BlasTech

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"Wouldn't dream of it." Kalaya says, grinning back at Petony's good natured finger-wagging.

Kalaya was feeling alot better, all things considered. The evening of carousing and commiserating with Petony had lifted a weight off her shoulders that she didn't know she'd been bearing. She'd felt alone for a long time and at no point had that bitten harder than on the deck of the Beneficence. Now though, it felt like she wasn't - she'd found family, and the world was warmer for it.

Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking.

She'd finally managed to fall asleep too, at long last. Whatever spell or curse Giriel had laid on her was, it seemed, not completely invincible to booze, a fire and good company. The two continued to banter as they made their way through the woods, their talking only interrupted by the odd patch of difficult terrain or the odd N'yari ambush.

Speaking of which ...

Kalaya manages to stumble to the ground as Machi of the Ōei bursts from hiding and ... wow. Those arms are seriously amazing. I mean, Kalaya herself favoured the more normal proportions and huggability of someone like Ven, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate this ... this edifice in front of her.

"Holy petals and stars, you are buff!" she squawks, before using her scabbard to push herself back to her feet. Carefully grinding it in the dirt on the way.

She bows, and then looks up again at the N'yari.

"I'd love to play!" she replies, before glancing down at that empty scabbard. "I'm a bit short on swords at the moment though, see?"

She holds the end of the scabbard up to Machi, waiting for the cat's eyes to lock on it, before slapping the other end as hard as she could. The dirt and mud that now caked its opening dislodged, flying straight into the big cat's face.

Kalaya ducked to the side from the inevitable counterstroke and swung the flat of the scabbard (not the sharp edge, she isn't a monster after all) into a very sensitive area on the cat. A childhood spent fighting with opponents larger than her helped guide her next attacks to leg, side and back as she did her level best to both disable her opponent and provide Petony with an opening.

She felt a bit guilty about the underhanded tactics, but hey - when you're not seven feet tall and sporting muscles up the mountain, you have to make do with what you've got, right? Even if that means ganging up on her opponent.

Wap. Wap. Wap. Wap.

[Kalaya elects to Fight - 3 + 5 + 3 = 11 Inflicting a condition, taking a string and giving Petony an opening. She takes a condition (Guilty) to inflict a second condition through this doubleteam fight]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"Uhh ... tea? Black? No sugar." she responds, still not sure what to make of this sudden transition.

Yes. Black, like my heart and sou-

Shut up brain, this isn't the time for that! The mood is all off.

Guys, just wait until we have our journal back okay?

Isabelle gave her head a shake to clear it, relishing the image of those little internal Isabelles getting rattled around in there. Honestly, it felt that there was a non-zero chance that she had just fallen out of bed and smacked herself senseless. The disconnect between the peaceful, if solitary, walk on the streets of Akkar and ... whatever this is, really did feel like a dream brought on by stress and uncertainty.

If you were still dreaming, it wouldn't be a cat doing those gymnastics in front of you.

She shakes her head again, harder this time, before looking around and trying to take in more detail of her surroundings and captors.

"If you're not going to give me the usual threats, can I at least ask the standard questions?" Isabelle says, eventually. And yes, animes are definitely not allowed. And there is no secret playlist set up to cast to her glasses when on a run. No.

No.

Nup.

Nope.

She shakes her head again.

"I mean, I'd love to know: who you are, where are you taking me, why are you taking me there and ...

Are you going to ravish me?

... are you going to ravish me?" she finishes, words out before she could stop them.

If her hands were free, she would have facepalmed. Instead, she just adopted the requisite Expression and groaned.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle shakes her arms free and stares at the crowd without seeing. The seconds tick by and the tension starts to rise. Those who have worked with her for some time recognise the warnings. Those who know her best spot the tells. The hands held too stiffly, the fists clenched so tight that her nails nearly break skin.

Most of all. The eyes.

The responsibility to stop it falls to Luca - and he opens his mouth to try, but it's just that bit too late.

"Well?" shrieks Isabelle, and a number of the more junior staff flinch. "What are you all standing here for? Are you waiting for some kind of speech? You have jobs to do, don't you? Get to work!!"

