Um. So.

The plan has hit a snag.

He’s gone and double-booked himself, you see. At this time, yes, at this time right here, he’s supposed to be staring incredulously into the sharp war-mask of Bagyum Olesya, and discovering that bone and paint will not budge. Only, he’s just remembered that he’s due to bury his face in his hands at any moment. True, he’s using those hands to cling tightly to Olesya’s arm (singular! He can’t get them both!) but if he buries his face in her upper arm there should be more than enough room for one fawnish face.

Well. Nothing for it. He’ll just have to squish in tight, cheek to muscle, and try to look at nothing and only her at the same time.

This will work.

What do you think, Keli, do you think he could ever be a Princess?

Yah~ <3

(Isn’t it nice, to find out that Foxgirl Trick could be true? That by the power of maids and makeup, Hazel Valentine Fletcher could be special? Precious? Like royalty? Even if it was only for a night?)

“Take the lead.”

The…prince? Princess? Prince Princess whispers to his huntress.

“It’s okay. Do whatever you think will convince your mom it’s going well. I’ll play along. If she thinks you’re winning, she won’t need to interfere any more, right?”

Amidst twirls, amidst kicks, amidst strong arms and crushing closeness, he sends a little smile to that fearsome mask.

“First rule of sneaking: Sneaking isn’t just hiding. It’s showing your prey only what they expect to see.”

(The Khatun will see a bundle of speechless silks, a silly boy trembling in her daughter’s arms. Helpless to escape. Caught fast. She will not see a promise being made. She will not see that this, too, is just a performance.)

In the crook of her arm, his thumb curls up.

(Olesya will see…royalty. Apparently. She will see a boy out of his depth, trying his best, happy to do what he can to help. She will see him tremble to make the attempt.)

“Go on. I’ll be fine. We’ll keep Juni safe.”

(She will not see it is because he cannot stop wondering what it would be like if she properly kissed him. She will not see, in all that she would dare do to him, how his heart will flutter from inexperience instead of surprise. She will not see Hazel’s face in the glow of a Yukisearth tablet, wandering where he should not in the dead of night. The stories he found, of the boys who could neither outrun nor outwit their pursuers, and what songs were drawn from their helpless lips.

She will not see how little courage this really takes.

She will only see a good boy.)

Yuki Edogawa!

You can see it blossoming across her round face. It's surprisingly gentle, that face, for all that she strives to be a mighty warrior. But there is determination in every inch of her right now, from her alert triangles to her feet suddenly braced to run. There is an innocent to protect. There is a duty to carry out. There is a goddess to save.

If she goes alone, Yuki, as she yearns to, perhaps she will not be enough. Eclair beat her in a fight back in Crevas, after all. But she will go. All you can do in this moment is decide whether you will go with her, whether you will be something of a hero after all, or whether you will wish her luck and put your chips down here with Eclair and dear Hazel.

What will you be tonight, Yuki?

---

Handmaidens!

"A rival for the Faun?"
"HAEH! A rival for more than that!"
"We could have him if we wanted--"
"And if we want him we'll have him, yah?"
"We'd do things to him--"
"--which would ruin Nagi for him forever!"
"Putty in our hands!"
"Melting like butter!"

They share a glance together. Seli rolls her eyes; Keli glances away with practiced ease. And if you want anything more than that, you'll have to break out the dice, young man.

"But that's not our aim."
"Not our move."
"Not our play."
"Not in this game."
"Not a game at all, yah?"
"Yah, not a bit."

Rurik is lowered to the floor with the exaggerated care that a revered elder deserves. They flourish as they bow, consummate performers always. But not everything about them is a performance. Do you understand? You've been performing for so long, young man, that perhaps it's easy to miss a strategic bit of sincerity.

"We're out of time for tonight's show!"
"Catch us at our next showing!"
"If Heron won't come and play..."
"...we'll have to show her up ourselves!"

They sound jovial. They sound careless, even. They are good actresses, after all.

---

Hazel!

Smoke floods the stage.

It is not toxic smoke, not all of it. Not most of it, even. It smells heady, rich, inviting. Lie down, it promises. Lie down and your dreams will be sweet and full of kisses. It is the sacrificial death of flowers. It pours from the skin of Walking Elm, and perhaps that is why its aftereffects will not be pleasant - but for now it caresses the dancing Serigalamu, worms its way under their leathers, caresses their ears and their chests, and sings: down, down, lie down. The wild drumming dance falters.

And Aria Thendragon strides through them all, and where she walks the smoke billows and forces apart the Serigalamu, forces them to their knees, swallows their heads, sings little poppy-songs and fills their heads with what Walking Elm thinks laughter is supposed to be. Aria does not stand on huntresses. She does not need to. She is unmistakable even with her head at the level of your shins.

"So this is what you have to represent the champions of this age: wiggling serpents and prancing puppies." Her voice drips pitying venom. Under her eye, even Olesya seems smaller, ganglier, all elbows and knees and sweaty palms. And under your eye, you, Hazel, you are a small and silly thing, made to be pinned against walls and lead on leashes. She's not even that big! But she was a queen in her day, and a dragon in masquerade, and her dress is undulating smoke, and her voice is blackest velvet midnight.

"Come here, Fletcher. Let me show you how we danced in a fairer age."

The smoke builds. It will build until you accept, or until you do something daring.

---

Eclair Espoir!

Rain flickers against the windows. There are no lights in this room, only the suffused grey nowhere light that seeps through the Mansion's windows. There are few lights anywhere in the Mansion, but there are many windows. The furniture here is classical Kel, all angles and muted colors with the occasional bright scarlet-and-gold throw, washed out in the light of the rain.

