Anarion

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror and Isabelle

The room dances and people swirl, and the singer sings of the rain bathing her face. Below you and above you is the shifting of people, the glinting of crystal in impossible angles, gravity that spirals around you.

It’s Kiriala who sidles closer, keeping her distance from Adriana but coming to join the dance next to you.

She offers her own answer, unasked for. “Are you a goddess then?” She cocks her head, looks at Mirror like she’s wondering it seriously before looking back at Isabelle. “If you’re not, you can’t know everyone perfectly, and if you can’t do that, you can’t always avoid hurting people. You can try really hard to know people as well as you can, but if you don’t let anybody know you then they won’t work around you either.”

She tosses down the rest of her drink and stands close, deeply intrigued by the topic.

***

Dolly

Valynia doesn’t let you go, but she’s not hurting you either. She’s just firm. Her grip strong. There’s a sound of distant jazz, but in this side room, the door is shut, the crystals darkened, and only the depths of space bear you witness from beyond this room.

“Did you only want me because you thought she wanted me?”

She’s talking to you, Dolly. Only to you. Her hand closes over yours, her fingers brushing the glove. And in that moment you feel: anger, pain, rejection, jealousy, humiliation, and beneath it all, so small and so deep hope.

What do you say to her?

***

Solarel

It’s so close. Memories of the Aeteline flicker within you. It’s not like the Kathresis at all. Not cold, not the vision of angry ghosts. The Aeteline is the polar opposite: it’s a nuclear furnace. It’s young and it’s powerful and the Aeteline knows its own power. It bathes in it. It revels in it. The great god seeks to be wielded. It seeks to move! To run! To fly! It makes you ask what it means to fly, to truly feel the very space around you bend to your power as you flex your wings. The Aeteline is agitation, it is unbridled, and yet it has sat inert for so long, unwilling to accept another pilot that fails to deserve it.

You could touch it. You could connect to that god. It’s so close. Everything is so close.

But an inch may as well be a thousand light years. Because you weren’t fast enough. You didn’t win the race.

No, the winner of this race is Angela. Angela who you fought before, Angela who dances in the circle of that young Hybrasilian, so different from Mirror, with her new goddess.

Her hand is upon you, and as she slows you, so too is Voctine who demands her own birthright, her silver blade aimed for your throat. More are coming, and more besides.

Beside you, a vague part of your senses feels the floor shake as Akaithon leaps down to lend her own aid, the impact of the jump sending energy coursing through her legs. But it’s hard to focus, hard to concentrate on anything that you need to do when everything you want is so close and yet so out of reach.

Stagger and then tell us how you reach beyond the possible.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

You’ve done your job being the focus of everyone’s attention too well. When you go, they go. It’s a brawl, sure, but it was a brawl focused around you. Angela was laser-focused on you and she’s chasing. She was the one who was holding up the empress Nialkai, so as soon as Angela broke off, Nialkai was rushing with her to chase you, full of all the energy that Angela Victoria Miera Antonius could put into their fight, glowing brightly. From there, you’ve got a split of retainers, and the empress Voctine recovering from your clash. So it’s all a chain of dominos crashing down after you, one after another.

But there’s one that was hurt a bit more than the others. Voctine was your empress. The one who gave you the Aeteline. The one who made you her champion. She is…less than she was. She has defined herself by what she lost and in so doing pinned herself to another. But in that brief cross of swords, there was something of her old self. Of the woman who hungered for the stars, damn what might stand in her way. She felt that hunger, and when you gave her nothing to feed it and then broke from her, it hurt her deeply.

She staggers after you. Not fast, not stable. Dangerous as only a woman scorned. A woman who knows the Aeteline had always been hers to give.

As you run at the head of the pack, you catch a glimpse of Akaithon, already in the hanger, undoing restraints and detaching docking latches. But there are several women, Terenian and Zaldarian both who won’t let you go.

[Roll to defy disaster however you think best.]

***

Dolly and Jade

That had been a moment where a look of real pain had crossed Valynia’s face, if you’d been looking. But it’s gone in an instant, nothing but an illusion, a trick of the light. That had been her lips curling in a sneer as she strides forward, nothing more. She reaches a hand up, and in a flash, she’s back before you Dolly, her talons barely click on the crystal floor.

“Yes, I want you” is all she says, but her voice cuts through your tears all the same. Then with a hand that is fast, rough, and strong, she yanks you, not gently, into her embrace. It’s a tug that makes your arm feel like it might pull out of its socket and it’s hard enough to spin you completely around so that one hand is over your stomach and your back is pressing against her chest. She keeps her right hand firmly on your arm, her grip tight, hands over the neural mesh that links you to Jade.

And Jade, she’s talking to you while she holds Dolly protectively, her left hand across your priestess’s body, interposing between you.

“Oh I’m not good enough for you?” she asks, and the sneer is so deep. “I’m nothing but pirate scum, is that it? Well, this pirate scum already has her prize.” She laughs, and it is a cruel laugh. Not like Dolly’s laugh, nor Angela’s, nor Ksharta’s, nor even like Whispered Promise. It’s the laugh of mockery, the laugh of Dishai the stone goddess, whose grip you could not defeat.

“You don’t deserve her” she says, and the words drip with venom. “Look what you did. Look at your priestess crying in the heart of the crystal gala, in that beautiful dress made to display her just for you. This wasn’t my doing, Smokeless Fires. It was yours. So you’ve forfeited her and I’m taking what I came for.”

With a grand motion, she rips the neural mesh from Dolly’s arm. And then, gently, slowly, ever so carefully, she tucks it neatly into Dolly’s belt as you watch, Jade.

The gesture is excruciatingly clear. Dolly is suddenly, resoundingly cut off from you, but only as long as she wants it. She could reach down and put it back on this very moment if she wanted. But does she?

***

Mirror

There’s a commotion elsewhere, but it doesn’t touch the dance floor. Marcina gives Mirror a look of commiseration for a brief moment, but you get a respectful distance. The music shifts to jazz. Slow and delicate, with a building crescendo beneath it. The band fills the dance floor with a melancholy bass, the slow building of drums, and a languorous piano.

And around you, mixing with the Hybrasilian delegation but keeping well clear of Adriana, are your family members, who have filtered in and are avoiding the rush to the hangar as well. Slates sipping a drink, Matty’s calmed down and is even speaking with excitement about something in her specialty that somebody got her talking about, and Kiriala is relaxed and watching your dance.