*************************************

"… and there is still the post-match press conference in a half hour, ma'am."

"Fuck the press."

Isabelle is moving, running really, along the corridor away from the hanger. The mech crews have stayed behind, save Chief Tomas and Asil, who are pacing her to update on the state of repairs and worry respectively. There are a couple more hangers-on, including her publicist and secretary who just would not shut up.

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

A voice, and something grabbing her hand. Isabelle freezes at the unexpected contact, turning to look with wide eyes as the engineer smiles up at her.

"It'll be okay." she says, voice reassuring "So what if we lost? You were amazing out there! And you took out Ada freakin' Smith! Even if the scoreboard says otherwise, there's so much to be prou--"

Isabelle doesn't really respond to the words, just staring at their hands with growing horror.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!!"

She wrenches her hand free, stepping back in the process, chest heaving. Briefly, the two woman are frozen in a moment of time. For that moment, everything stands on the precipice.

It doesn't last. The first crack in the ice has been sounded and there is nothing left that can stop the avalanche.

"You forget yourself, Ms. Marina. You have a job to do and it is back in that hanger." hisses Isabelle, jabbing a finger back up the corridor.

"And, so help me, If I see or hear from you again before Emberlight is repaired I will fire you and you can go back to fiddling with your drones and whatever resources you can scrounge together from under the corner couch!"

For days afterwards, she would not be able to banish the look of shock and hurt on the engineer's face.

Spinning on her heel, Isabelle resumed walking. She didn't look back.

**********************************************

The doors to her quarters hiss open, and she steps through - the twins ensure that she is not followed. Only family is allowed within.

"Bellebelle …" Luca finally speaks up, but stops at Isabelle's upraised hand.

"Luca … not now." she replies, not looking at him. "Just … I need to be alone."

He nods, understanding.

"When you're ready, we will be here."

Her family, her only real family, files out.

**************************************************

Isabelle's mind was still buzzing.

Not with thought, nor with emotion really - in fact, she felt numb.

No, it was just buzzing. Like the wings of a million bees. Flying, crawling, everywhere. On her arms, on her face, in her eyes. Their hum omnipresent and oppressive. The threat of stings, constant. Trying to think was like trying to sweep them aside, a brief glimpse of light before they'd swarm over her again. A ceaseless, droning wave.

She'd hung like that, floating in the senseless artificial zero-g of her cockpit, all the way from the fight back to the hanger. That's the downside of the setup - when Emberlight is dead, broken, gone offline like that, there's just … nothing to feel.

She'd swiped them aside just to see the people standing around her, waiting for her words. They'd looked for a leader but what kind of leader could she be? Ada had been right, she didn't believe in this. This whole thing was a farce. Why look to her? Why wait on her?

She'd pushed them away and run, plugging her ears down that corridor. Her mother would find out. She'd know what she'd said - every word recorded and relayed by some lackey. It would happen, there was no way to avoid it. She'd come, or she'd send word. Or any number of possibilities. But maybe by running she could delay it a little.

Talk to the press? No! No. Nonononononono. No! The cameras, the lights, the expectations … too much. She'd crack, she'd break. Jagged edges showing up in holodef, broadcast to millions. She'd crumble to dust and not be able to hide it. She has to hide it. A Lozano shows no weakness. A Lozano shows no fear. A Lozano never fails.

A voice had tried to cut through the sound, but the buzzing just wouldn't stop. Too many questions. Too many emotions. Too much feeling. Her hand, her heart. Cut it out, make it stop. Make it go away. She'd hurt Asil. Can't get close, they only get hurt. She only hurts them. It was wrong. She'd punish herself for it later. She already had, in a way. She'd do it anyway. It was on the List.

She'd closed the door after her siblings, activating the seals. Muting the alerts. Cutting off everything outside and letting their wings be the only source of sound. That was okay, that was normal. She deserved it.

She knelt in the room and counted backwards from ten.

Then, finally, she allowed herself to cry.

*******************************************************

It was three hours later that she stood up from the floor again.

