[b]Dolly![/b] Sure, the Banders did tear the purse out of her hands. Certainly, it’s why she’s strapped down very securely to the bunk right now, only able to move her head and flex her extremities. And, admittedly, it might not have done much. But the sound of the purse smacking into the side of the pirate’s head had been so, so deeply satisfying. That was something she could hold onto. A little defiance. A little bit of heroism. Because everything else suggested that she was helpless, doomed, and out of her depth. This wasn’t even her first kidnapping! Jade had insisted on having her snatched up off the street by the huntresses who had first seen her and heard her demands, her first requirement from the world: bring me Dolly! But this was different, because she had a frame of reference. She knew who these pirates were, sort of, and they were much more interested in [i]her.[/i] Or, well, at least one of them was. Maybe this wasn’t so different, if you ignored that Jade had been watching her all this time, and this pirate had known her for, what, a few days? Unless she’d been spying for longer? Unseen, covetous, just like Jade, trying to be the flesh-and-blood answer to the goddess— but if that was the case, surely she could do better than this. This was just… What’s the word for it? Ticklish. Making her fruitlessly strain against the straps, trying to get away from the claws running furrows through her skin like animals chasing each other through a hydroponics field, unable to squirm away. Helpless. Her toes curling and her heart racing. A voiceless, shapeless tension building inside of her. Glaring through chic sunglasses because Jade isn’t silly. She’s the furthest thing in the world from silly. Insult her, sure, whatever— but don’t you dare, you handsy flustering tantalizing smugly grinning pirate, insult her goddess!! (How fragile is Dolly’s defiance? Even she doesn’t know. It hasn’t been tested yet, pushed, beyond making her melt in public. Her captor probably hasn’t even thought about what she could tempt Dolly with. Not like Jade, so thoughtful, so indulgent. Anything that’s working for Dolly, at least thus far, seems to be just a coincidence, something that this arrogant Bander happens to enjoy herself. And nothing she’s done is something that Jade couldn’t do.) So unseen glares, and helplessly heaving breaths, and wet, angry mewls through that scarf, are all the order of the day, even as she struggles and fails to squirm underneath those maddening claws. Not yet afraid, and not yet tempted. [hr] [b]Smokeless Jade Fires![/b] The holiness of her fills the idol. A hundred eyes open and stare, all throughout its systems. Instant comprehension. The arm feels odd, this time: a dull ache, a soreness when she tries to move it. But she still has her own. Removing parts from the idol does not strip her of what she is. Her Bride is gone. None of the eyes can see her waiting for her goddess’s return. Her tail wraps around one leg, pulling tight. When she closes her eyes and reaches out for Dolly, something is— [i]wrong[/i] “Where is Dolly? Where is my [i]Bride?[/i]” Her voice echoes through the hangar, over the sound of drills and hammers and torches. Akar? No. It cannot be Akar. [i]The trace of claws through fur. Dolly’s voice, deliciously, achingly muffled. Incoherent words, a honeyed tone. Defiance. But distant, far distant, through curtains, through interference, and no matter how she screams, her sleeve will not respond.[/i] Something is wrong something is wrong something is [i]wrong.[/i] She needs a pilot. A failsafe. Someone who can join her in battle against whatever star demon stands between her and her Dolly (because the idol was built for a pilot, because interfacing with the idol directly is clumsy and unacceptable, because these goddess-slaying weapons exist and her Dolly [i]must[/i] be recovered). Ksharta? ([i]no, what if she is not ready, what if she is overwhelmed, what if she is HURT[/i]) unsuitable. Angela, not yet broken in. Likely to fight, to be stubborn. Who could possibly be skilled enough to be worthy of piloting alongside the goddess, but be disposable enough that Jade would feel no hesitation in putting her in danger? Who is here [i]now,[/i] who can be called at a moment’s notice? [i]The tease. The pilot. The off-marked. Talented. Unbeaten in the tournament. A stranger, but one who owes Dolly a kindness.[/i] [hr] [b]Mirror![/b] [i]Whispered Promise.[/i] The hangar is moodily lit. The mecha is half-covered by a vast tarpaulin, draped like a cloak. Indicator lights pulse; it is drawing in power. Guzzling it. [i]Present yourself before me as a pilot. Speak of this to no one; destroy this. You will be rewarded as I deem fit, until you are satisfied.[/i] Terse, hand-delivered from Seven Quetzal’s team to your own, printed out on stock. Characteristic of the haughty goddess who has won two matches, one by the barest claw— and has just received a humiliating, scandalous draw. Is this an audition? A divine booty call? The latter seems unlikely; gossip would have informed you that she approaches other pilots through her own. But perhaps she is looking to level up. To discard the pilot who failed her. Is that what you have come to see, Mira? To see if Smokeless Jade Fires thinks she can steal you from the God-Smiting Whip? Cameras gleam in the half-light. Something that calls itself a goddess is watching you. Present yourself, and you will be offered a bolt of memory weave. (Not a glove, like the cute jaguar priestess wears. A very recent purchase, from the looks of it. Never used before.) You are summoned. But the power of the response is yours. [Smokeless Jade Fires has attempted to use Same Wavelength to inhabit Dolly’s senses, and has failed with a [b]6.[/b] Why? And how does this make their position more perilous? As a consolation, she ticks to 5 XP and picks up [i]Help Me~~![/i] for both of them. But mostly Dolly.]