[b]Solarel[/b]

There is a world swirling around you after the match. Facts and details. Repair of your mecha, the blessings of your crew, now fully active for the first time since you’ve properly finished a match. Lareth laughs when she looks over the battle footage while she works. A parent’s laugh, an elderly laugh, amused at the work she has done that came to nothing but proud all the same. 

Crew from the Makhaira visit you. Akai isn’t fool enough to appear in person, not this fast, but there’s information. A location within the vastness of the Hangar, a boarding location on Akar II. There are times, crew schedules, maintenance information, details on pilots, entourage, supporting mecha. Marna Kerne’s name highlighted, the Zaldarian pilot that Akai didn’t think she could beat, now in the entourage of the Empress. Nierka Stalok, your first fight. She hasn’t lost a match since facing you. A world of planned times and movements, support crews and weaponry and on and off hours. 

These are the trappings of the Evercity in one of their purest forms. Where the Empress travels, the bureaucracy travels. But Akai moves in it like the great mecha on the planes, unconcerned by the lesser obstacles before them, supremely confident. She’s sharing a part of that with you, a piece of a greater whole. This information is like the skeleton of a building, the machinery of a factory. Within it are holes, blindspots, weaknesses that have escaped notice and will continue to escape notice until they burst. In all of this the theft of the Aeteline is buried if you can but see its shape. 

But there is one wrinkle that stands out above all the others. The gala. The arrival of the Aeteline, the empress, the empress in exile, and so many others marking the start of the final rounds of the tournament. Festivities have already been planned for months, since before the tournament even started. Travel schedules, waypoints, outfights. It’s said that Mayze Serpaws was commissioned to design multiple different outfits for the attendees, who will span all the three empires and multiple independent systems. 

The gala this time will not be held on any of the planets, but on a space platform assembled from the nanobots of the Arena custom for the experience. Positioned to offer a perfect view of Akar’s star, both planets, and the arena in concentric orbits around this, the axis of the system. 

And whatever theft you may wish to attempt, you’ll need to appear at the gala. Mirror will be there. You’ll need to decide what to wear. 

***

[b]Mirror[/b]

Kiriala bows, or tries to as she’s lifted to her feet. It’s the most awkward motion the Ginger Tiger has made the entire match, a girl who’s allowed herself to be swept away. 

“I…” and at first she simply can’t think of anything to say. What should she say? Matches don’t end like this except in stories for kittens! She had surrendered, she had lost, conceded defeat in a match where she felt herself constantly overwhelmed and overmatched. Even her revelation hadn’t been quite right. A technicality, a small difference that Mirror had chosen to overlook.

A blush overtook her and she could do nothing but stammer. It’s a mixed sort of blush. Simultaneously irate to be pandered to, but proud to have earned it. It’s all there in the tone of the stammer, the way she rumbles, the movement of her mecha as the movement of her body, the way her tail swishes with a pleasure that can’t quite be overtaken.

She finally manages something, “I will bring you honor in your service” and then she splutters again because holding it together for that was the most she could manage before her brain started thinking about where you touched her and the way it felt through the mesh. 

When you get back, Slate’s beaming and Matty is pouting because she’s going to have to share even more of your time, but it’s a pout that doesn’t manage to reach her eyes, which are not secretly secretly full of all sorts of fantasies involving knights that she hadn’t properly thought through before. 

And after all this, there will be the gala. Held this tournament on a custom-constructed space platform perfectly aligned on the axis for the system, offering a clear view of the star and each of the planets. Some people are even saying that the programmers did some particular math such that the plane of station will have an intersection point if one were to draw a straight line from each of the three capital systems to Akar and have them converge. A rather strange exercise given that space itself is scientifically confirmed not to be straight, but nevertheless. 

Mayze has a lot of designs coming up for the gala. One for Adriana, quite nearly finished. One for Charon, for his cybernetics. One for Maelia Dahlia, probably, who should be arriving or already arrived at this point. And then there’s the design for Dolly, bless her. And of course, Mirror will need to wear something to the gala herself. Or nothing, but nothing counts as something. 

