“Again, you refer to me as royalty! As one who does not rule but is revered— ah, I see how that must translate for you aliens, with your bloodlines of rule!”

She’s keeping the worst of it off Dolly. Her beloved pilot is still squirming under the weight in ways that are not very productive, but that is because her legs are pinned under weight as comforting as Jade can make it. What a kitten she is.

It’s up to her, as always, to find the solution. That is her role, after all. To show Dolly the way out, to make her thrill, to make all that dare to challenge them look like fools. And there is a way to do so here! It’s just that she hasn’t seen it yet, and she’s running out of time. Soon this [i]Invisible Avian[/i] will tire of showboating and bury the both of them under the rubble.

“I may not be one of the Honored Ones,” she continues, avoiding even their proper titles. Not even she would casually speak of her Grandmothers before the watching crowd. Dust showers onto her front as she strains, and realizes that she is stuck, unable to get leverage to push it up further. A thought flickers into her head, and she guides Dolly’s arms back down, slowly blotting out the sky. One foot hooks the bottom of the tank. “But you are right to acknowledge me and my authority. I am one of the powers of the universe, immortal from the moment of my birth. I hatched from an egg, born to myself, and I walk the eightfold path that is forbidden to your kind.”

Metal groans. Dolly’s arms are wobbling with the effort. You can do it, sweetie. “And if that makes me a princess, then I accept it— princess of the hunt, stone-crowned, and—“

The plan was simple enough. Shove it upwards, using the bottom of the tank as leverage, knocking it into the [i]Ephemeral Swan[/i] and giving them an opening to scramble up and free, but her knee jams into something, the tank jars loose from her grasp, and she has barely a moment to decide what she will do.

She flows over Dolly like night. Pins her down. Pushes her face against the floor, swaddled in shadow. She interposes herself between Dolly and the feedback of being crushed underneath the cement-weighted tank. Her own cheeks burn with embarrassment, and some quirk of the feedback makes her feel like she bears all that weight on her shoulders, her back, crushing her against the voluptuous curves of her priestess.

No pain for Dolly. Just weight, entrapment, helplessness. Even failure will be a gift for you. As long as you are here, as long as your goddess is here, as long as you have offered yourself up body and soul, you will be protected, and indulged, and loved.

Well? You want to finish this fight, [i]Preening Crow.[/i] Lift the tank. Mock them if you must, but you won’t end it like this. You won’t abandon the chance to continue showing your power. You’re hungry for it. Perhaps you will ready cords, or step on your opponent as you lift it off, but you won’t end it like this.

But until you do, all Jade can do is push one knee against Dolly, insistently, and watch her squirm, night-hooded and barely audible, arms stretched out, hips bucking by centimeters, trapped underneath the weight of her goddess, who would hold up the world for her.

[They could have tried to [i]Synchronize,[/i] but the image I had in my head was to [i]Defy Disaster[/i] with Daring, no matter that it’s their worst stat. Anyway, they have rolled a [b]4[/b] and are at Ada’s mercy; she gets to define how the match continues, or if Jade has any further chance to win.]