Isabelle
Family. That really is something. Whispered Promise has something she asked you. Does that reflect on your family, do you think?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel and Angela

They attack.

There’s a melee of chaos, and in it is a dance of love.

The two empresses are, for a moment, united. They each share a target, each move forward in their style: Voctine with her sharp, flashy advance and Nialkai with her graceful, flowing movements. But they share a direction and so they advance side by side. If it were just the two of them and Solarel, theirs would be an impossible temporary alliance to crush a shared threat.

But it is not just the two of them and Solarel. Their own retainers rush in a scrambled frenzy and so they must split like a mountain river striking the rapid rocks. Voctine slams an elbow into one of her own people, then quickly spins her before she can release the energy, causing a chain reaction of Zaldarians piled in a rush of sudden exhaustion. In the flickering lights, her body glows a sparkling energetic blue as her short dress and cape snap after her.

Nialkai ducks beneath the release of energy, the rustle of her dress like a breath of air, but then Angela is there spinning a stave and Nialkai is forced to raise her own energy blades to meet the challenge, stopping her momentum. She spins and her dress spins out and widely, brushing against Angela’s body with waves of sparkling gold and black. The force of her against Angela is like a rushing wave and it’s everything just to keep it from pulling her off her feet. But then it’s beautiful too, the stave sparks against the energy blades and Angela’s muscles glow in the golden reflected light of her dress and her body.

Solarel, what comes at you then is not a sharp attack of two united empresses, but a rolling chaos. Retainers first, pushing and shoving, some already charged up and radiating molten heat, others fresh and eager. And then Voctine will reach you first, the empress you so loyally served, who abandoned you, and yet just tantalizing out of reach are Angela and Nialkai and a whole other set of retainers dancing their way towards you.

This is the love of the steppe just for you, Varangian. The love of the whole self, of ten or twenty whole selves being poured out, shaping and rushing, stepping and twirling, all for you, all at your word, a Terenian shining as brightly as any Zaldarian amidst them. How do you manage to find yourself in the heart of this fight?

***

Dolly

“This isn’t fair” Valynia whispers into the ear that she’s biting, and you can’t tell whether she’s talking to you or to Jade. “I’m the kidnapper, I take what I want.” Her claw is digging into your shoulder blade in just the right spot, hand slipped beneath the cloak to touch you above the low-cut corset. The way you purr against her chest is filling her with a heat that you can feel through your cheek. “You’re not supposed to want it, you’re not supposed to invite it. To…to make this a fair game for both of us.” She tastes like sweat, and like wine, and like spice all together.

She shudders and it runs through you. Through all of you all the way down to the tip of Ksharta’s toes. “I haven’t felt like this since I was a girl on Terysil, since the first time I let someone…” she breathes through her nose, long and deep, and the tension floods out of her shoulders even as the claw digs deeper, deep enough to hurt in just the right way.

“I wasn’t supposed to love you…” and then she’s pressing and she’s pressing, and her hands are at the edges of the corset and her tongue runs along the exposed neck below the headdress woven into your hair, her face working its way through the soft fur. And as she takes, you hear her whisper, so quietly “are you sure this is what you want?”

***

Isabelle and Mirror

“Do you see what my dress-maker has offered me?” Angela asks, speaking to Isabelle as she twirls, audible to Mirror, audible to Marcina Villajero, hovering nearby, hooked into the role of chaperone for the evening, too responsible to fully entrust her charge to someone else once Adriana started leaning on her.

“At the greatest international political event of the cycle, no Hybrasilian would dare approach me for I am a gift to the gods. Nor can I make a daunting approach myself, their nectar makes me far too unsteady. The Zaldarians are…” she gestures, and from the swirls above you, you can see the flashing of lights and the glow of energy releasing over your head. The world moving above and around you in a dazzling display, unapproachable without violence. Do you remember the heat you felt from Solarel in that moment? An unconventional fire.

“And every Terenian who supports me finds themselves a little muddled before long. I appreciate your little drones. That’s the sort of preparation that makes you something special. But I don’t want the challenge removed. I don’t want it bypassed, I don’t want to be cheated out of it. I want to face it head on, to make everything I can from it. That’s my heart, you see. That’s the truth I’m living tonight. You need to have a heart because if you close it off for the sake of power, you’ll get lost and never find what you’re looking for.”

She looks at Mirror as the dance comes to an end. “Thank you for answering me Mira of the Fisher Clan, whose star name is Whispered Promise. I look forward to your match with Marcina when you have it. I’ll be sure to have a rose sent to your hangar as a token of good luck. I hope you enjoyed my attempts at education. I want this…kitten you’d call her, to stop running from herself.”

She grins and extracts herself from your arms Isabelle, Marcina quickly coming to help her balance. Marcina will lead Adriana gently into the next dance, offering a grin for Mirror herself before they separate. Leaving Mirror and Isabelle for their dance.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror and Isabelle

Adriana Teresio, held up again, a breeze cutting across her dress and ruffling the flowers, looks at Isabelle first.

She says nothing though, not at first. First, she slides a hand up your arm, Isabelle, to the control device and tap taps expertly, causing all three drones to gently float back and withdraw themselves.

She looks up at Isabelle’s face then, conscious despite her swoon that frozen on the dance floor, she’s garnered quite an audience, including a Hybrasilian who’s slipped among the dancers to come up close and inspect them.

“I am…more than okay. I thank you for your concern, Isabelle, though you’ve misconstrued what I needed. Even so, your preparation is damn impressive. If those are in production, I’ll take a hundred thousand of them, and if they’re not, where would you like your factory located?” she smiles, showing you her teeth, and she is not joking.

“Bold of you to show them off in this party though. I see our new guest has taken a keen interest. You there…”

Mirror, she turns to look at you, using Isabelle’s weight to move herself safely down to be level with your eyes. It’s clear that even though the nectar was briefly kept away from her head, the effect on Terenians is lasting and so she didn’t so much sober up as hold steady there for a moment. Her eyes don’t look clouded though, in that the effect is somewhat different from drunkenness. It seems instead to have affected her balance and her inhibitions. Perhaps some indication of the Terenian brain structure that it offers her clarity of speech rather than the unique vision that it offers to Hybrasilians.

“Mira Fisher, yes? The one who goes by Mirror, an undefeated pilot, hmm, I think at least, you expressed discontent with your last match. It seems I’ve attracted quite a few experts with unusual control structures tonight. But I have a different question for you. You’re the first Hybrasilian who’s approached close to me tonight. Might that be because my dress has as much of an…unusual effect on them as it does on me?”

