Anarion

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror (and Solarel)

Crescent gives you a relieved nod. Yes, she’ll do exactly as she was asked. She’s quite the obedient pirate, really. She must care a great deal about the offer she wanted to make Solarel, but the what and the why of it aren’t there with the information you have.

She’s a different sort of mystery for another time though, no time for it now, not when you’ve got to make your way across the room again, right? Though Valentina does indeed stumble. The shiver as you touch her arm runs through her whole body and she moans. Oh yes, she bites her lip, and with all the ambient noise and music it’s doubtful that anybody else can hear it, but you can feel the moan run through her, that beautiful “mmmm” and of course you hold her tight so that nobody sees her stumble as it takes her.

It’s a busy night for you though, there’s just so much happening. The Zaldarian show is starting, and that means Mayze is up next. And the way Solarel is looking at you, she dressed that way for you, didn’t she? It’s just a lot to take in, so much history and so much happening all at once. How are you handling it?

Solarel

That look you gave Mirror, she saw it. Crescent has already agreed with her instructions, and she’ll position you for the big show, and for the Zaldarien show that’s starting now. But, something is about to happen, you know Mirror well enough to tell. Just watch for another moment.

***

Dolly

Jade seems a little distracted. A question for you. How well does your neural mesh go the other way normally? Do you get any of what Jade is dealing with, or are you in the dark?

Of course, now that Angela is comfortable, she has started to chat with you again between shows. “...loved the strength there. You seem like you’d love those boots hm, do you think your goddess could jump further if you wore them piloting her? It would be a sight, even I admit that, maybe you can buy them if you advance far enough in the match for a proper reward. Or offer to model them, hm? That seems more your style. Maybe I get you in just the boots and nothing else sometime.” She’s grinning and enjoying teasing you, she even gives your bundled up body a little jostle.

Jade

The Zaldarian, whatever else they may be doing, does appear to take a hint. You see a rapid exchange of information with Nine Forests, both spoken and hand gestures simultaneously. Given your displeasure, they are doing it intentionally quietly so that you won’t be bothered until there is a presentation ready for you.

Presently, Nine Forests steps forward with a deep bow. “The Zaldarian says that his name is Marik Ka’Stockar and pays his obeisance to the goddess Smokeless Jade Fires. He wishes to make an offering...” Nine Forests gestures to the Zaldarian, who holds up a small data stick. This sort of data stick can hold a variety of data, up to a simple AI system. It could be dangerous, you’d want it scanned carefully first or read out to you via an external system. Nine Forests continues, “Marik claims that it contains information on your…um [fellow gods] whom you do not yet know. He asks only for your promise that we do not destroy it and then he will offer it to you freely and take his leave.”

The term “fellow gods” is a Hybrasilian term relating to spirits of a certain overall rank and power. Nine Forests is using it with some uncertainty. In the mythological sense, she seems to be interpreting the Zaldarian’s offer as something like a meeting of equals, spirits somewhere lower on the metaphorical pecking order than great creator deities, but higher than small or minor spirits. These would be spirits somewhat like Jade herself, or similarly spirits of very old trees, large rivers, or lakes, hence the choice of term.

How could he have known all this? Did he hear about you? Extrapolate from what you said in your match earlier? What do you do with this offer, Jade?

***

Isabelle

For sure you’ve unsettled her, she’s flustered. She wanted you to lead so she could follow, and instead she’s fidgeting, can’t sit still with your attention on her like this. She shakes one of her legs rapidly up and down in excitement and doesn’t even seem to realize she’s doing it. She’s blushing, you can see it even in the dim light. Her eyes are on you, but they’re on you, she can’t keep them to your face, she’s thinking about all of you, your breasts, your body, your butt. She’s not very good at hiding it, way too flustered, but way too deep to be self-aware, at least so far.

See, you gotta be careful of the nerdy ones, you never know what they’ve got going on. Because of course she wants your money and your patronage, she wants you to springboard her to power and glory, and of course she’s turned on by you. But look at the hunger in those eyes, the way her whole body is agitated. This one, Asil Marina, she wants to own you! She’s imagining what it would feel like if she had you tied down, helpless, the ropes pushing out your breasts, your belly. She’s imagining running a finger along your side, pressing in with the nail, drawing a thin line of red upon the skin until you can’t help but let out a yelp and then teasing you for it until you blush crimson.

[Take a string on her for your entice, you’ve got her dead to rights if you feel like it, even if you may not have expected what that was.]

If you think about it, specifics aside, this shouldn’t be that much of a surprise though. Asil isn’t just a random nerd. She’s the nerd that put her stuff on display for one of the top crowds in the known galaxy. The nerd who wanted it badly enough to push through layers of applications and contests, to sell herself, and to put herself out there even knowing that the most likely reception is a footnote mentioning that she did something similar to Linterna Brilliante with less polish (and gosh, weren’t they jerks for not coordinating better with the amateurs? They had all the time and money, and they just ignored the first part of the show and didn’t care).

Now, here’s the thing in all this. You’re setting the pace, absolutely. Asil is flustered and you’re holding the cards. But that intensity she’s got, it’s making you let something slip. So tell us, if not her in so many words. How could Asil Marina get you willingly alone and tied up for her to play with as she pleases?

***

The Fourth Fashion Line by Guildmaster Marinius Trilaka

We won’t bore you with the extended history lesson, but it is a big coup for a Zaldarien to be participating in this show. They don’t have fashion houses in the same way as TC does, but they do have crafting guilds and Marinius Trilaka is renowned as a master craftswoman among the Zaldariens. Her hold (Trilaka, the fact she shares the name is an honorific) is not far from TC space and they’ve been relatively friendly to trade since the Arena games started and the active conflict broke off, though most people are still hesitant.

All that is to say, Marinius brought several of her artisans with her to the show, and they appear to be working furiously to the last second to ensure everything works properly with the models. They fuss a bit with each one even as they walk out onto the stage.

This Zaldarian line is showing off a more modern look. Traditional Zaldarian formal clothing is made up of long, flowing robes, and more casual clothing tends to loose shirts, tunics, blouses, and tailored pants. Marinius has gone for tighter clothing designed to move with the model’s bodies. Most of the models are TC (as that’s what was provided with the show) but two of the artisan attendants are, somewhat awkwardly in their movement, also participating in the show, showing off the cut of the clothes that reveal copper and bronze midriffs and long loose arms.

As the models make their way out onto the carpet, though, the true effect of these clothes is shown off. The clothing that Marinius has worked is infused with nanobots to an extent normally only seen on core Zaldarian planets, and each piece of clothing is granted its own small spirit in tune with the model showing it off. As they walk the nanobots reshape the clothes themselves. This isn’t like the holograms or the neural mesh from earlier. This is real-time materials refabrication (with a bonus for modesty that the nanobots can create an opaque fabric cloud as they work to hide the body while the garment is being reshaped). The first model goes from a tight curve-showing short shirt to a one-shoulder longer blouse that grows loose at the waist and flutters, and then as she reaches the end and turns, the garment reworks into a backless shirt combined with a trailing scarf that flutters up behind her with the motion of her twirl.

The others are doing similar things. You see garments switch from short skirts to long dresses and back, legs revealing and then hidden and then revealed again. The fabric can change texture, rough and textured into smooth and silken for different stylings.

The two artisans, though they move awkwardly, show off the look on a Zaldarian body. One is avian, the other somewhat canine, and they go through a series of different changes to show off their features. Their garments almost seem to flow along their bodies, perhaps due to their greater comfort interacting with Zaldarian spirits than the normal models, so that the canine one can leap to all fours as she reaches the end of the runway and the dress she was wearing moves fluidly to a collar and a cape that runs down the shoulders while leaving her elbows and knees free to pivot as she turns and races back. Those who recognize Zaldariens will see that she had an intense blush, but carried it off with aplomb despite her embarrassment.