An hour after that before she'd finished the glass of water she poured herself.

Two hours later to summon the energy to wash her face.

That night, she didn't eat.

That was normal.

******************************************************

The next morning, things felt - well, not better. But at least more distant.

She'd synthed herself a basic meal of toast and water. And pulled out a folder that had been on her mind all last night.

Ada's name was still stamped along the top, inside was the intel gathered for her.

Why didn't it mention her family?

She sat down to read.

Later, still alone, she'd go for a walk.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

This is nothing new.

There's always someone. Someone wanting what she has. Someone fighting her for something. Someone in her way.

They try to push, to pull, to run around and run over. Their approaches differ, they attack at all times of the day; morning, noon, the dead of night. It's exhausting.

In every case, they come for her - not because of something she has done to them - but just because they want what she has. In every case, they. will. fail.

Isabelle's world is full of noise - alarms, warnings, falling debris and the after-effects of the explosion all meld into one cacophony of pain that would debilitate most other people.

This pain, too, is nothing new.

Emberlight lands on the ground, feet digging into the rubble and bringing her to a scraping halt. Inside the cockpit, warnings blare and metal groans - she's putting too much strain on Emberlight for this. Her Emberlight - practically her most precious object - is breaking at her command. But she won't lose. She can't lose! Inside her head, she's wracked with fear and guilt at what that means.

[Isabelle chooses to grin and bear it - marking two futher conditions: Frightened and Guilty.]

But the cameras don't see that. They see only a cloud of dust and, if they're lucky, a subtle shift as Isabelle brings her Crystal-Fire Drive into high gear. Emberlight crouches low as white lightning begins to coruscate up her legs, her arms. At a thought, Emberlight deploys the plasma blades built into each of her fingers, wreathing them in blue. Melting their way loose from the divots in the gravel. Isabelle brings her head up, eyes afire. And time?

Time seems to slow.

It would take the high-speed replays to fully appreciate what happens next.

The Unseen Goose is faster than it should be, given its size, but Emberlight is built for speed and even then? When it bursts out of the cloud of dust, it is moving fast - faster than most mechs are capable of - faster than most mechs should find possible.

[Activating - Legendary Skill, from her destiny to take 1 forward here]

Ada swings, and Isabelle reacts, bending herself around the blade impossibly quickly, making it miss by microns even as it sheers into another of the holo-decoys. In response, her arms strike precisely, first under the outstretched arm, then flowing around the Goose's back and across the shoulders and down one leg.

The cuts aren't deep, but they are fast, they are plenty and they are precise. Doing the kind of damage only someone who knows about engineering, how the lifeblood of mechs flow, could do - at a speed that hasn't been seen in Akkar before.

Ada tries to backhand her with the shield, but Isabelle bends under it, so low that Emberlight's head scrapes the ground, before she grasps the wrist and plants a leg in the back of the Goose's knee.

"Terenius isn't yours to take" she spits.

[Roll to fight - 5 + 6 + 1 = 12. Inflict a condition, take a string and a superior position]

"It has to be earned."

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

There's no question, no hesitation. Kalaya is up and hugging the older knight as soon as the impulse registers. The words follow soon after, that it wasn't her fault - neither Kalaya's nor Petony's - for what happened. That, despite how things played out, she was thankful - thankful for Petony's rescue, for her being there, for her caring.

And thankful that this woman, this wonderful woman, believed in her.

She'd been the first, you know? On that fateful day Kalaya wondered into an otherwise immaterial inn. Petony hadn't just taken her under her wing that evening. She'd shown Kalaya that maybe yes, she could make it out in the world. She wasn't just some obscure joke. She could make a difference. Together they'd saved that farmstead and forged a bond in steel and mud.

The bond has grown through Turtlehead and deeper again when she saw her on the barge. It's a bond of trust, of shared interest and support. Where you want to be able to share a drink and spill out all the problems you face, without judgement. The kind where you want to find the person to share whatever has just happened to you - both good and bad. The kind that Kalaya will walk through any number of demons and fires to preserve. It's a bond of friendship, a bond of common interests and of love.