There are several people listening to this with curiosity. But you can see in her eyes that what she wants to know is the intention behind this dress, not merely a passing curiosity of differing cultures. She wants to be sure that the challenge wasn’t simply a mistake so that she can fully enjoy herself.

The lights flicker as movement and violence play out beneath your feet, in a wider arch of the crystal spiral, but here the dancers are hanging on you.

***

Solarel and Angela

There’s a crash when the table goes, and the lights flicker as other Zaldarians slam into the walls and unleash a cascade of energy. The room shakes, but the fighters still. Even Angela, who’s about to gleefully throw a punch at a royal retainer notices the changed expression and stops.

Voctine and Nialkai both stare, recognizing you instantly. Then they both turn to each other.
“Usurping bitch, did you put her up this?!”
“Fallen Queen, what game are you playing?!”

They speak at the same time to each other. Voctine sweeps a hand past her ear, letting her short cape flare and stretching her glowing shoulders in the flickering darkness. Nialkai raises herself up, gathering all the substance and height her lavish outfit can offer her.

Around them, their retainers are looking to them for a cue about what to do, and looking to you to see what you’ll do. At first, it seems like with all the posing and posturing that they’ll fall back into bickering. But after the first round of insults spoken at once, they’re both looking at each other.

Then they look at you and there’s a different sort of greed in their eyes. “First one to bind her will be crowned an imperial knight!” yells Nialkai, and “whoever seizes her will be first of my house when I reclaim the throne!” shouts Voctine.

Angela is smiling gleefully, her opponent cast aside as she looks for an opening to take a swing at your herself. And above you, blurred through they crystal, a crowd of its own freezes to hang on the words of Mirror and the most powerful Terenian woman.

***

Dolly

You’re in a private side room in an inner swirl of the crystal ammonite shell.

This is without a doubt one of the most overwhelming experiences you’ve ever had, but the thing that you may, perhaps, be remarking on, is that this is working.

Valynia does not purr, but she has a quiet roar, a deep-throated rumbling within her as your hands make their circles. She revels as she takes the gags from Jade and shares that feeling back into the circle, pulling on Dolly even as she herself is touched and pressed in all the right places. There’s a shared feeling of relaxation and joy and Valynia herself is like a furnace, taking in fuel and outputting more and more heat.

Outside of you, the light of the stars and the lines of empires converge, but before you is nothing but gray and black speckled fur and a long tail wrapping around and around your legs as all hands are too busy to hold.

And blessedly, joyously, underneath it all is an undercurrent of relaxation, the release of tension, as someone ducking under a table Ksharta feels Jade’s touch as well and relaxes and lets herself enjoy the show.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

Solarel, the intensity of your gaze burns where it lands. It’s impossible for anyone to endure it unmoved.

Matty can’t handle it on her own. She’s soft and gentle and very shy, and when you look at her like a predator, she doesn’t feel safe. She clings to Mirror unconsciously, taking the offered arm without even being aware she’s doing it. Her eyes never leave yours so long as you have her attention. You’re like a cobra that has hypnotized her, every instinct in her body says she dare not turn her attention away lest she react a millisecond too slowly in the moment you strike. When she is held, and safe, this turns to a fascination. You can see it in her, that she’ll be going back over that gaze in her mind, tumbling it around from every possible angle, trying to understand everything that happened until she’s forced to turn her brain off entirely from the overload.

Kiriala, well we’ll get back to her in a second.

Slate stares back. She’s an engineer of a different stripe from Matty and you can see in her gaze the determination that could support someone like Mirror for a long time. She stares and bores into you, and someday maybe there’s a new battle of wills to be had there. It’s one that couldn’t be had in a mecha because Slate can never match you in that. But perhaps this is the first time it might have occurred to you that someone could match your will without matching your power.

Back to Kiriala though. When you gave her your gaze, she didn’t move. She wasn’t scared or frozen in place, but she averted her eyes, blushed, made it seem like you’d complimented her. So you turned your attention to Slate. And it’s only then that you see Kiriala come up to you and steal a kiss in the only way one possibly could from you. No request for consent and no hesitation. She took your gaze for an invitation, right or wrong, and she walked up and now she brushes her fangs across your cheek with the lightest pressure. “You’re everything she said and more” she whispers before turning away.

And then, at last, the external world forces its way in and breaks the silence. At first, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly. The murmuring of a crowd that’s different than the regular murmur, the vague feeling of a group all reacting to something specific. Then the lights cut for a moment, and as the movement surges closer to you, you hear the sound of shrieks that can only be the former and current empresses of Zaldaria having it out with each other. The crowd is gathering around them and its inexorably going to pull you in as well.

***

Mirror

You find yourself holding a very distracted Matty as everyone’s attention starts to shift away from the entrance at last and the spell of Solarel’s eyes is broken. And indeed there is the matter of the two empresses.

But you may also see another thing of interest. Adriana, intoxicated by your flower dress, deeply engaged with Isabelle, that unusual troubled pilot, who seems indeed to be manhandling your beautiful sacrifice’s dress to her own disadvantage. They’re dancing above you, visible through crystal spirals, and it would be little trouble for a Hybrasilian to slip through the Empresses crowd to reach them.

***

Isabelle

Adriana absolutely loses her balance when you pull her. It very nearly topples you as well. Your own balance wasn’t as good as you thought. Or…maybe drunk wasn’t the right word for what was going on here because holding her this close through the dance, you’re starting to feel a little woozy yourself.

It might be a good thing though. Less inhibitions to throw your brain into disarray. Enough to let you start thinking with your own brain and not your mother’s paranoia.

Adriana Teresio isn’t an unknown quantity, after all. She’s made hundreds, maybe thousands of public appearances across Terenian space and into Hybrasilian and Zaldarian space. The woman is known for being fearless and flamboyant. Nobody, literally nobody, has ever reported her a drunkard, nor the sort of actor who’d play one. She’s an actor, yes, absolutely, she knows how to play a public persona and she’s leaning into this one, but it’s patently obvious to someone like you, who’s supposed to have obsessively studied the woman, that this wasn’t her decision. This is something that happened to her and she’s playing the role she was handed rather than the role she wanted.

This is important background information because you’re trying to figure out what she wants from you in a situation where she’s obviously intoxicated in some manner against her own intentions and she nevertheless came up to you and cut in. Stop thinking with paranoia for a moment. This isn’t a five-D chess thing, Isabelle. This is a first order optimal strategy given a set of limiting constraints: or in other words, she’s sincere in what she’s saying.