Marinius herself stands at the head of the stage and gives her each model and her students a hug at the end. This is a big deal for her and the way everyone is appreciating her work seems to have moved her deeply.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

“You wave that sort of money in front of me like that, I’ll think you’re trying to stuff it down my breasts, girl.” But Madame Toldeo is smiling wide, and it’s not actually the money that got her. You really got her with the weather effects, you could tell from the way her eyes lit up. The tails not so much, seems like she’s already seen plenty of Hybrasilians and Zaldarians and doesn’t think much of you trying to imitate them, but that first idea of a dress that trails mist and light, that gives you your own environment as you move through a room and can still adjust for everyone close to you and far from you, that has her feeling inspired. And a woman like that, she hasn’t felt inspired in a long time because so many things are rote to her, business that she’s done a thousand times. But this, setting it up, supporting it, taking these technologies and doing something new with them, new even to the people who have come from across the galaxy, that she is excited about.

Isabelle, Madame Toldeo really shows off those strong thighs as she picks you up into a strong and affectionate hug. You can feel her press you tight, and no this isn’t just something for everyone as a personal affectation, this is what you get for pulling her in and making her see the stars again. She wants this, she wants to be with you, now, wants to be a part of what you’re making.

Emidio can see this is something special and he’s got all his notes happening as well as getting carefully out of the way as Toldeo closes in on you so he’s not blocking anybody’s movement. When she finally lets you go, she’s still beaming. “Teresita Bioluminescence, that’s the young designer’s brand. Too long if you ask me, but it’s memorable to say out loud, less so in writing since nobody ever gets it right, you ask me. But no mind that. Sit here, watch the show and I’ll introduce you. Teresita I can get out for you now, the others you’ll need to get after the show if you can catch them. If not, I’ll be sure they get your offer and that it’s received very favorably!”

Then she walks away to grab the mind behind Teresita Bioluminescence, though not before giving you a kiss on the cheek as she departs.

[Take a string on Madame Toldeo.]

Teresita Bioluminescence is represented (headed? You’re not sure and Madame Toldeo didn’t make it clear) by a thin, somewhat scrawny woman with short hair in a pixie cut who joins you at your table. She’s wearing white tuxedo pants, a white shirt, and a teal blue double button vest for the evening, not currently displaying any of the tech she was showing off, though she’s got quite a number of monitors with neural mesh links on her left glove for various things, probably controls for some of the drones, or at least status screens. She introduces herself as Asil Marina, lead designer. Hands you a card. Paz is still here, he’s eating up this exclusive (too much?). This girl though, she’s not sure what to do. Folds her hands awkwardly. Looks at you, opens her mouth, closes it. You’re too important, she doesn’t know what to say. It’s on you to make the first move here.

***

Dolly

You’re being held by two goddesses. Or…of course you’re being held by one goddess and one very strong woman, how ridiculous that even your blissed out mind would equate the two. Just watch the show, no more thoughts.

Jade

The vastness of the hangar must be something, even for a deity like you. The scale of being within Akar the Arena really is something. The pilots may be gone, but that leaves the engineers to bustle like hive insects as ships great and small move things in and out of the space.

You are, of course, very focused on your priestess and your new prey. But, you’re also having some work done. Angela Victoria Miera Antonius may not have been able to really hurt you, not with Dolly’s lovely dancing, but you were bitten by quite a large number of gnats. Each one, though it has no effect upon core systems, leaves a little part of your body feeling not quite perfect. Internal diagnostics indicate that this will only affect your overall performance by 0.01% (your scenario planning module has come up with a very small number of scenarios where modification to aerodynamics at that level of precision affects the outcome of combat, mostly involving long range ordinance with unexpected payloads at precision distances), which is to say that it’s not important, but on the other hand, a goddess deserves no less than perfection. So, it must feel nice to have engineers working over your body and fixing all those little gnat bites, smoothing your great metal skin and ensuring that you look pristine as a goddess ought.

Your team of Hybrasilian engineers is, of course, well-trained in work on you. They are also well-trained in ensuring that someone unknown does not approach you without making appropriate supplications. In Dolly’s absence and in an unfamiliar hangar, that at least includes a hangar ID card with authority to outrank the engineering team. The mysterious visitor here, however, has no such card, and your attention is first drawn to them as they start gesturing vociferously and signing to the outermost of your engineers on the edge of your docking bay a story below you.

The visitor is Zaldarian. You do not know them. You’ve never actually met a Zaldarian before (having been incarnated too recently to have fought in the war) but the programmers whose work attracted your essence provided data on them. Thus, what you recognize is that this Zaldarian is in the traditional form: they appear as a bipedal bird-like creature with dark dull-iron skin, and wearing a set of loose robes that leave only the face, neck, and lower arms exposed in what the Hybrasilians understand to be traditional Zaldarian dress. This particular Zaldarian is wearing black with gold highlights around the neck and edging of the cloak down the sleeves and along the back. Your data does not indicate whether the colors and dress have any specific association with a Zaldarian community or sub-group.

Your engineers probably will not let this visitor approach you. Sensors do not indicate any weaponry, however. They are simply an unexpected guest with a strong desire to meet you. Do you intervene?

***

Solarel (and Mirror)

Crescent is taken aback by the attack. She specialized in fighting Zaldarians and came into this encounter extremely prepared for that. She obviously did not brush up on TC anime culture to the same extent and the called attack confused her, so that rather than going for an opening, she went defensive and didn’t expect the hard roundhouse kick, which shook her.

[Crescent marks Frightened, one of two conditions before she would be taken out]

Left on her own, she’d probably have stayed defensive, tried to get back on top of the situation and moved it back into her rhythm. She’d have enjoyed that in her way. Even in the dim light of the booth, Solarel, you can see the way she adjusts, her lithe motions, the strength behind her swaying body. Hybrasilians are attractive in a fight and seeing one start to take it seriously, knowing what those paws of hers are capable of, it’s hot.

[Crescent responds to the Fight by taking a new string on you.]

But then, you hear an old voice, and it’s calling out a command. Crescent hears it too, and she’s a catgirl who understands the tone of command and is used to following it. She changes tactics instantly: she drops out of her defensive stance, leaps against the booth wall using all four paws for balance, and then pushes off before her momentum even settles, shooting herself behind you. There’s an instant of pain, the feeling of claws tearing into the neck right where Mirror said to hit you, and then you slump in place and you can’t move your lower body, the connection’s been severed.

This is temporary. Your nanobots, directed by your body’s needs and any local spirits you’re carrying with you, will repair the damage if you’re left alone. From how fast the pain was, it probably wasn’t even that deep a hit, you’ll be fine in a few minutes (well, you’ll still hurt, but you’ll be functional). You can still speak and gesture, can look out and see Crescent standing in front of you, and behind her, Mirror holding a Consortium woman possessively.

Also, be reassured that your dress was not touched. This was a single clean blow at the open neck and your clothing and all your scale decoration remain untouched. You look rather like a broken doll at the moment, beautiful and pristine, legs simply unworkable.

This fight wasn’t ever about really hurting you though. Crescent stopped immediately after this, leaping out of arm’s reach and balancing herself on the edge of the booth seat. She’s looking at Mirror with respect, back at you with desire, back at Mirror with uncertainty.

Mirror

Mirror, you probably don’t know this Tigress. She never served on any science stations where you were, and she obviously didn’t know TC space. It’s possible Solarel mentioned her once, but their fight was brief and more meaningful for Crescent than it was for Solarel herself, so no guarantees you have that connection to make.

She knows who you are though. Well, no, she knows who you are now, you were just on a lot of very large TVs a short time ago embarrassing your current date.

She addresses you by your star name. “Whispered Promise, my star name is Waxing Crescent Moon. I was…speaking with this Zaldarian just before you passed by. I wished to make her an offer, but she insisted on a contest of dominance first and I granted it. I hope I have done you credit. How can I assist you?”

She’s giving off a mixed scent of fear and heat. She was enjoying herself, got thrown, not hard to see. She’s nervous about why you intervened, some of the fear is that she’s done something to offend you, and her body language is respectful in the self-introduction: fur down, back straight rather than arched, facing you directly with her stomach open. She offered only her star name though and didn’t offer a clan. Might be a pirate. Hardly surprising in this area, but worth consideration. Also, isn’t it nice speaking with another Hybrasilian? Much clearer than everybody else.