Timtam has her fingers interlaced under her chin as she looks at the board. Not the chess of Yukisearth: Vesper's Game, rather. There is only one win condition in chess. There are many in Vesper's Game, and part of the path to victory involves obfuscating one's win condition.

Timtam is very, very good at Vesper's Game.

"Tough luck," she says. A carrot-orange curl is resting between her eyes. Her smile is her mask in the games of dominance that the maids play here. "I've got you right where I want you." The board has different pieces than usual. Your hand rests next to a Detective. But your piece has been boxed in by Paladins. Her foot is so close that if you stretched innocently, you could have her by the ankle. Her finger brushes down the length of her Sleeping Goddess.

"Are you ready to concede?" Her smile doesn't waver. It could even be an innocent question. Innocence is a weapon in the Mansion.

In one corner of the room, you are watched by a griffon with mirrors for eyes, loafing with its head resting on a windowsill. But, in the ways of dream, this does not seem particularly noteworthy. Not when Timtam is this close. You could have her wrists, but for the fact that the gameboard lies between you.

"Don't" the word from Yuki's throat is rough and pained. "Don't go Aadya." She says it softly this time. Her head hangs over the form of Eclair that she still holds so gently. Afraid of waking her. Her voice is still and small, caught in the hot steam of the sauna. "Please. Don't go. Not now. Please. I...I need you right now."

She looks up at Aadya then, and she is crying, though she could not tell you why in this moment. She doesn't have the words yet to tell you how heavy her heart feels right now. She can't explain why she feels so tired and how hard it would be to stand up right now and follow Aadya. She certainly can't why she feels such a strong foreboding about all this when Aadya could command an entire battalion of civil paladins to join her if she had a clear shot at rescuing Civelia.

But nevertheless, her heart cries out for Aadya to stay with her, and that she knows.

Rurik rubs the red mark of his recently healed shoulder, and then pulls a chain hauberk over his head. Slams the breastplate into place. Tightens the endless sequence of buckles and knots.

The thing about bait was that the fish never chose not to bite it.

He had been committed to this path from the moment the sisters asked for help. They could have spent the rest of the conversation bapping his face with their paws and mocking his taste in haberdashery and he still would have helped them. All of the details about rescue, star-crossed lovers, fate of the worlds - they were almost academic. Of course, it made it better to be doing something important, but it was all secondary to being asked for help. Heron has never asked him for help. Never needed it[1].

[1]He'd been walking her towards the training course he'd spent years setting up and refining with Injimo's help when they'd been ambushed by a stryx flock; she'd dealt with them so perfectly that he had quietly changed their path to go by the river shrine instead[2].
[2] Within which Heron found a hidden door, an underground complex, and a twisted nurdragon that had been corrupting the site from below. Right under his nose.

So, there he was, taking a moment to pick out hats that would shore up his defense against missile attacks. He was as committed, as simple as that. But there would come a moment when he would have to decide between doing what Seli and Keli said, and doing what would help them. He could feel it; there had been a moment there when it had felt like they weren't talking at all, that someone else was talking through them. He did not want to help that person - and he did not want to miss the moment when the two sets of interest diverged.

[Figure Out A Person: 7 What do they hope to get from this plan with Heron?
What are their feelings towards Inara?]

She doesn’t hurt him. She could. But she doesn’t. She might. Not important. She’s soft now. She’s sweet now. Her breath is sweet as it washes over his face. Chin up for her? Mouth open for her? Breath deep for her…

…and breathe out. Out. Out out out. Get them out. Get them all out. Stupid thoughts and stupid flutters and…

Drop.

Sink into her coils. Sink into her eyes. Give in. Give it up. Let her take it all. Let a Princess handle a Princess. Let a Princess handle her Princess.

Let her long, long tongue flicker over deep, painted lips (painted deep red.) Let her savor a delicious little snack. Let her...

…take him without a fuss. Try not to mess up the apology for the trouble. Tell her it wasn’t intentional. Focus. Focus. Focus. It’s his first time throwing a ball? It’s, no, ngh, stop it. Legs bad, maybe? No, lying’s dumb. Never works. Stop it. Lost track of time. Big night. Maybe. He could…

…do nothing as she pinned his arms over his head. No leverage. No strength. No defense, as she cupped his chin and struck. And struck. And struck. And struck. And struck. Hungry. Proud. Triumphant. Alive with the thrill of the hunt, sinking her teeth into her prey, her prey, and…

…Olesya drew him tight to her chest, wasting no breath on a snarl. The Queen would have to come and claim him from her awkward, gangly arms. That was all there was to it.

But before she could, a small, silly boy reaches into the depths of his flowing sleeves, and the amulet he raises to the sky cuts through the smoke with beams of starlight. “I…am the Golden Fawn!” His voice lilts and wavers, straining to climb in volume and authority. “I thank everyone who came to see me tonight. It is an honor, an honor I will repay in dancing and company. I promise that everyone will have their turn, and no one will have their turn taken from them or cut short. Please, uh, please see Miss Yaz if you would like a turn. She will sort the order out. Don’t interfere with her either. That…that is all! Thank you! Again!”

The amulet fades. The speech fades.

The boy fades.

Don’t worry about him. Bagyum Olesya was strong enough to stand before a Queen. She is strong enough to hold a small, useless boy as he falls back into her arms.

(Not that he deserves to be held.)

