Then she will allow you to take your offerings and—“

Take. She said take. She pauses, swallows. Jade leans against the railing, her back to the Banders, not looking at Dolly, but she’s here. She’s judging her Bride and making her heartbeat louder and she’s the huge immanence of the mecha behind Dolly but she’s here, too, because that’s what being a goddess is. It’s being with her all the time.

“…and offer them to her,” she continues. Is that a twitch of a smile on Jade’s lips? Is it because she said offerings and offer? Or is it because she did a good job? She doesn’t let herself turn her head. “Then you may go.” Depart. Depart would have been the better word. Augh. Augh. Augh. “And when you depart, know that you do so because she is capable of showing mercy… and because [i]I[/i] asked on your behalf.”

[i]Jade takes Dolly’s wrist, leans in, brushes against her cheek as she whispers. She still keeps her back turned to the Banders; she might be lifting her curse, but that does not mean they have earned her regard. Thank you, Nine Forests, for the information, keyed into a terminal while the Banders groveled.[/i]

“And Erys Bander?” Jade has lifted Dolly’s hand so that its back rests against her chin. She is the Gloating Priestess from every cheap thrilling adventure tale. Her voice is drifting into a higher pitch, which either makes her sound like a villainess or a kitten, and she can’t help it. This is almost too much. But there’s an exhilaration in being made to do something you’d never have the courage to try, and that’s the secret of why she’s standing here in the first place, at all. “Remember that I am not your opponent. I am her priestess and pilot. And when she defeats you, she will be sure to see how your inferior war-body looks strung up as a trophy.”

Erys— is that? Is that the one who— no, she’s the spotted jaguar, the one who’s glaring, the big one. Not the leopardess. That’s disappointing. It would be… it would feel really good to be Jade’s tool to defeat [i]her[/i].

The spotlights click off, and Jade tugs her to one side. She turns, slowly, carefully, trying to maintain dignity. She’s taking small steps because she’s being serious, Banders. They can’t see the chain pull taut between her ankles.

[i]”What an obedient girl you are,” Jade purrs, her tail undulating as she drifts gracefully. “What goddess could ask for a better orator?”[/i]

“You honor me, my lady,” Dolly says, small, breathless, aware that she’s not out of eyesight yet. She’s still got a whole bunch of stairs to take on her way up.

[i]”It will make it all the more enjoyable to disgrace you, Dolly. Be grateful that they do not deserve to see your beauty, or I would have you peel that garment free from your velvet-soft fur, your moon-kissed breasts, and walk as they deserve to walk.”[/i]

That is a thought. That is a thought of tugging the leopardess’s leash while she snarls and drools on herself, naked, impotently glaring, taking these mincing steps. And behind her, the rest of the Banders, mewling, jingling, trophies of the goddess— and at the very end, in those rose-colored silks, Angela, [i]Angela,[/i] Angela, and in this daydream she’s struggling but not going to headbutt anyone because she knows she lost fair and square.

And then Dolly presents them to Jade, who decides that they are only worthy to be trophies to show off to the faithful, but that Angela deserves chief place on the altar, and Dolly, I need you to go down and kiss her clean of her defeat, be my mouth, be my words, show her how wonderful it is to surrender to a goddess, and then, oh, and then…

[i]”Would you prefer the endurance of fire or the endurance of stone?”[/i]

“Fire,” she whispers, needily. Stone is maddening. Not in a bad way, but— but she doesn’t want to hold a position, body locked in place, on display for a temple packed with illusionary petitioners, when she could be bent over an altar with Jade’s fangs on her scruff, sating her voracious appetites. “Please. I want to undress for you, Smokeless Jade Fires; I want you to…”

The cockpit opens, and she has to fight to not glance over her shoulder. Inside awaits Jade’s punishment, and, she’s trusting, because she loves Jade, Jade making sure that she’s okay, and helping her forget that moment where she was scared of the scaffolding giving way, giving her so many treats to indulge until she’s a mess, please, Jade.

“I want you to pack my mouth so full,” she confesses, a thirsty little Bride, barely able to keep her tongue behind her lips at the thought. “And I want you to [i]claim[/i] me.”

[i]”Am I not generous to my faithful? But not until your regalia lies on the floor, Savior-of-Pirates, Seducer-of-Beauties, Crocodile-Mouthed, Tight-Chasmed.”

Dolly’s flustered squeal is cut off by the cockpit sealing shut behind her, and woe betide any who think to enter the holy place while the Bride communes with her goddess.[/i]

[Erys Bander is hit with Wingman; Smokeless Jade Fires takes +1 Forward to Fight or Entice.]