***

The Third Fashion Line by Linterna Brilliante

Mirror, this is the one that Valentina said she liked, useful pilot tech in addition to the fashion.

There’s a brief pause after Murasaki finishes, as the stage is reconfigured. A new platform is laid atop the existing one with a set of stairs and open underneath it, creating two tiers for the models to walk simultaneously, one directly above the other. The supports are spread out, so a model could reach down and touch the model below her through the sides at most points.

The line is interesting. Stylistically, they did focus on pilot garb: flight suits with pants and vests, a few matching three piece suits that look comfortable to move in for more formal occasions. Modern and extremely well-made (close inspection shows the quality of the cut, seams, and styling are just absolutely top tier). But what really makes Linterna Brilliante stand out, and why they needed the multiple levels of walkway, are the gadgets. The first pair have a set of high heeled boots that are obviously designed for improved mobility and wrist cuffs that offer leveraged strength. The lower model, with the boots, repeatedly leaps into the air, and the upper model catches, swings, and tosses her, then the lower model comes down on the other side to be caught again and swung back into her walkway. They continue to advance while doing this, performing three stunts through each open section of the walkway platform.

The next performers have boots that can either stick to a surface with high strength or do some local gravity alteration, you’d have to get really close to tell which. Their paired walk is both of them rotating themselves around the upper platform one behind the other, and using just their feet.

Several models after them do variations of this. Linterna is still a fashion house, after all, and they want to show off their suits for cold climates (fur lined, with accents at the cuffs and the neck and big fluffy hoods) and their suits for hot weather which mix a more revealing look including the models’ very pretty open bellies and a bit of high tech environmental regulation and liquid monitoring software.

Their big finisher is a set of paired models. These two are in formal dress, both in tuxedos with gloves and tails, tight cut, revealing their curves under the jackets. And they’re putting on a magic show for the audience. They’ve got setup with watch style gadgets and something worked into the suits that’s giving them a light show and some limited conjuring. This isn’t anything as complex as on the spot fabrication (though rumors are that the Zaldarian showing next will be pulling that out), this is more about lasers, holograms, big shows of animals running about with them, one of them pulls a rabbit out of an actual top hat (that was definitely in there but the suit let them obfuscate the trick and offered some pretty neat visual distortion), they the two models do another round of acrobatics near the end, this to flashing lights and soundless fireworks. The whole thing is showing off a kind of glamorous and formal utility. Look how well these clothes move, how they hold up through a performance, how you can be stronger, faster, more mobile!

It’s an interesting take for haute couture, less flashy than either of the previous ones, but better executed than the amateur designers. It’s a little hard to tell where Linterna Brilliante is coming from on this though. The show would have looked like this from designers who failed to read the room on regular expectations or from designers who had nothing to prove and wanted to just revel in their own work. Most people will give them the benefit of the doubt given how well their clothing sells, but it’s hard to be sure.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"Have I told you about curses yet?" Giri's mother was stirring the pot. For dinner, not magic, it was a lovely stew flavored with spring leaks and a hint of cinnamon. The evening was sunny, the sun was still out and wouldn't set for another hour yet, and it was warm without having yet reached the summer heat. Giri had finished sweeping and was sitting with a book as her mother spoke. She had been studying magic for a few years at this point, knew some sigils, a basic calling for the most minor sort of demon, but still her breath quickened.

"It's a good night for talking about curses. The farmers tell their stories of such things on cold fall nights and in the dark of winter because it produces fear, but you don't want that when learning. It can make them go awry. Curses aren't just magic. Oh, you can give someone boils or rot a few crops with the right spell if you really want, but that's brief, no different than putting conjured fire to poor use. A real curse worthy of the name comes with emotion. It comes with hate in it, with spite." Her mom looked nervous even in the spring light. Stirred the stew a little more, tasted him, sighed with contentment. "Real hate, you've got to feel that in your heart and your soul. It's got to be strong enough that the speaker will ruin themselves for it, will offer anything, desecrate anything. When a person feels that way, even one without any magic, they can bring doom upon the source of their hate. Someone with magic like us, or someone with an ancient right or a high station, they can bring down something lasting, something hard to break. That's a curse, a real honest to the gods curse. That's why we talk about it on a night like this, when things are good and we can stop and enjoy this stew. Because when a curse sets in, things can get bad and stay bad. They'll follow a person or a place they're cast on, and they'll ruin and ruin and ruin. Sometimes they follow their children, their friends, even bounce to the people who try to help them if they're strong enough."

She sighed, sipped the stew again, and offered it to Giri with a smile. "It's good, try it." Only after they had eaten and drunk, wine as Giri was already in her teens, did her mother continue. "You may be called on to break a curse someday. Tread carefully. A curse may not be yours to break. Ask first. Understand if those afflicted are innocent or guilty and why the affliction is with them. Most curses are best broken with symbolism appropriate to the wrong they stem from. Forgiveness, even belated will often do best. Children are more easily forgiven by magic for the sins of their parents, grandchildren even moreso, but those who have learned nothing may find the curse never broken and you will only harm yourself intervening for them. Being a wise woman requires that you be wise. It can be a heavy burden on these matters. For most people, a curse is like a storm. It comes, it passes, it is beyond them. But if you have the learning of it, then a curse is more akin to a rabid beast: dangerous and powerful, but you can hunt it, fight it, trap it. And therefore just as a hunter will be called on take responsibility for the problem of such a beast, a witch may be called on to be responsible for a curse. Be wise, Giri."

***

Damn it mom, what the hell was wisdom in all this? Uusha had a Right, gods be damned. She was many things, but stabbed, wounded, holding the role of the stag and following the ancient ways, she had a Right to this. A deeper one than Giri's promise to the Red Wolf or any penance for her blood magic on unwilling subjects. And here was this curse spewing forth like a flood, a darkness that would wash over everyone here.

Giri had a debt with almost everyone on this deck (and was sorely lacking a certain Rakshasa at whom she'd gladly have directed the whole thing with glee). Even the fool priestess and her spirit of Venus, that had become a tragedy and she could not inflict this on them, they were not the target of Uusha's ire. To the Red Wolf, a debt of service, to Piripiri two debts of life now, to the maid a debt of service. To Uusha herself, a debt of protection.

Only the knight she did not know, who had done no wrong, and her friendship with Kalaya, who had. Kalaya. Why? Did you so disagree with Uusha's methods that you would do this? Was it the prophecy, did you hope in this madness to protect Ven? You don't deserve this, but you've done a great wrong. A wrong not only of harm but of the special sharp sting of betrayal to her own order, her land, her people. That drew the curse, called to it like the blood-crazed hound it was.

Giriel looks at Kalaya, eyes pained. She prays to every one of the planets that you can forgive her someday.

Then she raises her arms outstretched, palms out, the oldest gesture of warding there is. She chants in the old tongue, the tongue of magic, and what she says is "not here, not them. Seek thou the heart of thy betrayal and them alone." And then she points, and her finger is upon Kalaya, alone upon the deck, and the great shadow that ushers forth from Uusha has its direction.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

She's not dead.

Giriel blinks. Looks around her. The teahouse waitress. She might never stop thinking of Piripiri that way. She was there first, the obviously too well-informed waitress. She carries herself like one too, even when she's demonstrating her full dragon-blooded strength, still moves like a waitress. Always serving. Giriel will hold onto that, might even bring it up someday, but there's little enough left of her to talk now. She's just grateful she's not dead. Not even on fire! Like she didn't owe Piri enough as it was. Some debts simply can't be repaid, you can only try to be someone worthy of what you received.

She shakes her head, trying to clear it. The tinkling of Agata's collar drowned out by the sound of the barge still plowing through land. Three demons to counsel now. One of Venus. Never had she imagined that a spirit of the goddess of love could know such despair.

"I want to have a life that is more alive than 'I guess the fexin leaf is strong enough that I won't kill myself today'" the words rang in Giriel Bruinsteads head over and over. Was that the first true thing she'd ever heard from the little masked priestess? She'd overthrown the General for that. Ha! Madness. The highest sort of madness, the kind unmoored from any miscreation. No cosmic grudge this, nor ordained mistake of nature, nor antagonist from beyond the realms. No, this was the sort of madness that existed entirely for itself, for its own sake.

