King Xerxes
StarfrostedFox
BrokenPromise
KillamriX08
Stanifly
Kaithe Dame
Agunimon
shylarah
Mini Magi
Lost and Found, the Voice of an Unyielding Will
Dami's Judgment, Vyshta's Mercy
O girl, who wears the face of a devil. Thy heart is more rose than briar. What hast thou learned, ye who study not the things of love and beauty?
O foolish girl, more clever than wise. Thy hands are stained of murder. Hast thou forgotten thine oath?
Woe, O girl; thy heart is full of beauty, but thine eyes do not see it. Thou art quick of wit, but slow of learning. Thy hands cling tightly to power, but are swift to relinquish morality.
And what is this? Thy Valor is acknowledged before Eshiran, yet it availeth thee naught. Thy feet are swift unto retreat; the strength to stand against thine enemies hath departed thee. Thou scatter amongst the rocks and kill like a coward.
The hour of Eshiran is upon thee; yea, and the hour of Dami's Judgment approacheth. Reflect now, thou sluggard: death has spared thee, but what of war? The hour of thy greatest trial approaches, and what hast thou done to prepare?
Thou art a fool; yea, thou keepest the company of fools.
Thou art a fool; yea, thine ears hear only the advice of the foolish.
Thou art foolish.
Thou art foolish; yea, thou art a fool.
It was unwise the traverse the desert during the day, Xiuyang knew—but her body demanded rest and cared not for the hour. Most of the night was wasted—or had an entire day passed? Regardless, she was still here, and the yasoi from before were still stalking her. Casting a veil about herself with arcane magic to obscure her form, she brought what little kinetic magic she knew to bear her weight and keep herself off the sand, lest it give away her position. For the hours of Ipte, she was well concealed. During the hours of Shune, her kinetic magic failed her due to her inexperience and exhaustion.
The hours of Oraff would test her. The cold and unyielding desert was beginning to turn mercilessly hot. Wiping sweat from her brow, she soon realized that she was being tracked. An enemy was approaching—weak, but able to call for reinforcements if she were to be discovered. May Oraff forgive me for what I'm about to do. This blood is on your hands, Juulet. With only this thought to quell her rapidly beating heart, she ambushed the yasoi from around a boulder and silenced his cry for help—not with her unreliable kinetic magic, but with blood magic, tearing the vocal cords right out of his throat. He collapsed, dead amongst the brush of the hidden oasis. The hours of Oraff would pass, not without sacrifice—but it was better to sacrifice this one on the altar of her survival, than for herself to be sacrificed upon the altar of Juulet.
To her own disappointment, she had the presence of mind and the stomach to hide the body, feeding it to a predator she'd sensed in the waters nearby. She looked away, gritting her teeth at the horrible sounds of splashing and tearing of flesh. To kill a yasoi, during the hours of Oraff, with blood magic no less. Her stomach turned, but she could not muster enough bile to lose her lunch. She poured one out for the poor bastard, and moved on. She cried, not for her pursuer, but for her inability to reconcile her identity with this uncaring corner of the world. To survive was to kill, but to kill required the pacifist within to die. How many times had she looked down on others for fighting and killing—over "trinkets?" But if those trinkets helped one to fight and survive, what was the difference between that and this? A cynical part of her told her that she was a failure. Seviin, surely, would have... no, just what would she have done? Just let her pursuers do with her as they pleased? No. Self-defense was the only option, but to do so without killing required a level of strength that Xiuyang didn't have, and could never have.
BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THEM, YOU HAVE FAILED TO CULTIVATE STRENGTH.
Y̴̕͜O̵̬̅U̷̙͑R̶̜̂ ̵͖̀W̶̜͛Ë̵͕́Ȧ̶͕K̵͈̒N̸̗͘É̴͈S̴̫̏S̵͈̋ ̸͇͛I̷̱̋S̸̬͗ ̵͚͘M̵̻̾E̷̙̓R̷̡̈́E̶̠͗L̵̠̿Y̸̢͐ ̵̙́T̶̤̈H̶̲͛Ė̷͓ ̷͇̉R̵̼͘E̷̘̿S̵̛̭U̵̞͠Ļ̸̈́T̵̟͘ ̸̩͗Ö̷̫́F̴̛̯ ̵͚́Y̷͔͋Ǒ̵̮Ũ̷̹R̸̭̓ ̴̮̚Ǒ̵̻W̴̞̋N̵̛͚ ̴̧̐M̶̙͛O̶͇͝R̷̘̈Á̶͎L̵̯͑ ̶̺̚Ĭ̴͈N̵̖̓Ā̵̠Ḓ̷̛Ë̷̝́Q̴̲̐U̸̗͗Ḁ̸͋C̷͍̅Ȳ̸̙.̸̠̓
How she'd been a fool to dismiss, and at times curse, Eshiran. Yet still, the lady of death had heard her plea to be spared. It had to be purposeful. Someone had clearly tampered with the magics at play, giving Xiuyang an impossible edge. It couldn't have just been random chance. It had to mean something. As the hours of Eshiran dragged on, Xiuyang persevered, but the desert's heat took its toll. She began to hallucinate. At first they were mild and easily dismissed, but then, as she raised her head after covering some of her tracks, she caught a glimpse of a one-legged yasoi. She couldn't stop herself from screaming, and her sonic bubble failed. There was shouting in the distance, and her heart went cold. She ran, but exhaustion was catching up to her, and she found herself instinctively running downhill into a valley to try to lose them. She could go no further today; she'd have to find a nice rocky crag to sleep under.
Just as she'd found the perfect spot to hide, one of her pursuers caught up with her. Once again, she silenced his cries for help. It wasn't as clean of a job as the previous, and she found her hands trembling, her heart hesitating. Just as she was fighting off the part of her that still wanted to let him go, he charged at her in aberration-addled rage. Momentarily, Xiuyang stood frozen in fright, but just as he came within inches of her, she forced herself to act, finishing the botched job. This time, however, there was no time to hide the body. She fled further into the valley, abandoning the spot for now. She'd have to use her remaining strength to kite her enemies somewhere else first, then return here, and hope the yasoi wouldn't eagerly retread old ground.
The hours of Dami dragged on as Xiuyang hid under her rock, concealed by illusions, drinking to the very limits of what her Devourer manas would allow just to stay hydrated, drifting in and out of consciousness. As the heatstroke came down gradually, her drunkenness went up, and several apparitions visited her. First came Ingrid—an example of, in her mind, someone who had properly cultivated their strength. Unlike herself, few would mess with Ingrid. She didn't have to skulk around, disguised as other students just to feel safe in the same school as Juulet. She was a reminder of what true strength looked like, a monument to Xiuyang's foolishness for spurning the study of atomic magic. Next was Jamboi, holding the familiar staff of the monkey king. Funny—she'd picked it out for him, but ended up keeping it, out of fear of her own weakness after what happened in ReTan. If Juulet had stolen it from her and given it to him, perhaps that was right and fair. He was a worthy wielder, unlike her, who would probably just smack herself in the head with it if she tried anything spectacular. Gods, how she'd messed up. If she had just known her place and kept her head down, she could be sharing a drink with Ciro on a beach instead of drying up alone under a rock with bugs for company. With that thought in her mind, she passed out.
Many faces passed by Ciro as he waited, watching for Xiuyang to appear. Some were his fellow students, others were familiar faces and a few were obvious first-timers. It was past peak hours and most of those faces were leaving, but a few did arrive. All of them were men, and one was carrying a bag, but none of them were Xiuyang. He certainly hadn't overestimated her capabilities; he knew she was a regular through his contacts.
Perhaps she had decided not to show up, then—or maybe she was the type of girl who liked to keep a man waiting. Though, she didn't seem like it...
Unbeknownst to him, Xiuyang had already arrived. Hidden away in a privacy booth in a back room, she pulled her qipao out of her bag, along with a shawl and face veil. In the end, she was still too shy to show her face, even though it wasn't really "hers." She had removed her thresher-hunting mask and bandages, and that was enough bravery for tonight.
Now came the hard part.
She covered her mouth with both of her hands as she transformed into Desideria Solari. It took every ounce of her iron will not to make a single sound. It wasn't as bad as facemimicking anyone else, but it still wasn't easy. After her minor ordeal, she got dressed, and finished the job by using her Binding magic to destroy the ratty-looking disguise and bag.
There was just one thing left to do.
Peeking her head out, she checked to make sure Ciro was looking the other way. She paused, with a mischievous thought that she might wait until she was just a little bit late, to see if he'd keep waiting. In the end, though, she was simply too curious. He might wait—but she could not. She crept up behind him, intent on sticking the rose right into the curls of his hair. Charmed, Messer Volta, she would say, her voice full of childish mirth as she giggled at his look of surprise. Such was the girl's plan, and a Solari's plans often went off without a hitch.
"Oh! Ciao, Bella!" He was sipping wine at his booth. Earlier, he'd been meeting with the sorts of people people met with in places like these, and that was to say the back rooms.
Gently, he placed the glass on the tabletop. A smile appeared on his slightly too-pretty face. "I see you've made it, and just on time." He didn't ask. He simply poured her a glass and bade her sit across from him. It was a subtle thing, but she could feel an anti-sonic bubble drop around them. He didn't comment on it, of course. Neither would she. "This is a good vintage: Château Morcand Ellermane Blue, DZ45. Has a sort of warmth the Island itself always lacked, if you ask me." He smirked conspiratorially. "Not that either of us was around back then."
If Xiuyang expected Ciro to be waiting for her at the entrance, as though in assumption that it would be her first time at the Groove, she was mistaken. So it was that she found him in the back, tucked away in a booth where he had a perfect view of the whole room—at least, in theory. His attention seemed absorbed by something else. She crept up behind him, just outside his peripheral vision, arms locked playfully behind her back, her eyes full of mischief. The rose suited him better than herself, she mused.
"Was there any doubt I'd show?" she teased as she took her seat with a nod of gratitude. At the introduction of their drink for the evening, her eyes widened with delight. "Oh, wow. That is..." She didn't finish that statement; there was no need. An invisible smirk was evident as she glanced around, as if to ensure that no one was listening. Then, she leaned in close. "...How much?" she whispered, dead serious, as though the alcohol would be the most interesting thing he had to offer tonight.
She waited a beat to let the absurdity of her jape sink in. Then, she giggled with glee, accepting the glass. She took one slow sip, savoring the taste. As ever, she drank without fear; she didn't bother to check her glass for anything. She played a fool, perhaps, to mask her confidence, but behind the veil, her smile was evident in her eyes and the sound of her voice. "You certainly know how to build excitement, handsome. I can hardly wait a moment longer to see where you're going with this." There was an eager look in her eyes, to be sure, but at that moment it was distinctly mercantile. She was expecting to do business. At the same time, though, she was dressed to impress. The golden collar and hemming of her qipao glittered subtly in the low light, accented by the floral patterns bearing the warm colors of autumn. A stray finger idly played with the tassels of her shawl as she waited for Ciro to make his next move.
...
O foolish girl, more clever than wise. Thy hands are stained of murder. Hast thou forgotten thine oath?
Woe, O girl; thy heart is full of beauty, but thine eyes do not see it. Thou art quick of wit, but slow of learning. Thy hands cling tightly to power, but are swift to relinquish morality.
And what is this? Thy Valor is acknowledged before Eshiran, yet it availeth thee naught. Thy feet are swift unto retreat; the strength to stand against thine enemies hath departed thee. Thou scatter amongst the rocks and kill like a coward.
The hour of Eshiran is upon thee; yea, and the hour of Dami's Judgment approacheth. Reflect now, thou sluggard: death has spared thee, but what of war? The hour of thy greatest trial approaches, and what hast thou done to prepare?
Thou art a fool; yea, thou keepest the company of fools.
Thou art a fool; yea, thine ears hear only the advice of the foolish.
Thou art foolish.
Thou art foolish; yea, thou art a fool.
It was unwise the traverse the desert during the day, Xiuyang knew—but her body demanded rest and cared not for the hour. Most of the night was wasted—or had an entire day passed? Regardless, she was still here, and the yasoi from before were still stalking her. Casting a veil about herself with arcane magic to obscure her form, she brought what little kinetic magic she knew to bear her weight and keep herself off the sand, lest it give away her position. For the hours of Ipte, she was well concealed. During the hours of Shune, her kinetic magic failed her due to her inexperience and exhaustion.
The hours of Oraff would test her. The cold and unyielding desert was beginning to turn mercilessly hot. Wiping sweat from her brow, she soon realized that she was being tracked. An enemy was approaching—weak, but able to call for reinforcements if she were to be discovered. May Oraff forgive me for what I'm about to do. This blood is on your hands, Juulet. With only this thought to quell her rapidly beating heart, she ambushed the yasoi from around a boulder and silenced his cry for help—not with her unreliable kinetic magic, but with blood magic, tearing the vocal cords right out of his throat. He collapsed, dead amongst the brush of the hidden oasis. The hours of Oraff would pass, not without sacrifice—but it was better to sacrifice this one on the altar of her survival, than for herself to be sacrificed upon the altar of Juulet.
To her own disappointment, she had the presence of mind and the stomach to hide the body, feeding it to a predator she'd sensed in the waters nearby. She looked away, gritting her teeth at the horrible sounds of splashing and tearing of flesh. To kill a yasoi, during the hours of Oraff, with blood magic no less. Her stomach turned, but she could not muster enough bile to lose her lunch. She poured one out for the poor bastard, and moved on. She cried, not for her pursuer, but for her inability to reconcile her identity with this uncaring corner of the world. To survive was to kill, but to kill required the pacifist within to die. How many times had she looked down on others for fighting and killing—over "trinkets?" But if those trinkets helped one to fight and survive, what was the difference between that and this? A cynical part of her told her that she was a failure. Seviin, surely, would have... no, just what would she have done? Just let her pursuers do with her as they pleased? No. Self-defense was the only option, but to do so without killing required a level of strength that Xiuyang didn't have, and could never have.
BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THEM, YOU HAVE FAILED TO CULTIVATE STRENGTH.
Y̴̕͜O̵̬̅U̷̙͑R̶̜̂ ̵͖̀W̶̜͛Ë̵͕́Ȧ̶͕K̵͈̒N̸̗͘É̴͈S̴̫̏S̵͈̋ ̸͇͛I̷̱̋S̸̬͗ ̵͚͘M̵̻̾E̷̙̓R̷̡̈́E̶̠͗L̵̠̿Y̸̢͐ ̵̙́T̶̤̈H̶̲͛Ė̷͓ ̷͇̉R̵̼͘E̷̘̿S̵̛̭U̵̞͠Ļ̸̈́T̵̟͘ ̸̩͗Ö̷̫́F̴̛̯ ̵͚́Y̷͔͋Ǒ̵̮Ũ̷̹R̸̭̓ ̴̮̚Ǒ̵̻W̴̞̋N̵̛͚ ̴̧̐M̶̙͛O̶͇͝R̷̘̈Á̶͎L̵̯͑ ̶̺̚Ĭ̴͈N̵̖̓Ā̵̠Ḓ̷̛Ë̷̝́Q̴̲̐U̸̗͗Ḁ̸͋C̷͍̅Ȳ̸̙.̸̠̓
How she'd been a fool to dismiss, and at times curse, Eshiran. Yet still, the lady of death had heard her plea to be spared. It had to be purposeful. Someone had clearly tampered with the magics at play, giving Xiuyang an impossible edge. It couldn't have just been random chance. It had to mean something. As the hours of Eshiran dragged on, Xiuyang persevered, but the desert's heat took its toll. She began to hallucinate. At first they were mild and easily dismissed, but then, as she raised her head after covering some of her tracks, she caught a glimpse of a one-legged yasoi. She couldn't stop herself from screaming, and her sonic bubble failed. There was shouting in the distance, and her heart went cold. She ran, but exhaustion was catching up to her, and she found herself instinctively running downhill into a valley to try to lose them. She could go no further today; she'd have to find a nice rocky crag to sleep under.
Just as she'd found the perfect spot to hide, one of her pursuers caught up with her. Once again, she silenced his cries for help. It wasn't as clean of a job as the previous, and she found her hands trembling, her heart hesitating. Just as she was fighting off the part of her that still wanted to let him go, he charged at her in aberration-addled rage. Momentarily, Xiuyang stood frozen in fright, but just as he came within inches of her, she forced herself to act, finishing the botched job. This time, however, there was no time to hide the body. She fled further into the valley, abandoning the spot for now. She'd have to use her remaining strength to kite her enemies somewhere else first, then return here, and hope the yasoi wouldn't eagerly retread old ground.
The hours of Dami dragged on as Xiuyang hid under her rock, concealed by illusions, drinking to the very limits of what her Devourer manas would allow just to stay hydrated, drifting in and out of consciousness. As the heatstroke came down gradually, her drunkenness went up, and several apparitions visited her. First came Ingrid—an example of, in her mind, someone who had properly cultivated their strength. Unlike herself, few would mess with Ingrid. She didn't have to skulk around, disguised as other students just to feel safe in the same school as Juulet. She was a reminder of what true strength looked like, a monument to Xiuyang's foolishness for spurning the study of atomic magic. Next was Jamboi, holding the familiar staff of the monkey king. Funny—she'd picked it out for him, but ended up keeping it, out of fear of her own weakness after what happened in ReTan. If Juulet had stolen it from her and given it to him, perhaps that was right and fair. He was a worthy wielder, unlike her, who would probably just smack herself in the head with it if she tried anything spectacular. Gods, how she'd messed up. If she had just known her place and kept her head down, she could be sharing a drink with Ciro on a beach instead of drying up alone under a rock with bugs for company. With that thought in her mind, she passed out.
Many faces passed by Ciro as he waited, watching for Xiuyang to appear. Some were his fellow students, others were familiar faces and a few were obvious first-timers. It was past peak hours and most of those faces were leaving, but a few did arrive. All of them were men, and one was carrying a bag, but none of them were Xiuyang. He certainly hadn't overestimated her capabilities; he knew she was a regular through his contacts.
Perhaps she had decided not to show up, then—or maybe she was the type of girl who liked to keep a man waiting. Though, she didn't seem like it...
Unbeknownst to him, Xiuyang had already arrived. Hidden away in a privacy booth in a back room, she pulled her qipao out of her bag, along with a shawl and face veil. In the end, she was still too shy to show her face, even though it wasn't really "hers." She had removed her thresher-hunting mask and bandages, and that was enough bravery for tonight.
Now came the hard part.
She covered her mouth with both of her hands as she transformed into Desideria Solari. It took every ounce of her iron will not to make a single sound. It wasn't as bad as facemimicking anyone else, but it still wasn't easy. After her minor ordeal, she got dressed, and finished the job by using her Binding magic to destroy the ratty-looking disguise and bag.
There was just one thing left to do.
Peeking her head out, she checked to make sure Ciro was looking the other way. She paused, with a mischievous thought that she might wait until she was just a little bit late, to see if he'd keep waiting. In the end, though, she was simply too curious. He might wait—but she could not. She crept up behind him, intent on sticking the rose right into the curls of his hair. Charmed, Messer Volta, she would say, her voice full of childish mirth as she giggled at his look of surprise. Such was the girl's plan, and a Solari's plans often went off without a hitch.
"Oh! Ciao, Bella!" He was sipping wine at his booth. Earlier, he'd been meeting with the sorts of people people met with in places like these, and that was to say the back rooms.
Gently, he placed the glass on the tabletop. A smile appeared on his slightly too-pretty face. "I see you've made it, and just on time." He didn't ask. He simply poured her a glass and bade her sit across from him. It was a subtle thing, but she could feel an anti-sonic bubble drop around them. He didn't comment on it, of course. Neither would she. "This is a good vintage: Château Morcand Ellermane Blue, DZ45. Has a sort of warmth the Island itself always lacked, if you ask me." He smirked conspiratorially. "Not that either of us was around back then."
If Xiuyang expected Ciro to be waiting for her at the entrance, as though in assumption that it would be her first time at the Groove, she was mistaken. So it was that she found him in the back, tucked away in a booth where he had a perfect view of the whole room—at least, in theory. His attention seemed absorbed by something else. She crept up behind him, just outside his peripheral vision, arms locked playfully behind her back, her eyes full of mischief. The rose suited him better than herself, she mused.
"Was there any doubt I'd show?" she teased as she took her seat with a nod of gratitude. At the introduction of their drink for the evening, her eyes widened with delight. "Oh, wow. That is..." She didn't finish that statement; there was no need. An invisible smirk was evident as she glanced around, as if to ensure that no one was listening. Then, she leaned in close. "...How much?" she whispered, dead serious, as though the alcohol would be the most interesting thing he had to offer tonight.
She waited a beat to let the absurdity of her jape sink in. Then, she giggled with glee, accepting the glass. She took one slow sip, savoring the taste. As ever, she drank without fear; she didn't bother to check her glass for anything. She played a fool, perhaps, to mask her confidence, but behind the veil, her smile was evident in her eyes and the sound of her voice. "You certainly know how to build excitement, handsome. I can hardly wait a moment longer to see where you're going with this." There was an eager look in her eyes, to be sure, but at that moment it was distinctly mercantile. She was expecting to do business. At the same time, though, she was dressed to impress. The golden collar and hemming of her qipao glittered subtly in the low light, accented by the floral patterns bearing the warm colors of autumn. A stray finger idly played with the tassels of her shawl as she waited for Ciro to make his next move.
...
"Oira Luuntai! You have done good making it so far. Though as the Perrench say, La cavalerie est arrivée!" He gave one of his goofy grins towards her. "There is probably something similar in Revidian and ReTannese too."
Jamboi was here. Jamboi was here? It wasn't a hallucination?!
"...J-ham-bhoi?" came the raspy reply, with a barely-suppressed cough. The true voice of Xiuyang, which only Ashon would recognize, came from beneath her hat. "It's too late..." She coughed.
"...for heat stroke. You're really here..?"
"We got the rest of the crew too. It seems you got a little band out here on a Saving Xiuyang mission." He called the others over, especially towards Trypano and Roslyn, "Looks like you might need to patch her up with that magic of yours. I want her as good as new."