Stop and take that in. You wanted her attention all along, isn’t that right? Destined to become her protege. And congratulations, you got it! And now she’s telling you that you were in the midst of blowing it and she’s trying to help.

You ever see someone stuck on a tricky math problem or trying to build something and you know how to do it way better than they do? Like you’re watching them handle the screwdriver and you can see that they’re about to strip it? Where you know that you could help and you have the overwhelming urge to step in before they fuck it up because you know at a level of deep empathy how stupid they’re about to feel? That’s Adriana, you’re the one about to ruin the screw.

She responds to your last comment, about making enemies, it takes her that long to regain her balance. “I’m telling you that you can be better, child. You can. You’ve shown that spark, but you keep crushing it.” She shakes her head, then nearly falls into you again from the dizziness that causes and everything is the smell of roses for a moment.

Let us be further clear. This is a moment when Adriana Teresio is going to determine what sort of person you are. If you can’t break out of Almira’s mold now, you’re done with Adriana forever. Even if you win the whole tournament. You can wish for her job, but you can’t wish for her trust. That’s beyond the power of material wealth and the greatest technology that has ever existed.

Now tell Adriana honestly, what do you love most, Isabelle Lozano?

***

Dolly

This is fun, right? Jade’s right there with you (sort of, she did need to give Angela her undivided attention, but you’ve still got your sleeve on and you know Jade will be right there with you any second). And that makes it okay that Valynia is back. This time you can seduce her properly! With Jade’s help and encouragement!

So it’s not a problem when her warm spotted fur suddenly fills your face and covers your mouth, muffling your meep of surprise. It’s not a problem how strong Valynia’s perfume is and the way it seems to wrap all around you through her loose dancing dress as she presses you into her body and against its folds. It’s not a problem that they’re pulling you deeping into the crystal spiral, into side rooms that can’t be seen from the main corridors. None of these things is a problem because you’ve got Jade with you, and Ksharta and Angela, and you can feel everything and – oh goddess is Angela into the Empress fight? Oh gosh she’s totally into the empress fight, she’s loving every second of this and you’ve left her unsupervised and you can feel her intensity through the bond in combination with everything that’s happening to you and Ksharta’s growing awe!

Angela

You have to duck when they throw the first punch. Well, it’s not really a punch, you know how to throw a proper punch and Zaldarians don’t do that. It’s more of a push, coming from the empress with the shorter dress and cape (she’s the old one, you think) into the one with the long dress. It’s just, when that happens the one with the long dress pushes back only…it’s not a push, it’s like she shoves with her chest energy, which is a thing Zaldarians can do, you guess?

And it definitely doesn’t seem like either of them are listening to you, but they did both grin when you offered to let them get back to it, which you didn’t really understand until this very second when the empress in the longer dress turns the force of that Zaldarian energy away from her Zaldarian opponent and hits you full blast. “Wouldn’t want to cause a diplomatic incident, you see” she smiles, and there are sharp teeth in her smile and the glow of her shoulders still faintly hanging in the air as she moves, seeming perhaps a little brighter. “But of course, when that pathetic bitch comes for another round, I will appreciate your fine support!”

But before you can do anything, there’s a tug from the short-caped empress, who has grabbed your arm and is pulling you away from the long-dress one. “Don’t let that usurping bitch get the better of you, you’ve got us going which clearly means you support me!”

So now they’re fighting over you and Ksharta is very extremely neutral right now actually and Dolly is gone because of the pirates you so helpfully directed towards her while Jade races her attention off that way. But that does mean there’s nobody else who’s in your corner at the moment.

Jade

This sure is a lot, huh?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror and Solarel

There is a stillness that hangs in the air, but it is not the absence of movement. A silence that is not the absence of sound.

Around you and above you there is the movement of peoples, the clink of glasses and the clatter of food. Music spins faintly from other rooms as dancers strike up. The murmur of chatter rumbles through the air, and from the hangar comes the occasional creaks and groans that are convergent with the fundamental nature of great edifices of dormant metal.

Matty purrs, and Kirala makes a sort of hmmm noise as she considers, while Slate is perfectly quiet. But none of them pierce this moment. No eager conversationalists dare interrupt this intimacy, nor any grand games of politics demand your attention.

Not here, not yet. This moment is for you.

Though, whenever you do get deeper into the temple, there’s some very…vivid…politics happening between the current and former empress of Zaldaria deeper inside.

***

Jade, Dolly, and entourage

You’re at the center of some interspecies politics. This is not your fault! Probably! There might be some debates about whether you were supposed to be reigning in Angela given her outfit. But mostly it’s not your fault!

You see, Angela made her way past the Hybrasilian delegation, who had quickly spread out for food and conversation anyway, especially to mingle with Terenians from the nearest planets. But Angela, boldly had gone up to talk with the current empress of the Zaldarians. She didn’t entirely know their sign language, but they’d been standing by themselves and so she had singled them out for conversation. A soft kindness to a people who found it particularly hard, with their religion, to effectively mingle with aliens.

However, her conversation, which had dragged over a few hangers on as well, attracted the attention of Voctine, the former Empress. Though she had ensconced herself deep within the spiral, that gave her a front row seat to look down on the current empress, Nialkai. And that meant that Voctine saw her hated rival not only not coming to her, but mingling in obvious violation of the Zaldarian tenets.

Thus, you find yourself about at the center of the party, and next to you are two Zaldarians and their entourages, all gesturing wildly and beginning to shout at one another in language you can understand.

Actually, it’s pretty easy to understand: “Usurping bitch!” and “Fallen Queen” echo out from each other, and their retinues are milling uneasily. In fact, it looks for all the world like they’re going to start a fight here in the middle of the party and the fact that you’re all in the middle of them is being entirely ignored as Voctine flourishes her cape and Nialkai hikes up her wide dress menacingly!

***

Isabelle

She comes to you. Falls into your arms in fact. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” It’s hard to tell who was talking, as the same phrase comes from Adriana, Marcina Villajero, and Asil at the same time. The latter because she assumed she was the one who bumped into Adriana, even though you had a front row seat that Asil Did Nothing Wrong.

But Adriana had managed to extract herself from Marcina’s supporting arms while the latter got a drink, only to swoon directly into you and bump Asil out of the way, the latter assuming that she’d simply been too clumsy of a dancer for even you to save from herself. The troubles of being a fish out of water.