So she had three demons to counsel now.

The Rakshasa was gone. Well, the Rakshasa wasn't on the boat visibly, that was basically the same as gone in her case. Heavens willing, she'd actually fallen.

What then? What was Giriel's duty now? She stood slowly, her muscles straining. The net was heavy, but she was a strong woman, and she had something to do as she took in the deck. She picked it up with her and gazed at Uusha and the Red Wolf. Ah, there was her prophecy, the combat between the Red Wolf and Uusha, all the doom she had seen. And Kalaya throwing herself into it. Will they hear her, perhaps?

Giriel steps forward. Into the combat, into the heart of it, placing a hand over Kalaya. "Stop!" she says, for what good it will do. Her body will do more. "No more fighting. No more chaos. Not here, not now. Peace, above all, whatever it may take." Her glare is for Uusha and the Red Wolf in turn. And it is on Cathak Agata that she lingers. Let them go, stop the boat, focus on what must be done, and let Kalaya and Petony drag Uusha away.

[Giri will spend her string on the Red Wolf to influence her and ask what it will take to make her abandon the fight and let the knights go free, dragging away Uusha if they must. She may simply do it given that Giri is cashing a string on it.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

“Sure, yeah, I can work with that. In fact, this will be fun.” Crescent smiles and licks her lips, showing you her fangs. They’re thick and long, and you have just enough time to catch the metallic gleam of what seems like some slight strengthening from nanobot technology before she plants her paws into the bench and hard shoulder checks you into the wall.

It’s relatively lucky that The Jungle has such a strong Hybrasilian aesthetic. If this wall had been all concrete or metal, a part of your body might have broken and even if it could have been regenerated with nanobots it would have really hurt! Instead, you’re slammed into a wall of hanging vines and ivy, which still fucking hurts but not in quite the same debilitating way.

Crescent is taking advantage of the power of Hybrasilians in personal combat though. Being a head shorter than you, she’s got a low center of gravity and that lets her rebound like a gymnast from the hit and have her balance faster than you. You catch a glimpse at your cores before she goes in for a punch to the face, claws out. She’s fought Zaldarians before and not just at long range like your mecha fight, she was checking to see how your energy was doing and whether she needed to brace for an explosion.

Oh, one other thing before you hard launch into a fight here. If you wreck the place or disrupt the show, you will be escorted out of the building by a lot of guards, important pilot or not. No seeing Mirror or the Hybrasilian designer tonight if that happens.

So, response to this?

***

Mirror

“I…I…” Valentina’s breath is hot, intense. Definitely the first Hybrasilian she’s ever kissed. You can tell she liked it, the way her tongue brushed your lips. She wanted more, wanted you. She’s so unsure though, and you can see the way her mind is going. There’s an internal decision happening there, a woman who’s getting tired of feeling that unsure.

“Yes” she says and means no. She looks like she wants to kiss you again. Stands up instead. Straightens her back. There’s a blush in her cheeks. She wants more. She wants to know what your tongue feels like. In her mouth. And in other places. You’ve got something over her here, but she’s not falling all over herself, not yet. Honestly, it’s impressive poise all told, you’ve seen trained huntresses that would collapse into a mewling mess over less than this. But not this woman. Valentina de Alcard has pride and she’s going to hold herself together through the fashion show come hell or high water. After though, get her alone and you could curl her into the palm of your hand.

[Take a string on Valentina de Alcard]

You watch the stage for a moment. The next house is starting. Murasaki from Shiki. They’re an odd one. They don’t incorporate any modern technology into their designs at all. All traditional techniques, hand-sewn embroidery and stitched long robes. The most sophisticated piece of tech that goes into their designs are tools powered by electric motors. They manage beautiful lines though.

There’s something else odd. You’d drifted with Valentia a bit further from the stage, you’ve still got two shows to get back, but you notice that there’s some kind of fight in a booth near you, a Hybrasilian Tigress going after a tall Zaldarian. Almost looks like Solarel in fact, though the light is dim in the booth and the glint of pink scales and a very feminine cream dress don’t particularly speak to you of the former Zaldarian champion.

***

Dolly and Jade

Angela’s eyes go wide for a moment. She stares. At you, at your paw, the bodies close, the softness over her face, no sharp claws of any sort, but that pressure. And you call yourself the jackal for your huntress, isn’t that something. She doesn’t know what to make of all that, your impish tail curling around. And then Jade cuts you off and oh no, oh no, that face, that glare building and building. What…what’s she going to do?

And then she has it. Angela humphs and grins, so wickedly. “You are through then? Your goddess does not wish me to know anymore? Fine, little imp, you clearly cannot be trusted to sit with me by yourself.” With one hand, Angela pulls the tablecloth clean off the table near you all in a swift motion, the oval vase of pink flowers in the center barely shakes. Then she’s got her hand on you, and the linen cloth is over you. First over that arm, the one with the mesh, she knows what that looks like, she’s a pilot! She knows you didn’t touch her, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous, and so arm first, pinning it to you safely wrapped in cloth. Then around, pulling your legs together tight, so the knees touch, and up over the tail too. Now, only now does she pull your arm from her face, you silly kitten. She’s pinning you, wrapping that arm against you too, tight to your side, pulling you into a cocoon of tablecloth. You pulls it once more around your whole chest, pressing your breasts in, you can feel the constant pressure of the wrap against them too, and then with a final cinch she pulls it tight and knots it about your back.

“Mm, now, now we watch the show, little Dolly. Murasaki is my favorite. You’ll tell me yours when it’s done, aye? Assuming your goddess permits you speak again before the night ends?” Then she hefts you over one shoulder and positions you to look out over the railing with her. They’re showing silk robes with beautiful designs on them, embroidered with trees and flowers you’ve never seen before from a planet you’ve never visited.

So, good luck moving now, enjoy the visual treat. How are you both feeling about all this?

***

Isabelle

Madame Toldeo looks only slightly stern at being fetched by your attendants. She expects this to be worth it, she’s a busy woman and the showing of expensive dresses takes a great deal of logistics. Every model must be at the top of her game, must show the fabric and the make and the design to its fullest. Many aren’t used to the traditional fabrics from Murasaki of Shiki on display here either, though you’ve seen them before, they are popular with a certain kind of elegant upper crust on TC Prime.

But anyway, the point here is that Emidio is very ready to take notes and Madame Toldeo is impatient and would be more than happy to snap even you in half if you’ve wasted her time.

Also, a word of warning to you. Adriana Teresio is a woman of style. Sponsoring a fashion house would get her attention because it is a declaration of style. You would be a patron of the arts, the prime model for their work, beautiful, powerful, and therefore valuable. Sponsoring two houses is a show of extravagance, but you can’t just wear two competing designs at the same time and expect to look good, you need aesthetics. You’d better have a plan for putting your two choices together into something new, something really spectacular. If you don’t, this might backfire on you.

So, what is your plan here?

***

The Second Fashion Line by Murasaki

Murasaki of Shiki is all about the classics. They’re showing a mixture of long dresses, kimonos, and court robes with wide sleeves. They emphasize pinks, blues, and purples interlaced with gold and silver. Embroidery on the outfits is focused on Shiki: local flowers, birds (real and mythological), trees and mountains, the bright sun of Shiki setting over water.

The thing to understand about them, as Mirror has already noted to herself, is that the work of Murasaki is all low tech. They make their dresses with classic sewing techniques and locally grown or raised fibers. The most sophisticated they’ll get is a sewing machine powered by an electric motor. Patterns are hand drawn and hand cut, the artwork hand-stitched for the most part, perhaps a bit of machine stitching if you look very closely. No nanobots, no projectors, no neural mesh, nothing hovering or doing weird light shows. Just classical beauty. Murasaki has nothing to prove, and the house’s line is them exalting in their planet and its unique beauty.