Trypano approached, examining the situation before her. Performing a preliminary scan of her vitals she extended her senses through Xiuyang's body, looking for damages or other distortions to her body as she drew from her surroundings, readying to restore her flesh.
Hearing Ashon's shouts, Roslyn shortly joined the rest. Relief spread across her face at seeing the huddled figure half buried in the sand. She glanced in her medical satchel while she spoke.
"I know a decent level of binding and brought bandages in case. I used the skinglue in the canon so I can't 'sap' together any severed limbs."
Ingrid's cool persona gave way with a sigh, even if Xiuyang was injured, she was alive. She pulled out a mask from her bag and offered it to Xiuyang, "I heard your mask got smashed, so I brought you a new one. It's imbued to help with things." Ingrid made sure to look away if she would grab it. Whatever was under the mask was for Xiuyang to know.
Tyrel stood back and watched the joyous reunion. She managed a small but genuine smile and gave Xiuyang her privacy. She understood a thing or two about being self-conscious. When it was appropriate to do so, she inclined her head in Xiuyang's direction. "Good to see you are okay."
Trypano administered healing efforts onto Xiuyang, fully restoring her bodily integrity as well as hydrating her sufficiently, scanning once more to ensure no lingering symptoms persisted.
"T-Trhy-pano? Rosl-hn?" Xiuyang coughed. A bloodied, bandaged hand reached out blindly and took the mask from Ingrid, then retreated into the darkness. The coughing abruptly stopped as she took long, slow, even breaths. "Fucksake. I'm not dying, you guys," she chuckled, rather unconvincingly. "The air here, it's just terrible. Stinks like death. I can barely breathe without this thing. Ingrid, you're a blessing. This... This means so much more to me than you could ever know." She got a bit misty eyed.
For almost a full minute, she simply lay there and let Trypano go to work. Aside from being battered and bruised, a few scrapes and cuts here and there, and being totally exhausted, she was more or less in top shape. Trypano could obviously see that she had subsisted on nothing but alcohol for nearly two days, further confirming the Devourer theory.
Trypano examined her, and noticed something odd, but couldn't quite determine what it was just yet. Her bandages seemed to be imbued with some kind of magic that interfered with her attempts to examine her more closely. Being damaged, she could inspect Xiuyang's injuries, and confirm that the Devourer blood she found earlier belonged to her. She could also see scarring on her throat, which may have something to do with her inability to speak properly without one of these enchanted masks. Though, unhealed scars on a binder was a bit of a mystery in itself.
Sleep tempted Xiuyang several times throughout the process, but she managed to force herself to stay awake. If she allowed herself to fall asleep, would she wake up to find it was all just a dream? That couldn't happen. She was losing the war of attrition, losing her wits and her energy as her pursuers refused to allow her any rest. "Somehow, with all of you here, I think I'd be fine even if I was actually dying," she japed.
"But, I..." She froze. Behind Ashon, Trypano, Roslyn and Ingrid, there was another figure—a one-legged one. For a moment, she shook, but as she looked up... "Tyrel," she breathed, sighing in relief. "...You're here too?!" The sudden realization seemed to energize her. Now she knew she wasn't dreaming. She crawled out of her crevice, looking filthy and ridiculous, covered in dust, plants and bugs.
It made one wonder just what she was hiding from.
Hmm... A curious state indeed. It was little mystery that Xiuyang was purposefully concealing her state of being. Given her interest in her research and the possible revelations their book may hold it was clear that she was concealing something of a physical nature. Given how it was untreated despite being a binder she concluded that it was probably something inherent to the blood. Perhaps a malformation of the flesh such as Penny's leg was, or a rare mana virus she'd yet to study. Either which way, she had blood sampled already and there were other times to seek deeper insight. Not here, not now. Extrication was their main prerogative here.
"After ye' get yer' bearings feel free t' bring us up to speed on yer' situation." Trypano spoke, her hatted accent kicking up once again. "On our side'a the situation the school authorities only found a mound set up where 'ya were last at. Not pressin' the issue further they declared you dead and washed their hands of it. We and a few of th' others picked up where they left off and traced th' temporal signal out t' here." Having given Xiuyang a quick recap of the aftermath of her disappearance Trypano turned and looked out, surveying the environment as the wind swept by, long crimson hair dancing in the moonlight below her black bowler cap.
"Ah'll admit ya hid well... almost too well."
Roslyn pulled her hand from her medical kit when she spied Trypano tending to Xiuyang. She had forgotten the tall woman's mention of being a healer. Her eyes lingered on Xiuyang as the woman coughed and placed on her new mask. Despite her bravo, Roslyn saw the cracks in it. Her mother often did the same thing especially during her last years.
She shook herself back to the present, smiling at seeing her friend alive.
"Umm, maybe we should get moving? I don't think a group this big will go unnoticed and I'd rather avoid trouble. Do we have a way back?"
Xiuyang's eyes darkened after Trypano's explanation, but she didn't seem surprised. "I didn't think anyone would come. Using portals is too dangerous now." She tried to dust off her robes a little. "It was Juulet. I tried to reason with her, but it was useless." She left out the reason why she attacked her. It was pointless, though. Her secret would be out soon anyway. Juulet surely wouldn't keep it to herself, no matter how badly it might have appeared to rattle her in the moment. Xiuyang could only picture her laughing it off after the fact. Should she just tell them, first? Control the narrative, as her father taught?
She ran through the possibilities in her mind, of what might happen if they all learned she was a Facemimic. It was fitting, perhaps, that a mixed bag like her had a mana type that was considered blessed, and one considered cursed or demonic. As she considered how each of them may react, she realized that someone was missing from this reunion.
Before she could ask anyone where Ciro was, however, there was movement. All of them sensed it. The yasoi approaching them felt no need to be stealthy. There were at least a dozen of them, and three were drawing at over a 9 RAS level.
"Elaz! Ven'sali!" their apparent leader shouted.
"Anax'sali!" another called out.
"Moad, daxtoil yanii!" cried a third.
Xiuyang was drawing too, now. "What are they saying?" She grimaced, remembering the body she had no time to hide. The others would have seen it on their way into the valley. "I... If it's about the man I killed... I had to kill him. Tyrel, I had to. If I didn't, they—" She swallowed. Then, her eyes landed upon one of the weaker yasoi. She glared at him, her hand twitching as she held back her murderous intent. "Dog," she snarled.
"We didn't have any issues coming through." Roslyn said, giving Xuiyang an odd look. She didn't understand what Xiuyang meant about the portals being dangerous. Those were just rumors, right? Before she could ask anything else, shouts and rushing footsteps caught her attention. Her eys turned to see a group of natives approaching them. Everything about their body language screamed danger to her frightened instinct. She tried to translate the language spoken, but she knew only three words.
"I only recall the words: there, die, and human," Roslyn regretted not knowing more, "I really need to study harder. But I don't think die is a good thing. Are we fighting or running?"
She couldn't help stepping closer to Xiuyang. Her hand canon stayed at her side, lowered to the ground but ready to fire. This looked really bad.
Ingrid was about to pull out some clothes and water for her. Who wants to return to the school looking a mess. It would only satisfy Xuiyang's attacker to see the impact it had. The name was of no surprise but it still stirred Ingrid's anger.
Juulet had done so many things already. But this was a blatant attempt at murder. Not even Benny crossed that line on school grounds.
Well, not so explicitly at least.
Either way, Juulet needed to be removed, either by the school throwing her out now that there could be testimony or by an unfortunate accident. But now an issue showed its head, some strong yasoi were making their way to us. "If we could we should run," Ingrid looked at Tyrel as she was the temporal mage here, "And if not we should make time to run."
This could be some hell of a practice for Mano e Mano, Ingrid grimly thought.
Ashon stretched as he positioned himself between the Yanii and the other Yasoi, giving Luuntai's friends the space to attend to her. As he gazed at the intruders, he cast a disdainful look over them and casually waved his hand dismissively. "A’lash, pelosh joi tiin. Exi," he declared, slamming his fist against his chest with a force reminiscent of a gorilla. "Yanii tox Jamboi'Ismax."
With a confident motion, he gestured toward Tyrel. "Yrash'toshdon ruii laz." He continued to stand with a commanding presence, a stalwart guardian who stood as a bulwark against the threat they pose.
"You needn't justify yourself. I ain't no stranger to th' state of Yasoi affairs." She dismissed Xiuyang's attempts to justify the situation with the body. She wasn't pegged as one to kill wantonly and after her mission in Rettan it would take a far more severe instance of moral degeneracy to raise her concern.
Looking up at their greeting party she stood and was slowly, discretely drawing power. A fight wasn't unlikely and unless their lanky accompaniment were somehow more persuasive than she'd credited them for then the need for some buffing and general medical service would soon follow.
"I beg you," Tyrel said in yasoi, "allow us to discuss this as people and not fight as animals." She nonetheless drew, and drew, and drew up to nearly her full capacity. "You would not want to be treated as animals, would you?"
Xiuyang considered Roslyn and Ingrid's words. The smart option was to run, surely. However, a primal, enraged part of her also wanted to fight—if not to kill, then certainly to put the fear of divine retribution into these animals that had chased her for nearly two days, and never stopped coming. At some point, a group of six had become a hunting party of more than double that. There was not an ounce of sympathy among them for a displaced Huusoi: they looked at her like she was a dangerous pest at best, and comparable to a prey animal at worst.
While she was caught in her indecisiveness, Ashon and Tyrel tried to negotiate with words she couldn't follow. A few of the less aberration-addled Yasoi were intimidated by Tyrel's drawing capacity, but an insane pair of addicts mirrored her gesture, and a third one followed suit, all of them drawing near or into the 9 RAS range. That was when a decision was made for them: Mr. Solari's hired hands all charged at the Yasoi party, unwilling to let these monsters draw in any more power. As one of them turned to face Xiuyang, the Yasoi in front of him vanished without a trace.
"Run, milady! We'll cover your es—"
Instantly, the man and his partner were decapitated. A punch that Xiuyang couldn't see sent the man's head flying right past her own. Then, she saw her own head fall right from her body—and recovered from her confusion just in time to realize that she was seeing the future, and dodge the incoming attack. She was approached by two of the Yasoi, a stronger one and a weaker one. For lack of a better weapon, she smacked the weaker one with her gourd in a panic, and cracked his skull open.
Something snapped inside Xiuyang's mind. This wasn't like her battle in ReTan, where only one or two of the most insane minds present there actually wanted to fight the students of Ersand'Enise, who were technically still children. It was a situation where even defeat may not have meant death, at least until the knower titan showed up. That was what she'd told herself after the fact, anyway, to cope with the stress.
This was a murderous mob of insane Yasoi.
It was kill or be killed—a free for all.
She screamed, and threw a chemically enhanced ball of flame at a second Yasoi. It burned her hands to do it without her wand, but she didn't care. It was one less pair of crazed, deranged, ravenous eyes.
It was one less "Juulet" in the world—and it felt good to be rid of him. If there had been a chance to flee, Xiuyang had missed it. She and her fellow students were surrounded.
A few of the Yasoi yowled out for help—but nobody came. While these hunters had been occupied chasing a Yanii with a face like a devil, others had dealt with one that had the face of an angel. Whether they were simply scared off, or rapt in the bliss of aberrations, or even dead didn't matter. Every other Yasoi for miles was quite indisposed to help the rather unfortunate hunting party. None of them would be laying a finger on Xiuyang.
Tyrel could see that these people were gone. The darklings had claimed them, as they claimed so many Consoi. She could also see that, deranged as they were, their magics were wild and unpracticed. "Everyone back from me!" she commanded. In truth, her heart was hammering. In truth, she knew that the combat training that had been drilled into her from girlhood was never meant to have been used. In truth, she doubted her substantial abilities and did not want to kill.
In truth, Tyrel was a killer.
The first imploded into shreds of skin and shards of bone. The second launched three arcane lances at her. She spun away from one, absorbed another, and the final one cleanly missed. She blasted him back with triple the energy and the last thing that he knew was heat. For a moment, that made the others think twice about attacking her. "Siip'najo taca!" came the shouts, but they swirled away from her like stupid, mocking poca-parrots. "Siip'najo yambiid!" they chorused. She saw an opportunity and lopped another's head off with a kinetic blade.
Some of the huusoi were struggling and, for a moment, she wondered why she was protecting them. They were so weak and they were her people's enemy. She shook her head visibly to clear it, knowing better, and focused on a new spell: Infinity Loop. Momentarily, as another fool made to approach the Living Goddess, a great burning aura of nuclear fire surrounded her person. He melted before he reached her with a strangled cry. "Oapen'ven!" she bellowed, "rey etuulan axuu'it joi! Vel rey joi moad."
Then, she felt them in the distance - at the far hazy edge of her energy senses: dozens more bodies, dozens more of these beasts coming towards her. There was no way they could possibly win a battle of attrition, and what would the cost be? The 'goddess' changed tactics. "Xiuyang!" she shouted, "Ingrid! Cover me! I'm going to get us out of here."
One of these enemies was unreasonably strong. She blasted away at a cornered Roslyn and Tyrel's heart skipped a beat. Then there was the second wave, approaching, about to enter the sensing range of her allies. They were all about to see how fucked they were.
She reached out for them and, for a moment, felt something unholy. She felt it and then... there was nothing.
Xiuyang's scream, followed by a fire ball was enough to jerk Roslyn back into the present. She raised the Smoking Bandit. A sticky goo splattered at the feet of a female attacker. She shrieked and struggled to free herself. However, her partner dissolved it effortlessly.
He inhaled then sent an ear shattering scream at Roslyn. She twisted her weapon to point at him, uttering a spell to redirect it. "Sonic Break!"
The spell broke through her defense. Roslyn's feet lifted and she flew back. Her body rolled cross the sands, coming to a stop a few meters from the group. Blood trickled from her ears as she got on to all fours. She shook her head clear and pushed onto her feet.
"I need to pay better attention to Mr. Secto during class." Roslyn mumbled.
She caught sight of movement in her peripheral. Two more Yasoi had joined her attacker. Roslyn grabbed her weapon and lifted it again. One rushed in with a gut wrench. Too fast! The girl clenched her teeth and braced for the impact. Suddenly they all evaporated into ashes when Tyrel turned her attention on them. Roslyn's face paled at the raw power demonstrated.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side, Tyrel." She managed to say then added. "I got an idea."
She dug in her satchel. Damn it, two of her bottles broke. The girl hoisted the remaining three up by their necks. With a deep breath, she drew. The air started to chill as she stole what little heat she could. Her manas stretched into the alcohol and shifted it into pure ethanol. Shaking them up to add heat, she warned her allies.
"Careful, these have a nice burn to them."
She chucked one bottle at the feet of the two of the remaining threats. Fire erupted before them, forcing them and others back. Roslyn readied the next before a Yasoi burst past the wall of flames and reached for her.
Fear had little place In Ingrid's hardened heart. How could a group of maddened Yasoi cause anything more than mild worry? Her infinity loop was long heating up before the battle commenced.
In an instance, the rock roared to life and the air around Ingrid distorted. Heat shed off of her just to be absorbed again. Ingrid did not let an ounce of energy go.
She threw herself at the stronger of the enemies, deep into their area. That distortion around Ingrid only grew until the air started to combust around her, sand glassing underneath her. A spark, a light, a plasmatic beam slammed into one. There was no torso left to to heal, only assortment of limbs.
Attacks of all types came at her and with a judicial stare, any matter disintegrated on trying to reach her. Her normal weakness to Internal was slashed by the amount of energy interference in the way.
She was unstoppable right now and Ingrid knew it. They weren't strong enough to stop her but Ingrid found herself not strong enough to wipe them out in a flash.
The Majesty she wore was now boring into her. She pressed and pushed herself to keep it up. It was her spear and shield. She needed to destroy them before it exhausted herself. And then Tyrel called out.
Ingrid recalled herself to block off a side of Tyrel. She didn't care to be commanded by Tyrel, having someone at the helm let her do what she was good at. Sandstone formed and shattered and froze until she was able to command a mighty jagged wall with Kinetic.
It shifted further, details etched in to the jagged sand, creating scales. It took the form of wither a Royal Sand Wyrm or Arrow Dragon. Ingrid was not good at faces. Either way it should give the Yasoi something to hit other than Tyrel.
In this nameless valley of Yarsoc, where Xiuyang would have otherwise met her end alone, the eclectic Fait Accompli fought as one coordinated unit. The Yasoi had several powerhouses to match their own, but they were wild and out of sync with each other. Tyrel and Ingrid fought off the strong, the distraction proving effective, while the rest banded together against the remaining enemies. The battle ended as quickly as it had began, the slaughter lasting no longer than a couple minutes.
Just when it seemed that enemy reinforcements might be coming, they suddenly vanished, leaving the six students as the only ones standing. All of the Solari mercenari and local Yasoi were dead.
All but one.
Xiuyang struggled with this last enemy like she had a vendetta. He tried to use his magic against her, but she drew it away to nothing every time. With binding and chemical magics, she wore him down with her bare fists, until, suddenly, he gained the upper hand. He got one last swipe at her face which had barely missed before Tyrel got a clear shot and essentially vaporized him.
"Thank you--" Xiuyang exhaled in that raspy voice as she caught her breath. As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes went wide with fear as she realized the Yasoi had snatched the mask from her.
What Fait Accompli saw now was the true face of Xiuyang Solari: though she had the eyes of a woman, the lower half of her face was that of a man. It was a face Roslyn recognized as one she had seen recently. Xiuyang's face was disfigured indeed--by the face of her own father.
Worse still, her body seemed to be trying to fight off the familiar visage as though it were an infection. There were several scars across her face, two of them right at the edge of where her mask met flesh. One crossed the bridge of her nose right under her eyes, dividing her face almost neatly in half.
"NO!!" she suddenly screeched, reaching up with both arms to cover her face. "Don't--look--at me!" she managed to sputter between coughs as she scrambled to find the lost mask in a panic, hyperventilating in between each coughing fit. "It's not--not what you think..." she sobbed as she looked away, having found the mask. She put it to her face quickly, taking deeper breaths as she slowly steadied herself.
As the melee initiated everyone took to blade and spell as they engaged the enemies. She herself knew her position, to mend and block attacks from the enemy. The others did what they did best: Murder. Yasoi bend, rent apart and burned until they ceased and yet it did little to dull the fervor of the other ones. Annoyingly one decided to engage her himself. Dashing at her with a long blade he attempted to impale her, only instead the blade slid off the handle as she consumed a single sliver of the blade's matter, right at the base. She had snatched the yasoi attacker by his throat, lifting him from his feet with one arm like he was a poorly weighted tankard of ale raised in toast.
She passed only a brief glance at the struggling addict before tossing him into a fire that Roslyn had started. Just more screaming to fill the cries in the air as she turned to stall one of the heavier casters of the Yasoi group. They employed blood magic crudely, basic techniques that were easily dismantled no matter how high their RAS might of been. Without much way to harm them it was only a matter of time before their own caster's power consumed their foes.
Despite their efforts it would have seemed that the Yasoi had done more damage than she would have given them credit for. Their numbers availed them only in slaying the mercenaries that were in tow, the students proving far too formidable for the yasoi regardless of their numerical superiority.
Of course she then turned her attention to Xiuyang who had, in the excitement, forgotten her mask. The state of her face indicated a unique condition, something that Trypano had already gleamed but could now see in full effect. Xiuyang herself however reacted as though their stares burned her as an arcane lance would, reeling in horror with the realization of her own error. Despite how she might of feared that she was in some way a monster Trypano's expression remained cold, stoic as ever. She simply tipped her hat up, giving her a few seconds to steady herself before looking straight through the sockets of her mask into her panicked eyes.
"I know what y' must be thinkin': 'That 'yer somethin' else 'cause of all that, some sort'a ungodly mistake p'haps. Folk's 'round you could never understand that b'neath that skin the actual you resides, right?" She reached up and casually swept aside some of her crimson red hair in a symbolic gesture. She took a couple steps forward, leaving enough space for the others but staying relatively within arms reach of her. She cast a probing glance at the others, a warning to those who might of been ready to judge Xiuyang for this, before looking back and addressing her once more.
"Tell me this: Who do you think y' are? 'Cause I'm looking at you an' I just see Xiuyang."
Roslyn stood there, her eyes locked onto the familiar sight. Her teeth bit her lower lip as she examined her feelings. A primal part of her recoiled at the sight seeing it as unnatural and confusing. She swallowed down that sensation when it became a hardened lump in her throat. With a deep breath, she let her face relax. At least she knew she wasn't crazy when she saw those eyes shift colors. Still it felt like she was missing pieces of a mystery and that sensation gnawed at her. She approached Xiuyang with hesitation in her form. Not from fear of what the girl looked like, but concern for her well being.
She caught Trypano's words and shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure I can put my thoughts into words right now. They are too jumbled up and confused."
Roslyn turned back to Xiuyang, "At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me. It's a bit of a relief to know otherwise, but is this why you were in pain back at the Society Faire? What happened?"
Ingrid was utterly shocked. Xuiyang was a man?! But he's so small, is he a runt? Ingrid considered it, thinking about his athletic prowess and interest in Trypano. I mean it was weird but, hey, not the worst. Not my colors but to each's own right?
No, that's stupid. Xuiyang is no man, maybe? Gods, the stubble is throwing me off. Just take it slow Ingy, she is Xuiyang, your friend.
"Come now, ain't nobody here will hurt you," she stayed a decent step away not to crowd. "We came all the way here for you, and we are here for you." Ingrid kept her voice steady and soft, not trying to demean her but hopefully give the tenderness she needs. "Do you think you can tell us what's happening Xuiyang?"
"But there are people who would kill me for looking like this. I'm... a Facemimic," she confessed, as there was little purpose to be gained from hiding it now. "Blessed and cursed blood in the same body—most people would consider that an 'ungodly mistake.' Why shouldn't it be? You can see the result," she replied bitterly. "I'm... a freak, and I'll be one forever if I can't learn how to fix this. I can't rely on anyone else. If this secret gets out before I can cure it, I'm ruined." Tears rolled down her face. "...and Juulet knows. The bitch is probably telling everyone right now."