***

[b]Dolly and Jade[/b]

Electricity hangs in the air, buzzes through you, and then Ada Smith relaxes. Just a hair. Not the release of tension, but the stabilizing of it. 

So the match ends. The Goose whose name you cannot decide is bound and disabled, held in place by purrs just as soundly as by the ionic wires of Hybrasilian cunning. 

It’s a victory, of a sort. Enough to advance to the final rounds. There is also the knowledge that you may have lost. That if you are paying attention, that Ada had the winning strategy and abandoned it because she believed in…honor? Fairness? Justice? Because she believed that winning was less important than connecting and because she felt that she had connected. It is, after all, impossible to resist a purring a cat. 

Ada Smith is a different sort of person from the ones you’ve “recruited” thus far. She isn’t interested in play in the same way, but she wants to stay in your orbit. She wants the connection to Hybrasil, and the reassurance of friends in a place that really isn’t terribly welcoming for her. At least most aren’t welcoming and you don’t know enough about TC politics to have a good sense of who her allies ought to be. Unless you decide to ask her about rebellions and such, in which case she’ll have plenty to say.
She is a consummate caregiver though, always paying attention to the needs of people around her before her own and conscious even before you are of things you might need. She’s the sort of person that always seems to appear with a helping hand, a drink, or just the right tool before you even thought to ask for it. 

And speaking of needs, there’s the gala coming up. You’re qualified and the top Hybrasilian pilots are going to be there. Including Mirror, that odd fisher cat, and at least some of your group, though it appears that Ksharta has been disqualified and is pretty broken up about it. You could invite her as part of your entourage though, perhaps even coordinate outfits. The whole thing is going to be floating out in space staring at the many astrological features of the Akar system, but perhaps a little uncomfortable for a planetside girls like Dolly and Jade compared to some of the more seasoned space travelers. 

***

[b]Isabelle[/b]

Rosalinda stares for a moment. “I…is it that obvious? Fuck, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t, don’t know why I bother.” 

Well there’s something different. But then, you’ve never really caught Rosalinda alone like this before. It’s unusual, and it can change the context of a person. Like having a friend you only meet at school suddenly appear somewhere unexpected on a day off. Her voice still has that nasal tone, of course, she’s stuck with that, but the bite isn’t there when she’s being this blunt.

“Fine whatever, it’s not like it’s a secret. My family sales have been terrible. Nobody wants heavy industry equipment for last generation mechas. Nevermind that they work just as well for non-combat purposes, everyone wants the new hotness. Our orders dropped by half over the last six months. So Elena coordinated her gala attendance with some other girls. Serves me right, I was too afraid to even ask about it until it was way too late and then oops fuck me, now I’m the butt of everybody’s joke and it’s just one more nail in the family coffin. Father’s got me here because he’s hoping against hope that I can make a good impression on somebody and use that to get us a business deal. Or at least a loan. I suppose it was a stupid hope to think you’d be interested.”

She looks at you, kind of does a double take at all that slipping out. “..who the fuck are you and what did you with Isabelle Lozano?” That would have sounded cool if she’d led with it, but it’s more like a lame joke after taking that long to realize how much you’d reached out to her and not coming up with it right away. Maybe a bit endearing though, she committed to it even though she knew it was going to sound lame. Her face is begging you to at least feign a smile before her emotions give out and her tear ducts betray her. 

It’s also not a terrible business proposition if you think about it. Your mother wouldn’t like it because you’d be giving more than you’re getting. But that assumes a low trust environment. If you can rely on long-term returns, then a deal where you give now to prop someone up and then have a loyal follower later isn’t a bad one. Though, of course, putting it in those terms hurts the prospect. Human connection is and always will be better than cold economic calculation, no matter what Almira Lozano might say otherwise. Reality has a way of intruding on that sort of thing.

Speaking of, the attendants are coming soon to check how you’re doing and what sorts of fits you like, which will then determine the range of options you get for finishing this out. So you do need to make the decision here: coordinate with Rosalinda or not? She’ll follow your lead if you offer, so you can go with the sort of uneven Serpaws-inspired  dress she’s trying on or push her into something more traditional. Or you can still say no, do your own thing and let come what may.