In a house, on a hill, by a lake (well, by a number of lakes but let's not dwell on details), less than half a day's walk from what you could call Town but more than a full day's walk from what you could call The City, a girl spends her morning in ritual. Not an official ritual, or a very fancy one, but important enough to her to repeat it every day she's home. The half-remembered tune, hummed because she does not know the words. And also because she cannot whistle. Not that she hasn't tried. But all the same it's a beautiful tune, and it lifts her onto her toes so she can dance. She leaps, birdlike, across her kitchen, minding the frying pans with one hand and the steaming basket with the other. All while keeping one eye on the kettle so that she does not miss the moment when the water reaches its proper temperature.

This is a day like any other, but it is also a very special day: it is her first morning home again after her trip to pluck the silver needle leaves while they were at their proper peak of freshness. Later, tomorrow probably, she would go through the process of sorting the best leaves out and handing them away to her friends, family, and assorted neighbors, but today? The first cup was all for her. [i]Only[/i] for her. It's the kind of breakfast Princesses have, probably.

Silver Needle is a very particular tea, requiring a very particular brew to bring out its very particular flavors. But the girl making it for herself is not very particular at all. She loses herself in her song again, and when she twirls her way back to the stove it's with a thought toward keeping the pork from burning instead of washing the leaves with pre-boiling water. She does not mind the steep either, so she can fluff the rice instead. She cracks an egg and stirs it into some diced onions so she can fry them in the pork juices, and her tongue darts out from between her lips in anticipation. It's only after she's arranged the bowl to her liking (piled deliciously but messily high) that she remembers to pluck the leaves from the water again, well after the one minute and thirty seconds where they release their best flavors.

That's ok. It doesn't bother her at all. She can drink it without blowing on it like this, you see. And if it's a little bitter then it's nothing that a dab of honey won't fix. It's not important that it be perfect. Really, nothing she ever does quite is. What matters is that it's [i]for her[/i], and nothing and no one can take that away from her. 

Does she take the first bite of breakfast first? Or the first sip of the season first? That's the only question occupying her mind. She brings the cup to her lips, and that first delighted shiver up her spine is met with a loud rumble of thunder from outside. The girl sets her tea down again and reaches for that honey after all, while she turns her head toward the window with a quizzical expression etched on her face.

That's funny, she thinks. It didn't strike her as a particularly rain-bringing night last night. And nothing about the early morning had really disagreed with the night. But sure enough the sky is growing darker, and quickly. She stops and thinks through a perfect bite of pork, egg, onion, and rice: is she forgetting something? She remembered to bring in the laundry, right? No, she must have because all her clothes had been out with the sheets, and she can never get to sleep on a bare mattress. No worries, then! It might be weird, but what's a little rain against the best breakfast ever when you're already inside? 

At least, she'd liked to have thought that way. Before she'd even had time to eat her way down into the Problem Zone where she realizes she'd added too much rice to go with her delicious, indulgent proteins and her meal was about to become half as delicious if she didn't do something [i]fast[/i], she's interrupted by another rumbling. Much louder than before, and actually if she thought about it this was really more of a roar at this point? Her dishes rattle in the cupboard. Her miscellany topple from her table and make a mess on the floor. Her teapot wobbles awkwardly off the end of her foot after she spears the handle with her leg to keep it from shattering. With a little kick that has one quarter too much flourish for how scared she suddenly is, she flips it back onto the table and busies herself making sure it's too centered to fall over and break.

And now, several things have become clear. One: this is not a storm. Weirdly enough it [i]is[/i] raining? But the patterns are unnatural, and it's much too dark for how little is actually managing to fall. Also there's never been thunder this loud or this close, so much that it makes her feel like she's in an earthquake. No, this is something else or she's a mouse. And she isn't: she's a girl. Well, 'a woman' is possibly the more appropriate term, but she's resisted using it for most of her life. And really, she's straddling the line a little bit between the two. When the light hits or right or especially when she smiles there's an element of girlishness to her that seems to fill her being. But here in the shadows? With the grim look on her face as she marches toward her front door? The word does her insult. 

She throws open the door and steps out into the storm, still in her pajamas. Her gaze turns upward and her jaw drops down. She beholds a massive floating structure of blue crystal on [i]other[/i] blue crystal, roaring like a monster and billowing black smoke and storm clouds as it passes. Too big to make any sense; only able to be taken in its totality because of how high up it is. And yet, nowhere near high enough. This thing is going to land. It's going to [i]crash[/i], from the looks of things. And very, very close by.

"Oh... goshies," observes Yue the Sun Farmer, "That's gonna be a problem."

And she's right. Because whether that thing [i]is[/i] a monster, or it's just full of them, it's very definitely evil. Just looking at it makes her eyes feel unclean. And if a monster (or monsters)' gonna come land on top of her home? You're gosh danged right that makes it her business, sun farmer though she is. Though her job is a little less relevant than her hobby at the moment. 

Into her house, she darts like sopping wet lightning into firs the bathroom (to fetch a towel) and then the bedroom (to fetch appropriate clothes), frantically dabbing herself dry before wriggling into a dress the color of dappled sunshine and seafoam, covered throughout with decorative plates of simple metal armor that, at least while she's running around her house, don't seem to confer any sort of real protection at all. Hopping, tripping with a mighty 'yeep!' and rolling around on the floor, Yue manages to wrestle her sandals onto her feet and ties the straps tight. She rolls up over her shoulder and pops back onto her feet with an even mightier 'meep!' which is not at all a frightened reaction to the latest round of crashing roars coming from outside, and rushes over to her umbrella stand.