"Well, we have more than a handful of skilled binders here, don't we?" It was Tyrel, not the sort to let Xiuyang wallow, no matter how meaningful. "I don't see any reason we should just accept the bad things in life and let them lay us low." She took a couple of steps forward before stopping and resting her stump on a crutch handle, as was her habit. "And I'm not so bad with time, you know." She took in the others with a sweeping glance. "I should be able to give you some time to work, maybe even anchor a few errors away."
Tyrel shrugged, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Juulet can be a petulant child, so then let her be made a liar, too, if she's going to be vicious like that." She looked meaningfully at the others.
Still, they had not gotten to the bottom of whatever had splattered those other onrushing yasoi, but it hadn't seemed to target them and, for now, that was enough. Handling her crutches again, Tyrel took a couple of steps back, planting her foot in the dirt. "We're going to try, at least. I will accept nothing else."
A spark. "That..." *won't be enough,* her battered heart instinctively commanded her to say, but she choked it back. Binding *wouldn't* be enough—but Tyrel was a yasoi. She understood as much, and it didn't need to be said. Here in Yarsoc, in the middle of nowhere, far away from the school and the church and any judgmental eyes, they were free to use any magic they pleased. "It might... work," she managed to say, her tone unconvinced but her eyes filled with hope.
It would be an arduous process, she warned, and one she didn't wish for Ashon to see. The "infection" had spread to her upper torso and much of her right arm. She had already tried to modify her own vocal cords long ago, with visibly disastrous results.
Ashon stood guard while the others worked. Tyrel set the temporal anchor. Roslyn held Xiuyang's hand and dulled the pain with her chemical magic, so she could focus on her temporal precognizance and direct Ingrid and Trypano as they used their respective magics. Ingrid used controlled atomic to destroy the invasive tissue's ability to replicate itself, while Trypano constructed new flesh in the likeness of Xiuyang's own.
The first attempt was a complete disaster. The second was almost perfect, but the "scars" proved immovable. Everyone agreed that they should try again, so they did: a third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh time produced wildly unpredictable results. The eighth attempt, the most arduous yet most promising of all ended up nearly identical to the second, and by then, all were exhausted. "Stop, please! No more! This... is enough," Xiuyang panted, catching her breath. Breathing came slightly easier now, she noticed.
Looking at the image of her new face, she reflected on these friends she'd gathered, most of them quite recently. They'd given their best efforts for her sake, selflessly and at great personal risk—something she could not yet imagine doing, herself. They didn't owe her a perfect face. They'd done enough.
For the first time in a long while, she felt the smoothness of her skin, the roundness of her chest, and heard the sound of her own voice, rather than her mother's, when she spoke. "You could never understand how, grateful I am," she sobbed as she smiled. "I thought I was going to die here, alone, and now I have my *life* back."
She embraced Tyrel and squeezed, as hard as she could—with no fear of judgment, of some horrible secret being discovered. She hugged every one of them, and showed the smile that she never could from behind a mask. The scars were ugly things, but they were an almost insignificant price to pay to be allowed to be who she was, with no concessions. This moment, these friends, and her smile—these were beautiful things.
Jamboi was here. Jamboi was here? It wasn't a hallucination?!
"...J-ham-bhoi?" came the raspy reply, with a barely-suppressed cough. The true voice of Xiuyang, which only Ashon would recognize, came from beneath her hat. "It's too late..." She coughed.
"...for heat stroke. You're really here..?"
"We got the rest of the crew too. It seems you got a little band out here on a Saving Xiuyang mission." He called the others over, especially towards Trypano and Roslyn, "Looks like you might need to patch her up with that magic of yours. I want her as good as new."
Trypano approached, examining the situation before her. Performing a preliminary scan of her vitals she extended her senses through Xiuyang's body, looking for damages or other distortions to her body as she drew from her surroundings, readying to restore her flesh.
Hearing Ashon's shouts, Roslyn shortly joined the rest. Relief spread across her face at seeing the huddled figure half buried in the sand. She glanced in her medical satchel while she spoke.
"I know a decent level of binding and brought bandages in case. I used the skinglue in the canon so I can't 'sap' together any severed limbs."
Ingrid's cool persona gave way with a sigh, even if Xiuyang was injured, she was alive. She pulled out a mask from her bag and offered it to Xiuyang, "I heard your mask got smashed, so I brought you a new one. It's imbued to help with things." Ingrid made sure to look away if she would grab it. Whatever was under the mask was for Xiuyang to know.
Tyrel stood back and watched the joyous reunion. She managed a small but genuine smile and gave Xiuyang her privacy. She understood a thing or two about being self-conscious. When it was appropriate to do so, she inclined her head in Xiuyang's direction. "Good to see you are okay."
Trypano administered healing efforts onto Xiuyang, fully restoring her bodily integrity as well as hydrating her sufficiently, scanning once more to ensure no lingering symptoms persisted.
"T-Trhy-pano? Rosl-hn?" Xiuyang coughed. A bloodied, bandaged hand reached out blindly and took the mask from Ingrid, then retreated into the darkness. The coughing abruptly stopped as she took long, slow, even breaths. "Fucksake. I'm not dying, you guys," she chuckled, rather unconvincingly. "The air here, it's just terrible. Stinks like death. I can barely breathe without this thing. Ingrid, you're a blessing. This... This means so much more to me than you could ever know." She got a bit misty eyed.
For almost a full minute, she simply lay there and let Trypano go to work. Aside from being battered and bruised, a few scrapes and cuts here and there, and being totally exhausted, she was more or less in top shape. Trypano could obviously see that she had subsisted on nothing but alcohol for nearly two days, further confirming the Devourer theory.
Trypano examined her, and noticed something odd, but couldn't quite determine what it was just yet. Her bandages seemed to be imbued with some kind of magic that interfered with her attempts to examine her more closely. Being damaged, she could inspect Xiuyang's injuries, and confirm that the Devourer blood she found earlier belonged to her. She could also see scarring on her throat, which may have something to do with her inability to speak properly without one of these enchanted masks. Though, unhealed scars on a binder was a bit of a mystery in itself.
Sleep tempted Xiuyang several times throughout the process, but she managed to force herself to stay awake. If she allowed herself to fall asleep, would she wake up to find it was all just a dream? That couldn't happen. She was losing the war of attrition, losing her wits and her energy as her pursuers refused to allow her any rest. "Somehow, with all of you here, I think I'd be fine even if I was actually dying," she japed.
"But, I..." She froze. Behind Ashon, Trypano, Roslyn and Ingrid, there was another figure—a one-legged one. For a moment, she shook, but as she looked up... "Tyrel," she breathed, sighing in relief. "...You're here too?!" The sudden realization seemed to energize her. Now she knew she wasn't dreaming. She crawled out of her crevice, looking filthy and ridiculous, covered in dust, plants and bugs.
It made one wonder just what she was hiding from.
Hmm... A curious state indeed. It was little mystery that Xiuyang was purposefully concealing her state of being. Given her interest in her research and the possible revelations their book may hold it was clear that she was concealing something of a physical nature. Given how it was untreated despite being a binder she concluded that it was probably something inherent to the blood. Perhaps a malformation of the flesh such as Penny's leg was, or a rare mana virus she'd yet to study. Either which way, she had blood sampled already and there were other times to seek deeper insight. Not here, not now. Extrication was their main prerogative here.
"After ye' get yer' bearings feel free t' bring us up to speed on yer' situation." Trypano spoke, her hatted accent kicking up once again. "On our side'a the situation the school authorities only found a mound set up where 'ya were last at. Not pressin' the issue further they declared you dead and washed their hands of it. We and a few of th' others picked up where they left off and traced th' temporal signal out t' here." Having given Xiuyang a quick recap of the aftermath of her disappearance Trypano turned and looked out, surveying the environment as the wind swept by, long crimson hair dancing in the moonlight below her black bowler cap.
"Ah'll admit ya hid well... almost too well."
Roslyn pulled her hand from her medical kit when she spied Trypano tending to Xiuyang. She had forgotten the tall woman's mention of being a healer. Her eyes lingered on Xiuyang as the woman coughed and placed on her new mask. Despite her bravo, Roslyn saw the cracks in it. Her mother often did the same thing especially during her last years.
She shook herself back to the present, smiling at seeing her friend alive.
"Umm, maybe we should get moving? I don't think a group this big will go unnoticed and I'd rather avoid trouble. Do we have a way back?"
Xiuyang's eyes darkened after Trypano's explanation, but she didn't seem surprised. "I didn't think anyone would come. Using portals is too dangerous now." She tried to dust off her robes a little. "It was Juulet. I tried to reason with her, but it was useless." She left out the reason why she attacked her. It was pointless, though. Her secret would be out soon anyway. Juulet surely wouldn't keep it to herself, no matter how badly it might have appeared to rattle her in the moment. Xiuyang could only picture her laughing it off after the fact. Should she just tell them, first? Control the narrative, as her father taught?
She ran through the possibilities in her mind, of what might happen if they all learned she was a Facemimic. It was fitting, perhaps, that a mixed bag like her had a mana type that was considered blessed, and one considered cursed or demonic. As she considered how each of them may react, she realized that someone was missing from this reunion.
Before she could ask anyone where Ciro was, however, there was movement. All of them sensed it. The yasoi approaching them felt no need to be stealthy. There were at least a dozen of them, and three were drawing at over a 9 RAS level.
"Elaz! Ven'sali!" their apparent leader shouted.
"Anax'sali!" another called out.
"Moad, daxtoil yanii!" cried a third.
Xiuyang was drawing too, now. "What are they saying?" She grimaced, remembering the body she had no time to hide. The others would have seen it on their way into the valley. "I... If it's about the man I killed... I had to kill him. Tyrel, I had to. If I didn't, they—" She swallowed. Then, her eyes landed upon one of the weaker yasoi. She glared at him, her hand twitching as she held back her murderous intent. "Dog," she snarled.
"We didn't have any issues coming through." Roslyn said, giving Xuiyang an odd look. She didn't understand what Xiuyang meant about the portals being dangerous. Those were just rumors, right? Before she could ask anything else, shouts and rushing footsteps caught her attention. Her eys turned to see a group of natives approaching them. Everything about their body language screamed danger to her frightened instinct. She tried to translate the language spoken, but she knew only three words.
"I only recall the words: there, die, and human," Roslyn regretted not knowing more, "I really need to study harder. But I don't think die is a good thing. Are we fighting or running?"
She couldn't help stepping closer to Xiuyang. Her hand canon stayed at her side, lowered to the ground but ready to fire. This looked really bad.
Ingrid was about to pull out some clothes and water for her. Who wants to return to the school looking a mess. It would only satisfy Xuiyang's attacker to see the impact it had. The name was of no surprise but it still stirred Ingrid's anger.
Juulet had done so many things already. But this was a blatant attempt at murder. Not even Benny crossed that line on school grounds.
Well, not so explicitly at least.
Either way, Juulet needed to be removed, either by the school throwing her out now that there could be testimony or by an unfortunate accident. But now an issue showed its head, some strong yasoi were making their way to us. "If we could we should run," Ingrid looked at Tyrel as she was the temporal mage here, "And if not we should make time to run."
This could be some hell of a practice for Mano e Mano, Ingrid grimly thought.
Ashon stretched as he positioned himself between the Yanii and the other Yasoi, giving Luuntai's friends the space to attend to her. As he gazed at the intruders, he cast a disdainful look over them and casually waved his hand dismissively. "A’lash, pelosh joi tiin. Exi," he declared, slamming his fist against his chest with a force reminiscent of a gorilla. "Yanii tox Jamboi'Ismax."
With a confident motion, he gestured toward Tyrel. "Yrash'toshdon ruii laz." He continued to stand with a commanding presence, a stalwart guardian who stood as a bulwark against the threat they pose.
"You needn't justify yourself. I ain't no stranger to th' state of Yasoi affairs." She dismissed Xiuyang's attempts to justify the situation with the body. She wasn't pegged as one to kill wantonly and after her mission in Rettan it would take a far more severe instance of moral degeneracy to raise her concern.
Looking up at their greeting party she stood and was slowly, discretely drawing power. A fight wasn't unlikely and unless their lanky accompaniment were somehow more persuasive than she'd credited them for then the need for some buffing and general medical service would soon follow.
"I beg you," Tyrel said in yasoi, "allow us to discuss this as people and not fight as animals." She nonetheless drew, and drew, and drew up to nearly her full capacity. "You would not want to be treated as animals, would you?"
Xiuyang considered Roslyn and Ingrid's words. The smart option was to run, surely. However, a primal, enraged part of her also wanted to fight—if not to kill, then certainly to put the fear of divine retribution into these animals that had chased her for nearly two days, and never stopped coming. At some point, a group of six had become a hunting party of more than double that. There was not an ounce of sympathy among them for a displaced Huusoi: they looked at her like she was a dangerous pest at best, and comparable to a prey animal at worst.
While she was caught in her indecisiveness, Ashon and Tyrel tried to negotiate with words she couldn't follow. A few of the less aberration-addled Yasoi were intimidated by Tyrel's drawing capacity, but an insane pair of addicts mirrored her gesture, and a third one followed suit, all of them drawing near or into the 9 RAS range. That was when a decision was made for them: Mr. Solari's hired hands all charged at the Yasoi party, unwilling to let these monsters draw in any more power. As one of them turned to face Xiuyang, the Yasoi in front of him vanished without a trace.
"Run, milady! We'll cover your es—"
Instantly, the man and his partner were decapitated. A punch that Xiuyang couldn't see sent the man's head flying right past her own. Then, she saw her own head fall right from her body—and recovered from her confusion just in time to realize that she was seeing the future, and dodge the incoming attack. She was approached by two of the Yasoi, a stronger one and a weaker one. For lack of a better weapon, she smacked the weaker one with her gourd in a panic, and cracked his skull open.
Something snapped inside Xiuyang's mind. This wasn't like her battle in ReTan, where only one or two of the most insane minds present there actually wanted to fight the students of Ersand'Enise, who were technically still children. It was a situation where even defeat may not have meant death, at least until the knower titan showed up. That was what she'd told herself after the fact, anyway, to cope with the stress.
This was a murderous mob of insane Yasoi.
It was kill or be killed—a free for all.
She screamed, and threw a chemically enhanced ball of flame at a second Yasoi. It burned her hands to do it without her wand, but she didn't care. It was one less pair of crazed, deranged, ravenous eyes.
It was one less "Juulet" in the world—and it felt good to be rid of him. If there had been a chance to flee, Xiuyang had missed it. She and her fellow students were surrounded.
A few of the Yasoi yowled out for help—but nobody came. While these hunters had been occupied chasing a Yanii with a face like a devil, others had dealt with one that had the face of an angel. Whether they were simply scared off, or rapt in the bliss of aberrations, or even dead didn't matter. Every other Yasoi for miles was quite indisposed to help the rather unfortunate hunting party. None of them would be laying a finger on Xiuyang.
Tyrel could see that these people were gone. The darklings had claimed them, as they claimed so many Consoi. She could also see that, deranged as they were, their magics were wild and unpracticed. "Everyone back from me!" she commanded. In truth, her heart was hammering. In truth, she knew that the combat training that had been drilled into her from girlhood was never meant to have been used. In truth, she doubted her substantial abilities and did not want to kill.
In truth, Tyrel was a killer.
The first imploded into shreds of skin and shards of bone. The second launched three arcane lances at her. She spun away from one, absorbed another, and the final one cleanly missed. She blasted him back with triple the energy and the last thing that he knew was heat. For a moment, that made the others think twice about attacking her. "Siip'najo taca!" came the shouts, but they swirled away from her like stupid, mocking poca-parrots. "Siip'najo yambiid!" they chorused. She saw an opportunity and lopped another's head off with a kinetic blade.
Some of the huusoi were struggling and, for a moment, she wondered why she was protecting them. They were so weak and they were her people's enemy. She shook her head visibly to clear it, knowing better, and focused on a new spell: Infinity Loop. Momentarily, as another fool made to approach the Living Goddess, a great burning aura of nuclear fire surrounded her person. He melted before he reached her with a strangled cry. "Oapen'ven!" she bellowed, "rey etuulan axuu'it joi! Vel rey joi moad."
Then, she felt them in the distance - at the far hazy edge of her energy senses: dozens more bodies, dozens more of these beasts coming towards her. There was no way they could possibly win a battle of attrition, and what would the cost be? The 'goddess' changed tactics. "Xiuyang!" she shouted, "Ingrid! Cover me! I'm going to get us out of here."
One of these enemies was unreasonably strong. She blasted away at a cornered Roslyn and Tyrel's heart skipped a beat. Then there was the second wave, approaching, about to enter the sensing range of her allies. They were all about to see how fucked they were.
She reached out for them and, for a moment, felt something unholy. She felt it and then... there was nothing.
Xiuyang's scream, followed by a fire ball was enough to jerk Roslyn back into the present. She raised the Smoking Bandit. A sticky goo splattered at the feet of a female attacker. She shrieked and struggled to free herself. However, her partner dissolved it effortlessly.
He inhaled then sent an ear shattering scream at Roslyn. She twisted her weapon to point at him, uttering a spell to redirect it. "Sonic Break!"
The spell broke through her defense. Roslyn's feet lifted and she flew back. Her body rolled cross the sands, coming to a stop a few meters from the group. Blood trickled from her ears as she got on to all fours. She shook her head clear and pushed onto her feet.
"I need to pay better attention to Mr. Secto during class." Roslyn mumbled.
She caught sight of movement in her peripheral. Two more Yasoi had joined her attacker. Roslyn grabbed her weapon and lifted it again. One rushed in with a gut wrench. Too fast! The girl clenched her teeth and braced for the impact. Suddenly they all evaporated into ashes when Tyrel turned her attention on them. Roslyn's face paled at the raw power demonstrated.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side, Tyrel." She managed to say then added. "I got an idea."
She dug in her satchel. Damn it, two of her bottles broke. The girl hoisted the remaining three up by their necks. With a deep breath, she drew. The air started to chill as she stole what little heat she could. Her manas stretched into the alcohol and shifted it into pure ethanol. Shaking them up to add heat, she warned her allies.
"Careful, these have a nice burn to them."
She chucked one bottle at the feet of the two of the remaining threats. Fire erupted before them, forcing them and others back. Roslyn readied the next before a Yasoi burst past the wall of flames and reached for her.
Fear had little place In Ingrid's hardened heart. How could a group of maddened Yasoi cause anything more than mild worry? Her infinity loop was long heating up before the battle commenced.
In an instance, the rock roared to life and the air around Ingrid distorted. Heat shed off of her just to be absorbed again. Ingrid did not let an ounce of energy go.
She threw herself at the stronger of the enemies, deep into their area. That distortion around Ingrid only grew until the air started to combust around her, sand glassing underneath her. A spark, a light, a plasmatic beam slammed into one. There was no torso left to to heal, only assortment of limbs.
Attacks of all types came at her and with a judicial stare, any matter disintegrated on trying to reach her. Her normal weakness to Internal was slashed by the amount of energy interference in the way.
She was unstoppable right now and Ingrid knew it. They weren't strong enough to stop her but Ingrid found herself not strong enough to wipe them out in a flash.
The Majesty she wore was now boring into her. She pressed and pushed herself to keep it up. It was her spear and shield. She needed to destroy them before it exhausted herself. And then Tyrel called out.
Ingrid recalled herself to block off a side of Tyrel. She didn't care to be commanded by Tyrel, having someone at the helm let her do what she was good at. Sandstone formed and shattered and froze until she was able to command a mighty jagged wall with Kinetic.
It shifted further, details etched in to the jagged sand, creating scales. It took the form of wither a Royal Sand Wyrm or Arrow Dragon. Ingrid was not good at faces. Either way it should give the Yasoi something to hit other than Tyrel.
In this nameless valley of Yarsoc, where Xiuyang would have otherwise met her end alone, the eclectic Fait Accompli fought as one coordinated unit. The Yasoi had several powerhouses to match their own, but they were wild and out of sync with each other. Tyrel and Ingrid fought off the strong, the distraction proving effective, while the rest banded together against the remaining enemies. The battle ended as quickly as it had began, the slaughter lasting no longer than a couple minutes.
Just when it seemed that enemy reinforcements might be coming, they suddenly vanished, leaving the six students as the only ones standing. All of the Solari mercenari and local Yasoi were dead.
All but one.
Xiuyang struggled with this last enemy like she had a vendetta. He tried to use his magic against her, but she drew it away to nothing every time. With binding and chemical magics, she wore him down with her bare fists, until, suddenly, he gained the upper hand. He got one last swipe at her face which had barely missed before Tyrel got a clear shot and essentially vaporized him.
"Thank you--" Xiuyang exhaled in that raspy voice as she caught her breath. As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes went wide with fear as she realized the Yasoi had snatched the mask from her.
What Fait Accompli saw now was the true face of Xiuyang Solari: though she had the eyes of a woman, the lower half of her face was that of a man. It was a face Roslyn recognized as one she had seen recently. Xiuyang's face was disfigured indeed--by the face of her own father.
Worse still, her body seemed to be trying to fight off the familiar visage as though it were an infection. There were several scars across her face, two of them right at the edge of where her mask met flesh. One crossed the bridge of her nose right under her eyes, dividing her face almost neatly in half.
"NO!!" she suddenly screeched, reaching up with both arms to cover her face. "Don't--look--at me!" she managed to sputter between coughs as she scrambled to find the lost mask in a panic, hyperventilating in between each coughing fit. "It's not--not what you think..." she sobbed as she looked away, having found the mask. She put it to her face quickly, taking deeper breaths as she slowly steadied herself.