Yes. Love.

Not the kind that Kalaya and Ven share, but the kind that Kalaya would otherwise only find within Lilly. Whatever else happens next, Petony - this woman considers you her Sister. Sister of battle, Sister of blade, Sister of knighthood.

Family.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle's reflexes kick in, using the lance's barrel to smack the blade away, taking advantage of the Unseen Goose's momentum to keep her opponent off balance.

"You think you've got me all figured out already?" she growls. "Well guess what?"

Her right hand, Emberlight's EMP Gauntlet, forms a fist that is brought up into the side of the Goose with all their combined strength.

*Wham*

"I still!"

*Wham*

"Have some!"

*Wham*

"Surprises!"

Her last punch is hard enough to send the two mechs stumbling apart. Still on the roof, still very much fighting. And for a moment, Emberlight's sensors focus in on the Unseen Goose's cockpit.

"What's the matter Ada?" she retorts. "Afraid now that your little cheap shot is a bust? Afraid that it might be you who's going down this time?

[Rolling to fight: 3 + 3 + 2: 8 - chosing to inflict a condition and take a string. Also, in terms of the additional question - what does Ada fear is her destiny?]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"We have work to do."

The room looks up at her, surprise on the faces of the techs to see her back at the mech bay so soon after dismissing them. They'd been packing up, ready to head back for the night now that the regular checkups and maintenance were completed. Unfortunately, they'd be pulling overtime.

"Asil, Chief Tomas, I need you two to take Asil's drone tech and incorporate it into Emberlight tonight." she continued, not wasting any time. The chief, well used to such demands on his time, just nodded, while the young woman's eyes bulged.

"Tonight?" she exclaims and Isabelle spits her with a gaze that makes her wilt a little. "I mean, we only just finished the show - I only just signed on? And you want us to translate fashion tech into your mecha in one evening?"

"Welcome to the big leagues Asil" she replies, stiffly, "You said wanted resources, didn't you? Well you'll have them - but it just means the expectations for what you can do and how long you get to do it will only get higher."

"I'm matched against Ada tomorrow - in an urban environment - I need a way to bait her out and there's only one target a woman like her will break cover for; me. So I need a convincing decoy." she turned to look at the rest of the team, her hands fisting at the small of her back. "We only have tonight to implement it, so it's time to step up everyone. We pull this off and tomorrow we could be marking the exit of one of the greatest combatants that are taking place in this tournament. Let's make every second count."

---

The piloting capsule of Emberlight is at once an overwhelming barrage of information and an oasis of calm - the white walls of the spherical cockpit are pristine and featureless. If Emberlight were powered down Isabelle could just float there - attached only by the gyroscopic stabilisers - and feel a universe away from all her troubles. (She may, in fact, have done just that in times past when things just got too much). Now, with the mech in full combat readiness, countless readouts are displayed both on the projectors and on her heads-up visor. It would have been too much for anyone to parse had their flight hours not been well into five digits.

For Isabelle though, it was all second nature - the kind born of such intense training that lessons and instinct had now merged. She could feel the gravel beneath Emberlight's feet give way as the mech started to scale one of the broken down buildings. She heard the clicks as the long-arm plasma lance deployed. Effective and fast, that's what she needed right now - a hope to end this with one shot.

---

"It's impossible!"

Asil was groaning, leaning back in her chair, away from the third coffee that had been discarded on the dash. "Resolution and lag break down the whole array when it gets more than a few meters away."

Isabelle had to bite back a sharp retort - that giving up was for quitters, that she had thought Asil wanted a challenge. It was hard and had it been anyone other than the cute new engineer she might have let it out. The drones were indeed a work of art, but trying to integrate them in a way that could project a convincing decoy of Emberlight was proving difficult.

"Maybe we just focus on something closer in then - enough to throw off a shot rather than something fully autonomous." she said instead.

"Oh, you mean like one of those shadow-cats from Fantasy Battle World?" she replies, which can only cause the socialite to regard her with a blank expression.

"Sorry, I'm guessing that you haven't played it. It's a game for ... I mean ... the creatures in it have this special ability ..."

