[b]Handmaidens![/b] Chip damage is a concept from Yukisearth in which constant small attacks can overwhelm incredible defensive prowess. In the midst of the blaze, the Khatun stands, nearly toppled from chip damage. Tattoos roil across her body, sigils of the Demon Queen Miaou. The sort of dramatic reveal that would not have happened had someone not thrown several hundred Explosive Flasks at her. She advances like death. Yes, death, that's exactly what she advances like. Not like mayhem, rushing and furious, but slow and deliberate. But she's limping. It's like the Kel monk Xeno and his famous Paradox: if a tortoise closes half the distance between it and an honorable foe it wishes to stab with a tortoise-sized knife every time it is tapped on the shell, it will never reach its opponent so long as it is tapped on the shell over and over again. It is exactly like this paradox. Every time she closes half the distance, she is hit by another Explosive Flask. And eventually, she starts taking a half-step back every time another explodes against her chest. Her eyes mirror the inferno around her. Her clothes are glowing with heat. She is losing herself to a raging fury. She is-- The ballroom floor is flooded with sweet-scented brown tea. The Nagi proprietor of the Chrysanthemum is on an upper level, directing her staff to upend a rune-bound tub of tea which has no bottom at all. Ironically enough, a gift from a former Heron. And the tea comes in [i]waves.[/i] Enough that the Khatun is knocked from her feet and stumbles into the tea with a sizzle. It cascades over the sides of the ballroom platform and crashes into the hot springs below, and soon the entire building is full of the scent of it, warm and comfortable and soothing. "If we can't play nice with the Golden Fawn," Yaz declares from above, "we don't get to play at all." Sayanastia still stands where others have fallen or are wading through hip-deep waves of tea. I believe that Yaz takes a String, as well. Ah, dear me. [hr] [b]Yuki! Eclair![/b] I will be short and sweet, like the tea. You emerge into waterfalls of tea and billowing, delicious clouds of steam that are beginning to fill the lower levels of the Chrysanthemum. It is the sort of ridiculousness that is disarming, I think - to have to admit to oneself that this is still a world where this sort of thing can happen. It is the sort of environment where it is easy to slip away, but it is also the sort of environment where it is easy to linger - and easy to run into someone else trying to navigate through the steam and the rushing, swirling tea all about. [hr] [b]Hazel![/b] Someone, somewhere, is making a great big rushing noise. It's soothing. It's like a relaxation song file off a tablet. Have you gotten into the music-sharing scene here? You simply must indulge. Alcideo curtseys with lethal precision and saunters out, being sure to close the door behind him. Someone, somewhere, is still making the sound of running, rushing water. And it's not your problem right now! Sure, you'll have to go out there soon, and probably declare the winner ASAP, and... Oh, you're still not sure who the winner is, are you? And you could be here all night - you could be here two nights - and there would still be people desperately trying to teach you how to do the can-can in hopes that they would get to win. It's not fair, I know. But do you really think that tonight has been a success? Do you think you can do this again and again and again? Maybe you should go and ask Civelia for help. She's supposed to be here tonight, after all.