As the melee initiated everyone took to blade and spell as they engaged the enemies. She herself knew her position, to mend and block attacks from the enemy. The others did what they did best: Murder. Yasoi bend, rent apart and burned until they ceased and yet it did little to dull the fervor of the other ones. Annoyingly one decided to engage her himself. Dashing at her with a long blade he attempted to impale her, only instead the blade slid off the handle as she consumed a single sliver of the blade's matter, right at the base. She had snatched the yasoi attacker by his throat, lifting him from his feet with one arm like he was a poorly weighted tankard of ale raised in toast.
She passed only a brief glance at the struggling addict before tossing him into a fire that Roslyn had started. Just more screaming to fill the cries in the air as she turned to stall one of the heavier casters of the Yasoi group. They employed blood magic crudely, basic techniques that were easily dismantled no matter how high their RAS might of been. Without much way to harm them it was only a matter of time before their own caster's power consumed their foes.
Despite their efforts it would have seemed that the Yasoi had done more damage than she would have given them credit for. Their numbers availed them only in slaying the mercenaries that were in tow, the students proving far too formidable for the yasoi regardless of their numerical superiority.
Of course she then turned her attention to Xiuyang who had, in the excitement, forgotten her mask. The state of her face indicated a unique condition, something that Trypano had already gleamed but could now see in full effect. Xiuyang herself however reacted as though their stares burned her as an arcane lance would, reeling in horror with the realization of her own error. Despite how she might of feared that she was in some way a monster Trypano's expression remained cold, stoic as ever. She simply tipped her hat up, giving her a few seconds to steady herself before looking straight through the sockets of her mask into her panicked eyes.
"I know what y' must be thinkin': 'That 'yer somethin' else 'cause of all that, some sort'a ungodly mistake p'haps. Folk's 'round you could never understand that b'neath that skin the actual you resides, right?" She reached up and casually swept aside some of her crimson red hair in a symbolic gesture. She took a couple steps forward, leaving enough space for the others but staying relatively within arms reach of her. She cast a probing glance at the others, a warning to those who might of been ready to judge Xiuyang for this, before looking back and addressing her once more.
"Tell me this: Who do you think y' are? 'Cause I'm looking at you an' I just see Xiuyang."
Roslyn stood there, her eyes locked onto the familiar sight. Her teeth bit her lower lip as she examined her feelings. A primal part of her recoiled at the sight seeing it as unnatural and confusing. She swallowed down that sensation when it became a hardened lump in her throat. With a deep breath, she let her face relax. At least she knew she wasn't crazy when she saw those eyes shift colors. Still it felt like she was missing pieces of a mystery and that sensation gnawed at her. She approached Xiuyang with hesitation in her form. Not from fear of what the girl looked like, but concern for her well being.
She caught Trypano's words and shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure I can put my thoughts into words right now. They are too jumbled up and confused."
Roslyn turned back to Xiuyang, "At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me. It's a bit of a relief to know otherwise, but is this why you were in pain back at the Society Faire? What happened?"
Ingrid was utterly shocked. Xuiyang was a man?! But he's so small, is he a runt? Ingrid considered it, thinking about his athletic prowess and interest in Trypano. I mean it was weird but, hey, not the worst. Not my colors but to each's own right?
No, that's stupid. Xuiyang is no man, maybe? Gods, the stubble is throwing me off. Just take it slow Ingy, she is Xuiyang, your friend.
"Come now, ain't nobody here will hurt you," she stayed a decent step away not to crowd. "We came all the way here for you, and we are here for you." Ingrid kept her voice steady and soft, not trying to demean her but hopefully give the tenderness she needs. "Do you think you can tell us what's happening Xuiyang?"
"But there are people who would kill me for looking like this. I'm... a Facemimic," she confessed, as there was little purpose to be gained from hiding it now. "Blessed and cursed blood in the same body—most people would consider that an 'ungodly mistake.' Why shouldn't it be? You can see the result," she replied bitterly. "I'm... a freak, and I'll be one forever if I can't learn how to fix this. I can't rely on anyone else. If this secret gets out before I can cure it, I'm ruined." Tears rolled down her face. "...and Juulet knows. The bitch is probably telling everyone right now."
"Well, we have more than a handful of skilled binders here, don't we?" It was Tyrel, not the sort to let Xiuyang wallow, no matter how meaningful. "I don't see any reason we should just accept the bad things in life and let them lay us low." She took a couple of steps forward before stopping and resting her stump on a crutch handle, as was her habit. "And I'm not so bad with time, you know." She took in the others with a sweeping glance. "I should be able to give you some time to work, maybe even anchor a few errors away."
Tyrel shrugged, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Juulet can be a petulant child, so then let her be made a liar, too, if she's going to be vicious like that." She looked meaningfully at the others.
Still, they had not gotten to the bottom of whatever had splattered those other onrushing yasoi, but it hadn't seemed to target them and, for now, that was enough. Handling her crutches again, Tyrel took a couple of steps back, planting her foot in the dirt. "We're going to try, at least. I will accept nothing else."
A spark. "That..." *won't be enough,* her battered heart instinctively commanded her to say, but she choked it back. Binding *wouldn't* be enough—but Tyrel was a yasoi. She understood as much, and it didn't need to be said. Here in Yarsoc, in the middle of nowhere, far away from the school and the church and any judgmental eyes, they were free to use any magic they pleased. "It might... work," she managed to say, her tone unconvinced but her eyes filled with hope.
It would be an arduous process, she warned, and one she didn't wish for Ashon to see. The "infection" had spread to her upper torso and much of her right arm. She had already tried to modify her own vocal cords long ago, with visibly disastrous results.
Ashon stood guard while the others worked. Tyrel set the temporal anchor. Roslyn held Xiuyang's hand and dulled the pain with her chemical magic, so she could focus on her temporal precognizance and direct Ingrid and Trypano as they used their respective magics. Ingrid used controlled atomic to destroy the invasive tissue's ability to replicate itself, while Trypano constructed new flesh in the likeness of Xiuyang's own.
The first attempt was a complete disaster. The second was almost perfect, but the "scars" proved immovable. Everyone agreed that they should try again, so they did: a third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh time produced wildly unpredictable results. The eighth attempt, the most arduous yet most promising of all ended up nearly identical to the second, and by then, all were exhausted. "Stop, please! No more! This... is enough," Xiuyang panted, catching her breath. Breathing came slightly easier now, she noticed.
Looking at the image of her new face, she reflected on these friends she'd gathered, most of them quite recently. They'd given their best efforts for her sake, selflessly and at great personal risk—something she could not yet imagine doing, herself. They didn't owe her a perfect face. They'd done enough.
For the first time in a long while, she felt the smoothness of her skin, the roundness of her chest, and heard the sound of her own voice, rather than her mother's, when she spoke. "You could never understand how, grateful I am," she sobbed as she smiled. "I thought I was going to die here, alone, and now I have my *life* back."
She embraced Tyrel and squeezed, as hard as she could—with no fear of judgment, of some horrible secret being discovered. She hugged every one of them, and showed the smile that she never could from behind a mask. The scars were ugly things, but they were an almost insignificant price to pay to be allowed to be who she was, with no concessions. This moment, these friends, and her smile—these were beautiful things.
The Face of Triumph is a Warm Smile
Early in the hours of Shune, there was a gentle knock on the door of where the Soul Sisters were staying. It was Xiuyang, having miraculously returned from her involuntary pilgrimage to Yarsoc. "Hey. I missed you in the last event. Thought I'd pay a visit before the big reveal."
Mio opened the door to Xiuyang, smiling brightly as she came forward to embrace her lightly on her shoulders. "They said you disappeared, what happened?" She showed concern towards the girl.
"Juulet happened," she replied darkly. "But I'm... I'll be alright." She sighed heavily, her voice trembling only slightly. "She didn't get what she wanted out of me," she said simply, a hint of a smile in her eyes. "I'll be more than alright, in fact. May I come in?"
"Oh, the yasoi, right?" She shook her head as she recalled the Yasoi, she knows what their kind is like, especially after Ai Medda. "Sure, come on in. Shall I put the tea on?"
"Would you please? I'd love a cup of warm tea, right now." Now, she was definitely smiling. She tapped her fingertips together as she waited at the table for Mio to return. "I pulled some strings to be able to do one of the Trials with you. I'm sad that I missed it, but thanks to that, I have a different kind of opportunity, now."
She sipped her tea from beneath the veil on her face. It suddenly dawned on Mio that she wasn't wearing her mask. "My teammates were so busy trying to find me, they didn't realize that you had our box the whole time. I was hoping to get it from you, but more than that, I wanted to meet at least one more time."
She moved over to pour green tea out for Xiuyang, though pleasantly surprised she was without her mask. "Are you here to return my hat?" Her tone has a teasing element to it.
"We encountered a quite... persistent person during the event, who threatened to endanger the plan. It took your replacement to get rid of her. I imagine boxes were the least of their concerns."
"Yeah, I heard about that. I'll need to be aware of her pernicious nature in the future. Sorry that you had to deal with her." She scratched her chin, contemplating. In a way, her survival and her current circumstances were partially owed to the beanie that Taleja traded her for, but both of them probably imagined that they got the better deal.
"I could return your hat, but I think I'll keep it." She winked. "It'll remind me of what you told me last time. Those words are priceless to me. Instead, I have something better to show you..."
And while it took a bit of arcane trickery to conceal the scars, she showed it to Mio first.
"My biggest smile! How's that? Is that worth a box?" She chuckled.
"Words... ... oh, those great words of sage wisdom were discovered baked in a fortune cookie." She playfully gave a wink at Xiuyang, as she played them down. Though, obviously she took the compliment to heart.
She smiled in return as the other girl showed her expression. "Not quite enough, I insist you write to me, from time to time. If you want the box." Her expression showing some deviousness to it.
Xiuyang shrugged. "Nothing new under the sun. But to me, they're your words, because you were the first to say them to me."
She took another sip of her tea, and grinned impishly in reply. "I'd like that very much, but... What should I write to you about?"
"How life is treating you. I like to hear from my fans. Can tell me about any boys you like, which is your favourite song, anything in your adventures." Mio moved over towards the box as she placed it on her own lap as she sat down. She got a cloth as she decided to place some mooncakes within it as she bundled it on top as well.
"I get mooncakes too?" Xiuyang replied, rubbing her hands together in a rare display of overt eagerness. "You drive a hard bargain, mio Mio. I'm usually not a very open person, but I'll try to change that, starting with you. You got yourself a deal."
She stood up and opened her arms up. "Here, for the mooncakes—and because I feel like it. I chickened out last time."
The two shared a brief hug, and some more idle conversation. Today was a good day.
Mio opened the door to Xiuyang, smiling brightly as she came forward to embrace her lightly on her shoulders. "They said you disappeared, what happened?" She showed concern towards the girl.
"Juulet happened," she replied darkly. "But I'm... I'll be alright." She sighed heavily, her voice trembling only slightly. "She didn't get what she wanted out of me," she said simply, a hint of a smile in her eyes. "I'll be more than alright, in fact. May I come in?"
"Oh, the yasoi, right?" She shook her head as she recalled the Yasoi, she knows what their kind is like, especially after Ai Medda. "Sure, come on in. Shall I put the tea on?"
"Would you please? I'd love a cup of warm tea, right now." Now, she was definitely smiling. She tapped her fingertips together as she waited at the table for Mio to return. "I pulled some strings to be able to do one of the Trials with you. I'm sad that I missed it, but thanks to that, I have a different kind of opportunity, now."
She sipped her tea from beneath the veil on her face. It suddenly dawned on Mio that she wasn't wearing her mask. "My teammates were so busy trying to find me, they didn't realize that you had our box the whole time. I was hoping to get it from you, but more than that, I wanted to meet at least one more time."
She moved over to pour green tea out for Xiuyang, though pleasantly surprised she was without her mask. "Are you here to return my hat?" Her tone has a teasing element to it.
"We encountered a quite... persistent person during the event, who threatened to endanger the plan. It took your replacement to get rid of her. I imagine boxes were the least of their concerns."
"Yeah, I heard about that. I'll need to be aware of her pernicious nature in the future. Sorry that you had to deal with her." She scratched her chin, contemplating. In a way, her survival and her current circumstances were partially owed to the beanie that Taleja traded her for, but both of them probably imagined that they got the better deal.
"I could return your hat, but I think I'll keep it." She winked. "It'll remind me of what you told me last time. Those words are priceless to me. Instead, I have something better to show you..."
And while it took a bit of arcane trickery to conceal the scars, she showed it to Mio first.
"My biggest smile! How's that? Is that worth a box?" She chuckled.
"Words... ... oh, those great words of sage wisdom were discovered baked in a fortune cookie." She playfully gave a wink at Xiuyang, as she played them down. Though, obviously she took the compliment to heart.
She smiled in return as the other girl showed her expression. "Not quite enough, I insist you write to me, from time to time. If you want the box." Her expression showing some deviousness to it.
Xiuyang shrugged. "Nothing new under the sun. But to me, they're your words, because you were the first to say them to me."
She took another sip of her tea, and grinned impishly in reply. "I'd like that very much, but... What should I write to you about?"
"How life is treating you. I like to hear from my fans. Can tell me about any boys you like, which is your favourite song, anything in your adventures." Mio moved over towards the box as she placed it on her own lap as she sat down. She got a cloth as she decided to place some mooncakes within it as she bundled it on top as well.
"I get mooncakes too?" Xiuyang replied, rubbing her hands together in a rare display of overt eagerness. "You drive a hard bargain, mio Mio. I'm usually not a very open person, but I'll try to change that, starting with you. You got yourself a deal."
She stood up and opened her arms up. "Here, for the mooncakes—and because I feel like it. I chickened out last time."
The two shared a brief hug, and some more idle conversation. Today was a good day.
The clues hidden within the Cherune boxes led Fait Accompli to the Forked Tower. There, they raced against competing teams Rock and Stone and Huggy Bears to be the second to arrive and solve a riddle, behind distant first place winners Vyshta's More Favoured. The riddle in question was:
Riddle me this, for Shune-Zept's sake: I cannot be used before I break. What am I?
Immediately, Xiuyang thought of an egg. You couldn't eat the shell, obviously—but wait, you could cook with an egg with the shell still on, and wouldn't making hardboiled eggs count as a use? Her mind strayed to other things that required breaking them in order to be used. She strained her mind to think of something less obvious, less childish. She was afraid to be wrong about something like a simple riddle, with Ciro standing right there. She vaguely recalled something, perhaps some piece of sirrahi technology that glowed when cracked, but she could hardly name it if she didn't remember what it was called, and it might be too obscure for something like a riddle. There was something else that came to mind, of course, but it couldn't be that, right? Her cheeks turned a light pink at the thought of even suggesting it. No, leave it to the Huggy Bears to guess something so obscene, and, if they were right, she supposed they deserved their prize for being so daring.
Right as she was about to give in to a trial-and-error approach, Marz gave the correct answer: an egg.
Seriously? The child's answer was the correct one? I want to crawl into a hole and disappear...
Riddle me this, for Shune-Zept's sake: I cannot be used before I break. What am I?
Immediately, Xiuyang thought of an egg. You couldn't eat the shell, obviously—but wait, you could cook with an egg with the shell still on, and wouldn't making hardboiled eggs count as a use? Her mind strayed to other things that required breaking them in order to be used. She strained her mind to think of something less obvious, less childish. She was afraid to be wrong about something like a simple riddle, with Ciro standing right there. She vaguely recalled something, perhaps some piece of sirrahi technology that glowed when cracked, but she could hardly name it if she didn't remember what it was called, and it might be too obscure for something like a riddle. There was something else that came to mind, of course, but it couldn't be that, right? Her cheeks turned a light pink at the thought of even suggesting it. No, leave it to the Huggy Bears to guess something so obscene, and, if they were right, she supposed they deserved their prize for being so daring.
Right as she was about to give in to a trial-and-error approach, Marz gave the correct answer: an egg.
Seriously? The child's answer was the correct one? I want to crawl into a hole and disappear...
Mano e Mano
Atomic Mage Roulette
There beneath those hoodies are... I really don't know who.
It could be your fifth-grade teacher. It could be your mother too.
Five kittens in a trench coat, for a sum of twenty-five
Do we even know, for Oraff's sake, if any are alive?
Ohhhhh, Shadow Wizard Money Gang, they love casting spells
They love blasting other teams and ringin' all their bells.
Who's to say who's who and who's to say what's what.
I only know the following. I'll tell you for a cut!
Blue was a ringer, a real humdinger, hittin' hard in the two-vee-twos,
Yellow was next, and I was a bit vexed to see him make another team totally lose
Their final head was burning red and he put 'em to bed in the one-vee-one.
Looked real mean, except for green. Atomic mage roulette just-a doesn't seem fun!
Xiuyang gave Kaureerah a little round of applause, and thanked her in kind:
I must confess, my singing has no flavor
and my sense of the arts is quite dull.
My rhymes are a mess, but when shown a favor
a good merchant always repays in full.
With that, she gave Kaureerah a mooncake. She blinked and bit into it. "Oh, thenk yoo, fren! Eye weel bee caulleng thet een et saum point." She winked.
"Oh yeah?" Xiuyang gave Kaureerah a sly little smile back. She knew what she was doing. "Something you like, besides Mio's handmade mooncakes?"
"Well..." the performer began with a conspiratorial smile. "Eye woold lauv en eentroodauctioon too yaur femoous frends." She held up the moon cake. "Eencloodeng te waun whoo mede thees deleecioous theng."
"One backstage pass not enough for you?" Xiuyang teased. "I do have more of these mooncakes. Mio made me promise to write her letters every now and then. You should, too. We can send them together—a package deal. Open the replies together, too. Share all the juicy Soul Sisters gossip," she offered.
Kaureerah took another bite and nodded. "Yoo aur e troo fren." She giggled. "Yoo knauw, saumtheng else Eye nooteeced wes thet their cloaks metched their main type auf megic, except faur red beeing Aurcene because there waus noo Aurenge end green naut beein Etaumeec." She shook her head. "Naut soore why, baut eet booged mee."
"Hey, Maura. While I have you... I don't suppose you've seen or heard anything that may explain why Shadow Wizard Money Gang is ranking so highly this year? Isn't it a little suspicious?" She ran a finger around the rim of her glass as she posed her somewhat evasive question.
"Well, we did spectate one of their matches," Maura offered in reply. “There may be information which could help.”
Xiuyang cracked a grin to hide her annoyance. "Make your demands, Maura." She gave in with a light sigh.
"We do not go around making demands. Xiuyang. You know us better than that," Maura cocked her head to the side, confused.
Xiuyang fought the urge to groan. She was not in the mood for trade offers. "I can offer you two things. Mio's autograph, or... information that will help you negotiate with the Sant'Agata Albignese Trading Company in future," she reluctantly offered. It felt like a truly pathetic offer, considering the circumstances. She wondered if Maura already knew about that, and while she felt bad about potentially 'selling' one of Mio's handwritten letters to her, there was virtually no price she wasn't willing to pay to win big in the Trials. Everything was at stake.
"We've booked the Soul Sisters for the grand opening of Longwan. We can arrange tickets for you, and a plus one?" she countered with a patient smile. "Information on a competitor may vary depending on what you're providing, but we had our eyes on right or spite arrangements. We are open to discussing those terms."
Xiuyang scoffed. "I do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld, after what Taleja pulled," she replied bitterly. "I can't guarantee that I'll be able to attend a future concert in Longwan, but my sister Maria is a VIP of the company and notoriously difficult to please. She's a real pain in the ass in the board room. I can get you a page from her personal chef's notebook, and instructions on how to prepare her favorite... tea." Xiuyang trailed off as she noticed a slightly grumpy expression starting to form on Maura's face.
"If this is about the negotiations for your team's cherune box, there was no one open to reason in your absence. Taleja stood there, waiting patiently to discuss terms, and your team mates refused to meet with her, so she had to assertively earn their attention," Maura countered. "We have also upheld every bargain thus far, and so we don't appreciate a snub when we are meeting in good faith. We were willing to take a friend at her word: information for you now, in exchange for a future promise. We are disappointed to have been met with such hostility."
Xiuyang grit her teeth. She did consider Maura to be a reasonable person, so how could she defend Taleja's actions? A cold calmness suddenly washed over her. She knew she shouldn't speak in this emotional state, but oh, was she going to. "Please be at ease, Maura. I certainly wasn't trying to say that Taleja going rogue was your idea. I'm not implying that. I have nothing but sympathy for you. After all, I have my own 'Taleja' to contend with—one with a hot temper at the best of times," she began, somewhat coolly. "Indeed, it's a shame that I was too busy having a near-death experience at the hands of Juulet to convince Taleja that holding Balthazar Square at ransom to make progress in a children's game might be a little unreasonable. Everyone in Fait Accompli agrees that that was quite an inconvenience." She glared daggers at her rival, in spite of her attempts to remain calm.
"You know, I must confess, maybe I am just a little bit less reasonable after all the hell I went through. Perhaps I should take my leave and let you make a deal with Ciro instead! Maybe he has something of actual value to offer, unlike Xiuyang the nobody!" A long pause. She took a drink from her gourd, in lieu of an apology for her outburst, to indicate that she was finished. A poor steward of her emotions, as always.
Maura also paused, but remained undeterred. She knew Xiuyang could be emotional, and was used to the occasional barb. Still, this was probably the most upset Maura had ever seen her before. Not even their own experience in ReTan shook her this badly. Was there more that she wasn't telling her? "To say that you do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld is a direct attack on our reputation as a businesswoman, especially in light of the personally advantageous position we find ourselves in, where withholding information is in our best interest," she patiently explained. "We were going to offer you this in advance, for a simple agreement, for example: both teams agree not to spite each other in the upcoming 'Right or Spite' as a special 'mates-rates' exchange, in a game for someone whom, we thought and considered a friend." Maura was unhappy with Xiuyang's attempt to back pedal, and felt the attempt was not an appropriate apology. "Obviously, we were concerned for you, and are glad to see you safely returned," she offered, her tone disarming.