It’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever heard of. Everything you’ve ever read about Adriana is that she’s a woman with complete physical control. She was the first Arena champion! Known for her extravagant flourishes and her talent as a dancer when not in a mecha. It’s utterly inconceivable that she’d be like this. She must be sick. Or terribly, terribly drunk in a way that implies the drinking had to have started long before arriving here. Though she doesn’t smell drunk. She smells like roses, her whole dress is covered with them, and the scent is heady and makes you want to swoon yourself as she draws near.

“Isabelle Lozano!” she says, voice slurred and eyes misty, and if this is an act, she’s also the universe’s best dramatist and the entire Terenian movie industry will need to cry itself to sleep that she’s usually too busy with politics and business to appear in their works. “You know, I can’t make heads or tails of you, and I’ve half a mind to stop trying and give up on you entirely.”

There’s a sharpness to her words. It doesn’t change anything about the whole drunken stupor though. It’s more like, the intellect is just really deep in there and what you’re getting is the analysis without the filter about what might be polite to say or not.

“I mean really, you’re a prodigy when it comes to the piloting, but you’ve got basically zero mental game. I thought maybe when you took that Quar, that Zaldarian knight, prisoner you had something, but I’ve got my sources and you basically let that go. You’ve done almost nothing with her! I mean come on, you’ve got a whole alien prisoner who’s choosing to be there out of a sense of honor and you, what, mostly stick to your daily routine like nothing’s changed and sneak a few meals with her? Give me a break, girl!”

She starts dancing with you, leaning her head against your shoulder for support. Marcina shrugs helplessly like, what’s she going to do, cut into your dance? She goes over to reassure Asil instead and they start up a nice slow easy dance a little away from you.

“And then your other matches. The one against Smith, and the ‘win’ you had against Ksharta Talonna. (Oh and learn their names, too goddamn many Terenians who refuse to treat the other species like they’re actual people). Absolute despair on both sides of that one, don’t think I missed it! You’ve got no read on people. And let me tell you, if you want to reach the top, you need two things and it’s not the bullshit the climbers think it is. One…” She raises a finger, ticking it off against the side of your cheek. “...you’ve got to do something special. Not the same crap as everyone else who wants the job. The frauds are the ones who all try to fit in because they have no VISION. That will never get you ahead of the pack.

“Two…” and here she taps those fingers against your cheek a little harshly “you can’t make the kind of enemies who will do anything to stop you. Even self-sacrifice. If everyone you meet decides that keeping you down is more important than even their own benefit, you’ll get nowhere. The whole world will turn against you. Damn fool girl. If you waste the talents of one of the Terenius Consortium’s greatest pilots in the elimination round because you can’t see the idiocy past your own nose, you’ll have me as an enemy. And I’m usually a much better dancer than this.”

So saying, she sways and almost topples the both of you over, relying on you to manage her weight.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"I will" Giriel smiles and ventures to give Ven a pat on the back after she stands and dusts herself off. Of course it earns the "how dare you peasant" look, but there's no fire in it, and Giri grins as Ven physically appreciates it despite herself.

She moves them over from the mud, back towards the N'yari camp. She makes a sling what remains of Peregrine's ruined and muddied dress and some branches to carry the brass arm without touching it. Best not, with what it was doing to the grass. Gets the N'yari to help her make a hot firepit full of charcoal. Did you know that a campfire is just barely short of the temperature to melt brass? But if you make a charcoal pit and get it as hot as it can go, it will do the trick.

It's not that the magic strictly requires a fire hot enough to melt the brass. A magical fire could easily be conjured that would melt regular brass with minimal difficulty. But that's not the point when it comes to an exorcism done right. It's about the nature of the thing, the meaning put into it, not the temperature. Making a fire that everyone knows can't melt brass and then trying to focus some of the magic to enhance it makes the main ritual weaker. If you put in the effort instead, the magic gets stronger.

That was always the way of these things really. It's why Giri was so strong, why she carried a great black sword and not a dagger like many witches. This is not to say that a strong witch always had the better of things, Peregrine was exceptionally gifted and thin as a willow branch after all. It was just that one way to make your magic strong was to do the busy work properly. Giri sweeped and she chopped wood. She hiked and she picked things by hand. And because she didn't take the shortcuts and she put the care and the time into each bit, the symbolism would turn out right and strong. People always forgot these things because they thought that once they got good at everything else, the time didn't matter. A lot of folks made the mistake of thinking that being skilled meant being fast. Sometimes, sure, it could matter. In a fight, say. But that wasn't the only sort of skill. Sometimes making a good soup means leaving everything to simmer for as long as it takes because if you turn up the heat it will just burn instead. And if there was one lesson, it was that if you were going to make soup for the dead, you ought to make them good soup.

So, Giriel very carefully kindles the fire. She works with Ven to draw the circle, the two of them together. Their blood mixed in the lines. Same reasoning. Blood magic isn't evil, that's the superstition. Blood is powerful because it fundamentally represents the vitality of a person. Giving it up weakens you until you can rest and eat and rebuild yourself. Giving up too much kills you and yes that was evil if you drew on it for power. But that's because taking someone else's life in the vast majority of circumstances wasn't yours to make. This though, this was Ven's blood given willingly, such as she had left after the loss of her arm. And Giri's blood given gladly. For a friend.

The black sword, too, makes for the ritual. Giri uses it to draw each line, and when it's done, she lays it across Peregrine's chest. A sacrifice, a magical implement that she has sanctified and blessed and brought before the local gods and ancestors in turn. She will sacrifice it in its entirety for Peregrine. She'll have another sword made, or find one to buy to her heft, but it will take a long time to bring it in line with her black sword. The biggest loss would be that she'd need another way to intimidate people while she was traveling. It was nice to come into an inn and be left alone sometimes without having to make your hands start glowing.

Giri hums as she works the fire and then carefully, carefully lowers the bronze arm into the firepit. Two sacrifices. One from Ven, one from her for Peregrine. The arm would be doubly effective in that its destruction would be a boon for the Flower Kingdoms, lighten the presence of the demonic, and the symbolism of its destruction matched with the ritual exorcism for Peregrine.

Lastly, she finished brewing her pot of tea, scalding hot over that same firepit, and poured three cups. One for herself, one for Ven, and one to offer a sip to Peregrine as they started the ritual. She poured the rest out and then pointedly didn't examine the leaves, instead placing Peregrine's cup facedown once she had trickled a few drops into the witch to fortify her.

