BlasTech

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Kalaya and the N'yari are both frozen in shock as the Sapphire Mother emerges.

And emerges.

And keeps emerging.

Woah ... Big Goddess.

It's not the most erudite thought ever, and probably borderline blasphemous, but it's all she can process right now. After all, Kalaya has had some religious education in her upbringing. Okay, maybe she skipped some classes (oh dear, does She know that?) but she'd gotten a priestess, and was ready to get the offering and the ritual and everything and why is the Goddess just here right now??

She's not alone either, she's brought what looks like a chunk of her entourage with her. Demigoddesses and Knights and both at once. Daughters of the River, burnished breastplates shining and banners flying. Cranes and Foxes surround them. It's a truly majestic sight to behold, one that leaves her in awe, and it is at this point that Kalaya realises she is currently standing ankle deep in very slippery mud while hoisting a large, wet, cat above her head.

About five seconds later is when she realises that the Goddess is talking to her. About five seconds after that is when what she is saying starts to register and at that point...

...

"HOLY F--"

... at that point, physics decides to remind people that it exists.

*Slip* *SPLAT*

---====---

A short while later, Kalaya is out from under the N'yari, who appears chastised into behaving for now - although weather from her speech, or the Goddess' appearance, it's hard to say. She's brushed the mud off her face and clothes as best as she can, and kneels alongside Sagacious.

To say that she is full of emotion is an understatement. For years, she'd felt abandoned by the Gods and Goddesses. Ignored. Her prayers unanswered as she had to strive by herself to be anything other than a Princess of Lilly. To become what she wanted to be, a Knight.

And then it was about proving herself. And then it became about finding Ven. About saving Ven. And in all those challenges, from Turtlehead, to Kingeater, to Cathak's Barge, it had always felt like she'd had to fight this alone. Too small. Her pleas ignored by the divine, even as she'd been cursed with rejection from her homeland.

But.

You love when it is foolish and you love when it is hopeless

In those few words, she realised that she had been watched the whole time. In those few words, she felt seen. In a way her own parents had struggled with. Yes. She loved. She loved Vee. She loved the Kingdoms. She loved adventure and helping people. She loved all of this, even when her world had told her that it was a dumb idea. That she'd get hurt, or that she couldn't change things.

In another story, maybe she might have listened to those voices. Perhaps tempered her expectations and the dreams that drove her. Maybe she might have seen Ven as a poisonous influence, best left behind. Maybe she might have been content to reside in a tower, reading poetry and making embroidery for her life. Maybe she might have given up and let the despair take her, when she was betrayed and left alone in the rain - lashing out at a reality that seemed stacked against her, an ungrateful kingdom that refused to be saved and a witch that cursed her when she'd thought her a friend.

The Kalaya in those stories might have existed. But they would not have been her. She simply loved too much to just give up, even at the blackest. She loved too much to turn her back on a childhood friend. Heck, she probably loved too much to hold a grudge against Giriel too. Maybe one day she'd find her and be able to test that.

And so it is, by the bank of the River, that a Knight kneels before a Goddess.

And the Goddess speaks.

"You will need a new Sword."

And when she says it, it means weapon, and symbol and hope - all at once.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Oh dear. The N'yari was going to kidnap her priestess. Which would mean another side-quest to rescue her. Which would mean another distraction. Taking her away from what she really wanted to do. Namely saving the Flower Kingdoms from the Dominion, from the Prophecy of Mars and from itself (and also saving her girlfriend from all of the above too).

No.

Not today.

No more distractions.

Kalaya felt like she was ... well, herding cats would be a potentially insensitive description right now, wouldn't it, but that's what it felt like. Constantly having to chivvy, guard and just plan old force things to stay on track. Well, there was a limit to her patience, and that limit was now getting tested.

"Okay. HOLD. UP!" she yells.

The N'yari gives a very un-ferocious squeak of surprise as something grabs it around the middle and lifts it, all the however-many-pounds-of-muscle-and-fur of it, into the air. Puzzled, surprised, it looks around for a moment before refocusing on the voice coming from beneath.

"Now. You are going to behave. Or I am going to plant you right back into the mud you just crawled out of!" yells the small princess, who is a hairs-breadth away from suplexing it.

"Is. That. CLEAR?"

[Boxcars on defy disaster - the dice want to keep things on track. And now I can check one more thing of my Kalaya bucket-list.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

A few seconds ago.