A twinge of guilt was visible on Xiuyang's face at that, and it still felt incredibly uncanny to Maura to see Xiuyang's uncovered face, as if it were no strange thing, after almost two years of mystery. Maura sighed in a defeated blend of concern and frustration. "We could be excused if we happened to conveniently forget all the relevant details—but we wrote it down, at least. We will be the better person; you may have this." She handed the details to Xiuyang. 'Second Round: Purple in one of the 2v2s, Blue in the second 2v2, and Yellow in the 1v1.'
At Maura's gesture of goodwill, Xiuyang's jaw trembled, until she broke down crying. "I'm... sorry, Maura. I'm sorry..." she sobbed. After calming down a bit, she continued. "I... got emotional, because... this will probably be our last deal," she choked, wiping her tears. "I don't really have any authority in the company anymore. Maria is taking my place—you'll be dealing with her from now on," she confessed, defeated. There was no point in hiding it from Maura anymore. If she hadn't heard rumors already, she'd hear the news in a couple of weeks. "I just... I need to do well in the Trials, Maura. After everything that's happened, if I don't prove that I can protect myself, my father might pull my funding and demand I return home and marry some snooty asshole in some far-away, backwards country, like my sister Desi in Virang."
Tears threatened to come again, but she choked them back. "This could be the last time we can speak together like this, and I ruined it by lashing out at you. I don't hate you Maura, I just... I'm jealous. You're not like me. You always show your good side to people, all smiles, kind to people who don't deserve it." She sniffed. How quickly she'd give up the movement of her legs to have a beautiful smile again. "I've had to skulk around in the shadows, hiding my hideous face, hiding my kindness from any who'd exploit it. It's how my family taught me to be. Your 'better person' methods shouldn't work in this ruthless, cutthroat world, but you've always been one step ahead. I've always hated that. You make me look like a fucking joke." A hint of the anger returned, but was quickly stifled. "I envy you, but I've always enjoyed our verbal sparring sessions—I'll miss them." She gave into the tears once more.
Maura sighed as Xiuyang began to break down before her, frowning for a moment before pulling the girl into a hug even given the awkwardness of the position as she encouraged the girl to kneel down in front of her so she could reach, stroking her hands through her hair. “Sheesh, don’t cry; everyone would think we are some kind of monster,” she teased playfully to the other girl, “and it is getting my dress all wet now too.” She made no inclination of pushing her away, just continuing to soothe the girl. “Besides, your father is going to stop paying the tuition, because if you get in the top 20, your tuition gets paid for by Ersand’Enise for the year.”
She made it sound so simple: just ignore her father's petulant attempts to control her, and keep going to school. "You don't get it, Maura!" Xiuyang replied, clutching at the folds of the girl's dress as she cried. "It's not about the money—I finally..! I've only just found a path forward, to live the life I want, and after everything I went through, I might still..!" She sobbed. "I couldn't do anything! That bitch Juulet made me look useless! I need to show them all that I can hack it! My father, Ciro, Tyrel—I need them all to acknowledge me! I need my team to make at least top ten—no, top five!" Her voice was desperate, cracking under the weight of high expectations.
...
There was only so much that encouraging words, or a physical act of comfort could do. With so much at stake in her mind, the only true cure for a crisis of faith in oneself was to purely and simply do it—and that required that she eventually stop crying, calm herself, and take her leave of Maura to go train. Even armed with the information from Maura, Kaureerah, Roslyn and Desmond, she wasn't confident staking it all on proving to the judges and the crowd that her opponents were cheating. There was still a chance that they weren't, and she couldn't afford to be blindsided by that. Her team composition would have to accommodate the possibility that they needed a brute-force victory. With that in mind, she stacked the team's power in the 2v2s, leaving Ciro with the unenviable task of preparing himself for the 1v1, in the hopes that there wouldn't be a 1v1.
Blessedly, this plan paid off in more ways than one. Armed with the Blue Ice from Cal, she calmed her mind and used her beanie of Weggosi relaxation to see through the illusions of Shadow Wizard Money Gang, who turned out to be eeaiko! After ironing out some kinks in their coordination, she and Tyrel were able to not only take the first round, but permanently mark their atomic mage's body to prevent him from meddling in the second round. Shadow Wizard Money Gang were persistent, however, and illegally had him participate in the second round anyway. After a prolonged stalemate, Ingrid and Trypano were able to reveal the cheaters, who were then brutalized by the furious crowd. With her plan a resounding success, Ciro wouldn't have to suffer a humiliating defeat or horrible death in the solo round. Xiuyang couldn't stop herself from embracing her crush, relieved that she hadn't failed him after all the trust he'd put in her.
"Well, we did spectate one of their matches," Maura offered in reply. “There may be information which could help.”
Xiuyang cracked a grin to hide her annoyance. "Make your demands, Maura." She gave in with a light sigh.
"We do not go around making demands. Xiuyang. You know us better than that," Maura cocked her head to the side, confused.
Xiuyang fought the urge to groan. She was not in the mood for trade offers. "I can offer you two things. Mio's autograph, or... information that will help you negotiate with the Sant'Agata Albignese Trading Company in future," she reluctantly offered. It felt like a truly pathetic offer, considering the circumstances. She wondered if Maura already knew about that, and while she felt bad about potentially 'selling' one of Mio's handwritten letters to her, there was virtually no price she wasn't willing to pay to win big in the Trials. Everything was at stake.
"We've booked the Soul Sisters for the grand opening of Longwan. We can arrange tickets for you, and a plus one?" she countered with a patient smile. "Information on a competitor may vary depending on what you're providing, but we had our eyes on right or spite arrangements. We are open to discussing those terms."
Xiuyang scoffed. "I do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld, after what Taleja pulled," she replied bitterly. "I can't guarantee that I'll be able to attend a future concert in Longwan, but my sister Maria is a VIP of the company and notoriously difficult to please. She's a real pain in the ass in the board room. I can get you a page from her personal chef's notebook, and instructions on how to prepare her favorite... tea." Xiuyang trailed off as she noticed a slightly grumpy expression starting to form on Maura's face.
"If this is about the negotiations for your team's cherune box, there was no one open to reason in your absence. Taleja stood there, waiting patiently to discuss terms, and your team mates refused to meet with her, so she had to assertively earn their attention," Maura countered. "We have also upheld every bargain thus far, and so we don't appreciate a snub when we are meeting in good faith. We were willing to take a friend at her word: information for you now, in exchange for a future promise. We are disappointed to have been met with such hostility."
Xiuyang grit her teeth. She did consider Maura to be a reasonable person, so how could she defend Taleja's actions? A cold calmness suddenly washed over her. She knew she shouldn't speak in this emotional state, but oh, was she going to. "Please be at ease, Maura. I certainly wasn't trying to say that Taleja going rogue was your idea. I'm not implying that. I have nothing but sympathy for you. After all, I have my own 'Taleja' to contend with—one with a hot temper at the best of times," she began, somewhat coolly. "Indeed, it's a shame that I was too busy having a near-death experience at the hands of Juulet to convince Taleja that holding Balthazar Square at ransom to make progress in a children's game might be a little unreasonable. Everyone in Fait Accompli agrees that that was quite an inconvenience." She glared daggers at her rival, in spite of her attempts to remain calm.
"You know, I must confess, maybe I am just a little bit less reasonable after all the hell I went through. Perhaps I should take my leave and let you make a deal with Ciro instead! Maybe he has something of actual value to offer, unlike Xiuyang the nobody!" A long pause. She took a drink from her gourd, in lieu of an apology for her outburst, to indicate that she was finished. A poor steward of her emotions, as always.
Maura also paused, but remained undeterred. She knew Xiuyang could be emotional, and was used to the occasional barb. Still, this was probably the most upset Maura had ever seen her before. Not even their own experience in ReTan shook her this badly. Was there more that she wasn't telling her? "To say that you do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld is a direct attack on our reputation as a businesswoman, especially in light of the personally advantageous position we find ourselves in, where withholding information is in our best interest," she patiently explained. "We were going to offer you this in advance, for a simple agreement, for example: both teams agree not to spite each other in the upcoming 'Right or Spite' as a special 'mates-rates' exchange, in a game for someone whom, we thought and considered a friend." Maura was unhappy with Xiuyang's attempt to back pedal, and felt the attempt was not an appropriate apology. "Obviously, we were concerned for you, and are glad to see you safely returned," she offered, her tone disarming.
A twinge of guilt was visible on Xiuyang's face at that, and it still felt incredibly uncanny to Maura to see Xiuyang's uncovered face, as if it were no strange thing, after almost two years of mystery. Maura sighed in a defeated blend of concern and frustration. "We could be excused if we happened to conveniently forget all the relevant details—but we wrote it down, at least. We will be the better person; you may have this." She handed the details to Xiuyang. 'Second Round: Purple in one of the 2v2s, Blue in the second 2v2, and Yellow in the 1v1.'
At Maura's gesture of goodwill, Xiuyang's jaw trembled, until she broke down crying. "I'm... sorry, Maura. I'm sorry..." she sobbed. After calming down a bit, she continued. "I... got emotional, because... this will probably be our last deal," she choked, wiping her tears. "I don't really have any authority in the company anymore. Maria is taking my place—you'll be dealing with her from now on," she confessed, defeated. There was no point in hiding it from Maura anymore. If she hadn't heard rumors already, she'd hear the news in a couple of weeks. "I just... I need to do well in the Trials, Maura. After everything that's happened, if I don't prove that I can protect myself, my father might pull my funding and demand I return home and marry some snooty asshole in some far-away, backwards country, like my sister Desi in Virang."
Tears threatened to come again, but she choked them back. "This could be the last time we can speak together like this, and I ruined it by lashing out at you. I don't hate you Maura, I just... I'm jealous. You're not like me. You always show your good side to people, all smiles, kind to people who don't deserve it." She sniffed. How quickly she'd give up the movement of her legs to have a beautiful smile again. "I've had to skulk around in the shadows, hiding my hideous face, hiding my kindness from any who'd exploit it. It's how my family taught me to be. Your 'better person' methods shouldn't work in this ruthless, cutthroat world, but you've always been one step ahead. I've always hated that. You make me look like a fucking joke." A hint of the anger returned, but was quickly stifled. "I envy you, but I've always enjoyed our verbal sparring sessions—I'll miss them." She gave into the tears once more.
Maura sighed as Xiuyang began to break down before her, frowning for a moment before pulling the girl into a hug even given the awkwardness of the position as she encouraged the girl to kneel down in front of her so she could reach, stroking her hands through her hair. “Sheesh, don’t cry; everyone would think we are some kind of monster,” she teased playfully to the other girl, “and it is getting my dress all wet now too.” She made no inclination of pushing her away, just continuing to soothe the girl. “Besides, your father is going to stop paying the tuition, because if you get in the top 20, your tuition gets paid for by Ersand’Enise for the year.”
She made it sound so simple: just ignore her father's petulant attempts to control her, and keep going to school. "You don't get it, Maura!" Xiuyang replied, clutching at the folds of the girl's dress as she cried. "It's not about the money—I finally..! I've only just found a path forward, to live the life I want, and after everything I went through, I might still..!" She sobbed. "I couldn't do anything! That bitch Juulet made me look useless! I need to show them all that I can hack it! My father, Ciro, Tyrel—I need them all to acknowledge me! I need my team to make at least top ten—no, top five!" Her voice was desperate, cracking under the weight of high expectations.
...
There was only so much that encouraging words, or a physical act of comfort could do. With so much at stake in her mind, the only true cure for a crisis of faith in oneself was to purely and simply do it—and that required that she eventually stop crying, calm herself, and take her leave of Maura to go train. Even armed with the information from Maura, Kaureerah, Roslyn and Desmond, she wasn't confident staking it all on proving to the judges and the crowd that her opponents were cheating. There was still a chance that they weren't, and she couldn't afford to be blindsided by that. Her team composition would have to accommodate the possibility that they needed a brute-force victory. With that in mind, she stacked the team's power in the 2v2s, leaving Ciro with the unenviable task of preparing himself for the 1v1, in the hopes that there wouldn't be a 1v1.
Blessedly, this plan paid off in more ways than one. Armed with the Blue Ice from Cal, she calmed her mind and used her beanie of Weggosi relaxation to see through the illusions of Shadow Wizard Money Gang, who turned out to be eeaiko! After ironing out some kinks in their coordination, she and Tyrel were able to not only take the first round, but permanently mark their atomic mage's body to prevent him from meddling in the second round. Shadow Wizard Money Gang were persistent, however, and illegally had him participate in the second round anyway. After a prolonged stalemate, Ingrid and Trypano were able to reveal the cheaters, who were then brutalized by the furious crowd. With her plan a resounding success, Ciro wouldn't have to suffer a humiliating defeat or horrible death in the solo round. Xiuyang couldn't stop herself from embracing her crush, relieved that she hadn't failed him after all the trust he'd put in her.
Moments before the match, Ciro offered his hand to Xiuyang. Taking it, she looked up at him. She must have given off the vibe that she wanted to say something, too, because Ciro responded with his reassuring smile. "Well, I know that look..." he said with teasing expectance.
"Um, well. I just wanted to say... no matter what happens now, I think we make a pretty good team." She averted her eyes, blushing just slightly.
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "That we do."
Xiuyang raised her scarf up, hiding a big smile as she walked into the arena. "Ready to save my ass again?" she exhaled, upon laying eyes on her opponents. Fuck.
"You're going down, scarface!" Raffie cheered, sticking her tongue out at the Revidian pair. How the boos rained down when the Revidian pair entered. There were not too many people allowed to spectate, but those who were did their best to make the place feel hostile towards their enemies.
Zarina then regarded the opposition. "No point asking for a courtesy hug beforehand, huh?" she smirked.
Xiuyang turned to Zarina, unsure what to make of the comment yet. "Sorry, I'm fresh out," she replied, cheeky but friendly.
Ciro shrugged. "I assume that's your way of asking if we'd let you have a grace period. In that case, I agree." He smiled and his body language clearly indicated that he had not raised any defenses, content to let his opponents strengthen. He might do the same himself.
"Huh?" Zarina raised a brow. "Nah, just making a joke. No graces today."
"Very well," he said with a smile.
...
Zarina and Miret were fierce opponents, and Ciro held his own better than Xiuyang expected. Had she vastly underestimated his capabilities? Among the four of them, Xiuyang was the weak link, and everyone quickly put that together. It didn't matter than she was showing vastly superior strength compared to last year's Trials—her opponents were simply stronger than the best that she could muster. She tried to conceal herself with illusions so she could support Ciro, but it was not enough. After only a few rounds of attacks, she was sent hurtling out of the ring by Zarina. She could have killed her. If this were a real battle, she'd be dead, and she knew it.
Xiuyang was eliminated. Ciro's face fell. "Well, I guess that's that, then." He shot Xiuyang a sad look. "I am so sorry I couldn't help you do this, my love."
Zarina shrugged. "Sorry, habibi."
Ciro adjusted the red rose in his lapel. He took it out and took a sniff. "Well, I'd appreciate if you'd let me shake your hands and walk out. I'd like to remember uh..." He scratched at the back of his head. "What not to do next time."
Zarina raised a brow. "Shake hands? Sure, after the match is over. You can walk out, though."
He held his hand out and watched it refused. He shook his head. "Nevermind." He walked out, and the crowd roared. The Virangish had won in Virang; the Revidians had been defeated.
Xiuyang was sent hurtling into a bench, and did not land gracefully. Her world spun around, and agonizing pain assaulted her back and stomach. Virangish spectators jeered, tossing food at her as she struggled to stand and catch her breath. At least, she wasn't dead. Ciro came and embraced her as the boos rained down upon them. "Remember, the opinions of these... people don't define who you are," he murmured into her ear. "But they are not like us: they care only for their bread and circuses. I will never sink to their level, I promise. I pray you do the same."
"Oi!" yelled Zarina, arms flailing and all those gestures for attention. "A little grace for the opponents. Ya Hmar! They played honourably." Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. That she was with one of those filthy knife-ears could be overlooked, in theory. It was simply their team composition and Zarina had been given no choice in that, most likely. Now she was calling Revidians honourable!? The whispers and gossip got Zarina to enter the defensive with her arms crossed. "Thank you for coming to see us and the cheers." she bowed her head before marching to the benches and join her team.
Xiuyang bit her lip. It was hard not to be disappointed, when she had taken the finals almost for granted, until Raffaella had unleashed... that. It was surreal. It felt unfair. It felt how the Perrench had probably felt after her "victory." In reality, she knew she hadn't deserved to make it to semifinals, to begin with.
"Let's go," she sighed, sounding only slightly morose. A surprising underreaction, given how fired up she was to defeat Penny. Perhaps the difference in power had taken the wind out of her sails. "I'm so exhausted, Ciro... from everything. I just want a bath, a nice dinner, and about... three days and nights of uninterrupted sleep." She offered him a wry smile. He smiled and walked beside her, holding his hand out playfully. "Yup, it can all go burn for now." He shook his head. "The rest sounds lovely, though, and better enjoyed... dare I say it—with company?"
Xiuyang gave him the sly eyes—the look she always had when she was hatching some plan to amuse herself. She played at ignoring his hand, plucking a piece of lettuce out of his hair instead. Then, she took him by the arm. "My father is impressed by you, you know?" she hinted. "That's not easy to do. It's almost as hard as impressing me," she japed.
"Well, I am pretty impressive," he remarked. Then he scratched at the back of his head. "Just uh... scrub today from the books, huh?" He offered a self-effacing smile and, together, they walked away. But Xiuyang would not forget—how Ciro, ever the image of a perfect gentleman, had put himself in the crowd's line of fire to lift her up, physically and emotionally. "Nope. Don't think I can, so you'll just have to treat me," she teased, smiling.
And that, he did.
"Um, well. I just wanted to say... no matter what happens now, I think we make a pretty good team." She averted her eyes, blushing just slightly.
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "That we do."
Xiuyang raised her scarf up, hiding a big smile as she walked into the arena. "Ready to save my ass again?" she exhaled, upon laying eyes on her opponents. Fuck.
"You're going down, scarface!" Raffie cheered, sticking her tongue out at the Revidian pair. How the boos rained down when the Revidian pair entered. There were not too many people allowed to spectate, but those who were did their best to make the place feel hostile towards their enemies.
Zarina then regarded the opposition. "No point asking for a courtesy hug beforehand, huh?" she smirked.
Xiuyang turned to Zarina, unsure what to make of the comment yet. "Sorry, I'm fresh out," she replied, cheeky but friendly.
Ciro shrugged. "I assume that's your way of asking if we'd let you have a grace period. In that case, I agree." He smiled and his body language clearly indicated that he had not raised any defenses, content to let his opponents strengthen. He might do the same himself.
"Huh?" Zarina raised a brow. "Nah, just making a joke. No graces today."
"Very well," he said with a smile.
...
Zarina and Miret were fierce opponents, and Ciro held his own better than Xiuyang expected. Had she vastly underestimated his capabilities? Among the four of them, Xiuyang was the weak link, and everyone quickly put that together. It didn't matter than she was showing vastly superior strength compared to last year's Trials—her opponents were simply stronger than the best that she could muster. She tried to conceal herself with illusions so she could support Ciro, but it was not enough. After only a few rounds of attacks, she was sent hurtling out of the ring by Zarina. She could have killed her. If this were a real battle, she'd be dead, and she knew it.
Xiuyang was eliminated. Ciro's face fell. "Well, I guess that's that, then." He shot Xiuyang a sad look. "I am so sorry I couldn't help you do this, my love."
Zarina shrugged. "Sorry, habibi."
Ciro adjusted the red rose in his lapel. He took it out and took a sniff. "Well, I'd appreciate if you'd let me shake your hands and walk out. I'd like to remember uh..." He scratched at the back of his head. "What not to do next time."
Zarina raised a brow. "Shake hands? Sure, after the match is over. You can walk out, though."
He held his hand out and watched it refused. He shook his head. "Nevermind." He walked out, and the crowd roared. The Virangish had won in Virang; the Revidians had been defeated.
Xiuyang was sent hurtling into a bench, and did not land gracefully. Her world spun around, and agonizing pain assaulted her back and stomach. Virangish spectators jeered, tossing food at her as she struggled to stand and catch her breath. At least, she wasn't dead. Ciro came and embraced her as the boos rained down upon them. "Remember, the opinions of these... people don't define who you are," he murmured into her ear. "But they are not like us: they care only for their bread and circuses. I will never sink to their level, I promise. I pray you do the same."
"Oi!" yelled Zarina, arms flailing and all those gestures for attention. "A little grace for the opponents. Ya Hmar! They played honourably." Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. That she was with one of those filthy knife-ears could be overlooked, in theory. It was simply their team composition and Zarina had been given no choice in that, most likely. Now she was calling Revidians honourable!? The whispers and gossip got Zarina to enter the defensive with her arms crossed. "Thank you for coming to see us and the cheers." she bowed her head before marching to the benches and join her team.
Xiuyang bit her lip. It was hard not to be disappointed, when she had taken the finals almost for granted, until Raffaella had unleashed... that. It was surreal. It felt unfair. It felt how the Perrench had probably felt after her "victory." In reality, she knew she hadn't deserved to make it to semifinals, to begin with.
"Let's go," she sighed, sounding only slightly morose. A surprising underreaction, given how fired up she was to defeat Penny. Perhaps the difference in power had taken the wind out of her sails. "I'm so exhausted, Ciro... from everything. I just want a bath, a nice dinner, and about... three days and nights of uninterrupted sleep." She offered him a wry smile. He smiled and walked beside her, holding his hand out playfully. "Yup, it can all go burn for now." He shook his head. "The rest sounds lovely, though, and better enjoyed... dare I say it—with company?"
Xiuyang gave him the sly eyes—the look she always had when she was hatching some plan to amuse herself. She played at ignoring his hand, plucking a piece of lettuce out of his hair instead. Then, she took him by the arm. "My father is impressed by you, you know?" she hinted. "That's not easy to do. It's almost as hard as impressing me," she japed.
"Well, I am pretty impressive," he remarked. Then he scratched at the back of his head. "Just uh... scrub today from the books, huh?" He offered a self-effacing smile and, together, they walked away. But Xiuyang would not forget—how Ciro, ever the image of a perfect gentleman, had put himself in the crowd's line of fire to lift her up, physically and emotionally. "Nope. Don't think I can, so you'll just have to treat me," she teased, smiling.