Then, finally, there was the part with all the chanting and the screaming and the shrieks of demonic agony. You know that's just the showy part though, right? When you've done the preparations properly, double checked the lines and the tools, and mentally prepared, then the actual doing of the thing was the formality, the theater done to demonstrate that the work was already completed successfully. You knew you could do it, you knew they symbols were right, and that confidence in turn was something that the hells could never understand, could never touch. Because hell was a broken thing, a purveyor of false dreams and pride born of failure. An unwillingness to learn, to do better. What better way, then, to perform the chants than with the quiet surety that comes from a job well done?

Only when they were done completely, Peregrine panting and covered with mud and sweat, the arm melted into a formless puddle amidst the coals and then buried in mud and clay...only then did Giriel let out a breath, remove the tea cup, and look over the leaves. A downward mountain trail, the sign of fresh wind, the setting sun. The signs for the end of a difficult leg of a journey, if one that still required a bit of walking before finding some warm rice and a soft bed.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

You have a front-row seat to everyone coming in from the hangar, though there’s no need to bore you with every mundane coming and going. A few of note though.

The former empress of Zaldaria is deeply surprised that she’s not the first arrival, she had tried quite hard for the honor, but you handily bested her. She will give you the most perfunctory nod imaginable and then immediately scurry past you with a flare of her cape, her entourage following.

The Terenians are extraordinarily gaudy, though you may notice the one pilot making the entrance with the drone technology. If for no other reason than the way the leader of her entourage (presumably her mother, to the extent you understand such things in Terenian culture) sniffs. It’s plain as day that she’s annoyed at being upstaged by her own daughter, and more than a little surprised that her daughter would do such a thing. Perhaps something of interest given the struggles that particular pilot has had (and the murmurings about her victory over Ksharta, which made just about everyone watching deeply uncomfortable).
Dolly arrives soon after them, with a surprise special show right at the entrance to the space. You have a front row seat from which to leer at Jade. Slate’s there too, along with Kiriala, but they’re enjoying the show and have some idea what you’re about.

Matty will briefly wander off for a break, a drink, some food around this time.

Next of note are the arrivals of Charon and Adriana, wearing your dresses. Charon’s joy is such that he pleasantly greets you, though he has no idea that you designed the dresses at all. He is simply happy enough to share it without questioning why you might be so carefully observing the entrance. It’s an odd effect for a man with imposing cybernetics, but then he carries himself with a casual confidence that says he’s not afraid to break character.

Adriana is interesting. You might have expected her to grow angry with her own unexpected weakness. That does not appear to be the case, however. She’s asked for help and appears to be carrying off the role of damsel with a certain aplomb. She swoons, but her gaze still has a certain cunning to it. A consummate actress who, faced with an unexpected role, has nevertheless vigorously embraced the part. Seeing you staring, she gestures for Marcina to bring her closer. “I always appreciate boldness” she says, and gently places a rose in your hands as she enters.

Matty returns after this with Slate and Kiriala. Still no Solarel. Matty purrs, sips her drink, and nestles into your arm. Slate will stand nearby. Not foolish enough to talk. They weren’t sure who would arrive when, whether they’d even arrive ahead of Solarel, but since they’re here and no longer tied to a delegation they’ve come to join you.

And then, of course, there is Solarel, who made you wait for nearly everyone else to enter. Not unexpected, and yet, here she is, simple, bold, her eyes boring into you. Another battle, or something else?

***

Solarel

There is little enough to say. The arrivals around you have no organization nor any particular interest in you. A few of the pirates do stop to glance, curious at one of the most renowned combatants. But finding you absorbed, they won’t linger. Not when there’s good food and girls to tease who will pay attention to them. So none remain with you while you stare and you walk in alone, late and nearly last.

And there is Mirror. But then, you already knew that, she could be the whole universe after all. She could, but there are others. She’s holding another Hybrasilian like her, if a little smaller and a little more drawn into herself. Purring and freely enjoying Mirror’s touch without getting in her way. And around her are two more, obviously with her though they’re standing politely to the side. Not just Mirror, but a family of sorts.

***

Jade, Dolly, and entourage

It is Kimri who moves first among the display. It is not a large movement, but being greeted by Jade in this manner, she bows her elderly head, and it is understood that this is a motion that is very significant for her because she is old and her bones ache. And it is also understood if you see the way that her fangs just peak out and her ears curl, that this is both respectful and just slightly amused. The bow of an elderly servant who has been with a family for many generations and is acknowledging her respect to the new young master that has joined the family. Tolerant and helpful and just every so slightly too understanding.

Then because their eldest and most reverend priestess has bowed, the entire rest of the Hybrasilian delegation has also bowed and more deeply still. Angela’s scoff cuts above the silence of the entrants. “And they told me it was difficult to herd Hybrasilians.” She laughs, and it’s haughty and warm and it rumbles through her exposed belly with a genuine joy. “Very well goddess, let us see this party through your eyes.” She slips on the glove quickly, with no ceremony, and she strides forward ahead of the delegation, pulling Ksharta with her (because she too has noticed that Ksharta hasn’t been feeling in as high spirits as she ought to). “Come girl, get your glove on, drop the box, and show me to the refreshments. I want to know which of the Hybrasilian delicacies will actually suit my palette, Terenian food is terribly boring.”

And Jade, you’ve got both of them, Angela with her glove fully on and Ksharta scrambling to get hers over her hand while Angela is pulling on her, and the whole Hybrasilian delegation looking scandalized (except that Kimri is still smiling), and holy shit is that Mirror who’s been standing there watching all the entrants the entire time just gazing at Dolly’s dress while wearing nothing but her headdress????

And then there’s Dolly, who’d better hurry or she’s going to be left at the back while your entourage makes a show of itself! Jade, Jade you’ve really given yourself a lot to do all of a sudden, even for a goddess!

***

Isabelle

The Terenians applaud. It’s a really good entrance after all! There are looks of envy, and the overall effect is enough to catch the attention of the advance guard of the Hybrasilians coming in behind you (though that’s about to be distracted thanks to the temporary materialization of an actual goddess, albeit a minor one).

The real trick with this routine is going to be who’s talking about it later. The other Terenians will do so in spades. Some despite themselves, out of jealousy or pettiness. Some few in genuine praise. Because, again, it was a really good entrance.