[Rolling to use the amulet to make a new rule: 6 + 4 + 2 = 12. Hazel takes the Guilty condition, as the amulet saps his strength.]

Eclair!

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.

• 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.

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.

• 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.

---

Yuki!

"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 your 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.

---

Handmaidens!

The absolute cheek. The gall. To ask me such things, well! I never.

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 multitude 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 auntie. 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 you if you behave.

---

Hazel!

The look on Aria Thendragon's face is one of cold, searing fury, 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 break 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 that.

"I am a queen," she sneers. "Take your time with mangy, half-real puppies 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! Me! Aria! I defeated the Dark Dragon here tonight, and anyone who stands between me and my Hazel will come to regret it."

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.

[Yuki Staggers]

Fuck fuck fuck, I can't I can't, I can't. I can't keep moving, I can't keep jumping around and leaving things half done. I can't keep running off with whoever's right in front of me. I'm not good enough, I'm not strong enough. Why? Why? Why? Why can't you see it? Why can't you see that I literally cannot stand up right now because I'm already holding someone who needs me? What, do you want me to just get off the ground and dump this vulnerable sleeping woman here so that she can be arrested by the rest of the paladins while I run off with you? Is that it? Only Aadya matters? I. Can't.

Yuki does not say anything out loud. The look on her face is one of panic, a cat with wide eyes who is caught in a trap and cannot leap to higher ground. And then she shuts her eyes and grits her teeth and cries freely, heaving sobs that make her shoulders rise and fall as her tail falls limply behind her. A tear falls onto Eclair's cheek, and Yuki turns her head into her shoulder so that no more will disturb her friend's rest.

This wasn't fair! This wasn't how things were supposed to be! Is this what it was always going to be like now that she's not the chosen one? Everyone wants and wants and wants and you don't have anything special to give them? Yeah, fuck you, Yuki, you're just one girl and you can't be in five places at once like everybody wants, and everybody expects you to solve all their problems for them. She was supposed to be smart for Aadya and loud for Suli and open for Juniper and, oh god, fuck, where even was Juniper, she hadn't appeared at the ball at all before Yuki left.

It was too much, and it wasn't how Yuki remembered it, and she didn't know how to make everything work for everyone. It was the thing she wanted to know how to do most of everything, but she didn't know it. She didn't know how her parents kept the family together, not really. She didn't know how her grandparents had managed to cross the biggest ocean in the world and build a whole new family there. She didn't know how her aunt always managed to host the biggest New Years potlucks and have everyone come. And she didn't have it in her to figure out out right now.

She tries to wipe her eyes, but there's no sleeve on her shift, so it just leaves dark tear lines glistening on her arm. "Aadya, I-I'm sorry. I can't. I can't get up and go now. I can't. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

There was a time for thought and contemplation.

Rurik stepped down into the dungeons, and throat-punched two Civil Gaolers at the same time. As they doubled over, perfectly timed backhand chops to the back of the skull sent them sprawling unconscious. Double stealth takedown, one of the Sacred Maneuvers, one that he had practiced thousands of times on mannequins in preparation for the day where Princess Heron could practice it on him and Injimo.

He tucked a little vial of headache medicine into the hands of both guards for when they woke up. A little twist in the technique from someone who had been on the receiving end of it.

"You wish for there to be no witnesses?" said Sayanastia the Dark Dragon.
Her chains passed well beyond the suggestive, but that was simply how it was when non-specialists tried to bind the Dark Dragon. Every paladin with an active night life imagined how they might improve on the bindings - spreader bars and muzzles, every finger caged individually in the overlapping magical fields of enchanted rings, feet encased entire in lewdly transparent enchanted ice.

"It is not the first time I have been here," said the Dark Dragon. "Captured and bound, when one of the Hero's companions decides to save Heron the trouble and do away with me quietly. One little sin in the dark to spare her another cycle of pain and blood. But you must know it does not work that way, little fox."
The Heartblade was in his hand. "If I release you, you will rampage."
"Yes," said Sayanastia.
"You will again attempt to destroy everything in your path," said Rurik. "You will attack Civelia as she recovers. You will kidnap the Faun and use him to draw a destiny of ruin."
"I had paid little heed to Civilia's latest game," said Sayanastia. "She does so love her games. So long as everyone is playing by her rules she does not care overmuch if she loses."
"So you will let him be?"
"Of course not," said Sayanastia. "I am the Dark Dragon, after all. Everything that you imagine about me is true. Go ahead and take my head -" she hummed a moment, "- you will never be less justified in doing so."
"But you have already lost a fight to the Rot Star," said Rurik.
"Perhaps that was part of my plan," said Sayanastia.
"And you have lost fights in general," said Rurik. "You are a shadow of yourself."
"Do not talk yourself out of your act of murder now, little fox," yawned Sayanastia. "I am still the Dark Dragon."
"Yes," said Rurik. "That is why you were cunning enough to raid the Stacks."
"Have I?" said Sayanastia.
"Yes," said Rurik. He undid his backpack and started unpacking. "You stole the Gown of the Blade Dancer that will perfect your amateurish swordplay -"
"Beg pardon."
"The Gauntlet of Pure Springs that will quench the Rot Star's poison heart, which you were too weak to do on your own -"
"What is happening."
"And this dimensional crate hooked up to nine hundred and ninety nine detonation flasks that you will use to create a vast and terrible distraction -"
"I assure you, the attempt at framing me is deeply unnecessary."
"You are kind of stupid, aren't you?" said Rurik, looking up.
Sayanastia attempted to shift her head to get an angle for her breath attack.
"You have a lot going on, which is why it's hard to focus on that specifically," said Rurik. "But you aren't so much thinking as you are referring back to past events. Wake up and pay attention."
Sayanastia snarled.
"That's the spirit!" said Rurik. "Up and at them! Every day is a new day!" He severed one of the intricate array of bonds around Sayanastia's hands. Her talons flexed - and then started scratching at the nearest knots.
It would take a few minutes for her to fully unravel herself. A decent head start.
"You are using me," hissed Sayanastia.
"You," said Rurik with a smile as he made his way back out through the door, "are useful."