And that, he did.
Following the conclusion of Mano e Mano, Xiuyang called a final team meeting. It was, at least, officially a team meeting, but there was also a subtle but distinct "consolation pizza and beer party" vibe to it. She certainly wasn't going to admit to it, and nobody was likely to point it out. She had the plausible deniability of being a perpetually drunk Revidian. This was Xiuyang's vibe, and it was fun for a while, but eventually, the others looked to her for some kind of purpose for the meeting. She shrugged. She was never any good at starting any kind of "official" anything.
"We are gathered here todayy..." she drawled comically, "...to talk strategy. The old greybeards aren't done using us for their own amusement yet." She chugged another pint's worth of beer from her gourd. "I'll get straight to the point. We're in the spotlight of a massive controversy. People hate us. 'Specially me." She grimaced, not from guilt but from distaste.
"We're in seventh place, but we'll probably get spited into the ground if we don't pick up some good PR. That's why I passed on fighting for third place. We could maybe take down Maura's team if we're extremely lucky and on our absolute A game, but let's be honest... we're not. We're all exhausted, and those points aren't worth the hassle compared to what we're gonna get by playing the good sports, looking like the victims of someone else's grand design—which we probably are, but everyone needs to know it." She smirked. "We need the Zenos of Ersand'Enise to take the fall for us on that Fiske n' Chips match. I'm sure their infighting has something to do with this. It's the least they can do for us. Our efforts are better spent elsewhere."
She chugged again. "I've got more unfinished business with Penny than I thought. I knew she didn't like me, but apparently she hates my guts badly enough to spit death threats with just a little bit of provocation. So, there's nothing for it. I'll just have to give her the apology she wants. The Perrench outnumber us. She's holding all the cards. I need her to agree to a ceasefire, or we'll lose our place in the top ten." She swirled her gourd around, acting like she didn't give a care—but in truth, this clever ruse was just an excuse. Penny was hurting, and despite her best efforts not to care... she did. "Anyone else got any bright ideas to deal with this problem? If not, I'll settle for letting you handle right or spite, while I deal with the jealous girlfriend issue. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it," she japed, with the vibe of a mob boss. "If I don't come back, you know who killed me," she added, deadpan.
"From what ah understand th' main top ten get more leverage from spitin' than rightin'. Ah think as long as no team in the top has a specific reason t' spite us then we might a chance of movin' up on the back of other team's spite-in' one of the leadin' teams." Trypano was leaned up against a wall, arms crossed and hat casting a long shadow in the flickering light of the wall lantern.
"Since votin' uniformly gives us a boost ah think votin' spite on Vyshta's Most Favored will knock 'em down a peg, 'specially since we probably ain't gonna be the only ones. After all, bein' number one just put's a big target on their backs." She gave a long sigh, not as a statement or anything of that sort but rather she was simply weary of this distraction. She was done with these trials as soon as they even began, the amount of time these events had deducted from her actual work was grinding her nerves.
"As for curryin' favor with the teams eleven t' twenty or so I'm not the one t' ask. I'll do what ah can but hardly anyone knows me, least in a positive context that is."
"I'll go to the Eskandish, I have a reputation with them and should be able to persuade them not to vote against us." Ingrid wasn't completely confident in that but she would try at the very least. "Same with Sven. I can see if he is willing to at least not spite us and at best have some sympathy. Other than that I can hit up some old friends to try and get higher. I don't know if it will convince them but I can try."
"Good luck with Penny, she is a decent person, I swear." Ingrid added. She wasn't going to try to convince someone of her character when at times, Penny acts like a bad person to even her.
"We are gathered here todayy..." she drawled comically, "...to talk strategy. The old greybeards aren't done using us for their own amusement yet." She chugged another pint's worth of beer from her gourd. "I'll get straight to the point. We're in the spotlight of a massive controversy. People hate us. 'Specially me." She grimaced, not from guilt but from distaste.
"We're in seventh place, but we'll probably get spited into the ground if we don't pick up some good PR. That's why I passed on fighting for third place. We could maybe take down Maura's team if we're extremely lucky and on our absolute A game, but let's be honest... we're not. We're all exhausted, and those points aren't worth the hassle compared to what we're gonna get by playing the good sports, looking like the victims of someone else's grand design—which we probably are, but everyone needs to know it." She smirked. "We need the Zenos of Ersand'Enise to take the fall for us on that Fiske n' Chips match. I'm sure their infighting has something to do with this. It's the least they can do for us. Our efforts are better spent elsewhere."
She chugged again. "I've got more unfinished business with Penny than I thought. I knew she didn't like me, but apparently she hates my guts badly enough to spit death threats with just a little bit of provocation. So, there's nothing for it. I'll just have to give her the apology she wants. The Perrench outnumber us. She's holding all the cards. I need her to agree to a ceasefire, or we'll lose our place in the top ten." She swirled her gourd around, acting like she didn't give a care—but in truth, this clever ruse was just an excuse. Penny was hurting, and despite her best efforts not to care... she did. "Anyone else got any bright ideas to deal with this problem? If not, I'll settle for letting you handle right or spite, while I deal with the jealous girlfriend issue. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it," she japed, with the vibe of a mob boss. "If I don't come back, you know who killed me," she added, deadpan.
"From what ah understand th' main top ten get more leverage from spitin' than rightin'. Ah think as long as no team in the top has a specific reason t' spite us then we might a chance of movin' up on the back of other team's spite-in' one of the leadin' teams." Trypano was leaned up against a wall, arms crossed and hat casting a long shadow in the flickering light of the wall lantern.
"Since votin' uniformly gives us a boost ah think votin' spite on Vyshta's Most Favored will knock 'em down a peg, 'specially since we probably ain't gonna be the only ones. After all, bein' number one just put's a big target on their backs." She gave a long sigh, not as a statement or anything of that sort but rather she was simply weary of this distraction. She was done with these trials as soon as they even began, the amount of time these events had deducted from her actual work was grinding her nerves.
"As for curryin' favor with the teams eleven t' twenty or so I'm not the one t' ask. I'll do what ah can but hardly anyone knows me, least in a positive context that is."
"I'll go to the Eskandish, I have a reputation with them and should be able to persuade them not to vote against us." Ingrid wasn't completely confident in that but she would try at the very least. "Same with Sven. I can see if he is willing to at least not spite us and at best have some sympathy. Other than that I can hit up some old friends to try and get higher. I don't know if it will convince them but I can try."
"Good luck with Penny, she is a decent person, I swear." Ingrid added. She wasn't going to try to convince someone of her character when at times, Penny acts like a bad person to even her.
Given the events of the day, it was nigh impossible for anyone to get a moment with Penny alone, Xiuyang least of all. She decided to get her attention the only way she could think to try, which was to write a letter.
Penny,
I want you to know, first and foremost, that I bear you no ill will. I want you and Jamboi to be happy together. I would never want you to suffer as you did. Even if you don't remember a thing, I want to apologize. I don't know where the aberration came from, but I can't shake this sinking feeling that, if I'd been stronger, maybe this wouldn't have happened.
That isn't the main reason I'm writing to you, though. Penny, I don't know if anyone told you about the things you said to me in between being temporally anchored and the start of our fight. What I heard broke my heart, but it also opened my eyes. I've hurt you, far more than I ever thought or intended. In the moment, I was angry, but in hindsight, I feel ashamed. If there is anyone in this school who knows what it's like to hide bitterness behind a mask, it's me. I should have seen the pain you were in.
Please, find me at Dami's Cross, and tell me everything. Just let me have it, and get it all off your chest. I promise I won't get angry or defensive. I want both of us to leave this bitterness behind and focus on making our loved ones happy.
Sincerely, Xiuyang
Despite the presence of dozens of other students all using it as a rendezvous point, there was no missing Penny when she showed up at the Dami's Cross fountain. By her very nature, she was distinctive. She did not, however, seem to notice Xiuyang right away. Instead, she sat on one of the benches, leaning her crutches against the end of it and taking a moment to get her bearings. In the meantime, a trio of cleaners were hard at work scrubbing the paint off of the statue in the middle. Should Xiuyang wish to back out, this would perhaps be her last opportunity to do so.
Despite her promise not to get angry or defensive, no matter what Penny might say to her, Xiuyang still did not quite feel safe meeting with Penny alone. It was no coincidence that she'd chosen such a public place. The immature part of her had even hoped that Penny might just not show up. Now that she had, though, her heart began to race. As soon as she saw her, she remembered the sight of her, aberration mad, charging after her with murderous intent. She remembered how easily the death threat had escaped her mouth, and how easily she could have squished her like a bug if Ingrid wasn't there to defend her.
This, however, would be her last chance with Penny, perhaps her only chance. Anxiety written all over her face, she revealed herself. She'd been sitting on the edge of the fountain, alone. She rose to her feet slowly, and cautiously approached Penny. No theatrics, no clever jokes. She simply walked up to her. "Thanks for coming," she said softly, trying to smile. "...May I sit?" she attempted, gesturing to the other end of the bench.
Penny arched an eyebrow. "Nobody's stopping you." She looked the other girl over. At some point, Xiuyang had stopped wearing her mask. That was... not a pretty sight and, for some reason, it melted a bit of her resolve. She was not a pretty sight either, according to some. Penny said no more for the time being, however. She merely let the other speak. On the one hand, she was nearly certain that the school or some nefarious third party had been behind the incident that she did not fully remember. On the other, a small part of her still believed that it might've been Xiuyang's allies and they'd simply messed up. This was likely what it appeared to be: a simple apology for something that, to be frank, Penny owed an apology for as well. There was always a chance, though - just a slight one - that it was something much darker.
"...Thanks," came the simple reply. Anxious, she sat on the other edge of the bench, looking like an awkward teenager preparing to be scolded—which, truthfully, was exactly what she was. For Pentad's sake, Penny, please say something, she thought desperately as the short moment of silence seemed in her mind to last an eternity.
Letting a moment pass without trying to break the ice was not a strong suit of hers. So, in the end, she caved, and spoke first. "I hope you're here because you got my letter, otherwise, this is going to be really awkward..." she tried a nervous laugh, scratching her cheek. "I'll just start with the bottom line, huh? I've been... a conceited, conniving little coward. Saying that I was trying to steal your boyfriend is giving me too much credit. For a Yanii, dating a Yasoi is a big commitment, and I lacked the conviction to make a move. I used to think, 'no one would ever love a girl like me.' His rejection would have broken me. So I just... silently hoped that he would make the first move," she confessed.
"He's not that kind of guy, though. He wants a girl who will say yes, not one who will just... not say no. He's a good man. He called me beautiful because I lacked confidence, not because he liked me like that. ...Still, I should have told him to stop. I know what it feels like, now, to love someone so much that just the thought of him flirting with other girls, even if it's strictly business pleasantries, makes me feel terribly jealous. If I'd known what that was like—that I was hurting you—well, I'd like to think I would have done better... I don't know. Hearing him call me beautiful, even if it was a joke, felt so nice. No one ever said so before." She gripped the folds of her robes.
But you're not, Penny thought, and neither am I. The thought was invasive. It was not what she was supposed to think. It was not what she was meant to think. She shook her head without meaning to. "That's... a lot." Penny glanced about uncomfortably, not quite knowing how to respond to such an admission. "Dami," she laughed nervously, "I feel like such a bitch if I don't respond in kind, you know?" For a moment, she simply regarded her counterpart. She didn't know what to do with her hands.
"But thank you, and.. really." She breathed. Did she really hate Xiuyang? They'd been friendly to each other on a surface level. Penny had spent her entire life until Ersand'Enise being friendly to people who she hated and who'd hated her. Really, it had been fear: a fear of losing Ashon and everything that he represented. "I have..." she admitted, trailing off for a moment, "my own long sad story to tell, but now's not the time for it. I have my own deep-seated issues with self-worth." She knitted and unknitted her fingers. They still felt strange: that gap in her left hand that had always been there and now wasn't. She'd hated it too, but she'd accepted it, even - scandalously - used it to hold a pen or utensils with when nobody was looking. Why should a different body automatically be deemed hideous and malformed? Who got to decide that? Was it social or biological?
"Oh, I could say something trite about how we're not so different, but I think that you and I both know that now." She shook her head and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, offering a faint smile. "I don't think we'll ever be besties - I bleed green and gold - but we're not enemies and..." She shrugged. "This meant a lot. I'm not gonna cry. I don't know why. Maybe I have so many regrets piled up that I'm just numb to it at this point. Maybe life is surreal right now." She let out a snort and leaned forward, posting her weight on her hands. There was a restlessness about Penny these days. Maybe some of the yasoi had bled into her being. "I just..." It was a simple thing, really, but nobody ever apologized to her. "Apology accepted and... I should've said something before. I should've seen it and recognized where my own reaction was coming from." She hesitated. I'm... glad you're happy now." Her smile felt fake even though it wasn't. I'm sorry. She was going to say it but, then, she didn't. On some level perhaps, to do so would've been an admission of weakness. For a royal of Perrence to do that... she did not recognize it as such but, maybe, it was just a mental hurdle too far for her.
"Life is pretty fucking surreal right now," Xiuyang agreed, letting out a genuine chuckle, and palpable relief. "I'm not entitled to your regrets, Penny—but I hope you won't let them hold you back. I've been so scared of... everything lately, I almost forgot how to be happy—but I'm done crying, sick of it even. I'm not going to waste another moment regretting anything that led me to this place in time."
She stood up. "I meant what I said, when I said it—that there's nothing tying me to Revidia but a birth certificate—but... now I've gone and fallen head over heels for a Revidian, haven't I? C'est la vie, non?" she shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I still don't want war. If I knew the first thing about what happened, or who was behind it, I'd tell you. I hope you believe that."
Penny sniffed, and toed at a pebble with her single foot. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "I do, suunei." She took a breath and flashed a smiled. "I do." Quicker than one might've expected, she slid over and reached out in embrace. "Thanks for being a human. Let's hug it out, hmm?"
Caught off guard, Xiuyang paused, but then she sat right back down on the bench and embraced Penny. "I'm here for you both, if you need me," she whispered. "I know how they look down on us. How hard it can be." She gently squeezed. She wanted, perhaps, to say more—to get it all off her chest—but this moment was for Penny, not her. She'd said enough for today.
Penny,
I want you to know, first and foremost, that I bear you no ill will. I want you and Jamboi to be happy together. I would never want you to suffer as you did. Even if you don't remember a thing, I want to apologize. I don't know where the aberration came from, but I can't shake this sinking feeling that, if I'd been stronger, maybe this wouldn't have happened.
That isn't the main reason I'm writing to you, though. Penny, I don't know if anyone told you about the things you said to me in between being temporally anchored and the start of our fight. What I heard broke my heart, but it also opened my eyes. I've hurt you, far more than I ever thought or intended. In the moment, I was angry, but in hindsight, I feel ashamed. If there is anyone in this school who knows what it's like to hide bitterness behind a mask, it's me. I should have seen the pain you were in.
Please, find me at Dami's Cross, and tell me everything. Just let me have it, and get it all off your chest. I promise I won't get angry or defensive. I want both of us to leave this bitterness behind and focus on making our loved ones happy.
Sincerely, Xiuyang
Despite the presence of dozens of other students all using it as a rendezvous point, there was no missing Penny when she showed up at the Dami's Cross fountain. By her very nature, she was distinctive. She did not, however, seem to notice Xiuyang right away. Instead, she sat on one of the benches, leaning her crutches against the end of it and taking a moment to get her bearings. In the meantime, a trio of cleaners were hard at work scrubbing the paint off of the statue in the middle. Should Xiuyang wish to back out, this would perhaps be her last opportunity to do so.
Despite her promise not to get angry or defensive, no matter what Penny might say to her, Xiuyang still did not quite feel safe meeting with Penny alone. It was no coincidence that she'd chosen such a public place. The immature part of her had even hoped that Penny might just not show up. Now that she had, though, her heart began to race. As soon as she saw her, she remembered the sight of her, aberration mad, charging after her with murderous intent. She remembered how easily the death threat had escaped her mouth, and how easily she could have squished her like a bug if Ingrid wasn't there to defend her.
This, however, would be her last chance with Penny, perhaps her only chance. Anxiety written all over her face, she revealed herself. She'd been sitting on the edge of the fountain, alone. She rose to her feet slowly, and cautiously approached Penny. No theatrics, no clever jokes. She simply walked up to her. "Thanks for coming," she said softly, trying to smile. "...May I sit?" she attempted, gesturing to the other end of the bench.
Penny arched an eyebrow. "Nobody's stopping you." She looked the other girl over. At some point, Xiuyang had stopped wearing her mask. That was... not a pretty sight and, for some reason, it melted a bit of her resolve. She was not a pretty sight either, according to some. Penny said no more for the time being, however. She merely let the other speak. On the one hand, she was nearly certain that the school or some nefarious third party had been behind the incident that she did not fully remember. On the other, a small part of her still believed that it might've been Xiuyang's allies and they'd simply messed up. This was likely what it appeared to be: a simple apology for something that, to be frank, Penny owed an apology for as well. There was always a chance, though - just a slight one - that it was something much darker.
"...Thanks," came the simple reply. Anxious, she sat on the other edge of the bench, looking like an awkward teenager preparing to be scolded—which, truthfully, was exactly what she was. For Pentad's sake, Penny, please say something, she thought desperately as the short moment of silence seemed in her mind to last an eternity.
Letting a moment pass without trying to break the ice was not a strong suit of hers. So, in the end, she caved, and spoke first. "I hope you're here because you got my letter, otherwise, this is going to be really awkward..." she tried a nervous laugh, scratching her cheek. "I'll just start with the bottom line, huh? I've been... a conceited, conniving little coward. Saying that I was trying to steal your boyfriend is giving me too much credit. For a Yanii, dating a Yasoi is a big commitment, and I lacked the conviction to make a move. I used to think, 'no one would ever love a girl like me.' His rejection would have broken me. So I just... silently hoped that he would make the first move," she confessed.
"He's not that kind of guy, though. He wants a girl who will say yes, not one who will just... not say no. He's a good man. He called me beautiful because I lacked confidence, not because he liked me like that. ...Still, I should have told him to stop. I know what it feels like, now, to love someone so much that just the thought of him flirting with other girls, even if it's strictly business pleasantries, makes me feel terribly jealous. If I'd known what that was like—that I was hurting you—well, I'd like to think I would have done better... I don't know. Hearing him call me beautiful, even if it was a joke, felt so nice. No one ever said so before." She gripped the folds of her robes.
But you're not, Penny thought, and neither am I. The thought was invasive. It was not what she was supposed to think. It was not what she was meant to think. She shook her head without meaning to. "That's... a lot." Penny glanced about uncomfortably, not quite knowing how to respond to such an admission. "Dami," she laughed nervously, "I feel like such a bitch if I don't respond in kind, you know?" For a moment, she simply regarded her counterpart. She didn't know what to do with her hands.
"But thank you, and.. really." She breathed. Did she really hate Xiuyang? They'd been friendly to each other on a surface level. Penny had spent her entire life until Ersand'Enise being friendly to people who she hated and who'd hated her. Really, it had been fear: a fear of losing Ashon and everything that he represented. "I have..." she admitted, trailing off for a moment, "my own long sad story to tell, but now's not the time for it. I have my own deep-seated issues with self-worth." She knitted and unknitted her fingers. They still felt strange: that gap in her left hand that had always been there and now wasn't. She'd hated it too, but she'd accepted it, even - scandalously - used it to hold a pen or utensils with when nobody was looking. Why should a different body automatically be deemed hideous and malformed? Who got to decide that? Was it social or biological?
"Oh, I could say something trite about how we're not so different, but I think that you and I both know that now." She shook her head and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, offering a faint smile. "I don't think we'll ever be besties - I bleed green and gold - but we're not enemies and..." She shrugged. "This meant a lot. I'm not gonna cry. I don't know why. Maybe I have so many regrets piled up that I'm just numb to it at this point. Maybe life is surreal right now." She let out a snort and leaned forward, posting her weight on her hands. There was a restlessness about Penny these days. Maybe some of the yasoi had bled into her being. "I just..." It was a simple thing, really, but nobody ever apologized to her. "Apology accepted and... I should've said something before. I should've seen it and recognized where my own reaction was coming from." She hesitated. I'm... glad you're happy now." Her smile felt fake even though it wasn't. I'm sorry. She was going to say it but, then, she didn't. On some level perhaps, to do so would've been an admission of weakness. For a royal of Perrence to do that... she did not recognize it as such but, maybe, it was just a mental hurdle too far for her.
"Life is pretty fucking surreal right now," Xiuyang agreed, letting out a genuine chuckle, and palpable relief. "I'm not entitled to your regrets, Penny—but I hope you won't let them hold you back. I've been so scared of... everything lately, I almost forgot how to be happy—but I'm done crying, sick of it even. I'm not going to waste another moment regretting anything that led me to this place in time."
She stood up. "I meant what I said, when I said it—that there's nothing tying me to Revidia but a birth certificate—but... now I've gone and fallen head over heels for a Revidian, haven't I? C'est la vie, non?" she shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I still don't want war. If I knew the first thing about what happened, or who was behind it, I'd tell you. I hope you believe that."
Penny sniffed, and toed at a pebble with her single foot. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "I do, suunei." She took a breath and flashed a smiled. "I do." Quicker than one might've expected, she slid over and reached out in embrace. "Thanks for being a human. Let's hug it out, hmm?"
Caught off guard, Xiuyang paused, but then she sat right back down on the bench and embraced Penny. "I'm here for you both, if you need me," she whispered. "I know how they look down on us. How hard it can be." She gently squeezed. She wanted, perhaps, to say more—to get it all off her chest—but this moment was for Penny, not her. She'd said enough for today.
