Redana walks among swords.

On Tellus, she could have any sword she wanted! Say the word, o princess, and a sword shall be provided exactly to your specifications! In practice what this meant is that she tended towards a small selection of comfort swords that she knew she liked. Even the princess who yearned to see the stars could suffer choice paralysis, after all.

But here, in the moonlight, surrounded by the sounds of water flowing, crashing, roaring, she has exactly the right amount of choices. Pick out the perfect weapon for Yue the Sun Farmer.

She comes first to the familiar, the one she would pull out if she was fighting in this duel: a slender rapier with a labyrinth for a guard, long and sharp-tipped and perfect for zoning. Bella’s had experience fighting against rapiers, and Yue’s fluid style wouldn’t mesh well with the precision required… but that’s exactly why she shouldn’t pick it out. Bella wants a challenge. She’d know that her wife had tried to stack the deck in her favor and would be incensed about it.

So no rapier. And no to the beautiful flamberge. (Named after fire, but all she can think when she looks at the blade are waves crashing on the shore, rolling in onto her feet on the beaches of Ridenki. No to the twin pair of swords shaped like fishhooks— that looks like it would just be frustrating to fight. No to the giant iron club with a bunch of studs— does that really count as a sword?

Some she draws from the earth and swings with an appraising eye: the sabers, the scimitars, the cutlasses. She imagines herself whirling, whirling, in Ceronian silks and furs, before belatedly remembering that she’s supposed to be looking for a weapon for Yue. If Yue tried that, she’d get all tangled up and discombobulated, probably!

Then she comes to the sword.

The oversized hilt is bound in leather and still warm to the touch in the cool air. The pommel, tarnished gold, comparatively large, is intricately carved with… not dolphins. Toothed whales. Sharks. A narwhal. There is barely any crossguard. The blade is long and straight, wide-fullered, tapering to a wide point. Much heavier than it looks.

The blade has swirls where once there was color. Scratches on the metal which once had meaning.

She swings it to test the balance and tastes salt on her lips. Smoke on the air. A yearning for the fight. It’s not Ceronian in style, but the Silver Divers know a comrade-in-arms when they pick them up and manhandle them.

“It’s this one,” she says, her voice breaking a little. The hilt feels warmer. Just her body temperature, surely. She takes it by the blade to offer it to Yue—

And no matter how carefully Yue takes it, Redana will hiss and jerk her hand back, bleeding from the line scored down her palm.

Blood will drip from her fingers into the water.