The Lozanos enter the Gala - headed, as always, by Almira Lozano: Matriach, Noble, Climber. The titles she holds beyond that are irrelevant amidst tonight's crowd and that rankles her ... but she can't let that show. She has to use the tools at her disposal and be happy for their results.

Gabriel shuffles along behind her, a dashing figure with his pointed beard and tall stature. It was a pity his mind is not suited to Politics. He was better in his lab and would have still been there had it not been that a function this exclusive demanded his attendance.

Luca comes next, the Shard of Bellerophon on his hip signifying his status as a pilot - albeit one not as accomplished as his sister. One could spend a lifetime lamenting the roll of fate involved when his compatibility had only come out in the eighties, but Almira had known all she had to do was try and try again - until she got one whose mech compatibility was acceptably high.

Tad and Cam come next, somewhat subdued, as she had had to talk them out of making a scene just earlier. Influencers to the core, the thought of passing up a chance to make their entry was anathema. But she couldn't afford the distraction from their sister, not tonight. Not when that one was the core of their family's reason to be here.

And speaking of their sister ... her face in particular is missing. The rest of the family regroups before filing their way into the entryway crowd. Does Almira stop to see what comes next? Isabelle can't tell from where she is ... but there's no turning back now.

The drones have followed the family in. Everything is in place.

-------------------=====================----------------------------

A few minutes ago.

The Crystal Gala of Akkar ... even knowing what she knew, it didn't really prepare her for the sight of that spiral station, glistening in the black on approach. She'd been informed of the order of events at the last minute - a habit of her mother's when handling travel plans - and had had to make some fast changes.

The lack of formal announcements will make this difficult.

In truth, she was now a little worried about how it would come across. Amidst so much opulence and notability - the literal cream of the crop - would it be just a drop in an ocean? An amateurish piece of showmanship, quickly forgotten or ignored as the efforts of a neophyte? Would it hurt the family image? Would it upset her mother even more than she planned to?

She glanced across the shuttle at the other woman sitting there. Too late to back out now.

Besides, she'd made a promise.

-------------------=====================----------------------------

Earlier that day.

"And, of course, you will attend at the tail end of our family delegation. Our image will be ..." here, her mother struggles for a word. "... complimented, by the knowledge that we have at least one passable pilot to our name."

"Yes, mother." Isabelle replies.

"Bring your Kikuji dress and make sure to enter on the heels of the twins. You will be given a place by yourself, as befits a pilot, and to enforce that you chose to accompany your family."

Oh, that's not going to work.

"... actually, mother. If I might suggest a different option?" Isabelle replies, thinking furiously. "I would like to use the opportunity to showcase some of the new work that the teams have put together. Madame Toldeo in particular has been looking at the dress we purchased and is very keen to make some alterations. I think it would help us make a more memorable splash on the international scene and hopefully catch the eye of some of the notables."

Isabelle meets her mother's eyes innocently, carefully showing some hesitant pride in what they have. A calculated effort, enough enthusiasm to pique the older woman's interests, but not too eager, lest her mother worry about the scale and the potential risks involved with her daughter's idea.

" ... go on ..."

-------------------=====================----------------------------

The previous night.

"So, you'll really come?"

"Hey, with an invitation like that, how can I say no?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure you could, but you'd mostly do it just to annoy me."

"Ooof, Lozano, skewered through the heart." she replies, mock grasping her chest. "And here I thought you liked me?"

Isabelle giggles, a sound that Asil is coming to recognise from their time together in the lab. It's not one that she ever hears in other contexts - not in public, not amongst her family - it's a sound just for the two of them. It's a sound she's coming to ... well, it does odd things to her stomach, that's for sure. Different to the burning fire she'd felt in that office all that time ago, but still nice.

"You sure this thing will work? We made, like, eight of them and only two are functional." she says instead.

"I ... yeah, I think - no, I know they will."

"How can you be sure? I mean, I know you worked on them the longest, so not doubting your skills, but what we're trying to get them to do - the contextual interfaces - it's complex."

"I just know." Isabelle replies, almost shyly. "They'll work."

-------------------=====================----------------------------

A few days ago.

"So, I think that does it for the deal. The lawyers will look over the final document and give it their customary fine-tooth-combing, but for all the major points; I think we're agreed." Isabelle says, looking over the contract one last time and passing the key terms sheet to Rosa.

"You know, even looking at this, I can't believe you'd agree to it."

"Yeah, me neither. But ..." Isabelle pauses, she herself finds it difficult to believe given how they'd behaved to each other in the past. "Sometimes you have to take a risk right?"