The ballroom shook as the roar of the Dark Dragon, and the first of 999 detonation flasks, made their voices heard.

Is he confident?

Fu fu fu fu~

Oh, he’s confident alright.

Imagine being a Golden Fawn who didn’t prepare for the SWORD! DANCE! Of the Serigalamu! Couldn’t be him. Such is his power. Not all of those training sessions with Keli and Seli were about dancing. Well. Unarmed dancing, that is.

(And! Did you know? That the Serigalamu have a secret technique where they gobble up all your scent and stress in one greedy huff? Did you further know of the secret spot on your thigh that can be squeezed to get allllllllllllllllllll that energy out of you? Stiff and speechless, fluttering and floaty, tail flicking uselessly against Olesya’s tummy?

Because he sure didn’t!

Anyway it’s magical and it’s real and it works a charm because when he finally remembered to breathe out his limbs felt like wet noodles. Wet, rejuvenated noodles.)

Olesya sets him down to draw her blade, and their hearts flash as one. Knife and sword. Black and neon. Sharp and empty.

Let the SWORD! DANCE! Begin!

************************************************

Hrm.

Hrmmmmm.

Clash, step, blades screech and part.

Hrm.

Well.

This dance doesn’t have as much sword as he thought it would.

It does have a lot, to be clear. Quite a lot of sword in this dance. Oleysya’s gone through, what, two dozen opponents? And at least eight partners. Sometimes at the same time, sometimes switching sides freely. There’s a dancey queue forming. Oh yes, plenty of sword in this dance. Just. Not over here.

Clang, sweep, the claw that traces lightning from cheek to ear

It makes sense. When he thinks about it. What, would he fancy crossing blades with that many huntresses? There’s still people waiting for their turn with the Golden Fawn, he can’t leave this dance on a stretcher.

And Olesya is Olesya. She’s got his back. He can’t get much further than block, swing, whiff, the heart-stopping moment when the hunter’s eyes peer into your hiding spot before she pounces. She gives him time to catch his breath. She gives him space to compose himself.

He wasn’t doing that bad.

The thought barrels headlong into a tightly-woven net of gracious sensibility. It struggles. It strains. It pulls on you’re being ridiculous and why are you so upset and it’s your own fault for being so silly all the time, what was she supposed to think? It pulls. It pulls. The tighter the bindings, the harder it pulls, and neither side is willing to break.

But. It pulls. It pulls the Golden Fawn a little further away from his protector. It pulls his attention inward, it pulls his brow down, it pulls his lips to the very edge of a pout. It pulls his blade through the air in graceful, sweeping arcs, taking the steps with ease.

It pulls him into the best sort of prey. The kind that can only put up a fun, fruitless fight.

[Rolling to Entice: 5 + 6 - 1 = 10]

Yuki!

The absence of Aadya, the Rock upon a Mountain, is thick. Now that the oppressive thickness of the sauna is almost dissipated, it is the shape of where she is not that fills the room. There are tears on your arm and a twitching Eclair in your grasp and somewhere, outside, there is a lot of drumming and foot-stamping and "hiyaaaaah!" and we must hope, together, that Hazel is having a wonderful time. If you must suffer here, alone in the dark, then perhaps he will get the chance to shine all the brighter up on that stage, starlight dripping from his antlers.

This goes on for an indeterminate time. You shiver as the dampness on your skin settles in properly.

Then a vision in indescribable colors enters, slithering in and doubling back to shut the door behind her for the sake of privacy. Underneath the still-open skylight, she is brilliant, and the darkness is all the thicker around her in contrast. There is a new bruise on her throat in the shape of someone's fangs and she is somewhat more disheveled than when you saw her last, but she has no care for her appearance in this moment.

"Oh, Yuki," she says, and sweeps you up. It is an effort for her to bear both of you up into her coils together, but she strains herself and gets her sequins underneath you, wrapping her arms around the two of you to share warmth. "When Aadya told me you needed me, I didn't think... what happened?"

Her voice aches with concern for you. There is applause and laughter and foot-stomping up above and she doesn't even think about it. Bereft of Purnima's dress, picked out to make you a pawn in their game, there is nothing that stands between the two of you but that Eclair is still in your arms, that Purnima's lips have made a bruise on her neck, that she might be the one who tames the Golden Fawn.

She will hold you through any tears you have.

Do you kiss her?

---

Eclair!

Timtam laughs as much as she can with her windpipe constricted. Her smile is manic, her eyes wide, daring you to punish her more, to try and force some insight out of your dreaming mind (of which she must merely be a part). Her fingers writhe and she snaps at the air in front of your nose, drumming one heel on the floor beneath the two of you. This threatens to spiral into nightmare.

