[b]Eclair![/b]

[i]Before we get started it's important that you be imagining me in a detective's cape and beaded cap as I rattle off answers to your questions. Even in dreams, your mind is always racing down its own path, isn't it? Trying to drink the world like a glass so that you can react to it appropriately. Little wonder you have so much disdain for me - but do your best to imagine me trying to fit in, anyway. Allow me to show you the courtesy of making some figment of thought which might bring the ghost of a smile to your face.

Now. Questions.

[list]
[*]You are wearing your Mansion uniform, naturally. I believe it's striking in how little you have customized it.
[*]Your hair is in the awkward stage where it is growing out after a severe cut.
[*]The room seems relentlessly mundane for a dream. No strange tricks of perspective here.
[*]You are adrift in a sea of memory, and it is difficult - but possible - to touch what else you are. It takes deliberate effort.
[*]You are the same in Timtam's eyes.
[*]You are a prodigal girl with a dream and her own apron in the griffon's mirrors.
[/list]

There is no ticking clock in here. There is the rain coming down the windows in shades of grey that only the Order of the Aurora has names for. There is a fire burning merrily in the hearth. The two of you could sit here until the tea grew cold and Evening began to stir.

[list][*]Timtam is watching your hand.
[*]Her own hand is avoiding the interlocking pieces of the Mistresses, and it strikes you that she has never given you a clear shot at them in this game. That all of her strategy is a series of shells with them at her center.
[*]In the griffon's eyes, you are wearing Heron's cape.
[*]Yes.
[*]When has it ever been?
[*]Victory looks like picking up the table, setting it aside, and catching Timtam in your grasp before she can hide behind a game or a mask or a joke or a firecracker or a crime or a kiss and then holding her no matter what shape she takes, and then you'll figure out the next step of that story. She's hidden one piece in her cleavage, you see. And there's no way to win without that piece; the best you can get is a draw. And I'll tell you that because I have already forgiven you for earlier, and because you have been a good sport, and because I want to see what that piece is, too.[/list][/i]

[hr]
[b]Yuki![/b]

"I... need you," Aadya says, heavily. Her shoulders slump. She had been doing her best to hide that weariness. It's not physical exhaustion, it's exhaustion of fuel for courage, for self-love, for selfishness. The kind of weariness that, and I speak only hypothetically here, might make one trudge on single-mindedly on the one thing they told themselves that they were going to do because they don't have the energy to compare it to anything else that they could be doing, and they'd just grind to a painful and tearful halt if they tried. "I need [i]your[/i] strength, Yuki. With me. Together. You need a win," says a woman who desperately needs a win.

"And then, once this is... once we've solved this, together, once we've saved Hazel's adventure, we can just... I'll take you places. You never got to visit my monastery last time. Or go down into the Shining Stones. I'd even take a leave of absence to Crevas for the rest of your stay, and you won't want for anything, I'll use my stipends. You can rest. But I need your help or I'll get it wrong."

And there it is. Laid out before you. The saddest, most miserable secret of her heart. She knows that she's going to get it wrong. Like she got it wrong talking with you over brunch. Like she got it wrong trying to find Timtam. Like she got it wrong fighting with Eclair back on that first night when this adventure got going.

She means it, by the way. She'll keep that promise no matter what.

Bump her Need up by one. She Needs you. Not in a way that involves smooches, probably, but in a way that says that friends have each other's backs when one friend has to fulfill her duty and try and rescue a goddess.

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

The absolute cheek. The [i]gall.[/i] To ask me such things, well! I [i]never.[/i]

I will point out here that you and Tsane would be familiar with tensions between Aestival and the Khaganate, ones which recently were fanned into open invasion. If not for Civelia's intervention, there is every chance that the Khaganate's war goals might have involved establishing a beachhead at Onyx and claiming a [i]multitude[/i] of the pure and innocent locals. But I promise you, darling, that it is a case of two wonderful goals happening to dovetail. They really, really actually do want to save Sister Juniper from her likely doom. And they need it to go without a hitch. They need the Khaganate to face a battle with a true heroine.

Heron's been known to have a lot of success with infiltration missions, after all. Especially when she's got her lovely handmaidens to provide a distraction.

As for their feelings towards me? Ohohoho. Filial affection, of course. The drive to impress. And really, you old stick in the mud, why the hesitation to aid me? Just because I am, regrettably, fallen down here where everything is interesting and there are so many stories to play with? I'm hardly like that awful Rot Star or that hot-headed Demon Queen. And I am, in a cultural sense, your [i]auntie.[/i] Just because you've run off to be a steward for Old Firstie's champion doesn't mean I'm not still watching over you.

Hm. Perhaps I answered my own question. Aren't you too old to be bratting~?

My way will be much more interesting than whatever Civelia has planned. There will be more heaving bosoms and romantic gasps and distress for damsels to enmire themselves in. There will be revolution and all of the truly, awfully wicked will get what I have coming to them. And maybe I'll toss in a love interest for [i]you[/i] if you behave.

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

The look on Aria Thendragon's face is one of cold, searing [i]fury[/i], Haziekins.

To be fair, you just used the light of Civelia, preserver and cornerstone of this world, in order to rebuke a creature animated by rot and hatred and decay. And the mask of chivalry slips, just for you to see, as the chains of that magic settle uneasily on her heart. She wants to pin you to a pillar and [i]break[/i] you until you rescind your command, until you beg for the sweetness of Walking Elm to be a balm to your pummeled body, and then she'd go just that little bit further and for a moment she'd feel something like delight in her wet, rotten woodheart. She'd grind your hand into the floor for the crime of touching that token and then she'd leave Walking Elm to show your fingers how to bend again.

Fortunately, you have Civelia's magic to protect you. And surely nothing could change [i]that[/i].

"I am a [i]queen,[/i]" she sneers. "Take your time with mangy, half-real [i]puppies[/i] and Nagi tying themselves in knots. True nobility will wait for now, but anyone who thinks to deny me what is rightfully mine should remember me! [i]Me![/i] Aria! I defeated the Dark Dragon here tonight, and anyone who stands between me and [i]my[/i] Hazel will [i]come to regret it.[/i]"

Olesya is clinging to you, Hazel. She slowly and deliberately turns her back on Aria, so that she is between the undead queen and you. And she presses her face against the top of your head and breathes deeply. (You have seen her do this with Juniper. It's more than a dominance display: it's centering, calming.)

Then she tosses her head back and howls to echo in the rafters, and the Serigalamu respond in kind. "SWORD! DANCE!"

Oh. A fast-paced dance which involves heartblades. You have a heartblade to use in a ceremonial fashion, don't you? You're confident in being able to use it, aren't you? I'm sure you are good luck have fun.