[b]Handmaidens![/b] There is an intensity that my girls can have, and I know you recognize it, because it is the same intensity that is within your heart, Rurik. I know the beachside where you grew up, the colors of the jeweled sands that burned bright in the morning sun, and I know how you turned your head away from the window to practice. To pursue your [i]dream.[/i] "Seli, I think-" "He is asking for-" "Specifics, yah?" Oh, you, you Seneschal - you are [i]double kabedon'd[/i] into a wall, in a move that would leave any fair maiden or silly boy breathless. Amethysts and emeralds, glittering under the low light of the Chrysanthemum's outer reaches - are they not the fairest treasures to come out of Aestival in this age? "We mean-" "To save-" "An innocent." "We mean-" "To end-" "A war." "We mean-" "To call-" "The Hero." "We mean-" "No more-" "No less." "And if-" "You will-" "Not serve." "We will-" "Do what-" "We [i]must.[/i]" "Tell Heron that we must take the Stacks-" "Or make a deal with the [i]tree.[/i]" "I would not like that, yah?" "No, Keli, not at all." "But a maiden's heart is on the line." "A maiden's [i]life[/i] is on the line." When they say this to you, Rurik, it is in the same way that you told yourself that you would one day serve Heron herself. It is an alignment of the self along a course of action that they will not be turned from. They are beautiful, and they are clever, and they will do [i]anything[/i] tonight to achieve their ends. Even dealing with Walking Elm if Heron cannot help them. [hr] [b]Eclair Espoir![/b] In the arms of Yuki Edogawa, you see three things with crystal clarity. You see the Paladins rushing in, led by the Idiot Chariot herself, all armor and starglasses indoors and burly bravado. There isn't enough room; they clog the doorway. They would throw down their lives to defend an innocent here and now, tonight, even if Aria Thendragon were to come to finish the job. But that is not what is asked of them in this moment. They [i]cannot[/i] defend against someone like Timtam. You see Timtam, with her back to the wall-mounted tablet which is taking sketches of the scene every twelve heartbeats, slip a mask out of her Civil's habit. It is a mask depicting Noon, all delight at a challenge, all agrin at having something to pit herself against. She presses it against her face, from brow to chin. You see the smoke bomb which has fallen from her sleeve. When it goes off, there is a scream - the scream of a terrified Civil. When it goes off, there is roiling smoke in your nostrils and in your eyes and in your ears. When it goes off, the Paladins stagger about, trying to get their hands on [i]someone[/i]. And not too very long after it goes off, Timtam uses you as a springboard to get through the skylight. When the smoke clears, Timtam is gone. So is Civelia. Take a Condition, dear. I'm sorry that it always seems to end up like this. [hr] [b]Yuki![/b] You feel the tension and the terror in Eclair Espoir. It's familiar, after all. You feel, rather than see, what the smoke bomb going off does to her. It's like holding a trembling, terrified kitten in your arms. You feel her racing heartbeat under your hand. You feel someone jump off of her, and how she crumples back into your embrace. How she shakes. How she weeps. And it's like being back in Thellamie the first time around, isn't it? When she didn't have any way to marshal her mutinous thoughts, when she couldn't think in a straight line without meandering, fretting, concentrating on the things she [i]could[/i] organize. She was more than an Infinity Plus One Sword that needed to be repaired, back then - she was your friend. She needed your help. She needs your help. Then and now are the same moment. [hr] [b]Hazel![/b] There is quite a bit of applause. For her. For [i]you.[/i] But that doesn't matter to Princess Sulochana of Crevas, not as she rests her cheek against the hollow of your throat. You can feel the heat of her breath tickling against your chest as she pants in exertion, in excitement, in delight. It would be effortless for her to [i]bite[/i] in this moment. To mark you as hers. She wants to do that. Not to break the skin, of course, but to bruise. To [i]claim.[/i] To make it so that everyone here tonight who looks at you knows that you belong to [i]her.[/i] And she wants this because of what she has seen of you - what you, brave little Hazel, have revealed to her. And then she wants to coil around you and hold you tight and keep you safe from every other contestant for your hand. She wants to bring you expensive presents that, to her, are ordinary presents, just because the luster of this necklace made her think of your eyes, or because she heard that you liked a certain art piece and thought it would look nice in your room. She shines in starlight, and for that moment, the two of you are the most real things in the room. No one can look away. No one can deny how you shine, and how she reflects your light. You shine a spotlight on her [i]metaphysically,[/i] Hazel Valentine Fletcher. And I daresay everyone who looks at her, right now, takes a String on her for it. You have shown who she [i]is.[/i] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rHnSk4tRN4E]And then the drumbeat falls heavy from the orchestra.[/url] And then the Serigalamu flood the dance floor. It's like being back in Crevas, isn't it? When you had to run? When they pursued, and no one could stand in their way? But to their furs they have added rattling charms and bells. When they stomp their feet and their anklets rattle, it is in time to the drummers who have commandeered the orchestra pit. When they throw their heads back and set their bells trembling, their howls echo off the roof. Under the watchful eye of the Khatun, Olesya strides towards you, [i]level[/i] with you, each step held up by half a dozen huntresses. She is wearing a mask. Across the wood, bold colors in angular lines: this is a war-mask. This is a promise. This is a threat. She offers her hand to you as the pack orbits around her like stars wheeling across the sky. This is, in fact, what they are doing. If you knew the deep mysticism of Thellamie, you would recognize that each and every Serigalamu dancer is a star; you would see the constellations they make as they shake and stamp and howl. Olesya is, in this moment, symbolic of the very stars who ordained this for you. She reaches her hand out to receive you. To take [i]her[/i] turn at the dance. She does not want to dance with you. She must dance with you. The Khatun commands. All obey.