"Um. Uh. Hm. Uh? Hm. I dunno what I, erm, oh this one's really good but-- oh maybe the big one? No no no, that's ridiculous, how would that even help? I should just grab the-- no but it's so cool though! Oh, gosh gosh goshies, how do I pick?"

Yue's umbrella stand, it should be said, is stuffed full of swords. Also one (1) umbrella. Which she grabs! Obviously! But then her hand hovers over the hilt of a big two-handed sword roughly the size of a surfboard before drifting away to a delicate silver rapier. She grabs a katana without really thinking, then makes a face like she just ate a lemon and shakes her head once, twice, three times. And then! Weeeelllll, maybe? No, no. No. She puts it back. Then picks it up again. Then puts it back. She makes another little face and snatches it up once and for all and quickly ties it around her waist before she can think about it anymore.

"There's no time for this you sillyhead! If you don't go fix this right now, this afternoon's picnic'll be ruined! Probably! Think about how much is at stake, ok?"

In the end, she takes the giant sword. And the rapier. And the katana. And a pair of daggers attached by a loop of metal wire, and a small handaxe, and lastly a beautiful silver sword with a small but ornate guard and a straight, elegant blade. She smiles as she slips it into her belt. She leaves behind the bow, which she is still practicing and not that confident with, and her collection of handguns 'cause as cool as they are, this is a [i]serious[/i] moment, ok? 

Also? She forgets the umbrella. Instead of grabbing that, she goes back to her table and grabs her teacup. Somewhere in all of this, it's gone cold. She stubbornly sips it anyway, then stares out the open door at the smoke belching, sky splitting horror descending like a Sky Shark on everything she loves. She makes a pained, fussy sort of noise, and hopping from foot to foot puts the kettle back on the heat. 

It's just! Bad luck! To not enjoy tea properly before an adventure! Probably! What would you know about it?! And while she's waiting for Cup Number 2 she's got time to go rummaging through her kitchen to find the container full of brownies she'd made the other night, the ones made with dark chocolate and chili crisp that she dotted with flaky salt like the first kiss of snow on a dark hill. Because, like, maybe monsters like brownies? Especially spicy ones? Hyra would be disappointed, but she of all people would understand if it was to save the picnic. Er, world. Whichever!

"Ah ah ah ah, hot hot hot owie owie ow!"

Yue clutches at her cup, too fresh and too hot to be enjoyed but out of time to wait, and dashes out the door with her swords rattling awkwardly against her scrawny frame. Instantly, she is soaked. Instantly, her palm moves to cover the cup and protect the precious tea inside. She's running with all her might, moving like the wind down the hill and toward the Terraced Lake.

Once there, she bravely hides behind a rock to gasp for (strategic) breath, sip (strategic) tea, and peak her head out (so, so bravely) to see what kind of crystal beast it is she has to fight. She's seen a lot in her life at this point, y'know? But this really takes the cake. Well, the brownies anyway. Which, she’s realizing, she did not bring enough of. Shoot.

How could it be anything but a monster? Or a city full of them? Maybe even a monster full of monsters. Because other than a giant plume of steam, everything she sees is terrifying, if not outright evil. 

This pockmarked, scarred monument to excess and the color blue is sitting in the lake down the hill from her house, still belching black smoke into the plumes of rapidly evaporating water that are blotting out the storm clouds it already formed around it as it crashed. She watches dozens, if not hundreds, of tubes (...tongues? Please do not be tongues) suddenly zip out of the sides and begin drinking up the lake to such excess that she worries it’s going to run dry. And from the sounds of shouting coming from all over, she can tell that other people from around the area have come to the same conclusion. Though, none of them have quite been brave enough to get as close as she has. 

Well then. There’s really nothing for it, is there? Space Monster though this may be, it (or they) is (or are!) being very rude and if she is going to be able to keep from disappointing her friends and her neighbors the very least that she can do is step up and do something about it all. Besides, hasn’t she been practicing a metal cutting technique? That should work on crystals too, shouldn’t it? 

She takes a long sip of tea. It’s delightfully warm and not at all bitter, enough to fill her belly and all the way down to her feet with the quiet strength of springtime. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. Ok girl, now’s the time to make a good first impression.

Yue steps out from behind her hiding place and draws her favorite sword. No, not that one. Or that one. Or those. Not that one either. Her simple, straight longsword with its beautiful silver blade and its minimalist guard. It’s the weapon she’s been with the longest, and the one that she trusts the most. Not that you aren’t cool, other swords! You’re super duper cool! The very coolest! Like, why else would she have brought you all unless you were so precious and perfect? But everyone knows you lead with surety. And this is the blade that goes with her dress, and the dress is what taught her she could be a swordswoman in the first place, so in the end that’s all the choice there is to make.

She settles into a combat stance, and suddenly the pieces of her armor make sense. She is guarded, as much as she is guided, by the perfection of her form. It steps like this, following like this, moving like this, and finishing like this. She points her blade at this demon leviathan ship thing, as it moans and opens its jaws/docking bays at the sight of her, and focuses all of her effort on looking as cool and as poised as possible.

“Um! Excuse me! You are being [i]extremely[/i] rude right now!” she chirps, not at all nervously, “If you’re here for a fight that’s one thing but that is no excuse not to at a minimum introduce yourself before you go sluprin’ up our lakes like that!”

Her foot slides into position, the beginning of the dance. 

“My name is Yue! Just Yue! Of the Terraced Lake! I brought snacks and butt kickings but I dunno if I’ve got enough of either so I hope you’re good at sharin’!”