"... You're not talking about the financials, are you?"

"No."

"Yeah, I get it. Our parents hate each other and we've not really spoken outside of things like Elena's parties. You probably thought I was always happy to go along with her shit. Or worse."

"Well, you probably thought the same about me and my mother's goals right?" Isabelle replies. "Wouldn't have been wrong, either."

"And what's changed?"

"Well, not much, admittedly." she says. "I'll have to get her signoff on this, no matter how reluctant she is and how much information I'm trying to keep from her. But she's been giving me more leeway as the competition has progressed. I'm hoping that the wins are keeping her happy and she's willing to ignore the small stuff in the name of the 'bigger picture' that the Gala promises."

"And you'd really risk it for this, of all things?"

"... You're not talking about the deal, are you?"

Rosa laughs, a genuine one.

"No."

Isabelle smiles.

"Yeah, I get it. And yes, I'm risking it. She doesn't give me much room, and I can't honestly say what I'd do if she comes down hard on the idea, but I've got a little space and I want to use it. It wasn't right how Elena dropped you just because the market turned against you. Like she didn't even care. She should know you matter."

"... she should think of you as a person, not just as an accessory. Not just as how you fit into her plans."

Rosa gives Isabelle's shoulder a squeeze.

"And you're not just talking about Elena there, are you?"

"... no."

-------------------=====================----------------------------

Right now.

It starts when the floor begins to glow.

A shimmering, rainbow haze descends over the walls and station airlock. Small pinpricks of light begin to descend from the ceiling like snow. Miniature stars, they waft and then swirl as if stirred by an unseen wind, building in speed and intensity as more and more join their number.

Just as they descend, more specks of ... well, not light ... of blackness. Start to build around the floor. They swirl in counterpoint to the light coming from above. Converging, merging, until a glowing sun takes form, backed by an umbral eclipse. There is an instant where they freeze before they begin to take the shape of ... a woman - of two women, back to back. One of yellow starlight, the other of black space.

The two shapes raise swords, tips apart, before slashing them through the air. The tips trail white and form two moons, facing outwards from the middle. The twin crescents hang in the air before everything explodes in light and cherry blossoms.

The two people thrust out arms, which shimmer in light and dark before resolving into the sleeves of a kimono. They turn, repeating the gesture with their other side and, in the process, a line of light traces out their obi. The strike a pose, swords to the sky, as their kamikazari sparkle into being. Finally they turn to the crowd and, with a final flurry of blossoms and light, the spectacle ends.

When it fades, standing in the circle, both breathing somewhat heavily, are Isabelle and Rosalinda. Their dresses match, both traditional kimonos of Kikuji design. But where Rosa's is tinged with yellow and orbited by a few of the golden fireflies from earlier, Isabelle's is tinged with silver and orbited by flakes of snow.

Rosa looks out over the crowd - uncertainty on her face, but Isabelle takes her hand, descending the steps into the crowd with the other woman. Whatever reaction they got was somehow less important than what they had done together.

The drones, a small school of them that had been hidden above and behind, obediently follow them into the crowd. Most folding up into a belt along their backs, but some still orbiting to keep their dresses' effects going.

Asil, Madame Toldeo and Chief Tomas would enter afterwards. Isabelle's personal entourage. Ostensibly there to observe the technical effects and whether any changes would be needed to the designs of dress or drone. Each had played a role in the demonstration just now.

Madame Toldeo had altered the kimonos to accomodate the swords and accessories (such as the drone control bracelets) that they now wore up their sleeves. While Tomas had worked hard to make it so that the drones would display well to the other races. That they'd actually simulate real wind, and that the 'heat' of the lights would be enough to obscure Isabelle and Rosa's entry into the station until they were in position for the reveal.

And as for Asil - well, they'd worked out the routine between them. Filled it with references only the two of them would get. The sword poses were lifted from a book Isabelle had read once upon a time, while the double-crescent was Asil's suggestion. It was actually something she recognised from the Space Witch intro movie in Fantasy Battle Online (although, Asil was the only one who knew that this was itself an homage to the anime Magica Puella Hero Acadamy).

Isabelle would find her later, when the time came for dances to be had and quiet corners to be found. For now though, she would mingle with the other Terenians and wait until other guests arrived to see if any were of interest.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle does smile - and it's not feigned. It's small, and it's shy, but it's there. It's another slip in the walls, a glimpse of what she's really feeling - the chagrin at being called out, mixed with the shared embarrassment of having Rosa's worries just spill out there for all to hear.