Doing the routine as you are, you may or may not see the brief moment of annoyance that passes Almira’s face before she composes herself. It’s hard for a mother who doesn’t want to live even a little vicariously through her children after all, and you absolutely did upstage her. No elegant, graceful entrance with Almira at the front for her, not with Isabelle putting on the fireworks. But of course, when you’re done, she congratulates you for your creativity and is the first and most vocal contributors to speaking loudly on the matter when the later guests arrive.

In the meanwhile, there are empresses to consort with, and some Hybrasilians with a goddess (not to mention the undefeated pilot who’s practically in the nude who watched your entire routine with her little entourage). And there’s the arrival of Adriana Teresio herself. The most powerful woman in the Entire Terenius Consortium. Though she doesn't seem quite herself, swooning as she is with the leading pilot and former champion holding her up. Is this what you expected? Do you think it’s an act to lull you into a false sense of security? Are you bold enough to go and talk to her, entourage and all? Or will you keep your distance and seek out some other company in the hope she hears the rumors? Perhaps a dance with Asil first and foremost. She’s been sticking close to your side the whole time. This is pretty out of her element, after all, and she doesn’t want to accidentally get banished from the Lozano household for a political faux paus. (Not that this would happen, but then again Almira does have that threatening aura down to a science.)

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Hell can tempt you with things you want? No, that’s not right. Hell is broken. Hell tempts you because you don’t know yourself, not really. It offers you what you think you want. Then you get it and lo and behold, you never actually wanted it and you’re very unhappy! Also deep in debt and so committed by that point that doubling down looks like the only good option.

Poor Peregrine.

Well, the thing if someone is in that deep is that you have to pull them out of context. Especially someone like Peregrine who absolutely has spent an unhealthy amount of time running through this over and over in her own head until the justifications turned themselves into well-worn grooves of trodden grass and flowers in her mind.

This is what Giri thinks about as she crawls her way towards Peregrine dragging leopard and girl alike through the slippery, muddy earth. And this is what she’s thinking as she manages to reach up one strong, well-muscled arm past the nipping leopard teeth and rips off Peregrine’s dress.

[Overcome 6+2. If this is tricky enough for Wit, it’s an 11. If it’s Daring, that’s an 8]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

The Crystal Gala of Akar

The invitations invite you to the Crystal Gala. They offered information about the space station, the math done to center it on its axis, and the views it offers. But they did not prepare you for the design. The space station of the gala is built in the form of a gigantic spiral ammonite shell of translucent crystal, divided into swirls of rooms converging on the precise center of the Akar system. A golden ratio spun about the absolute center of gravity of the space, offering a glowing view of the shining star of Akar, and the light reflecting off the planets and the arena world itself. Artfully arranged so that as one moved through the space each astrological feature would have its turn as the central feature. Panels carefully adjusted for appropriate dimming for the eyesight of the inhabitants, calibrated for localized distinctions between Terenian, Zaldarian, and Hybrasilian guests. As guests enter and move deeper, they find themselves looping past guests in previous rooms, separated by circling gravity to create a dizzying impression of beings everywhere mixed with the light of the heavens reflecting and scattering through rainbow panes. The light of Akar makes it all sparkle like a gigantic spiral diamond as the views loop over themselves towards the crystal fire heart sustaining the station.

The farthest and widest end of the ammonite forms the dock of the space station. Here, several grand mecha are on display as the various guests arrive, many doing so in their personal mechas, especially the prior champions. Moreover, as the contingents arrive, the Aeteline will be on display here, the feared and cursed armor of the war, never piloted since Solarel’s banishment and so not seen in action for years. Yet it still gleams with its manufactured perfection and the powerful image of knighthood that it carries as representative of the power of Zaldaria.

The Grand Gala of the Akar is a new and unique event. There are not many shared traditions that span Terenians, Hybrasilians, and Zaldarians, but celebration with a grand feast is one of them. The Gala thus stands as a testament to the efforts of the past several years: the choice to end the large-scale wars and celebrate the fragile peace among the empires, an honor to the pilots who have excelled in competition both past and present, an opportunity for fine food and drink served to the taste of the guests and, of course, an opportunity for political power-brokering above and beyond the demands officially requested in the competition.

Except for the qualifying pilots, attendance at the Gala was known months in advance. Given this exclusivity and planning, each guest was provided with a list of attendees. There are no announcements or grand entrances lest the event waste all its evening going through the accomplishments of each guest. Yet many of the arrivals make their own entrance, choosing their style, entourage, and timing for the impact they prefer.

***

The first to arrive was Voctine XCI, the former Empress of the Zaldarians. Though banished, she has maintained a household and established a border hold. Her invitation remained, as the other empires were not entirely confident on the status of a deposed Empress and at least some of the more knowledgeable ones thought that her arrival might precipitate a fight in and of itself. Voctine XCI herself arrives dressed in a tight-fitting black bodysuit that emphasizes the curves of her long metallic limbs. Overtop it, she wears a fitted white shirt with double-breasted buttons and a black half-cape that ends at the middle of her back secured with gold epaulets and lined with just a hint of red. In banishment, she has chosen a picture of command but with a tight fit emphasizing the speed and flexibility of her entourage. Her arrival as early as the docking bay doors open ensures that she does not lose her place and can instead welcome her rival with as much of a sneer as she can manage. She will enter and proceed into the station, looking for a good place to arrange a meal and establish herself.

***

After her, the next arrivals were a mixture of Terenian families. Arriving first tended to indicate a certain level of insecurity, a need to establish place before the places were taken. Thus, these tended to be the lesser families, houses looking to climb. Almira and the Lozanos would aim to arrive near the back of these families, attempting to be at the top of the pecking order, but too nervous to give up the chance to get in and gain control of a room within the sparkling ammonite station. Almira herself has chosen a modern Kikuji fashion: purple, with embroidered white daisies carefully sewn onto it. Her neck and one arm are bare, which she has complimented with an array of topaz gems around her neck and in a lengthy series of bracelets up past her elbow. The dress is slitted to allow her leg on that side to slip out as well. She has complimented it with one of her signature shawls, unable to resist this particular affectation, colored in bright scarlet and set with glittering gems throughout to finish out the outfit. It is not what you would call subtle. In comparison, the rest of her household is dressed in more muted colors, the younger siblings wearing a more traditional Kikuji style with both arms covered and in single colors with flowers and bird embroidery. Isabelle unless you choose otherwise, your mother would press for your arrival with her here, to add legitimacy to the family. But you are free to choose otherwise, each pilot is offered the opportunity to arrive whenever and with whomever they please and they are not obligated to join the contingents from their own species or faction.