The crowning piece is a dragon robe, a long gown with wide sleeves depicting a mythological beast from Shiki’s tradition (and a shockingly high number of other places it seems, giving some credence to the theory that celestial dragons are a real sort of being that roams deep space). This robe is in bright pink silk fabric, and it is decorated with a pattern of gold and silver waves that run across from the shoulders down to the waist on both sides. Rising from them across both sides of the chest is the great dragon in gold and some kind of precious green gems woven into the fabric. Its mouth is open and a roaring red gout of fire blows forth from it in triumph towards the sky above. It’s quite the sight, and it sparkles and glimmers with every step of the model, who carefully waves her hands so that the sleeves sway and shimmer in the light but never obscure the dragon.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

"My home? Oh you wouldn't..." There's a moment there where De Alcard hesitates. This is a rote answer, the kind she's given to a thousand other people within TC who only asked the question to be polite and wanted a learned answer. You're familiar with that, Hybrasil has set greetings, rituals among different groups and careers, the Huntress Lodge has a thousand such traditions some stricter than others.

It's an interesting thing about De Alcard though. You can really see the exact rate at which her mind is moving. Too slow or too off balance from all this to fully catch herself before slipping into her learned patterns, but fast enough to always catch herself. She's been doing it all night so far, and during your fight. She's careful, thoughtful, just, well, off her game a bit.

The thought is occurring to her too with this catch. So she stops instead. "You wouldn't have heard much about my home, I should think. I suppose you know that in TC being close to the center is everything. TC Prime counts its population in the tens of billions, and I'm quite sure Secundus has cleared a billion as well, they're most probably nearing two." She sips her drink as she mulls on that, perhaps imagining TC Secundus growing ever larger. Likely many opportunities for work there.

She continues though. "Other places, they're for the resources, you see m'lady. Nobody particularly wanted to live on Alcard. The light is very red there and not very attractive. Gravity in Alcard is on the heavier end as well, the planets in system have heavy metal cores, very dense. Mm, I apologize m'lady, I'm sure I'm boring you with all this, but talk of metallurgy is expected of my house. Alcard is so named after the Alcard family, my family. My Great grandfather started the mining colony that produces some of the arms and armor in the galaxy and I'm proud of our work. Though it is apparently still some miles behind the best that Hybrasil has to offer." She takes another sip of her drink, not too much at once, and looks down at you from over the glass with a pointed expression that says she very much understands how she ended up here.

"I'm a third daughter of course, but I was lucky to have the potential for piloting, so I was not consigned to record-keeping or having to go off and start my own branch family in a new mining base somewhere in the system. Alcard has only one inhabited planet you know, but we've got little asteroid bases dotted all over, and I'd guess we're over ten million souls all told by now. Everything and nothing all at once. And you know, not a whit of what I've seen compares to your beauty, m'lady."

She lets the conversation lull for a moment there. You've walked clear across the stage floor through the crowd, chatting and sipping. It can be assumed that she's fine with your brief modeling stint, having raised no objection and being in no position to do so, and you've very nearly reached the bar, where there's some activity and even an overturned stool from what must have been a brief fight a short while ago.

The main show will be starting in a few moments. She's gone through two glasses of the bubbly stuff she's been drinking from the waiters and downs her third quickly before setting it aside. Don't think she's forgotten the offer of a kiss, indeed it seems like she's been sipping so much of her drink to work herself up to the matter. She considers for another moment, but the alcohol has made her bold, and she ultimately bends down on one knee like a squire and takes you close gently, carefully, ensuring that she has not overstepped.

Has she, or will you grant her the kiss she wants?

***

Isabelle

Isabelle, Isabelle, Isabelle, this is simple, you've played this game before. Emidio, he is tired and hard-working and he would like to have something that is easy to write and something that will get lots of attention. He might like to do some good in the world besides, he surely hasn't gone into his line of work for the wealth and the luxury despite attending parties like this.

"Emidio Paz, at your service" he says. "I write for La Nueva Opinion, covering their culture section. As you can see..." he makes a sweeping gesture to the room, carefully avoiding knocking a passing waiter "this is the heart of culture for the galaxy these days."

Really, the trick isn't Paz himself, you understand, he's basically telling you that he's willing to call you important. You could probably get him to write that heart of culture bit straight into the article praising you if you make the right sort of joke at this moment and ask if he's talking about you. The trick, the real trick, is that you know much more than he does about what would please Adriana Teresio, and you need to navigate that without displeasing your family in the process.

The woman is bold, hard-driving, and extravagant. She painted her mecha entirely bright red after all, and dueled people in and out of it in her fiery youth. It's simply not good enough to be thought well of, and she's in the discerning camp that will notice your moment of hesitation in your earlier match. If you want to impress her, do something powerful here tonight, something that shows you've already learned and grown from the previous experience. Maybe become the patron and poster child of your favorite designer, and then simply drop the action right in front of Emidio? That will displease your family and present a real risk to your business though though. Sponsoring something this big, it's terribly wasteful, it won't come cheap, and others in your family might disagree with you as to whether the likelihood of getting Adriana's attention is worth the risk you'd be taking. But of course, doing that right is what would get Adriana's attention in the first place. You could come up with something less extreme than that, but the more risk averse you get, the less likely it's really going to sit well with Adriana, that's the tradeoff.

***

Dolly

Angela clucks her tongue and with that outstretched arm, she wraps it around you and pulls you close to her. Oh, little Dolly, this big, hard-working woman with her strong muscles is really very much, isn't she? She's looking so intently down into your eyes, that arm holding you tightly, so very strong.

She holds that gaze with you for a long moment, keeping you pressed against that soft, long, satin dress so close that you can feel the weight of her thick leg against your chin. She holds you long enough that you blush and lower your head, and that seems to satisfy her. "This isn't an act, little priestess, aya, you are not joking with me."

And then, then she picks you up, straight off the ground! She hefts you so that she can put you on eye level with her. Oh, gosh, she's so strong, outside of Jade you don't have any way to resist that strength, do you? You could fall back on Hybrasilian instincts and scamper away, find somewhere very dark and quiet to hide, but Jade wouldn't like that and you wouldn't really like that either. It's very nice to be picked up and held, isn't it?

She holds you at eye level and speaks to your face, very close, her breath hot. "You, goddess, you think you can toy with me, ya? You and your little priestess, you're good, I'll give you that, but you think yourself untouchable and it makes you arrogant." She snorts derisively, the breath tickling your nose. "Well you've made yourself an enemy today, and I'll be starting by keeping your priestess for the night."

And with that, she settles in a chair that peers over the balcony to watch the start of the fashion show, still holding you very firmly, Dolly.

The others up here, they've seen all this, and they're all wondering if she got it right. What are you going to do?

***

Solarel

Your tigress partner hauls you into the booth roughly, though not unkindly, she ensures that your pretty cream dress is properly tucked under you and not at any risk of tearing, then slides in directly next to you. She's barely said a word this whole time, just that opening joke, but now that she has you in a private, quiet space, calm and in hand, she's got some things to say.

"Yes, I know you and you know me. But you're not the only one of your species I've met. I learned since the last time we met, Solarel. You walked over us because you had new gods, I understand it now. Gods we'd never met, gods that spoke to you directly, even gods you hunted." The thought of that, it makes her heart race, her muscles tense. Crescent wants that hunt for herself. Might even be on that hunt right now, with you the prey. Your pink brushed scales glimmer in the dim light of the booth and for a moment you truly imagine what it might have felt like to be hunted by a cat through the twilight, stalking every closer.

"You're going to be mine tonight. I'm going to show you a good time, Solarel, I'm going to show you just how I let bygones be bygones" and she bares her fangs and presses against you harder than she was. The feel of a Hybrasilian must be so interesting for a Zaldarian like you, taking in energy as you do. She's small and soft, but this one is strong and sturdy too, muscles developed and coiled, ready to pounce. She's underselling how well she knows your people too, this pressure, it's good, she's reading your body incredibly, putting in energy in all the right places.

She leans into you and whispers so very close. "And when I'm done, if you're very good, I'll tell you about a place where you can learn all about my gods and yours."

***

The first fashion line by Prime Couture

As you all converse and settle, the main show will be starting.

Prime Couture is the most famous fashion house on TC Prime. They were started by the Teresio family some years ago, and have developed into a large fashion house that snaps up promising designers and employs a veritably army of artisans putting their garments together. It's known to be somewhat vicious: if you join Prime Couture at all, you're already top talent, but if you want to break out to be famous in your own right, you're competing for a tiny handful of slots with several hundred equally bright designers.