In the Proving Grounds, Juulet was hosting an event: allegedly, anyone could punch her in the face, for the low cost of giving their points to Vyshta's More Favoured. Predictably, Xiuyang stepped up to the proverbial plate. Her expression had certainly changed following her time in Yarsoc. She was showing her face now, bearing her scars almost with a kind of pride. She had no fear in her eyes, nor hatred, nor the mercantile glint of the expectation of bargaining. There was nothing but a cold emptiness. Was it depression? Or acceptance?
The bitch herself sat cross legged in the centre of the arena, playing with some of the sand with an idle hand to pass the time. But then came the Yanii she had banished a couple of days ago. She did not look surprised and instead greeted Xiuyang with a smug grin. "Looks like the spiritual awakening in our lands made a new you. Good for you."
"...Yeah," she replied blithely. "Sure. Let's call it a holy pilgrimage. One might even say I found some form of acceptance with the Yasoi," she japed, thinking of Tyrel, and how surprised she'd been that she came for her. She stood a fair distance from Juulet, arms crossed. "I had to see it for myself to believe it. So. Whose idea was this?"
Juulet pushed herself off her sitting position, seized one of her crutches and stood before the maskless Revidian. "Mine. I'm not as bullheaded as I seem." the crutch was placed before her, allowing for the taller Yasoi to leaned forward over it. "Interested?"
There was a pause as Xiuyang pondered the absurd offer. "Depends. Why did you choose Yarsoc? Did you think sending me to that shithole would make me give up on your people? Make me show my true, dirty Yanii colors? Or did you just think it would be funny, to write this as my epitaph: Here lies Xiuyang Solari, tree-rider extraordinaire. She died as she lived." She delivered the punchline with a tone as flat and dead as roadkill.
Juulet didn't take long to answer. An anti-climactic shrug was a proper indicator of what was to come. "I wanted to fuck you over, I'm pretty sure. Tossing you in a deathtrap shithole felt fitting at the time." She drummed her fingers over the single support she was leaned on. "I didn't even remember where exactly I sent you. Just a spur of the moment thing. But no, I don't think enough about some tree-rider Yanii to imagine writing on some tombstone." Her expression was dull as much as her tone was flat and disinterested to match Xiuyang's energy.
"I'm kind of surprised. I didn't expect you to come back." She chuckled after the mirthful remark. "I suppose it is for the better you did, Ashy was growing antsy. And now, here you are no longer with that ugly mask. No more surprise, sure, but now you can finally breathe." She then raised her index finger and tapped her cheek. "Now, stop wasting my time for answers you'll never be satisfied with and hit me. I've got points to grind."
I'll never feel like I can breathe more than halfway in. Not until the day you die, Xiuyang thought bitterly. On the outside, however, she smiled. "I'm not here to hit you, though. I'm only here to make sure that arbitrary 'score' of yours is even between us, since I know you won't stop coming for me until it is. If we're even, then I have no business with you."
With that, Xiuyang turned to walk away. Her eyes didn't linger on that monster for even a second more. Juulet wouldn't show the sad, confused expression of a broken child who was unaccustomed to kindness or forgiveness. She would show only a smug grin, or high-and-mighty scorn. No, a single act of puerile violence would not satisfy Xiuyang. She would handle this the Solari way. She would face Juulet with a smile, starting today, until the very instant she found herself with a favorable hand. Then, she would make Juulet suffer.
Later, upon seeing the final standings, Xiuyang would find out that her singular decision not to punch Juulet would cost Vyshta's More Favoured first place, bumping them down to third. She had won the moral victory, even if it felt a bit hollow.
The bitch herself sat cross legged in the centre of the arena, playing with some of the sand with an idle hand to pass the time. But then came the Yanii she had banished a couple of days ago. She did not look surprised and instead greeted Xiuyang with a smug grin. "Looks like the spiritual awakening in our lands made a new you. Good for you."
"...Yeah," she replied blithely. "Sure. Let's call it a holy pilgrimage. One might even say I found some form of acceptance with the Yasoi," she japed, thinking of Tyrel, and how surprised she'd been that she came for her. She stood a fair distance from Juulet, arms crossed. "I had to see it for myself to believe it. So. Whose idea was this?"
Juulet pushed herself off her sitting position, seized one of her crutches and stood before the maskless Revidian. "Mine. I'm not as bullheaded as I seem." the crutch was placed before her, allowing for the taller Yasoi to leaned forward over it. "Interested?"
There was a pause as Xiuyang pondered the absurd offer. "Depends. Why did you choose Yarsoc? Did you think sending me to that shithole would make me give up on your people? Make me show my true, dirty Yanii colors? Or did you just think it would be funny, to write this as my epitaph: Here lies Xiuyang Solari, tree-rider extraordinaire. She died as she lived." She delivered the punchline with a tone as flat and dead as roadkill.
Juulet didn't take long to answer. An anti-climactic shrug was a proper indicator of what was to come. "I wanted to fuck you over, I'm pretty sure. Tossing you in a deathtrap shithole felt fitting at the time." She drummed her fingers over the single support she was leaned on. "I didn't even remember where exactly I sent you. Just a spur of the moment thing. But no, I don't think enough about some tree-rider Yanii to imagine writing on some tombstone." Her expression was dull as much as her tone was flat and disinterested to match Xiuyang's energy.
"I'm kind of surprised. I didn't expect you to come back." She chuckled after the mirthful remark. "I suppose it is for the better you did, Ashy was growing antsy. And now, here you are no longer with that ugly mask. No more surprise, sure, but now you can finally breathe." She then raised her index finger and tapped her cheek. "Now, stop wasting my time for answers you'll never be satisfied with and hit me. I've got points to grind."
I'll never feel like I can breathe more than halfway in. Not until the day you die, Xiuyang thought bitterly. On the outside, however, she smiled. "I'm not here to hit you, though. I'm only here to make sure that arbitrary 'score' of yours is even between us, since I know you won't stop coming for me until it is. If we're even, then I have no business with you."
With that, Xiuyang turned to walk away. Her eyes didn't linger on that monster for even a second more. Juulet wouldn't show the sad, confused expression of a broken child who was unaccustomed to kindness or forgiveness. She would show only a smug grin, or high-and-mighty scorn. No, a single act of puerile violence would not satisfy Xiuyang. She would handle this the Solari way. She would face Juulet with a smile, starting today, until the very instant she found herself with a favorable hand. Then, she would make Juulet suffer.
Later, upon seeing the final standings, Xiuyang would find out that her singular decision not to punch Juulet would cost Vyshta's More Favoured first place, bumping them down to third. She had won the moral victory, even if it felt a bit hollow.
Two Girls and a Scheme
The artifacts on offer as Trials rewards had been on display in the auction hall for some time, and all of the winners seemed to have at least a vague idea of what they wanted. It was never going to be a simple matter of choosing those items, however; it was a game in which the higher-placed teams had an advantage, items could be stolen, and the top 3 teams could get 3 rewards, while everyone else was stuck with two. Problem one: there were three items that Xiuyang absolutely had to have, and anything that didn't get chosen was going to be auctioned off. Problem two: Marceline had just seized one of the prizes Xiuyang had her eye on—an anti-magic device.
When Fait Accompli's turn came, though, Xiuyang heaved a sigh of relief, and headed straight for the Paired Mirrors of Swift Exchange, ignoring every other prize. This one took priority. Once she had it, she sat back down next to Ciro, offering him one of the mirrors with a big smile that could rival Raffaella's. "You've always been there when I needed you. Now I can return the favor." He smiled in return. "Have I told you that you're the best enough times, or would you like to hear it again?"
"Once in a while certainly doesn't hurt." She looked away to hide her blush, grinning. "Just don't wear it out." She couldn't be happier with her choice. She didn't fully understand Ciro's capabilities, and wasn't sure if the gift would be useful. Her relief was palpable, but she was also a little embarrassed—at least, she strived to seem that way. Now no one can steal this from us without looking like a villain. Only, what to do about Marci...
She considered. No, I'll let her have this. I shouldn't rush things. The next time we meet, I'll be an even match for Juulet myself—and I won't be alone. Ciro just got an anti-magic item, too. Having made her decision, she laid hands upon the Sanguine Bayonet of Endless Bloodhunger—a prize that had appeared in last year's Trials, but went unclaimed, perhaps due to its macabre nature. Indeed, there were already whispers in the room. Of course, there would be confusion about a pacifist taking up a weapon such as this. As she walked back to Ciro's side, she ignored everyone's stares. I've been too soft. These people have forgotten what it means to fuck with a Solari. Father was right—I should remind them that we are dangerous to the wrong sort.
At Xiuyang's recommendation, Ciro acquired a mask with a power that would be useful in negotiations and other social situations—an item that was useful to both of them. She waited for someone to steal her new lance. War was around the corner, and surely someone would take the opportunity to show the room that they were oh so much scarier than a pair of mere Revidian merchants. Come on, take it from me. Then I can take what I'm really after with no chance of it being stolen from me. She feigned defensiveness whenever anyone approached her team, but to her chagrin, it was always Trypano's item they were after.
In the end, Xiuyang was stuck with the lance. Well, fuck. I decided I'd be okay with this outcome, but really... those guns are perfect for combating an Avatar of Vyshta. I'm surprised Marci didn't take them. She considered her options for a moment. During the last auction, items started off expensive and the prices only got driven up from there. She had money saved from back then, but her income was the lowest it had ever been, now. Certainly, she'd had no allies to pool money with last time, and now she had Ciro, but still. She owed him enough—she shouldn't rely on him for every little thing.
Winners were being allowed to swap any prizes they were unhappy with with those still left in the pool. She could trade the lance for the guns, but what kind of message would that send? That she was indecisive after all? No, she had to keep the lance now. She just needed an item to trade. How could she make this work? There was a way, she decided as she approached the prize pool. "Anyone else trying to get another prize out of this?" She asked, a mercantile glint in her eyes. "I've got enough money here to buy at least two items during the auction, but I only want one, and I absolutely must have it. I'll buy any one item off of you with this. Any item—I'm not picky."
Immediately, a woman named Marlijn Vaanse took her up on the offer. It was a bad deal for Xiuyang, who was holding a small fortune of 1,300 magus—but she wasn't going to take even the slightest chance that someone with more money than her had their eyes on Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers. As soon as the deal was made, Xiuyang exchanged the item she'd bought off Marlijn for those guns, and wasted no time in attaching them to her hip and concealing them beneath her robe. "A pleasure doing business."
When Fait Accompli's turn came, though, Xiuyang heaved a sigh of relief, and headed straight for the Paired Mirrors of Swift Exchange, ignoring every other prize. This one took priority. Once she had it, she sat back down next to Ciro, offering him one of the mirrors with a big smile that could rival Raffaella's. "You've always been there when I needed you. Now I can return the favor." He smiled in return. "Have I told you that you're the best enough times, or would you like to hear it again?"
"Once in a while certainly doesn't hurt." She looked away to hide her blush, grinning. "Just don't wear it out." She couldn't be happier with her choice. She didn't fully understand Ciro's capabilities, and wasn't sure if the gift would be useful. Her relief was palpable, but she was also a little embarrassed—at least, she strived to seem that way. Now no one can steal this from us without looking like a villain. Only, what to do about Marci...
She considered. No, I'll let her have this. I shouldn't rush things. The next time we meet, I'll be an even match for Juulet myself—and I won't be alone. Ciro just got an anti-magic item, too. Having made her decision, she laid hands upon the Sanguine Bayonet of Endless Bloodhunger—a prize that had appeared in last year's Trials, but went unclaimed, perhaps due to its macabre nature. Indeed, there were already whispers in the room. Of course, there would be confusion about a pacifist taking up a weapon such as this. As she walked back to Ciro's side, she ignored everyone's stares. I've been too soft. These people have forgotten what it means to fuck with a Solari. Father was right—I should remind them that we are dangerous to the wrong sort.
At Xiuyang's recommendation, Ciro acquired a mask with a power that would be useful in negotiations and other social situations—an item that was useful to both of them. She waited for someone to steal her new lance. War was around the corner, and surely someone would take the opportunity to show the room that they were oh so much scarier than a pair of mere Revidian merchants. Come on, take it from me. Then I can take what I'm really after with no chance of it being stolen from me. She feigned defensiveness whenever anyone approached her team, but to her chagrin, it was always Trypano's item they were after.
In the end, Xiuyang was stuck with the lance. Well, fuck. I decided I'd be okay with this outcome, but really... those guns are perfect for combating an Avatar of Vyshta. I'm surprised Marci didn't take them. She considered her options for a moment. During the last auction, items started off expensive and the prices only got driven up from there. She had money saved from back then, but her income was the lowest it had ever been, now. Certainly, she'd had no allies to pool money with last time, and now she had Ciro, but still. She owed him enough—she shouldn't rely on him for every little thing.
Winners were being allowed to swap any prizes they were unhappy with with those still left in the pool. She could trade the lance for the guns, but what kind of message would that send? That she was indecisive after all? No, she had to keep the lance now. She just needed an item to trade. How could she make this work? There was a way, she decided as she approached the prize pool. "Anyone else trying to get another prize out of this?" She asked, a mercantile glint in her eyes. "I've got enough money here to buy at least two items during the auction, but I only want one, and I absolutely must have it. I'll buy any one item off of you with this. Any item—I'm not picky."
Immediately, a woman named Marlijn Vaanse took her up on the offer. It was a bad deal for Xiuyang, who was holding a small fortune of 1,300 magus—but she wasn't going to take even the slightest chance that someone with more money than her had their eyes on Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers. As soon as the deal was made, Xiuyang exchanged the item she'd bought off Marlijn for those guns, and wasted no time in attaching them to her hip and concealing them beneath her robe. "A pleasure doing business."
The auction was next, and Xiuyang was out of cash. She was satisfied with her haul, though, and more than content to simply sit next to Ciro and watch the show. The first interesting items to come up were some paintings by the artist Tku. One called "The Rise" depicted Juulet in the role of a divine being, facing off against a four-armed demon. How droll, Xiuyang thought, until Ciro started bidding for it against Juulet herself. Confused at first, Xiuyang eventually caught on to what he was doing: driving up the price. She fought back the urge to snicker and failed as Juulet happily paid triple her original bid.
The next painting, called "The Fall" depicted the more honest scene that Xiuyang remembered from the finals of Mano e Mano: a scared and helpless child in the grasp of an all-consuming darkness, her divinity stripped away. Ciro leaned in to Xiuyang, whispering: "Would you like it?" The question caught her off guard. Where, just where in all of Sipenta could a man find this much brazen confidence? If Juulet didn't destroy this painting herself, whoever bought it would surely be her next target, along with the artist himself. "Nah. It's burned into my mind's eye forever," she replied in truth. When the demon had appeared, she watched him taunt Juulet, even as others ran and hid behind the stone walls of the arena, as if they could offer safety from such an overwhelmingly powerful being. She had been prepared to die by the same greataxe that would have slain her greatest adversary. Just how cold had her heart grown to the prospect of dying, after everything she'd witnessed in the past months? Death, and even what she knew of the hells were a mercy compared to that endless nothing she had experienced firsthand.
Meanwhile, everyone was bidding on the painting, including Trypano, Penny, Desmond, and... Marceline. She bid a whopping 500 magus on it, remarking that she loved the "realism." "What a wonderful piece! Should I put it on public display?" She said as she shook Tku's hand. Dami fuck, Marci. Holy shit. Xiuyang couldn't help but admire and envy the girl's courage. As the auction went on, Marci also bid 100 magus on the 25-hour self-copy. By the gods, I think she has the same plan I was considering before. She's going to kill Juulet, she realized. Xiuyang didn't know much about Marci, other than that any sensible woman would be furious at Juulet for attacking their boyfriend. Should I stop her? She bit her lip for a fraction of a second, then quickly hid behind a poker face, standing ready to prompt Ciro to back her if she had competition. However, she had none.
Now Juulet was bidding on an item: the Girdle of Dominance, which would only make her even more of a menace. "Do we allow this?" she whispered to Ciro urgently. "We let others spend and we watch," he replied simply. It was only then that she reflected: Ciro had driven up the price of a lot of items, but not actually bought anything himself. It seemed he had some grander scheme in mind. She shrugged off her reservations, deciding to trust in his judgment. He hadn't let her down before. In the end, it didn't matter, as Juulet and Tyrel pooled their money, with the latter actually getting the belt, and Juulet seemed... satisfied? When did those two suddenly grow close? This was worrying.
At last, though, Ciro decided to buy something, and when he did, it was an absolute steal, snagging a Great Sandbar Thresher for a measly 200 magus. She certainly didn't envy whoever found themselves on the wrong side of Ciro while riding that beast. Next was a rare variant of Coldfire Wyvern: the Blackfire, starting at a mere 4 magus. If Xiuyang had only known the Trials prizes would start so cheap, she would have held on to her money. She looked on with pity for the silky black beast with fierce violet eyes, regretful that she had no money—until Ciro slapped down 250 for it. "Was I that obvious?" she asked, more than a little embarrassed. No one competed to outbid him, either. It seemed everyone knew what was happening here. "I know how to read people, and we didn't pay too much," he replied. Xiuyang smiled sheepishly. You could have left that last part out, she thought, bemused. Oh. I totally just let him cater to my whims, didn't I? Just like other girls... Sorry, my dear. Please don't be cross with me. She knitted her fingers anxiously, a little ashamed of herself.
What followed was an absolute bloodbath over a piece of Sirrahi technology: a pair of two-way radios. Xiuyang had to pull her scarf up to hide her stupid grin. To think I got a much better item uncontested during prize selection. Thanks for respecting us lovebirds, she thought deviously, even though it did warm her heart slightly. It was real love, after all, wasn't it? "I wish we had popcorn," Ciro remarked as he leaned in, hands in his pockets. "This is the best. I'm so glad I came along," she replied with a chuckle. "Always fireworks here. We've spent barely more than we've made and they haven't even made it to the shoppe yet." He ruffled her hair fondly. It was true: the others had spent basically all of their money, and Ciro's Volta Emporium was about to make a lot more. I almost don't feel stupid for overpaying for those guns anymore, she mused as the radios sold for a whopping 850 magus.
The next painting, called "The Fall" depicted the more honest scene that Xiuyang remembered from the finals of Mano e Mano: a scared and helpless child in the grasp of an all-consuming darkness, her divinity stripped away. Ciro leaned in to Xiuyang, whispering: "Would you like it?" The question caught her off guard. Where, just where in all of Sipenta could a man find this much brazen confidence? If Juulet didn't destroy this painting herself, whoever bought it would surely be her next target, along with the artist himself. "Nah. It's burned into my mind's eye forever," she replied in truth. When the demon had appeared, she watched him taunt Juulet, even as others ran and hid behind the stone walls of the arena, as if they could offer safety from such an overwhelmingly powerful being. She had been prepared to die by the same greataxe that would have slain her greatest adversary. Just how cold had her heart grown to the prospect of dying, after everything she'd witnessed in the past months? Death, and even what she knew of the hells were a mercy compared to that endless nothing she had experienced firsthand.
Meanwhile, everyone was bidding on the painting, including Trypano, Penny, Desmond, and... Marceline. She bid a whopping 500 magus on it, remarking that she loved the "realism." "What a wonderful piece! Should I put it on public display?" She said as she shook Tku's hand. Dami fuck, Marci. Holy shit. Xiuyang couldn't help but admire and envy the girl's courage. As the auction went on, Marci also bid 100 magus on the 25-hour self-copy. By the gods, I think she has the same plan I was considering before. She's going to kill Juulet, she realized. Xiuyang didn't know much about Marci, other than that any sensible woman would be furious at Juulet for attacking their boyfriend. Should I stop her? She bit her lip for a fraction of a second, then quickly hid behind a poker face, standing ready to prompt Ciro to back her if she had competition. However, she had none.
Now Juulet was bidding on an item: the Girdle of Dominance, which would only make her even more of a menace. "Do we allow this?" she whispered to Ciro urgently. "We let others spend and we watch," he replied simply. It was only then that she reflected: Ciro had driven up the price of a lot of items, but not actually bought anything himself. It seemed he had some grander scheme in mind. She shrugged off her reservations, deciding to trust in his judgment. He hadn't let her down before. In the end, it didn't matter, as Juulet and Tyrel pooled their money, with the latter actually getting the belt, and Juulet seemed... satisfied? When did those two suddenly grow close? This was worrying.
At last, though, Ciro decided to buy something, and when he did, it was an absolute steal, snagging a Great Sandbar Thresher for a measly 200 magus. She certainly didn't envy whoever found themselves on the wrong side of Ciro while riding that beast. Next was a rare variant of Coldfire Wyvern: the Blackfire, starting at a mere 4 magus. If Xiuyang had only known the Trials prizes would start so cheap, she would have held on to her money. She looked on with pity for the silky black beast with fierce violet eyes, regretful that she had no money—until Ciro slapped down 250 for it. "Was I that obvious?" she asked, more than a little embarrassed. No one competed to outbid him, either. It seemed everyone knew what was happening here. "I know how to read people, and we didn't pay too much," he replied. Xiuyang smiled sheepishly. You could have left that last part out, she thought, bemused. Oh. I totally just let him cater to my whims, didn't I? Just like other girls... Sorry, my dear. Please don't be cross with me. She knitted her fingers anxiously, a little ashamed of herself.
What followed was an absolute bloodbath over a piece of Sirrahi technology: a pair of two-way radios. Xiuyang had to pull her scarf up to hide her stupid grin. To think I got a much better item uncontested during prize selection. Thanks for respecting us lovebirds, she thought deviously, even though it did warm her heart slightly. It was real love, after all, wasn't it? "I wish we had popcorn," Ciro remarked as he leaned in, hands in his pockets. "This is the best. I'm so glad I came along," she replied with a chuckle. "Always fireworks here. We've spent barely more than we've made and they haven't even made it to the shoppe yet." He ruffled her hair fondly. It was true: the others had spent basically all of their money, and Ciro's Volta Emporium was about to make a lot more. I almost don't feel stupid for overpaying for those guns anymore, she mused as the radios sold for a whopping 850 magus.