There is a sound of wings behind you. A presence, vast and enshrouding. The feathers on these wings, if you would turn your head, are the some color as your hair. Timtam cocks her head, and her eyes reflect your face like mirrors. The sort of thing that would, in most proper Thellamie stories, be what Yuki calls a "jump scare," to be wrestling with one of the Mirrorfolk. Or a dream that has, in some small way, become one of the unreal people on the edge of existence. There is a sound of wings behind you.

"...I am in love," she sighs. Under your fingers, her neck is the color of your hair. "Am I not allowed to be, Eclair Espoir? I am so much in love that I am a monstrously selfish thing, because when I empty myself out there will be so much more room for everything I get back. And because I am selfish there is room for you in here, too, after I have been cruel to you, after you have been cruel to me, after we play tug-of-war with your broken and my broken."

Her hands are yours. She pulls you close with her legs instead. Her blood throbs quick and mirror-silver through her thighs. You can see your whole face inside her eyes, and the vast wings of The Hero's Reflection behind you, and that hooked beak on the very edge of her eyes. Must a reflection of the Hero's heart by necessity be everything the wrong way around, as in a mirror? Or is there something Heronish about the beast behind you?

Something that yearns to understand you in order to help you, strange creature of the right-way-round?

"You can't stop me," she says. You have her throat. She cannot kiss you, teasingly or wantonly or distractingly or otherwise. "Our narrator likes me too much, even if she hopes I don't win. She has to give me a chance, yah? A chance for my happily-ever-after." Her sigh is like a maiden's first flutter of love. "For our happily-ever-after."

---

Handmaidens!

BRAVE ADVENTURERS, YOUR TASK IS TO [infiltrate] THE DREAD FASTNESS OF [the Boar's Ossuary] WHICH MAY BE FOUND [by following signs of bone on the very edge of the Khaganate].

ONCE YOU HAVE FACED THE [bored Khaganate legbreakers] WITHIN, YOU WILL RECEIVE [the damsel-in-distress, Sister Juniper] AS WELL AS [two chests full of things which have been lost and forgotten on the edge of the world] AND [a gold star for being good girls].

[Heron would have a plan. She'd lead you all into the Stacks, now a nightmare zone full of living trees and undead minions of the Rot Star, and fight her way to the Cool Skeleton Collection, which she would have Tsane assemble into a doorway out into the Ossuary. Then she'd use stealth and archery in order to disable the legbreakers without triggering an alarm, have a fight with the lieutenant that the Khatun left there with orders to kill first and ask questions later, and then comically take her time trying to figure out how to untie Sister Juniper while being a naughty flirt.]

[You cannot take the roads between hubs. Not when time is this painfully of the essence. You must ride out into the hateful Tanglewood and overcome its influence to make your own road. This will require starlight squeezed from the Golden Fawn's antlers and worked into occult tools in order to make a bubble of reality in the Outside fragile enough to go at significant speed towards the Ossuary - at the speed of plot, one might say.]

[Alternatively, Sayanastia might be able to eat the distance between Vespergift and the Ossuary. This will be dangerous, particularly given how she returned to form tonight. She might lose herself, or rather, might find herself and be lost in old memories and perils. I foresee a risk of Sister Juniper being tossed from one captor to another, one who would clasp her gently in dreadful claws and consider ways of transforming her into the crux of some new and wicked plot.]

[But don't mind me and my wicked wiles! My dastardly schemes. My nefarious plots. Really, is it so hard to believe that I'm a bleeding heart every now and then?]

---

Hazel!

As uncomfortably close explosions rock the hall (wow, cool special effects, don't mind Alcideo forming a bucket brigade as tremor after tremor rocks Vesper Victoria's on the other side of the street, isn't it unfortunate how these things just keep happening to Vespergift), you are grabbed and pulled by the wrist, away from Olesya, into the arms of...

Starglasses. A grin full of diamond braces. An insistent tug that leads you exactly where Khanum Negodincia wants you. In the center of all this magnificent dance, suddenly she's tugging you along like a planet, a wandering star, narrowly evading heartblades and kicking legs as she throws her head back and laughs. Her dress has a plume of lace pinned to it, lace torn away from other dresses and kept as a trophy. She has black studded boots on that she delights in stamp, stamp, stamping. Olesya is coming after the two of you but she's having to try and keep time and continue to be part of the dance lest it dissolves, which leaves Negodincia free to pull you along in an erratic orbit as she cackles and narrowly misses disaster over and over again.

Out of everyone who's had you tonight (thus far), she's easily the most gleeful to have you. True, in the same way that one might be gleeful to have a new trophy, but listen to her laugh, feel the way she drags you along, and narrowly evade her attempt to slap a collar on you as she comes back in so close you can smell the fruity cocktails on her breath.

A bone-rattling climax (which keeps going, explosion after explosion outside echoing the drums), and the howling of the pack all around, both happen as she gives up and falls backwards, pulling you along with her, on top of her, onto the ballroom floor (which still smells of Walking Elm smoke).

She looks at you. Not only at you, because you can tell that a flustered Olesya is above you, but definitely you're part of it.

And then she kisses you like she can steal you away from her big sister if she does it hard enough. Like you're candy that she's licking in order to make everyone here give you to her. Like someone who has seen a lot of kissing but hasn't had a lot of time to practice. And very definitely like someone who thinks that sloppy kisses are good civilization.

Take a String on her somewhere in there.

Hazel!

Your hot wolfgirl makeouts suddenly involve a lot more mustache than you had previously accounted for.

[Astral Dance: 9! Rurik does not arrive quite where he intends.]