Tonight is a premier under the house brand showing off a new line of ball gowns styled "for an expanding galaxy."

They open with their music, a lazy sort of opening guitar that rises into a tango accompanied by drums, synth, and a rolling baseline as the models begin coming out.

The dresses here are all about the fabric. The house seems to have obtained neural mesh imprints of vistas from across the galaxy, including from several Zaldarians and Hybrasilians and they've made a kind of printed fabric that shows off the landscapes upon the models. The long gowns are woven wide and with long trains in several different cuts so that as the models walk and then turn, it's like a distant sunset is walking past you, or a lush lake, or sweeping spires patrolled by vast and wild nanobot spirits. There's something really special to these, like seeing through someone else's eyes and each dress is its own unique perspective with accents and emphasis as the viewer saw it. That means the sparkle and shimmer of the water beyond the leaves for the one, and the strong powerful silhouettes of the mechanical gods in stronger starker contrast than the other, their spiritual overlays making the empty terrain between them look dim by comparison.

The final model, walking alone, wears a dress with flying high shoulders and a vast cape down her back wrapped over the interior dress visible from the front. The landscape is not on the surface, but rather is a view from a pilot exploring the ringed nebula. Or perhaps some kind of composite view. It's impossibly wider than a single pilot could be at a single place, like gazing upon the vast rings of star matter from the vantage of a god. The rings of the nebula crisscross in different colors, circling the shoulders, running along the cape and down and back through the sparkling front of the dress in a wild rainbow depicting this cradle of stars.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"What in the five maidens?" Nothing about this makes sense. Nothing. A Rakshasa captured a handmaiden of Venus herself. She had captured Giriel too, she had everything in the palm of her hand, and now here she was, being saved by the lion? Or killed in a more permanent way as the dust seemed to be saying. This was madness. The Rakshasa was being tackled by the General who could very well start to regain her powers if she saw enough actual combat, gods forbid circumstances actually allow her to command soldiers!

Everything about this was going mad, and though the boat flying over land ought to be the least of it, the leaves and twigs lashing Giri across the back made it feel like the most pressing. Yes, even over the firewand. It fucking hurt! "This is your fault! You stupid priestess, why did you do all this? Why bring the Rakshasa? Why summon the spirit of Venus? What was the point of it all? Goddamn you, you can lie to everyone else, but if you're going to burn me to death at least offer me something, gods damn something to take with my hungry ghost!"

[Giri staggers and lashes out at Zhaojun. She is spending her string immediately. Zhaojun, if in the middle of all this chaos you tell her something real about your motivation, take an XP.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

Valentina de Alcard gives you a cool stare. Definitely royalty, not a woman accustomed to being told that she’ll get three quarters of what she wants. But you did beat her, and you can tell she’s leaning into the station that deserves, so she’s ready to be the follower tonight. She didn’t stop you when you took her hand, and she lets that purr of your reverberate through her own body before nodding, once.

“Alright m’lady, you granted me my boon as the loser. So tonight, your wish is my command. Lead me where you will.” She brushes her other hand to smooth her skirt, lets it ruffle down to the midnight base and faces you with her full chest to let you lead the way.

And gosh, where did she get the old speaking style? You’re pretty sure that isn’t how most TCers talk. They’re supposed to be all mining folks or flashy dumb pilots who you beat up with their own arrogance. Maybe this is just how everyone from Alcard talks? Or maybe she’s just got a thing, or she thinks this is how to address a Hybrasilian. Or her conqueror. Lots of options.

Of course, she doesn’t leave you hanging, she’s already starting the friendly chatter. “...would prefer they get the young designers out faster, they’re always impractical, don’t you think m’lady? I’m here primarily for the ball gowns from Prime Couture, though I admit some interest in what Linterna Brilliante premiers since it might serve both of us in piloting and they’re always so known for their forward thinking. I don’t mean to dismiss the need to find talent, far from it, but I think they would be better served premiering for specialists, experts with an eye for talent who can help them improve. Premiering for all of us will subject them to such extensive criticism for just a handful of well-received pieces.”

Admittedly, the designer out there now showing a neural mesh enhanced suit jacket is a bit over the top. The assisted handstand and cartwheel was stiff but even if it had gone perfectly a lot of designers would have said it was a bit much. But after that model, the next one is a young designer who’s trying to integrate drone technology into the dress. Actually, could they have modeled it after your mecha somehow? It’s not as sophisticated as the nine tails by any means, but the whole design up there is a woman in a fairly plain platinum dress with shoulder straps but with a set of five small drones painted in metallic lapis lazuli who are wheeling about the dress to join in formation, creating in turn a sash, a scarf, a hood, a drape, and then a shining multipart necklace. Their whirring motion creates constant blue-tinted light playing across the platinum surface so that it almost looks like she’s part of a river current of some sort.

De Alcard is looking too, though she may well be less moved than you perhaps? What’s next for her?

***

Solarel

Her callsign was Crescent. She piloted an average size Hybrasil Mecha, a little under 10 meters tall with long legs and narrow rounded shoulders framing the cockpit in the head. Her primary weaponry had been missiles set onto a back-mounted launcher that came over those narrow shoulders, mounted above the crystal fire drive, making her mecha look top-heavy. Since her hands were free, she carried a spear as well, but it had been the missiles that had made you approach as you did, fleeing juuust ahead of the missile chase and even taking a glancing blow from a detonation to lure her into chasing you so you could set up the shot.

You could also tell from the Mecha aesthetics that her call sign referred to a phase of a moon, but not which one. She’d painted it a deep green with a bright yellow crescent upon it like the shape moons took when angled around a planet such that only a partial amount of sunlight could reflect on their surface.

You didn’t know she was a tiger before, nothing about her suit or her bearing had been that specific, but looking at her build and stance now, that sort of overpowering direct style of blowing the opponent up before they could do anything did seem in keeping with her personal movements.

She’s rapidly crossed the distance to where you fell and she uses her build to pick you up. Well, she’s not tall enough to actually get your feet off the floor, but she’s grabbed you by the collar and she’s holding your upper body weight. She knows something about Zaldariens too, can you feel the way she’s pressing with her paws, putting the force into your metallic skin with such subtlety? She can tell what she’s doing, the kind of energy she’s giving you and it seems like she’s enjoying the game of understanding what it does to you, no fear there.

If you had to guess, yes she’s recovered from her wound and it’s a credit to Hybrasilian tech or to Crescent’s mental fortitude. You can also guess that she has not forgotten the time she careened into six separate asteroids before getting her momentum under control and the fact that she doesn’t seem all that angry is giving you vibes somewhere between flirting and rivalry. They’re not particularly far apart.

There’s also a sense that she’s…testing something? You know that sort of feeling. Whatever it is, she’s making this feel good, in fact is she?! …yeah, yes she’s doing something with her paw muscles, really subtle, like she’s twitching in a pattern. It’s not directly rhythmic, something irregular, but it’s there, a subtle flexing of the muscle in a complex time signature, repeating around once every 14 motions followed by a variation, and a part of your brain is now wholly dedicated to following that pattern and completely puzzling it out. It’s hard to even notice that she’s dragging you to a booth just past the bar.

[Crescent defines a vulnerability in Solarel to her touch. She’s also spending her string immediately to offer an XP if you let her drag you away from the bar.]

***

Isabelle
“Thrilling isn’t it?” Despite all the Lozano siblings being together, Emidio Paz knew how to slip into an opening to talk to someone in a group. It even helped to look a little tired. That was the key, actually, to look well-dressed but just a bit tired and overworked. It had that perfect combination to the rich and powerful of being non-threatening (because they could tell your clothes were good enough you weren’t there to ask for money) but also sympathetic. A person could feel that urge to clink glasses and toast tired arms to the unceasing rat race with a kindred spirit.