"I think I can guess." Isabelle replies, cutting her off, turning back to her workstation and swearing that she'd never disclose that she'd signed on to a trial account a few years back when her parents weren't watching.

"Yes, let's try something like that."

---

The drones hum to life, moving into formation around her and causing an identical Emberlight to shimmer into existence in front of her and behind. It was no hybrasillian stealth system, but it had the advantage of not drawing as much power - she could still fight while using it, until and unless the prototype burnt out.

---

"It keeps burning out." grumbled Isabelle. "The array keeps feeding back into the port capacitors and building up a resonance cascade that shorts them out after a few minutes."

"Oh, that's easy to fix" says Asil who has somehow just appeared looking over her shoulder "Just pull it out and bypass it to the exhaust. I had the same problem with the dresses, on a smaller scale of course, but the capacitors don't really need to hold the discharge on the scale of a mecha, and any thermal signature wouldn't be noticeable."

"Ah! Um ... yes. That ... That could work." she replies, her voice a combination of genuinely being impressed with the woman's solution and startled at her sudden proximity. "Let's ... let's try that."

---

Isabelle took a deep breath. Engineering, like battle, was sometimes an exercise in experimentation. Trying new things to see what would stick, what would be successful. Now was the chance to try something nobody in this tournament had seen before. Break for cover, when the shot comes she'll have a moment when Ada's weaponry recharges to land her own. A snipers duel to open the fight, to set the field for the next step in their dance.

As to what step that would take, well, TC mechs have a number of options when it came to that - after all, they are more general mobile weapons platforms than their more specialised Zaldarian and Hybrasillian contemporaries.

Ada - Isabelle has been talking to you on and off as this happens - Her answers though are somewhat robotic, as if she knows you're trying to distract her, or if she's giving you the show she thinks you want to see. That of a young woman with ambition and desire to win this competition more than anything.

However, she's still new to this and the need to focus on the fight is showing those lies for what they are - a shell - a shield. This woman is a little toy soldier, wound up and sent to this battle for reasons other than her own. She doesn't want anything from this tournament. Not really.

That said, there is genuine joy in her eyes as she pilots Emberlight against you - while winning might give her a thrill of validation, and notwithstanding whatever else is out there that might make her heart soar, it's the simple act of piloting that really brings her happiness right now. She wants to run, to jump, to fly.

She just wishes she weren't constrained to only this battlefield to do it.

[While we're on the subject - spending the second question from the last roll to ask what does Ada think of Adriana]

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

A plan? Have you met Kalaya?

She's not really following a plan right now as much as just doing what her heart is telling her. It's been her modus operandi since before the teahouse after all and, right now, it's shouting out that Petony is not an enemy. It's yelling that tucking up and going home is the wrong move. The more she dwells on it, the more right it feels - she hasn't failed unless she gives up.

What happened on the barge was all kinds of bad, yes. Does she wish it went down differently? Of course. But, importantly, does she accept the blame for it? Hell and Flowers, No! - it was the fault of whoever placed that curse on her sword; the Rakshasa, Cathak ... Girel? She didn't know who exactly, but the list of suspects was short and had the key aspect of it not being her.

So the objectively right course of action was to either sneak or fight her way out - leave Petony in the dust and find a way to track down the Rakshasa on her own. If she were listening to her brain then she'd be doing something like pretending to sleep and then ducking out when their guards were down.

But her heart was saying that Petony was her mentor and her friend. Ghosting her in the middle of the night felt wrong. So here she was, unarmed, in the middle of a potentially hostile retinue, and instead of doing the smart thing she was trying to talk to her. To convince her to take her side in all this madness. It's a sign of trust, of hope, a branch extended to one of the first who saw her potential and joined her on her journey. Kalaya's solid facade cracks a little as she glances at the other woman's face, trying to puzzle out her words.

"It has to have been more than that." she replies, a hand coming up to the other woman's shoulder. Gently turning so that she'd face her.

