Silence. For once, the same as peace. Tranquility as deep as the light of a distant nebula, visible for half a night and from a single planet if one happened to be sleepless and wise enough to tilt their head toward the stars, perchance to see something they might share with company they had not intended to keep.

...Khhh. Mira hisses softly, and clicks her tongue against her teeth. As a final gift it lacked, mmmmnnnn, finesse? She'd thought the result would have been more explosive. More color. Or less. Or. Well. Different. Simply... different. This was the problem in chasing too many fish at once. An ultimate attack is not usually an art project for a reason. Too many sub-goals increases the risk of tainting the final result. 

Her train flutters delicately behind her as she descends from the top of the wreckage with the careless, hopping grace of a, well, of a cat. She is unhurried and unbothered in the moment, taking the lines that seem the most fun or that create the most beautiful motions in her mind, but always and without stopping bringing her closer to the ground. Closer to Solarel.

In terms of impact she could not say she was disappointed. They would fear this spot for years. They'd study it for years after that. Picking through the pieces, sorting through the implications, and (she hoped) simply marveling at its strange beauty. Art was always more her talent than science. What she'd learned was only ever to better chase a vision. What mattered was that this couldn't be forgotten. And though it might get covered up, it wouldn't be ignored. 

The Kiss of the Comet. Her fangs against the throats of Empires. Secret and yet deep enough to bleed, she thinks. No, it's not bad at all. And watching the world decide to fall apart, and then to fall un-apart was not bad for visual impact. She'd done better with dresses in the main. But still. Good. It looked good. Felt good. It was only disappointing because she could not get her choice of monuments in place.

Hop hop hop, descent, descent, descent. Mira traipses down the arm of the Aeteline as a maiden cloaked in moonlight crosses a flight of stairs. Beneath her, her ballroom. Beneath her, her destiny. Beneath her, her reward. She is close enough now to see the look on her lover's face. Her liquid eyes alight at every little tick of wonder, of happiness, and of relief. Silence. Even now, silence. Her paws make no noise on the shattered metal as she crosses the smoldering mecha down to the site of the final moment of the final battle. It was silence, the same as peace.

...In the end, optimal. Optimal outcome. Absolute and inarguable. It would not be hard at all to guess at what went on here, but the Nine Drive System had detonated before its final secrets could be made public. Without even a shred of hard evidence, investigators would be forced to conclude that this [i]could[/i] be the result of Tail Nine coming into contact with the Aeteline's own crystal fire drive, and the confluence of those energies would be marked as the cause of this bizarre moment. And as long as that stayed plausible it would be enough. Someone would eventually make the argument just to dodge more questions about how someone like Mira of the Fisher Clan managed to walk something as dangerous as the Ninetails straight through every check and regulation all the way to the finals of the galaxy's most important peacekeeping event.

But still. If she could have chosen. She would have preferred to leave something of her Gods-Smiting Whip behind. A quiet skeleton wrapped around its quaint controls, forever still. Proof that she had flown, and how. Proof of the love that had carried her through the stars. It was not to be. The price of channeling all of that power directly was that Slate's masterpiece have disintegrated where the terrifying God of the Imperial Court had merely died. And without even that much, the Whispered Promise was no longer even a pilot.

"Ha. Do you hear that, Slate? You're fired."

Her sarcastic laughter is the first music of the scene. The first act that dares to break the silence. But this is also peace. Mira's feet touch the ground at last. She stands side by side with Solarel. And then, front to front. Together they complete her final dress again. Arms at each others backs, the warmth of their bodies seeping into one another.

They kiss as anime teaches us that all princesses should kiss: in the soft light of the dawn that represents their triumph over evil. With grace and softness that pulls their lips into one another's, and then apart, but only to taste new flavors on new horizons across each other's softness. It is the kiss that sheathes swords at last, and dares to look for a place on the mantle to hang them up until one day adventure calls and they are needed again. It is the kiss that promises to stay. It is the kiss that carries the excitement of the word 'Tomorrow'.

"This." says Mira in a breathy voice that radiates contentment, "This is my victory. The first of this entire tournament."