To Rurik Vesari's credit, he does not miss a beat. He sweeps you off your feet, aims a hookshot with his left hand, and as he pulls you up into the ceiling he drops an explosive flask behind him into the midst of the crowd of shocked khagnate warriors. I do not know if you had previously considered your position vis-a-vis silver foxes with eyes like glaciers and muscles like secret agents abducting you in the midst of a chaotic and high-stress situation, but perhaps you will learn something about yourself in this moment.

[Entice! 8!]

"Excuse me young man," said Rurik, as below the Dark Dragon burst through the dance hall's double doors and unleashed a shattering Void-breath wave of destruction into the Khaganate soldiers. "I hope you do not find it too forwards if I rub your antlers for a moment? It is for the sake of love and the salvation of civilization. It is very important that I massage your antlers until the starlight comes out."

Um.

Sorry, I don’t mean to contradict, but. That’s not what happens?

No, I’m serious. That’s not how it goes.

Yes, Negodincia grabbed him by the wrist. Yes, she dragged him away. Far enough away so that Olesya couldn’t reach him, at least. But not much farther than that.

Why not?

I mean. This is a BLADE! DANCE! This isn’t getting chased through Crevas, this isn’t getting pounced on as he dodges a forest dragon. He’s on alert. His heartblade is in his hand. He just spent many, many days getting clipped by foxgirl heartblades on the arms, legs, back, belly, and suspiciously often his rear. And. Well. Look, don’t spread it around, but he really, really isn’t very fond of Negodincia. Really really isn’t very fond of her at all.

So he’s surprised when she grabs him by the wrist, but not stunned. He’s got his blade drawn, but she’s no defenseless, defeated plantgirl. He’s hesitant to stab her through the chest, but not slash her across the arm.

Did you, think he wouldn’t do that? Did you think he was so, so useless that he would do nothing but helplessly squirm as Negodincia - of all people - dragged him off? Carried him away from Olesya, who he promised to help? Refused to see him as a duelist worth dancing with? Made out with him on the floor?

That’s

He’s not stupid, you know.

[Rolling to Defy Disaster with Daring. Hazel is willing to sacrifice his image of sheer defenselessness: 5 + 4 + 0 = 9]

Now, the rest of it? That does happen. Sort of.

Hazel doesn’t make out with any foxboys, because he’s not making out with any wolfgirls. But he does get scooped up, he does get abducted straight skyward, and he does nearly jump out of his skin as the explosive flask sounds off behind him and the Dark Dragon roars off beneath him.

Does he learn anything about himself in this moment? He does, actually. A few somethings, actually.

“Is there a Kidnapping Queue that nobody told me about?!”

Thing the first: He’s perfectly capable of babbling sensibly in a crisis.

“This is! Hrk! Not! Ngh! A good time!”

Thing the second: He’s completely incapable of slashing at someone when they’ve got him swept off his feet and flying through the air.

-ding!-

The light of Civilization shines from the charm around his neck.

The eyes of his kidnapper shut in a narcoleptic power nap.

The yelp of a Fawn rises as he falls.

Thing the third: He forgot to specify what, precisely, would happen to anyone who broke the rules.

It is a very educational moment.

[For getting under a deerboy’s skin in a stressful situation, the handmaidens take a string on him.]

A minute alone can feel like hours. The frozen hands of a clock entwined. But it is also quiet. With no Aadya, Yuki sits and cradles Eclair. The friend she didn't leave. She stayed, so her friend left. Always a choice, always someone left out. There was no certainty in any of this. Only the doubt of forever wondering what could have been down another path. Wondering if there was another Thellamie out there with a Yuki who had sprung up after Aadya and left Eclair to awaken alone. Was that Thellamie the dead end path, or was this the dead end, simply awaiting its few fleeting moments with a choice that cannot be sustained before its pruned out of existence to make way for the better Yuki who knew how to make better choices.

The steam clears out of the air and Yuki's skin prickles with the cold from the door. She feels Sulochana's arrival through the rush of air through the door, the hint of perfume that flutters past her nose before she really senses it. And then she is swept up. In warm coils and the closeness of Eclair's body pressed together with hers, miraculously still asleep. Or perhaps not so miraculous at all, for all that she had seemed so desperately to need it.

At first, Yuki simply buries her head in Sulochana's coils, in the stomach and the side, inhaling her friend, pressing her face deep into her. She keeps her arms around Eclair, doesn't worry about how her shift bunches up against the two of them and enjoys the feeling of Eclair snuggled up close to her shoudler, the three friends all pressed together so deeply.

There is, then, no time to kiss Sulochana and we will all have to wait for another day to determine whether that two is the right path or the path that sends all of Thellamie to a new dead end. Instead, when the snuggling is done, there is a flood of words.

"...Civelia poisoned..."
"Super cool assassin fan vs. heartblade knuckles, like I didn't even know you could..."
"...and then I interrupted it with a towel cuz I suck but her heart was crying Suli!"
"...and Aadya's a big dumby dumb who doesn't know how to do her job except to run headfirst into a wall and and..."

"...and I'm tired Suli. I'm so tired. I can't be everywhere at once, I can't be with everyone at once, and I'm...I'm not the chosen one this time even though everybody keeps expecting me to be."

Yuki!

The Nagi princess makes faces. Several of them, actually. The kind that an honest girl can't help but pull when she wants to say something but is trying to keep it buried. And, to her credit, she doesn't prioritize herself, or argue with you, dear. Not when you're like this. Instead, she cups your chin and makes herself say: "I should have enough time tonight to, to rent you out a suite. You can stay in! You and Eclair! And then by the end - if you haven't gone to bed - we can stay up and talk about the ball and wait for news that Aadya's been a great big hero, and maybe I'll even bring Hazel along, and there won't be any need for talk about chosen ones, not here."