Unexpected.

I don't think I've ever heard her swear before.

Is this sort of thing going to keep happening?

It's a lot to take in - and Isabelle feels like a child that has just discovered fireworks. The ability to make explosions in the sky, of colours and patterns she'd never before considered possible. To bring something special into the world, that would not have existed without her.

Wait, no, the comparison is flawed.

It was like she's realised she can set off those fireworks with just a gesture. A word.

It was ... it was like she'd learned a new spell - it was like magic.

"The old generation are still powerful, still good for what they do. And what they do, they do better than the Gen 3 mechs that are replacing them in the Arena. Lifting, guarding, enduring ... they've long been the rock on which Terenius was built." she says, an idea already bubbling in her mind. "It'd be a shame to see that strength go to waste ... so I guess it's a good thing you know one person who runs a mining company."

"I'll be honest, I don't know where exactly we'd use them yet. We'll need to prospect a new site. But in the meantime I'm open to an initial purchase order, paid in advance."

Those last words might earn her mother's ire. There's no better time to kick someone when they're down, after all, and with what she'd learned she could well have acquired a significant stake in Rosa's company in exchange for the bailout. But ... well, her heart's never been in that sort of thing. And for the few minutes of freedom she has while her mother is elsewhere, she may as well do things the way she wants for once.

"I think I've decided on what to wear." she says, letting Rosa process the offer she's made.

"Elena ignored you, dropped you, tried to forget you ... so let's make sure you shine too brightly to be ignored." she continues. "If we take something traditional from here as the base, I know two women who can make it into something that will glow like the stars."

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle turns, inwardly grimacing, but outwardly placid save for a single raised eyebrow.

Rosalinda is not ... well, they're definitely not friends, as much as the pink-haired girl might like to pretend otherwise. "Acquaintances of circumstance" probably best captures it. Two children of two wealthy families with demanding parents to boot. Rivals in name and fact, but it was a rivalry masked behind smiling faces, polite words and the ruthless poaching of contracts.

They'd often attend the same functions at their parents' behest. She'd actually been to Diego's last birthday gala on Valor with her. But that had only been to show face. It wasn't like they really spoke to one another. Isabelle would usually just contribute the expected minimum to the proceedings and then let her mind wander until it was time to go home.

That said, it was unusual to see her here alone. Rosalinda wasn't as bad as Elena - who actually enjoyed lording her power over others, pulling friends and enemies around as if they were puppets on strings. But the pinkette was still part of that group, trailing around and encouraging the behaviour whenever she thought it would score her points in the other woman's eyes.

"I haven't decided yet." replies Isabelle, turning back to regard the clothing racks.

And she hadn't, in more respects than just dress choice. If Rosalinda was just trying to use her - like practically everyone else was - then she could go take a long walk out a short airlock. But if something else was going on ...

"I had matches that only just finished - so the shopping had to wait until now." she continues, watching the other woman out of the corner of her eye. "But it's not like you to let a social engagement slip. I would've thought you and Elena would have picked out your matching outfits weeks ago."

The other woman looks away which, in their circles, is as good as a flinch. Isabelle can't help but notice it.

I caused that. she reflects, as a bitter taste forms in her mouth.

This was all their "friendship" amounted to, really. Guarded comments, looking for legs up on one another, using one another. All part of the Game their families played. It was never healthy, but it had been the closest thing she'd had to real companionship for years.

At least ... at least until Asil had come along.

She'd let her guard down there. Let the walls crack for just a moment. And just look at what had happened. She had a girlfriend - someone who would sit with her, just for company. No agenda. Not for Isabelle Lozano. Just for Isabelle.

Of all of Elena's posse, Rosalinda was the one who was most likely to actually want something different. Not just an infinite continuation of the Game. And yet here she was. Still trying to make a move, weak though it was. Still playing by the rules. Bound by family and expectation. She would never lower her walls on her own accord.

But then again. I'm the problem here too, aren't I?

Isabelle frowns.

She was still the same, in a large way. To before Asil had barrelled into her life.

But ... she'd also changed ... in a small way.

Maybe she could do for Rosa a little of what had been done for her. For someone who'd at least been there with her through all of the stuffy functions and soulless manoeuvring, it was the least she could do.

Turning, sighing, she gives the other woman her full attention for the first time in the conversation.

"I'm sorry" she says. Her expression adds: 'I know what they put us through.'

"What's wrong?"