And so, Isabelle, you find yourself next to a man in a good quality but slightly wrinkled suit taking notes on a stylus. He grins, runs a hand through hair that’s just long enough to show he needs a haircut and across the two days of stubble he hasn’t shaved and then flips his stylus back out. It’s a lot more interesting than the terrifying woman tasked with organizing the event. No shade on her, Lucille Toldeo has that look of a woman who’s been around the block, put most of that block onto her thighs, and in the intervening years managed to learn how to command everyone around her with her eyes. It’s just, the way she greets you is that you’re a check mark and now that she’s done the politeness that check mark has been done and there’s other things to do and you know better than to get between a woman like that and her lists.

“Excellent match today” he says, a simple compliment that nevertheless tells you he knows who you are and given how newly arrived he looks that he’s a man who could catch up on the news quickly. He glances then to the stage. The first fashion line is starting from the up and comers. They’re showing something pretty intriguing, a suit that incorporates a similar neural mesh fiber to the mechas within the lining. The model is showing it off, demonstrating how it can help her move. It’s a bit thick, this is obviously a prototype and the assisted handstand looks more awkward than it needed to because of how stiff the coat is, but it’s still impressive and she disembarks the stage with a flourish assisted by the flaring cuffs of the pants.

“Bet you could pull that off” he jokes, and he looks at your dress and smiles and tells you without any words that you’re a very beautiful woman. “So are you thinking sponsorships? A new clothing line maybe, pushed by the premier of the great house Lozano?”

It’s disarming, it’s friendly, you’re already sharing a drink and it just makes you want to answer. So, are you?

[Refusing to honestly answer the question requires a defy disaster roll]

***

Dolly

Those whispers are loud as thunder, aren’t they, dear sweet Dolly? They’re the whispers of smart Hybrasilians who know how to get into places, and those whispers are going to follow them from here. Will it be that Dolly is making a bad name for them, an errant priestess? That this is what it is to be under the sway of a goddess? Will they laugh and snigger behind your back? Oh the thought of it is so embarrassing, the rumors will be endless. Jade doesn’t care though, no of course not, you’re hers first and foremost and if you want the others to think better of you, you’ll just need to be more poised, more sure, no matter where Jades touch comes to rest upon you. Especially not there!

Angela is blushing though. “You’ve got to have a game” she stammers, sounding far more uncertain. All that back and forth you’ve had, the sudden stops, the flusters and blushes has thrown her. A blush is rising in her own cheeks. She doesn’t know what to make of this attention, but she’s understanding that it is attention and she’s starting to think that you like her, that maybe you want to be close and you’re lurching about is a struggle with your own feelings.

Well, of course that’s what she’ll think when she has time to sit down and write this all in her diary along with her drawings of the next barn owl (a name that she is absolutely not giving up and also how dare you look at her diary!). But in the moment, it’s confusing and odd and she doesn’t quite understand why she likes it anyway, why that feeling of being in over her head is coming over her and her cheeks are getting brighter and brighter with her rosy blood.

“E-everybody has a game, you’re not just, I mean, not that you’d, but you did all those things, those taunts, aya what is all this huh, you tell me!” She’s stepping back and forth without realizing, setting the train of her dress swish-swishing along the floor, the sparkles catching your eye so tantalizingly. Her hand is still right up against your face and the smell of her nerves is strong enough that your sensitive little nose can catch it. It’s a lot to have a strong woman holding herself right in your face and forgetting about it all at once!

The music is starting down below, the first few dresses from the young designers starting to be on display. You might feel a kinship to them if you can ever pay attention. But you’re busy!

Do you see what Jade saw, this woman who could move so well, so beautifully and cutely and embarrassedly all at once that she deserves your praise, or do you see something different in this moment, Dolly?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

After the match

The end of an arena match always involves some cleanup and a chance to calm down and think through what happened. When the fight is done, the pilots need to leave the combat zone. If they can all fly out under their own power, that’s done easily enough. If they can’t, there are smaller ships and tugs to get things out of there and in the worst cases the scrap will become material for the arena itself to reuse in the future.

Many pilots find the flight back a good opportunity to cool down and collect themselves, though plenty also use the time to go over the details, get their AIs working on new tasks, and sometimes simply beat themselves up with their alone time. Sometimes, you have to give your opponent a lift.

One way or another though, what’s left of both combatants needs to get to a hangar so they can rest and depart the planet. The Arena itself, made as an achievement of Zaldarian nanobot manipulation, is ever-shifting but it always leaves room for copious hangar bays in each region. Sometimes they’re hidden via caves and tunnels. Sometimes they’re just below the surface. Sometimes they’ll simply be out in the open in sections of the arena outside of any combat zones. There are always directions to them once a match is over.

However they appear, every hangar is going to smell of metal, grease, and heat from the constant work. Every mecha needs its own dock: a place to refuel its crystal fire drive with dense heavy element fuel that can be converted to energy by way of the strong nuclear force, to repair and recharge its armor and shielding, and to do retrofit work. On top of that, work in the Arena simply cannot be entirely automatic, so every hangar is going to have space for shuttles and courier ships to bring in and rotate crews, attached living space for temporary stays, and storage for all the tools and materials. The result is a constant hum of activity, the merging sound of metal, power, and bustling people creating a general din and liveliness to any Arena hangar.

Once you reach a hangar, there’s the repairs and departure. Services are free, but many pilots are picky and will bring their own mechanics. Besides, modifications are permitted in the time between matches so long as you lock things in and allow your mecha to be inspected the day before the match. Very few pilots stay on the Arena itself for too long. It’s not the best place to sleep and the facilities are minimal. And after a match there is always a night to celebrate or drown your sorrows and then a day to sleep that off.

It should perhaps be noted that day and night are a bit abstract when dealing with the positions of three distinct planets orbiting the same star, but each planet in the Akar system makes an effort to accommodate shared time around the arena matches, so whether it’s light or dark when you come in, there’s time for a party, time to sleep, and time to deal with the physical and mental repairs and preparations needed to enter the next match.

***

The opening night festivities!

Following this season opener, there’s a gala special event on tap for everyone who wants to be seen. La Plataforma is hosting a fashion show on Akar Prime!

La Plataforma, originally founded in the Terenius Secundus system, is one of the largest fashion magazines in the galaxy. They distribute reviews, pictures, patterns, and juicy gossip on the latest trends and trendsetters throughout the known systems and they’ve recently expanded from TC space into both Hybrasilian and Zaldarian space with minimal objection. Couriers run their neural meshes from planet to planet, and you can also get files for both biological species and AI assemblers to make their patterns or just view their catalog of the latest styles in any form you can manage: high or low tech.

They’ve calculated that the combination of huge crowds for the matches, potential buyers from across the civilizations, and the chance to attract the pilots to sponsor designer clothing lines makes hosting a fashion show during the Arena season a winning move here. If they’re lucky, a popular pilot will maybe even appear in one of the fashions in the next match, causing it to really take off and cementing La Plataforma themselves as the trendsetting visionaries of the known galaxy.

So they’ve made a big deal of it. A really big deal. The kind of big deal that involves renting out most of a city block of some of the most populous and desirable real estate in the galaxy. The kind of big deal that means throwing out news of this thing on holovids for the past month, doing a cross-promotion with the Akar Prime travel bureau to put up adds in the arrival hangers for the planet and in all the civilian shuttles, and putting up actual, honest to gosh physical banners about this thing all around the spaceport. People will be singing the jingle for the fashion show ads for decades.

The core of the production is being hosted at the Jungle. They’ve rented out the entire building both bar and rec center, and brought in their own crew to clear out the recreation area to act as a huge dressing room and runway, while the bar serves as a viewing area (and also still a bar, making for a lively crowd!). The stage is set up on the far side of the building from the door in a kind of T-shape with the models able to line up on the long section of the stage while the thinner runway ramp is still wide enough for several people to be coming and going at the same time in a constant rotation. The whole thing is raised up over ten feet with every kind of lighting you could imagine.

Rather than try to fight the aesthetic, they’ve gone all in on the Jungle’s Hybrasilian theming: the stage is decorated along its base and lower walls with curling wide-leafed ferns. The center walkway and main stage are open, but the leaves wind their way up the sides of each wall and curl in towards participants on the ends. Vines dangle from the ceiling and the lighting has been cunningly done to mix in with the vines to create a diffuse glow from above along with the usual spotlighting, giving the whole space an ethereal air to it with only the stage itself clearly lit so everyone can see the clothes.