She smiles. It's a little strained, I must admit. You're not the only one who's coming loose. That connection with Hazel, that one magical moment, and now she's swept to the side like a worm trying to evade Purnima hassling her for a rematch, hoping that someone else doesn't steal his heart, wondering what happened to all the gifts she tried to send him during the reconstruction efforts, trying not to think about the fact that Eclair is a wanted criminal, trying to be good.

She wants you, one way or another, Yuki. She wants time with you, to scheme with you instead of having you run off behind her back to scheme with Karn-Pana, to flop onto you and go limp after she's crushed the ball and figured out a way to make Hazel all hers (romantic, possibly; pet, possibly).

And she's trying to be good.

---

Eclair!

You wake up with your face plastered against Nagi tummy, and in this moment, for just a moment, you imagine that you are snuggling with one of your mistresses again. That you have been plucked from the Order, based on the arcane whims of dragons, and that you are a doll snuggling with a vast presence that loves you. That you can hear their contented rumblepurring, that you can feel the way that they have wrapped around you, that the weight of a great paw has you pinned to the ground, that you are here and you are loved and it's your turn with snuggles.

In this moment, for just a moment, you feel love, don't you?

This is important. It will be on the test.

---

Handmaidens!

Well. That's a plummeting Rurik. There's an obvious problem, isn't there? And he was doing so well. Someone should definitely catch him, if there's anyone among you who happens to be able to fix an obvious problem like this. After all, Heron's certainly not going to come do it for you. That being said... well, the employees of the Chrysanthemum are rather capable. Why, there's one saving the Golden Fawn just now. I'm sure that they'll be able to pull out an emergency sex trampoline if necessary. (This is the Chrysanthemum. All the regular trampolines are in storage right now, since the Great Phontasia's carnival routine is on hiatus.)

But it's likely not going to be Sayanastia, because she's once again the subject of attention. What do you call the definition of insanity, darlings? And here she is trying once again to storm Civelia's party and make it all about her, struggling through shining azure chains that can't quite seem to hold her back, but--

"Enough," the Khatun declares, seizing the Dark Dragon herself from behind. "Enough of dragons." She is a huntress; of course she knows how to wrestle. She rams her heartblade through Sayanastia, and then pulls her into a suplex. And though she grunts and has to pick herself back up afterwards, she still suplexed the Dark Dragon. And she laughs.

Heron doesn't laugh like that. Not like that. That's the cackle of someone who's enjoying herself for the first time this evening. Someone who has been wanting to do something like this all night.

Mark a Condition, once again.

But I can't give you a complete disaster, can I? All right, then, a little nudge from me, a little twist: Aria Thendragon stomps over, still trailing toxic smoke, and tries to shove the Khatun off you, Sayanastia; her teeth are bared and her eyes are alight with fury that someone else is getting the opportunity to put you in your place.

So, naturally, the Khatun tries to stab her heartblade through Aria's eye.

As they squabble, the Dark Dragon has a moment for the ceiling to stop spinning and come up with plan B...

---

Hazel!

You are counter-swooped.

One moment you're plummeting down to the ballroom floor, and the next moment someone's got a firm arm around you and you're swinging rather perpendicular to the whole falling thing which was going on, and you get a view of all the fighting that's starting to break out, once again, over you, over you being the most special boy in the whole world, and how did Yuki manage all this?

And then you're jumping over a railing, onto a carpet, and hustled into a familiar cafe, and someone is pushing a spiced apple cinnamon cider into your hands.

"We've got a moment before everyone comes trampling up the stairs looking for you, I think," says a familiar voice. You look up, disoriented and befuddled boy that you are, into the beaming, indefatigable, relentless smile of Alcideo, who is not going to let you get overwhelmed in his holy temple to the pleasures that Heron shares with all Vespergift. "Do you need more of a breather than that, Cutie?"

...the cider feels good, doesn't it? Its heat is radiating through the cup and into your sweaty palms in a way that I am very certain are bringing back memories from Yukisearth. I have a nose for these things, and so does Alcideo, and we both know that there's definitely something here.

Sayanastia the Dark Dragon did not have any thoughts as she hurtled backwards through the air towards the floor. She was a pure manifestation of her concept, above comparison, beyond reflection in media. Had she gazed into the deep lore of Yukisworld, she would not have found any sort of affinity with Worf son of Mogh. The idea that a reputationally invincible blademaster, defeated time and again by an increasing variety of opponents, and born aloft only by a lack of self awareness as the defeats rack up, used only as setup for more serious threats...

Couldn't be her.

After all, she still had 985 Explosive Flasks in inventory - and she hated having an inventory. In fact, having an inventory bothered her more than anything else that had happened. Not just tonight, either, it was possibly the most irritating thing that had ever happened to her. It was one thing to lose as a perfect avatar of herself, one thing to stand as the pure ideal of entropic annihilation and universal sleep, one thing to stand as the avatar of all that was not against all that was - even if that dream had faded, even if the rage had dimmed, she had only ever been a pure form of herself. But what did it even mean for her to throw alchemical fire in a glass bottle? Unable to fight her own battles. Unable to liquidate matter that was under her direct authority. Unable to fight like a fucking dragon -

"Enough of dragons!?" said Sayanastia, picking herself up from the floor where . "I'll make you wish you were fighting dragons."