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

[Spending a string] How could she claim - if not your heart, if not your service, but your craving? What word, what touch, what caress, what slip of clothing must she give to make you want her? Even if you don't act on it, even if your vows and heart lie elsewhere, how could she make you feel torn about it?

It may also be better to answer not in what she might do, but what she does.

@Thanqol

That's the thing about Kalaya. There are steps you can take, do take, but even as you do them you can see the results are somewhat ... limited. Muscles are impressive, as are feather touches and soft skin. Smiles and sweet words and feats of strength. They are opposite ends of the same ... rather tempting scale.

But temptation has its limits with Kalaya. She's very good at holding herself back from it. For oath and honour, a Knight is a Knight after all. Will she feel a jolt from the way your eyes stare at her when she comes to you? Yes. But will she feel torn?

That is harder. She will feel sad, if she disappoints you. She will feel upset, if she has to fight you. But to make her want you have to bury a different sort of hook into her heart than physical desire. If you want her to really feel the pain of choices that will come down the line, there is only one thing you need to do ...

Be a Good Girl.

You see, it's not Ven's arm or her strength or her kisses or even their friendship that chains Kalayas heart to hers. It's that, deep down, Kalaya believes that she is Good - despite all current evidence - it is all weighed against the girl that she grew up alongside and how they would stand up to bullies, look out for each other and always help those in need.

You helped her at Kingeater. Fought demons alongside her. That counts. A few more Good deeds - helping the Kingdoms or the small people that Gods and Royalty forget - and you'll find you've buried your hooks in her heart right well enough.

But maybe the real question is: can you keep it up? Can you keep being Good? Either really or pretending well enough and long enough to fool her?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Who does she ta- ... you clearly don't get how these trips are supposed to go, do you?

This is her mother's trip, not Isabelle's. Her job is not to figure out the itinerary, accommodation or who will accompany them. Her job is to arrive at the shuttle at the appointed time (actually, 30 minutes early), sit down in her seat, stare out the window at the stars and respond only if spoken to. These trips are not intended to be fun or to include "family bonding time" or whatever normal people do. They have a purpose and they will be executed efficiently.

Besides, she already asked if Cam and Tad could come but the twins have some kind of social media engagement coming up that is consuming their attention and Luca is in business meetings for the next fortnight too. What's more, it's not like she could sneak Asil into the entourage without her mother noticing - as much as she really really wishes she could.

No, she's not likely to have any friends on this trip. It's far more likely that they will run into one of the Lozano family rivals. Maybe Alita Perez, of Perez Pharmaceuticals, and her daughter Elena. Or one of Elena's posse - Diego with his nose in the air or Rosalinda with her pink hair and nasal voice.

If she's lucky, it'll be a quiet trip where she'll just be asked to stand still and try on clothes until her mother decides what she'll wear. Maybe she'll be able to sneak away for a moment, pick out something nice for herself or to even give to Asil. Yes. Images of herself in one of the Kikuji line enter her head: maybe a kimono, or something just inspired by one - she needs to be able to dance. Long sleeves, hair up. Ceremonial sword by her side. Being held by a handsome young drone engineer in her burgundy suit, styled short brown hair and tanned skin. She'd see her across the dance floor. She'd smile. An invitation. They'd walk towards one another, raise hands and slot themselves together like pieces of a puzzle.

She takes a deep breath, cheeks warming, bringing thoughts back under control before they can dash too far down that road.

It would be nice to take Asil to the gala. Officially inviting her would be too obvious though. Maybe an anonymous ticket, tucked into the clothing she'll buy.

Yes. It could work. Maybe there was something to look forward to on this trip after all.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

"Of course, Mother" replies Isabelle, obediently following along.

The path through the complex is long, and gives Isabelle time to reflect on the ending of the fight. For sure, Ksharta would be nursing a grudge for a while. Another enemy to add to the steadily growing list - so many - from each and every fight. Ada Smith, Ksharta, that pirate from the first round. Probably those kidnappers too. It didn't seem like anyone could lose without taking it personally.

Well ... that wasn't true. There was at least Quar.

The Zaldarian had surrendered honourably. She'd lost favour from her mother for her stunt but gained a ... teacher? A confidant? It wasn't yet clear what the Zaldarian was to her beyond "prisoner" - but maybe things would get better with time. In either case, it was a data point that broke the trend. More analysis was needed.

Still, enemies sprouted like weeds. Appropriate, since she felt like the villain of the piece. Mother had always said that power created enemies, that it meant the only ones you could truly trust were family.