"If it was only about knocking heads together you could've done any of a dozen other jobs; Guard, bouncer, gang member. But you didn't. You chose to be a Knight because it means something." she says, voice pitched softly, just for the two of them. "You don't have to lie to me. I've never hidden what I thought to you."

[Figure out a person - 4 + 6 - 1: 9 How can I convince you to trust me and let me go back? What are your feelings towards being a Knight?]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"I'm sure it will be." replies Isabelle, as Emberlight picks its way through the ruins with a grace that belies its size.

She's doing her best not to give away her position, including bouncing the transmission through drone that she'd placed in a building across the ways. For her own part in this cat and mouse game, a few sensors and other surprises have been dropped along the way, but the interference from the buildings threatened to cut their usage down.

"I don't really have time to do an interview today, so are there any particular aspects of your CV you'd like to highlight up front? Or is it a case where the warrants speak for themselves?" she replies, trying to keep the other woman talking. Get her a bit off balance.

In an urban environment, the defender has an advantage - buildings make for improvised fortifications and must be treated as such - have to draw her out from her hiding spot. Preferably into a kill zone, one prepared by myself. Ada is experienced at this - but favours an aggressive style.

She checked the new drone interface that Asil had installed to Emberlight. It was a prototype, barely tested and rushed to be combat ready but if it worked, the array of drones should be able to project the right visual, EM and Heat bands needed to be a convincing decoy. In theory, at least.

She thought back to the dossier she'd read, matching it to the woman she saw in front of her now. What would make her come running into a
trap? Would she have the right bait?

[Gonna assume it's valid to read a person here based on stalking and talking - 1 + 6 + 0 = 7. How can I get Ada to fall for the trap?]

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Kalaya sighed, staring up at the stars. Normally when she did so she was looking for a sign of some kind. This time, however, it was to help her remember all the times she's seen them from her window back in Lily.

They'd been companions back in those formative years. Something about them always drew the imagination, be it the vast open possibilities they promised, their sheer beauty and wonder or just their comforting permanence. They radiated potential, and she would often turn her face to bask in that comforting glow.

After all, that potential, that promise of being able to help make a better world, was something that she had longed for. As the fifth child, the line of succession was long enough that her parents had never even bothered with helping her learn how to actually run the Kingdom. Her brother, the firstborn, got the lionfish's share. While his younger sister got the next priority. By the time two more siblings came into the picture the plate of experiences was well and truly picked clean.

Conversely, with five younger siblings, there were more bodies available than there were worthwhile jobs for a kingdom as small as Lily. She had had the choice of supervising the barges - loaded down with fish for transportation up the river to Hyacinth, or tending the royal preserve. All fifty feet of it.

Her father was caring and loving, but ... passive. He'd rather quote scripture and philosophy to support why things should stay the same. Tradition and routines that were stubbornly implacable in the face of her requests.

Her mother was more open to her views. While she still deferred to the King, She'd been supportive when she'd found her loophole. A tradition that could support a role for her outside the Kingdom, one that promised more than just being the wife of some similarly low-ranked prince or princess.

For all that though, home was safe and caring. More than she'd had out here in a long time. For one brief moment, she considered whether it was time to return. To at least rest and recover, before heading out again. Whatever stories of failure and betrayal Petony might provide, the simple fact was that - short of locking her in the dungeons - they couldn't physically prevent her from leaving again. They could only decide how much support they gave her in that endeavor. (She may have made that very point when she left before, which had netted her some gold, armour and the sword which was probably still lodged in the decking of the Beneficence.)

But ... No. It wasn't time to go home yet.

Petony thought she had failed, but that was just her opinion. The fight with Ushua had not been her fault, it was the fault of whoever had cursed her sword. The only way she'd truly be a failure would be if she gave up now and allowed herself to head back, or be sent back, to Lily.

She turned to Petony, staring back against the Tiger knight's anger with the solidity of a mountain. With her own anger buried well under a layer of tiredness and just being done with stupid things getting in her way, she refrained from pointing out the fact that right now she couldn't sleep thanks to whatever Girel had done.

"Do you remember your life before you swore the oaths?" she asked. "What was it for you? That made you become a knight?"