ITEM - DETONATION FLASK - TARGET: ALL

It was a stupid, stupid rhythm. Put hand into bag. Produce flask. Throw flask. Repeat. Her inexperience with a sword did not matter. The fracturing of her cosmic hate did not matter. Her past defeats did not matter. That this world was built over the top of her bones did not matter. This world may have long ago solved for Sayanastia the Dark Dragon, but it had not solved for 999 detonation flasks.

[Fight: 7!
- Create an opportunity for an ally
- Seize a superior position]

Oh, there was a thought after all. It clarified as the inventory ticked steadily down towards zero. It was: This was effective. More than effective, it was entertaining. Why had Heron never used these? Was she stupid?

Does Eclair Espoir feel love? For even just one single waking moment where the mist of dreams is still blending into solid, calculable reality?

That question isn't worth the bother of asking, let alone answering. What do you think?

Eclair is gentle as she slips out of the embrace. She does not push her way out or make any attempt to force things to stop, but simply tucks her shoulders into the natural spaces left by a nagi's coils and slides through the extra space before it can constrict tighter around her. Then she slides gracefully across the wet floor on her knees, and plucks her mask out of the water.

"Hm. Yuki Edogawa. And..."

She frowns, looking at the nagi woman. She fetches an old notebook out of her pocket and flips to a page about two thirds of the way into it and browses the passages written there with one fingertip for guidance to keep from rereading the same start of a sentence five times. With a sigh, she snaps her little book shut and pockets it again.

"I don't seem to have written down your name? I suppose it does not matter. We meet again in any case."

Her voice is cool as frost, but the smile on her lips and the light in her eyes are the dawn breaking over that frost. She plucks a cloth from her uniform and begins to dry her hero's mask, a task which takes much longer, much more focus, and much more meticulous action that its small size or simple design would suggest. Rather than prioritizing speed or even efficiency, she seems to dote on it.

"And yet again you find me a shadow of my true self. Even I am beginning to believe that version of me is the true mirage, haha. Regardless, I..."

Hesitation, and a tilt of her head. She places the mask on her face again and presses it tight so that it will not come off. Mayzie designed the Mystery Builder's costume not to be fully obscuring, so it would be a stretch to say that Eclair disappears. But for once in her life she is taking the notion of masks seriously, and she allows the mantle to affect her posture. She dips into a bow, different from the many curtseys she's offered Yuki across the many times their paths met when both of them were smaller. Not to mention more closely of a height.

"I have no idea what it is I wish to say. But those are my troubles. Tell me, have you come for sword lessons?"

Did she feel love? Stupid.

Sulochana should never take up poker. Her face is like gazing at one of those ancient bath mosaics that captures the major stories of a saint's life. Just piece after piece laid out so clearly in a nice clear line, each piece of the story in a perfect frieze.

It's a pity that the story she was telling was so pained. Not even wrong. Just...she yearned so hard. Like Aadya yearned so hard. Like Juni...no actually Juni used to yearn like that but she found something else and now all her yearning was narrowed and different and that was really beautiful. But Suli hadn't gotten there. She might, she might find that special something with Hazel, and Yuki wanted to support her. But then Suli also wanted to be selfish and greedy and the feeling of her need overwhelmed a moment that was supposed to be for Yuki, sent her mind hurtling into its own set of contemplations.

But then, most of the time, Yuki's a much better poker player than Suli is. She's a dexterous girl, too, and she'd done the classic vulnerable girl pool shark routine right out of the gate until everyone in her high school knew not to mess with her (or found it funny to let it happen to someone new) so she understood the feeling Suli was feeling. It wasn't wrong either, and well, there's only so much a vulnerable girl can take before she decides that she's not going to get what she wants and gets back to playing the game.

Lucky for Yuki then that the moment of kitten cuddles and snake snuggles passed so quickly like the beautiful dream it was. And Eclair's not the only one putting her mask back on. There would be time later to talk about Eclair's heart. The heart that Yuki had seen. The heart that screamed in pain in the middle of what should have been the coolest duel in the universe. But you don't rip the heart out of someone who just put on a mask. And there would be time later. Yuki would find the time. That's the conclusion. She's going to force time to her will and will make the time. She will make the time to get Purnima Karn-Pana somewhere better, and she'll find the time to help Suli get where she needs to be, and when Aadya crashes out, she'll land somewhere and Yuki will find her and comfort her. And at the end...well...it will work out or it won't and she'll just have to see how it goes.

Her tail flicks exactly once, sharp and prim. "Yes, sword lessons in a hotel room. We'll have to let the ball sort itself out because I am not passing up this opportunity for sword lessons. I need to do something different with my heart blade. The axe is great, but I need defense, and something faster, and I saw the Khatun draw a dagger from a heartbow and it was magical. I didn't come to Thellamie to NOT learn how to draw out a heart knife on command."

She turns to Suli and grins and it is a genuine grin that hits her eyes because the key to a good poker face is to really feel what you're selling. It's a genuine grin, it's real and it's kind and this is Yuki, it's just not all of Yuki because the other part of her that cried for Aadya is too tired to keep crying out for something she's not going to get right now. "Thank you for coming Suli. It means more than you'll know. And...take my word for it that the Mystery Builder whose identity nobody knows is not a criminal and is not a threat to Civelia or the faun or, I think, anybody except maybe one person, but that's a secret." She gives her cutest wink, and follows that up with a quick hug for Suli before she gathers up her silver dress in her arms and beckons all three of them to exit, leaving the sauna cool and empty.