The Terenian gaggle will quickly lose coherence, splitting off into business discussions, or a few will seek to learn more about the Zaldarians and soon to be arriving Hybrasilians. Though fewer than you might expect.

***

Third in is the official Hybrasilian delegation led by Kimri Blessed Daughter of Grandmother Night, a pantheress and the current speaker of the Hybrasilian Priestess Council, the ruling body of the Empire. Kiriala arrives with this delegation unless Mirror has explicitly brought her into her household instead, as do several council members and their guests. Dolly and Mirror and their entourage have invitations to arrive with this delegation if they so desire. The speaker wears her formal priestess tunic. As an adherent of Grandmother Night, she does not dress in ways that would inhibit her movement. Rather, her garb is a short tunic in the Night’s black, designed to allow her to move silently and easily. Though she is one of the oldest living Hybrasilians, she moves with a grace that suggests she could tear your throat out if she willed it. Her high position is indicated only by a small pin worn at her collar set with a series of precious stones in all colors to indicate the unified Hybrasilian council. Other council members dress according to their worship, some in more elaborate dresses, others in more functional garb, several bedecked with heavy jewelry and multicolor striped fabrics as dresses and capes.

Also with this group is a small group of fisher cats, tailing the main entourage. Alanna Coul, the famed Hybrasilian mercenary (aside from Mirror) leads them dressed in her pilot’s outfit, perhaps the most formal thing she owns. Behind her is indeed Maehlia Dahlia, wearing the hibiscus dress designed by Mayze, with the most bemused look on her face, her mane a little longer than normal trailing behind her, and the tan fur of her chest showing prominently. A young fisher hangs on her arm protectively, and in this at last is the secret of her unusual order: she did not order this dress for herself, but it seems that her girlfriend did order it for her. One might wonder who the lucky fisher is, she’s not well-known. Perhaps someone who joined her on an expedition in the nebulas that grew together, and who preceded her to Akar to prepare things. Maehlia doesn’t quite seem to know what to do as a model for the latest fashion line among all three empires, but neither does she seem unhappy with her situation.

The Hybrasilians will seek to intermingle, speaking with some of the Terenians and forming the largest overall mass of milling guests as more arrive.

***

Fourth is the Empress of Zaldaria, Naelkai II and her full entourage, including the tribal raiders and Marna Kerne, currently believed to be the greatest Zaldarian pilot, who won the arena competition three years prior. Naelkai herself is dressed in a long, flowing gown that rolls out in a waves of pleated fabric around her, primarily in golden fabric with a black chest surrounded by white lace at the neck, hems, and sleeves. She wears a glittering tiara as well and everywhere she moves she utterly fills the space, asserting a level of confidence and control that is either genuine or extremely intentionally affected. Marna, perhaps leaning into her raider origins, has chosen a pilot’s jumpsuit, half black and half purple split vertically to match her mecha’s paint job. Though simple, it highlights her gray coloration and makes her stand out in her own way. Unless instructed otherwise, Akaithon will also enter in this section, dressed as a formal lady of the city in a green gown with a white lace collar, though shorter and narrower than Naelkai’s so as not to risk overshadowing her in any way.

The empress will enter and immediately look for her rival, two poles of a magnet bound to clash as they work their way through the glimmering crystal spiral.

***

Fifth (and last that has coherent organization, if barely) is the very large Terenian delegation, which is not so much a united group as it is the combination of the most powerful families and planetary leaders. In this group is Valentina D’Alcard, wearing a suit, a bit stodgy, should have unbuttoned it, but she looks good. Marcina Villajero enters in this group with honors. She wears a white dress, not too wide, with just a little bit of looseness around the ankles so that it shifts as she walks, sleeveless and bare shoulders showing off her shapely figure. She’s very precise as she moves in it.

Also in this contingent is Charon, who is the most powerful man on Styx and is rarely seen in public. Fully half his face is openly cybernetic, one eye completely covered and down past the ear and into the neck, indeed likely much further. While the regular eye is blue, the cybernetics glow with a particular red that matches the specifications sent to Mirror. He’s a tall man, and thickset, and he wears his cybernetics openly. His head is shaved as well. But he’s also wearing a delighted smile as he enters, and the tetrochromat blossoms on his robes glimmer in the starlight with the perfect compliment to the light reflecting from and emanating from his open cybernetics. He, is nobody else thus far with all their serious business, appears to be truly enjoying himself, in no small part due to Mayze’s design.

Finally, at the end of the Terenian group comes Adriana Teresio herself. She is, one might say, not quite herself. But she is bedecked in roses in her Mayze Serpaws dress. She refuses the arm of an attendant and walks in under her own power, smiling and waiving, though looking more than a little unsteady. The first arena champion. Her typical entrance is something flamboyant, usually with a sword, but she’s accepted something different this time. Other guests speak of it in hushed whispers, but nobody will say a word directly, at least not yet.

Marcina offers Adriana her arm, while Charon and his cyborgs look to speak with the Zaldarian empress, if they can catch up to her.

***

Then, there are all the others. The qualifying pirates: Ada Smith, dressed in a prim suit that shows off her muscles. Presumably the real Jacinta Niares, a burly lioness who’s wearing a captain’s shirt unbuttoned entirely, her neck and chest open, above a pair of functional slacks. She’s brought her own small entourage of other Banders, including Valynia, who is dressed in a center-slit short red dress that shows off her perfumed spots with every step she takes. She’ll look for Dolly as soon as she can.

Others trailing in are latecomer Terenians and Hybrasilians and independent Zaldarians (Solarel would be expected to appear here, though she has the pilot’s right to appear whenever she pleases). Heim Stockar has chosen not to come, though he would be allowed in and would typically arrive late in this situation. Quar Dilara, the imperial knight captured by Isabelle, also makes an appearance here. She apparently determined that her captive status prevented her from appearing with an imperial entourage, but she still has allowed herself to attend the party, though wearing a simple white ruffled shirt and casual pants likely scrounged from Isabelle’s closet.

***

This is the arrangement of the gala. The arrivals will spread themselves through the station, forming pockets of power and motion. There will be a clash of empresses, but swirling around that will be food and drink and merriment throughout the station. There will be solicitations and congratulations, and at some point one fool ass or another will start doing speeches. There’s even supposed to be a ceremony near the end to officially celebrate the launch of the final rounds and the commitment to peace they represent.

Tell everyone how you arrive, who you bring, and where you go!