[b]Aadya, the Rock upon a Mountain![/b]

I'm not sure that you're sure yet why you ordered your sisters-in-arms out. It takes time for a thought to get going in your head, darling, but once it picks up speed...

The three of you. Alone, in this warm mist. Your skin prickles underneath your armor, and it yearns to be removed. But not yet. Your duty is not discharged yet. You've faced more uncomfortable things than this in the monastery where you trained as a girl, so close to starlight that it would have driven you giddy with light if you'd taken your starglasses off, so high up that the air was as clear and sharp as a glass knife. This is nothing. You have a duty to fulfill.

"Yuki," you say, squatting low, looking at the supine heroine of Vespergift in your bestie's arms. "I need you to explain what's going on. [i]Please.[/i]"

You're so close to things making sense. You can almost taste the certainty, the victory, the euphoria of knowing that you have done your job and that you are a good girl. You just need it to be the [i]right[/i] victory. Or none of it will matter. A hollow triumph is nothing. Not for the Rock upon a Mountain.

[hr]
[b]Eclair Espoir![/b]

You can be involved with Yuki and Aadya as you please, or continue to be a sniffly mess, but I would like for you to know that somewhere, out there, Mayzie is looking for you. It felt important to tell you right here and now, miss.

[hr]
[b]Handmaidens![/b]

Here it is, laid out plain in between two bountiful darlings:

It is clear that Olesya, Baygum of the Khaganate, is not herself tonight. She is reckless and foolhardy and wearing a pink dress with [i]frills[/i]. She is bursting into rooms to manhandle and kiss silly boys. She is making foolish decisions, hurtling herself towards Hazel Valentine Fletcher over and over again.

Look to love. But not love of [i]him,[/i] yah?

Her heart belongs to a Civil who went west and got roped up into the dominance games of the Khaganate: Sister Juniper. And have you not heard that there is [i]strife[/i], Handmaidens of the Hero of Ages? A clash increasingly obvious between the Khatun and Civelia for the heart of Thellamie. And here is a boy who she would have for her daughter, and here is a Civil who has forgotten her place.

They are afraid, though they mask it behind laughter and sharp looks and tosses of their hair. They are afraid that if Olesya fails in winning Hazel tonight, then Juniper will never be seen again. Maybe that will be the case anyhow. Maybe the idea of Juniper will be used to string Olesya along into marriage with a deerboy she does not love, save in that she wants to protect him and keep him safe, but the reality of Juniper - the laughter, the silly gasps, the overeager desire to help - will be gone.

If they can find and save Juniper tonight, then they can change the fate of Thellamie. That's why they need a true-blue hero on their side, Handmaidens. That's why they're about ready to pick Rurik up and shake him by the ankles until a Heron falls out, too. Do you think they'll reach that point?

[hr]
[b]Hazel![/b]

There is a gasp. There is a roar of applause (from everyone still brave enough to be in attendance, which is more than you might think). Because, upheld on the hands of the Khaganate, Olesya spins you, my dear little Hazel, around and around, your feet swinging over their heads, each turn bringing you closer up against her, each turn bringing you ever more crushingly close into her arms.

And you can feel her heart beat to the beat of the drums. Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone. But while you're here in her arms, she'll make the most of the night like she's going to die young.

Or someone will, at any rate.

She cups your chin and forces your head back, no, pushes all of you into a swoon, and then she's got an arm under your knees and she's swinging you up into her arms again, cradling you, keeping you close, keeping you [i]hers[/i] in the midst of the whole room.

"You're... like a princess..." she manages. And you can tell, Hazel. Oh, how you can tell. Out of everything she's ever said to you, this might be the truest, the one she means the most. And if she has to win you, well, perhaps that's the first step. Seeing how your eyes sparkle and how your knees are tucked up under her arm as she jumps up into the air, does kicks that would split a lesser woman in half, and then lands on a pyramid of huntresses.

Pretending, for the space of a dance, that you might be [i]her[/i] princess.