Partially concealed in the area to the left of the stage is a lower and smaller stage setup for the DJ and sound techs. The Jungle’s regular DJ apparently was good enough to be hired for this and she’s got a Hybrasilian fast beat girl group playing for the guests even before the models are going to get everyone ready for the final setup. In front of them is the VIP area for the photographers to make sure they can get all the appropriate close up shots.

The bar itself hasn’t moved, but the tables and chairs have been cleared out and put into storage so that the entrance is a huge open room where people can mix and congregate. Wait staff offer champagne and wine, while the bar has bottles with liquor in every imaginable shape and color, some even gleaming and sparkling in the ethereal light. The only furniture items are a few covertly placed drink drop-offs around the sides of the room and a small section of chairs set up to the front right side of the stage reserved to account for elderly or infirm guests who wanted to attend.

But wait, there’s still more! The upstairs section above the stage has been opened up and turned into a two tier balcony viewing area with yet another set of photographers, VIP guests, and its own bar specially set up for the space. Stepping away from the balcony railings offers a space with standing tables lit by deep purple uplights to allow for people to relax, chat, and step away from the glamor for a moment into the shadows.

Not content with this full out building setup, there are also two overflow rooms in the building next door and cameras are set up to locally broadcast the whole event. The overflow rooms are getting a perfect 3d recreation in real time, while everybody else is getting whatever their home setup allows for. When this is done, neural meshes of the event and impressions from the top critics will be shipped out of the system and across the galaxy.

Outside the buildings, guests are lined up on the street and the area is full of life, light and noise from all the traffic. A route has been set up for small shuttles to ferry people directly to the venue as well via a second-story entrance. The smell of sizzling street food fills the air as local vendors have set up at the entrances to the block just away from the lines and they’re making a variety of barbecue buns (meat and veggies of all types and all constitutions) known to be an Akar prime specialty.

As for the show itself, well, it will be a party through the evening. The first hour is specially reserved for up and coming designers who entered a La Plataforma contest to have their work shown. Models are being provided for the young up and comers for free from the more established houses, and this offers an opportunity for several rising new artists to show off their clothing lines. Styles were selected on the theme of “shatter the norm!” so the expectations are for the outlandish and wild to start things out.

For the second hour, multiple major designers are premiering new lines tonight. Three major TC fashion houses are present to offer contrasting perspectives from the most populous region of the galaxy. One from TC Prime that specializes in ball gowns, one from Shiki that emphasizes more elegant and old-fashioned dresses for both afternoons and evenings, and one from Styx showing off a modern witch style that emphasizes long sleeves with form-fitted bodies. One of the Zaldarian hold artisans from nearby Marinus will be showing a new line of sleek body-fitted designs with nanobot shifting technology that allows for constant pattern adjustment in response to light and movement. These are meant to contrast with the more old-fashioned Zaldarian hold style, which emphasized longer robes with lots of fabric as a sign of wealth and nanobot control. Finally, it’s rumored that the final line premiering will be something new from the elusive designer Mayze Szerpaws.

When the whole thing is all done, the designers and the models will join the party still wearing various outfits from the show to allow for discussion, questions, closer inspection, and general festivities, and finally sometime late at night after everyone is satisfyingly drunk, they will all go home and pass out while the techs work feverishly until morning to get the whole experience imprinted onto neural mesh templates for distribution.

***

Mirror

Valentina De Alcard has dressed to kill for the night. Despite her tiny mecha, she’s not a tiny woman by any means. While not a giant either, she is a sturdy five foot five (seven in her heels), made longer by a long neck accented by sparkling diamonds and absolutely nothing else. Her black hair is up in a thick styled bun, and her dress is shoulderless, revealing the two-tier rows of diamonds upon her olive neck and bare skin down to her half-revealed breasts. The dress itself is a purple lavender that’s lighter at the top and darkening going down to its pleated base. The upper rim is bordered in black, outlining her breasts and the curve of her back, and the bottom darkens almost to midnight to match her high-heeled black leather boots.

You’d think she’d be throwing her weight around with a look like this, but she’s aimed for a look of reserved and dignified poise to start the evening and is giving you deference despite you being the tiny catgirl in this situation.

How are you appearing for the evening?

***

Dolly

“Ai! There you are!” shouts an irate Angela Victoria Miera Antonius. She’s found you in the shadows of the upper balcony, among several other Hybrasilians who love the plants and the perch. You got a VIP pass of course, given your premier match and you actually need to be hiding a bit from the solicitations to accept free clothing. But Angela came and found you through it all.

She’s wearing a fancier dress than her mecha might have offered. Long and black with a train down past her legs and a low cut neck that accentuates her height. It’s sewn with thread that sparkles and glitters in the dim light as she moves, and her hair too has been worked with glitter and is down and loose around her glasses, so that each step she takes it’s like a rainbow playing across her.

But now she steps quickly and with purpose, pulling a thin neurofiber from her gold-trimmed handbag and thrusting it in your face, close enough that you can start to see the words imprinted within it. Goddess Gags Haughty Heiress and oof, you know that one’s gotta sting even without her thrusting it in your face with knuckles that look like they’d be just as at home at a boxing ring as they would with that delicate handbag.

“What’s the meaning of this, huh? You put on an act to embarrass me? You hold back and you flaunt and you rip up my mecha, and and AND you make fun of the name, huh? You think you can get away with this? Tell me your game, Dolly Hunters!” She drags your name out too, like she’s not even sure if that’s part of the trick or not.

You’re in trouble.

***

Isabelle

You’re at the show with an entourage. Everybody wants to be seen with you, all the designers want to hire you, the photographers want to shoot you. But you’ve also got the VIP treatment. People are here to fetch you drinks and make sure they never run dry. You’ve got your pick of tables, food, and conversation before the show. You can talk to nearly anyone in the room (save the mysterious Serpaws, who makes her own mind subject to no one’s fame.).

This life is an odd sort of freedom and jail all together. You have nearly complete freedom of choice, but every choice you make is subject to attention, to judgment, to fandom. What’s it like? What’s your choice for the show? Do you hold yourself aloof, or show favor to the designers? Do you pick a favorite? Do you take gifts or spurn them? Tell us all about yourself.

***

Solarel

A hot meal and a long rest might have sounded good at the end of your match, but you're in a land of wonders and mysteries everywhere and tonight there's a bigger one at the Jungle than anywhere else to be found. You've pulled yourself to the bar and the wait staff are being careful (Zaldarians may be recent on the galactic stage, but they've had a few years to practice their agility and get used to the requirements).

You've barely had a chance to take in the sights and sip your first drink when a thick, heavyset tiger of a cat walks up to you and punches you square in the chest. "That's how your people do greetings, right?" She grins her cat grin, secure in the knowledge that she cannot possibly be punished for her crimes.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"It's my duty to banish you, on behalf of both the Flower Kingdoms and the Dominion" is what Giri meant to say. She saw the blade being drawn, intended to put out her strong hand overtop of the Rakshasa's and hold it steady, the blade still half in its sheath. This is what she saw in her mind, her other arm wrapping about the Rakshasa and holding her fast so that she couldn't flee, couldn't escape to somewhere unobserved.

But instead, she found herself nodding. Her collar jingled merrily, her finger throbbed, and she felt light-headed. The bite of the Rakshasa coursed through her like fire. Stupid a little part of her mind was shouting at her. Stupid mistake, calling to fairy without any preparations, without someone else to watch you, to watch what you caught. If the Red Wolf were standing here with you, this would be a complete triumph, she would jump in and seize the creature and you would be garlanded with flowers and have your way with your new lady as ar reward. But instead you've left yourself vulnerable and nobody on deck is looking at you.

No words of power escaped Giriel's mouth, nor did her hands draw her blade. She nodded, and she jingled like a good girl, an obedient girl. The ship groaned over the land drowning out smaller things, so only the Rakshasa could hear the sound of her happy nods that yes she was going to be a good girl.

[Giri rolled to overcome, being willing to sacrifice her self-control in the moment. Rolled snake eyes.]