Trust. she scoffs internally. The only thing she trusted was that her mother would be true to herself and her ambitions.

But what did that mean for her? She knew she was just a piece in the game, and one that had been unreliable in the past. If she failed to perform ... what would happen then? To Asil? To Quar? To her charity works and other "diversions"? She had to prove her reliability. Keep consistent. Keep being competent.

For now, she distracted herself by mentally reviewing Emberlight's schematics. Anticipating the repairs that would be needed.

It was odd. She found she could recall things much more clearly lately, down to the specific bolts and circuit boards used and where the damage had ended. Maybe all that late night practice was really helping ...

[Isabelle takes the XP and uses it to get the move "Talk Nerdy To Me": Specialising in Mechanical Engineering.]

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Kalaya pauses, momentarily surprised by the sudden choice before her.

N'yari. Dainty Maid. Which one to save? Which one is she meant to save?

Now, if you'd asked her, she would have guessed that the dainty maid arm was the one that belonged to Fengye's darling love. But the scribe hadn't been specific, and it was wrong to assume that just because Fengye was ... of the softer persuasion ... that her heart would look for likeness only.

An image of Muscles and Fur blinks through her head. After all, there were things to be said for N'yari physiques. Academically of course.

She grabs both arms, pulling hard until they are out of the muck.

"I've got her! Both, actually!" she says, as they slip free. "Now which one's yours?"

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Clarity sometimes has a way of slowing things down.

That moment, as the Pulsar Cat pulls away, stretches into forever. She can see clouds trailing from its leading edges like white ribbons. See each rivet, each weld, as it reflects the glint of Akar's sunlight. The heat shimmer from its thrusters, carving grooves behind it.

And in that moment, she weighs her options.

Power. Agony. Two sides of the same coin. Inseparable, at least in all the ways that matter to her Mother. Corporate power, economic power, soft power, hard power. The power of dozens of planets, billions of people, turned towards a single person's desires. The power of Terenius.

Does Isabelle want that power? Well ... maybe a little. She's not an idiot, she knows there are shortcomings in the system. Gaps where people can fall through, or be pushed, all in the name of power to an elite few. Is it naïve to think she might be able to change that if she wins? If she becomes the next CEO? To somehow keep the good and address the bad? Is it also naïve to think she can keep herself whole while chasing that goal?

It's not the right question to ask though. The real question is: does her mother want it ... and does Isabelle not want it enough to defy that? To endanger Her goals or even challenge Her? The answer to the first is obvious. The answer to the second ... well ... she's not an idiot. She knows what Mother can do. What she has done in the past, all in the name of securing power.

Images flash through her mind, faster than coherent thought: A small girl, watching as her mother signs documents. Staff meetings where charts and graphs are shown, where people are crying and she doesn't understand why. News broadcasts, where the people on there yell things and her mother just smirks. A dark closet. Yelling. Silence. Loneliness. She knows what is at stake here - Asil, Emberlight, her life (though she doesn't really care about that), her siblings. Her Family.

The nanites in Emberlight coalesce, a jet-black sword forming. It takes seconds that tick by like days. The sword's edge is monoatomic, its blade as hard as the toughest alloys. It's dangerous, it's a warrior's weapon.

It's also a distraction.

It happens while Ksharta's words wash over her. Isabelle isn't an idiot. She knew what this was going to do. She knew how badly this would hurt. She's made a living reading people - a skill that comes in handy on the battlefield and in the boardroom. She knew when she equipped Emberlight with the spool that it might trigger the Hybrasillian. She knew from Mother that her words would cut deep. That if she pushed hard enough, the young woman who was her opponent would topple.

She knew all that and did it anyway. She really is a bad person in the end.

It would've been ... kinder ... to say something back - to tell her opponent that she was taking her seriously. To fight her - sword to dagger, to re-engage and make it a contest. To meet skill with skill. To do something. To say something. Anything. Just so it didn't end on this note.

If she were a better person, she might've been able to figure out how to do just that.

But the truth is, she isn't a better person. She doesn't know how to find the third option. Solarel had chipped at her chains, but left her alone in the darkness. Asil was her heart, but also her weakness. Right now, in this fight, neither was enough.

Too weak. Too stupid.

Emberlight twists, sword falling away as her lance-pistol swings forward. The Pulsar Cat freezes, aware of the sudden threat and too flat-footed to dodge.

Even through the forming tears, her shot is perfect.