Later that day, word reached Xiuyang that a disaster had taken place at L'emporio di Volta. A certain dragon tamer astride a Blue Water Behemoth had, according to some sources, inadvertently trashed the place while trying to save some customers from some runaway Rettandic goods. Ciro's version of the story understandably made it sound a bit less noble. "I'll help clean this up. Don't worry about it—there are some things I wanted to buy, too."
Having heard through Tyrel of the miraculous healing powers of the cheese Pluurii had acquired during prize selection, Xiuyang thought she'd have a go at trying to find one for herself. She had many things to be thankful for, despite all of the trials she'd been put through lately—but if she could get rid of her scars as well, she'd never ask the gods for anything again. Checking around for any eyes on her, she saw none. It seemed as if the employees knew of her and Ciro's relationship, and trusted her. Very good. She put on her beanie and began to search the contents of the crates without opening them. Sorry, love, but this is for both of us.
No matter how far and wide she searched, however, she could not find any crates with the mana-infused cheese. She did find a few other curiosities, though, and opted to keep the three crates they happened to be in. She could afford another ten crates with her pocket money, and purchased those as well. "Pack these up, please. I wish to donate them," she said to the nearest worker. "Where to, signora?" "The Seagate." "...The Seagate, madam?" he asked wearily. "Well, go around from the Parade Gate, if it offends your sensibilities," she fired back irritably. "Not at all, madam Solari."
As the carriage moved along, Xiuyang wondered if she should even show up in person for this. Was there any merit to it? "Tree-riders" like her were always viewed with suspicion. However, she mustered every ounce of her courage and went along for the ride, Staff of the Burning Monkey King in hand. As the yasoi refugees came into view, they all stared at her. Curious eyes failed to recognize either the woman or the staff in her hand, and their reactions to her generosity were mixed. Several children thanked her as they had clearly been taught, while their parents said nothing, positive or negative. Some pointed at her scarred face and said things she couldn't understand while the adults shushed them. A few nodded in gratitude and thanks. Overall, it was a very mixed bag. It neither met Xiuyang's expectations of negativity, nor subverted them with heartwarming positivity. It just kind of happened—and perhaps that was right and fair.
Having heard through Tyrel of the miraculous healing powers of the cheese Pluurii had acquired during prize selection, Xiuyang thought she'd have a go at trying to find one for herself. She had many things to be thankful for, despite all of the trials she'd been put through lately—but if she could get rid of her scars as well, she'd never ask the gods for anything again. Checking around for any eyes on her, she saw none. It seemed as if the employees knew of her and Ciro's relationship, and trusted her. Very good. She put on her beanie and began to search the contents of the crates without opening them. Sorry, love, but this is for both of us.
No matter how far and wide she searched, however, she could not find any crates with the mana-infused cheese. She did find a few other curiosities, though, and opted to keep the three crates they happened to be in. She could afford another ten crates with her pocket money, and purchased those as well. "Pack these up, please. I wish to donate them," she said to the nearest worker. "Where to, signora?" "The Seagate." "...The Seagate, madam?" he asked wearily. "Well, go around from the Parade Gate, if it offends your sensibilities," she fired back irritably. "Not at all, madam Solari."
As the carriage moved along, Xiuyang wondered if she should even show up in person for this. Was there any merit to it? "Tree-riders" like her were always viewed with suspicion. However, she mustered every ounce of her courage and went along for the ride, Staff of the Burning Monkey King in hand. As the yasoi refugees came into view, they all stared at her. Curious eyes failed to recognize either the woman or the staff in her hand, and their reactions to her generosity were mixed. Several children thanked her as they had clearly been taught, while their parents said nothing, positive or negative. Some pointed at her scarred face and said things she couldn't understand while the adults shushed them. A few nodded in gratitude and thanks. Overall, it was a very mixed bag. It neither met Xiuyang's expectations of negativity, nor subverted them with heartwarming positivity. It just kind of happened—and perhaps that was right and fair.
It was early evening, and Marci had finally tracked down Xiuyang as she walked. "Hey," called Marceline, "I'm glad you're coming." She took a second to catch her breath as she pulled up alongside the Revidian. "Wouldn't be a party without you."
Xiuyang regarded Marci's sudden appearance with surprise, and perhaps a healthy dose of suspicion. Her team "should" have advanced instead of Fait Accompli, if the aberration fiasco hadn't happened, and the two hadn't spoken since then. "You're not wrong," she replied, polite but wary. It was to be expected, perhaps, given what had happened to her dorm, as she was now the subject of much controversy among the Perrench.
She was walking alongside Ciro, and an eagle-eyed Marci would no doubt have noticed the arcane illusions at work, concealing the scars on her arms and legs—and, coincidentally, a pair of flintlock pistols strapped to her thighs, underneath her dress. She wasn't leaving anything to chance, apparently.
"Listen, I know some really messed up stuff happened in that match," Marceline admitted, "But I'm glad it didn't scare you off. You're.... well... good people, Xiuyang, what little I know you." They walked in silence for a few moments longer and Marceline didn't comment on what her counterpart was hiding. "Fuck Juulet, by the way," she offered.
At that, Xiuyang stopped abruptly, letting go of Ciro's arm. "I need to handle this," her eyes seemed to say as she gave him a nod. "I'll catch up," she assured him. Ciro released her with a concerned look and an assurance that he would meet her at the party, but he would likely want to know more at some point. If he wasn't quite nosy, he was every curious about everything, and often totally inconsequential things.
She took Marceline along a slight detour, walking at an idle pace until she supposed that Ciro was, ostensibly, out of earshot. She put up what she could of a sonic bubble, which wasn't much, but as some might say, locks kept honest people honest. "You're doing it tonight, I take it?" she remarked rather straightforwardly. She looked at Marci with an impenetrable expression. "Don't worry, you don't have a rat. I simply had my suspicions. I have a rough idea of what you plan to do, if only because I'd considered it myself upon seeing those same prizes," she admitted. "But if death would leave you with any regrets, I suggest you keep your head down too. If I couldn't hide from her, I doubt anyone can."
The younger girl shrugged. "It has to be done, doesn't it?" She leaned against a wall as her potential partner continued. Her eyes flicked Xiuyang's way and she shrugged. "I figured someone would guess," the tethered allowed. "Long as it's nobody close to Juulet, then I think we're fine, and you're the polar..." "Opposite," Xiuyang finished as Marci trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "But Tyrel. Who'd have ever thought." She shook her head in frustration. "She's not as smart as I thought she was, to be reeled in so easily by a dash of superficial charm." She pushed off from the wall. "As if it undoes numerous murderous escapades." She clenched her jaw and looked away for a moment, arms wrapped around herself. "I'm praying you don't go soft on me, like Tyrel," she entreated - slash - warned. "I'm going to kill her. I don't like killing, but every moment she breathes, she's like... a great sword hanging over the heads of everyone she's harmed: you, me, Fiske, Dory." She shook her head. And how many others, huh? She's evil and she'll keep being evil."
"I'm not so blindly in favor of the Yasoi that you need to fear me protecting a murderous false Avatar for the optics of it." She looked over her shoulder as she said it. "...Aye, I've gone soft as freshly fallen snow—with all its treachery." She offered a sly smile and a wink. "I'll give Tyrel a hard time about that later, but if I've learned anything about the Yasoi, they're much like us. The smartest ones all act like fools."
She paused for a moment, her eyes meeting Marci's as she considered her resolve. It was clear that there was nothing she could say to make her back down and wait for what better time to strike might come. "I don't disagree, but I'm not ready to face her—and neither are you—but maybe you'll stand a chance if we put our preparations together," she pondered. She drew her hidden flintlock pistols, showing them off to Marci. "These are interesting guns. Should you find your spells failing you, for any reason—inadequate strength, attempting a spell beyond your ken, or... just ill fortune, perhaps?" she suggested rather dispassionately. "They re-absorb and store any wasted energy from magic. Quite a useful tool in ambitious hands."
She held them just out of reach of Marci's hands. "Of course, if I just give them to you, I'll be implicated as your accomplice if you fail—so I'll need the appearance of having sold these to you. Give me something as collateral, and we have a deal." She offered an apologetic smile. "No offense, but I've actually gained something to lose since the last time I fucked with Juulet. I can't take any chances." I really shouldn't get involved at all, she thought apprehensively. But she's right. While I wait for my 'perfect' revenge, more innocents will suffer. Her plan is decent. I shouldn't let my hatred rob her of this chance.
Marceline considered. She pressed her lips together. "I've my own plans, but those would be useful as a safety net..." Her eyes darted about for a moment as she reached for a small sack tucked into her belt. "One diamond exploit," she offered, holding out the valuable groove coin she'd plucked from it. "Or did you prefer something that was more obviously mine?"
"That might be a bit too bold. This will do," she assured her, exchanging the items. Since I know you'll want this back, she thought, but didn't say. "Since I planned to use them to defend myself at the Soiree if necessary, they're already loaded. They can only store energy for a limited time, though," she advised. Then, she looked at Marci seriously. "She expected me to die in Yarsoc, despite what she's told anyone else. No matter what she says, don't hesitate."
Marceline hesitated for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, she leaned in. "I know you've already gotten one of these from Penny today - she mentioned it to me - but come here." Marci reached in to embrace her. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't hesitate."
Xiuyang was entirely not ready for the hug. Deep down, she didn't feel that she deserved one. It felt cowardly, relying on Marceline and refusing to involve herself directly—but more than anything, she didn't want to die, not now that she was so close to a new chapter of her life, with everything she wanted and more. She could put the struggles and the failures behind her, if only she could wait a little longer. The hug was brief and awkward, with Xiuyang looking over her shoulder as she gave Marci a pat on the back. "This was a great talk that we never had. Was nice not seeing you," she japed, slipping away with a sheepish smile.
Marceline hadn't been sure if a hug was warranted, but she'd wanted to involve Xiuyang at least symbolically and craved some sense of her blessing. Truthfully speaking, she'd needed it as much for her own fraying nerves as anything else. In theory, the plan was perfect. In practice, it had so many redundancies built into it that there was no way it could end in outright disaster, and now she'd added another. "Until we meet!" Marci chirped. Then they parted ways.
Xiuyang regarded Marci's sudden appearance with surprise, and perhaps a healthy dose of suspicion. Her team "should" have advanced instead of Fait Accompli, if the aberration fiasco hadn't happened, and the two hadn't spoken since then. "You're not wrong," she replied, polite but wary. It was to be expected, perhaps, given what had happened to her dorm, as she was now the subject of much controversy among the Perrench.
She was walking alongside Ciro, and an eagle-eyed Marci would no doubt have noticed the arcane illusions at work, concealing the scars on her arms and legs—and, coincidentally, a pair of flintlock pistols strapped to her thighs, underneath her dress. She wasn't leaving anything to chance, apparently.
"Listen, I know some really messed up stuff happened in that match," Marceline admitted, "But I'm glad it didn't scare you off. You're.... well... good people, Xiuyang, what little I know you." They walked in silence for a few moments longer and Marceline didn't comment on what her counterpart was hiding. "Fuck Juulet, by the way," she offered.
At that, Xiuyang stopped abruptly, letting go of Ciro's arm. "I need to handle this," her eyes seemed to say as she gave him a nod. "I'll catch up," she assured him. Ciro released her with a concerned look and an assurance that he would meet her at the party, but he would likely want to know more at some point. If he wasn't quite nosy, he was every curious about everything, and often totally inconsequential things.
She took Marceline along a slight detour, walking at an idle pace until she supposed that Ciro was, ostensibly, out of earshot. She put up what she could of a sonic bubble, which wasn't much, but as some might say, locks kept honest people honest. "You're doing it tonight, I take it?" she remarked rather straightforwardly. She looked at Marci with an impenetrable expression. "Don't worry, you don't have a rat. I simply had my suspicions. I have a rough idea of what you plan to do, if only because I'd considered it myself upon seeing those same prizes," she admitted. "But if death would leave you with any regrets, I suggest you keep your head down too. If I couldn't hide from her, I doubt anyone can."
The younger girl shrugged. "It has to be done, doesn't it?" She leaned against a wall as her potential partner continued. Her eyes flicked Xiuyang's way and she shrugged. "I figured someone would guess," the tethered allowed. "Long as it's nobody close to Juulet, then I think we're fine, and you're the polar..." "Opposite," Xiuyang finished as Marci trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "But Tyrel. Who'd have ever thought." She shook her head in frustration. "She's not as smart as I thought she was, to be reeled in so easily by a dash of superficial charm." She pushed off from the wall. "As if it undoes numerous murderous escapades." She clenched her jaw and looked away for a moment, arms wrapped around herself. "I'm praying you don't go soft on me, like Tyrel," she entreated - slash - warned. "I'm going to kill her. I don't like killing, but every moment she breathes, she's like... a great sword hanging over the heads of everyone she's harmed: you, me, Fiske, Dory." She shook her head. And how many others, huh? She's evil and she'll keep being evil."
"I'm not so blindly in favor of the Yasoi that you need to fear me protecting a murderous false Avatar for the optics of it." She looked over her shoulder as she said it. "...Aye, I've gone soft as freshly fallen snow—with all its treachery." She offered a sly smile and a wink. "I'll give Tyrel a hard time about that later, but if I've learned anything about the Yasoi, they're much like us. The smartest ones all act like fools."
She paused for a moment, her eyes meeting Marci's as she considered her resolve. It was clear that there was nothing she could say to make her back down and wait for what better time to strike might come. "I don't disagree, but I'm not ready to face her—and neither are you—but maybe you'll stand a chance if we put our preparations together," she pondered. She drew her hidden flintlock pistols, showing them off to Marci. "These are interesting guns. Should you find your spells failing you, for any reason—inadequate strength, attempting a spell beyond your ken, or... just ill fortune, perhaps?" she suggested rather dispassionately. "They re-absorb and store any wasted energy from magic. Quite a useful tool in ambitious hands."
She held them just out of reach of Marci's hands. "Of course, if I just give them to you, I'll be implicated as your accomplice if you fail—so I'll need the appearance of having sold these to you. Give me something as collateral, and we have a deal." She offered an apologetic smile. "No offense, but I've actually gained something to lose since the last time I fucked with Juulet. I can't take any chances." I really shouldn't get involved at all, she thought apprehensively. But she's right. While I wait for my 'perfect' revenge, more innocents will suffer. Her plan is decent. I shouldn't let my hatred rob her of this chance.
Marceline considered. She pressed her lips together. "I've my own plans, but those would be useful as a safety net..." Her eyes darted about for a moment as she reached for a small sack tucked into her belt. "One diamond exploit," she offered, holding out the valuable groove coin she'd plucked from it. "Or did you prefer something that was more obviously mine?"
"That might be a bit too bold. This will do," she assured her, exchanging the items. Since I know you'll want this back, she thought, but didn't say. "Since I planned to use them to defend myself at the Soiree if necessary, they're already loaded. They can only store energy for a limited time, though," she advised. Then, she looked at Marci seriously. "She expected me to die in Yarsoc, despite what she's told anyone else. No matter what she says, don't hesitate."
Marceline hesitated for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, she leaned in. "I know you've already gotten one of these from Penny today - she mentioned it to me - but come here." Marci reached in to embrace her. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't hesitate."
Xiuyang was entirely not ready for the hug. Deep down, she didn't feel that she deserved one. It felt cowardly, relying on Marceline and refusing to involve herself directly—but more than anything, she didn't want to die, not now that she was so close to a new chapter of her life, with everything she wanted and more. She could put the struggles and the failures behind her, if only she could wait a little longer. The hug was brief and awkward, with Xiuyang looking over her shoulder as she gave Marci a pat on the back. "This was a great talk that we never had. Was nice not seeing you," she japed, slipping away with a sheepish smile.
Marceline hadn't been sure if a hug was warranted, but she'd wanted to involve Xiuyang at least symbolically and craved some sense of her blessing. Truthfully speaking, she'd needed it as much for her own fraying nerves as anything else. In theory, the plan was perfect. In practice, it had so many redundancies built into it that there was no way it could end in outright disaster, and now she'd added another. "Until we meet!" Marci chirped. Then they parted ways.
A Party is Never Just a Party
Xiuyang arrived, accompanied by Ciro—or perhaps it was he who arrived, accompanied by Xiuyang? Ever since the controversial quarterfinals match against Penny and Guy, Xiuyang had not been seen alone even once. She was, of course, never easy to find, even at the best of times, but after her dorm room was vandalized, she was even more elusive.
She was, as ever, a centerpiece of rumor. After returning from her disappearance, she no longer hid her scars; only the members of Fait Accompli knew how she got them, leaving everyone else to speculate. She wore the qipao given to her by the Twin Emperors of ReTan once again, like it was her favorite dress. Previously a noted pacifist, some discredited voices among the Perrench whispered suspicions that she had not only summoned an aberration, but had even used blood magic. No one "knew" where she was staying after emptying her dorm of whatever remained of her belongings, but it was pretty easy, many mused, to guess with whom she was staying. After grabbing a particular prize from the Trials that seemed to be a gift for Ciro, she spent her remaining time during prize selection and the following auction acquiring undeniably lethal weapons; others did the same, of course, but some considered it out of character for Xiuyang.
Then, of course, was the news about the Solari trading company. Finally, the long-standing rumor was confirmed: Salome (Xiuyang) Solari would be stepping down from her role, making Maria Solari, her elder sister and firstborn of the family, the new CFO. Many saw this an an improvement, as Maria was less of an idealist and more practical-minded. All was not well, however—a new and terrifying rumor was spreading: one of the company's flagships, a Torragonese man of war named the Forte Impresa, had been captured by pirates. Was it true? How would such a thing have possibly happened?
Xiuyang appeared remarkably unbothered by it all. Perhaps she'd had enough time to get over the loss of her lucrative position. Maybe it was all part of her future plans. Perhaps it was simply no longer "her problem." Whatever the case, she was all smiles as she looked around at her friends and bluntly ignored any stink-eye. "I'm growing quite fond of this," she remarked as she helped herself to some of the Ellermane Bleu. I'd say it brings back memories, but that wasn't that long ago, now was it? she mused.
She was, as ever, a centerpiece of rumor. After returning from her disappearance, she no longer hid her scars; only the members of Fait Accompli knew how she got them, leaving everyone else to speculate. She wore the qipao given to her by the Twin Emperors of ReTan once again, like it was her favorite dress. Previously a noted pacifist, some discredited voices among the Perrench whispered suspicions that she had not only summoned an aberration, but had even used blood magic. No one "knew" where she was staying after emptying her dorm of whatever remained of her belongings, but it was pretty easy, many mused, to guess with whom she was staying. After grabbing a particular prize from the Trials that seemed to be a gift for Ciro, she spent her remaining time during prize selection and the following auction acquiring undeniably lethal weapons; others did the same, of course, but some considered it out of character for Xiuyang.
Then, of course, was the news about the Solari trading company. Finally, the long-standing rumor was confirmed: Salome (Xiuyang) Solari would be stepping down from her role, making Maria Solari, her elder sister and firstborn of the family, the new CFO. Many saw this an an improvement, as Maria was less of an idealist and more practical-minded. All was not well, however—a new and terrifying rumor was spreading: one of the company's flagships, a Torragonese man of war named the Forte Impresa, had been captured by pirates. Was it true? How would such a thing have possibly happened?
Xiuyang appeared remarkably unbothered by it all. Perhaps she'd had enough time to get over the loss of her lucrative position. Maybe it was all part of her future plans. Perhaps it was simply no longer "her problem." Whatever the case, she was all smiles as she looked around at her friends and bluntly ignored any stink-eye. "I'm growing quite fond of this," she remarked as she helped herself to some of the Ellermane Bleu. I'd say it brings back memories, but that wasn't that long ago, now was it? she mused.
As Xiuyang mingled with others of the merchant class, catching them up on the news and engaging in some idle gossip, she suddenly caught a glimpse of Penelope, which meant Guy was around somewhere. An uneasy expression took over her face as she pet the puffhound as usual, glancing about for her master. She looked like she didn't want to be noticed.
Penelope accepted the pets and demanded more for a bit. Then she remembered her role. She pulled over the two pups to get their pets as well. They must learn.
Xiuyang was generally not well-liked by animals. At least, that's how it was in the past. Now, however, it was this easy; all she had to do was gently reach out a hand, and she was accepted. It brought a tear to her eye as she ruffled their fur affectionately.
The Dragonhound clumsily fell into the pets, licking aggressively and wanting more love. The albino virangish pointer on the other hand, was shaking and eventually latched on to Xuiyang. She was nervous and that vibe was all the puppy needed. From across the event, Guy did see Xuiyang but he found himself lacking the initiative to approach. Instead he had another glass of wine and let his dogs continue their campaign of stealing pets.
"Goodness," Xiuyang exhaled, spoiling the shy Virangish Pointer. She must have looked like a kid, she realized, knelt down on the floor and surrounded by puppies, letting them climb on her nicest dress without a care. Maybe she was still a child at heart. Maybe that's why all the Yasoi treated her like one.
Penelope accepted the pets and demanded more for a bit. Then she remembered her role. She pulled over the two pups to get their pets as well. They must learn.
Xiuyang was generally not well-liked by animals. At least, that's how it was in the past. Now, however, it was this easy; all she had to do was gently reach out a hand, and she was accepted. It brought a tear to her eye as she ruffled their fur affectionately.
The Dragonhound clumsily fell into the pets, licking aggressively and wanting more love. The albino virangish pointer on the other hand, was shaking and eventually latched on to Xuiyang. She was nervous and that vibe was all the puppy needed. From across the event, Guy did see Xuiyang but he found himself lacking the initiative to approach. Instead he had another glass of wine and let his dogs continue their campaign of stealing pets.
"Goodness," Xiuyang exhaled, spoiling the shy Virangish Pointer. She must have looked like a kid, she realized, knelt down on the floor and surrounded by puppies, letting them climb on her nicest dress without a care. Maybe she was still a child at heart. Maybe that's why all the Yasoi treated her like one.
Eventually, though, she managed to get the dogs to behave, and parted ways with them. Finally, she spotted Guy, but he seemed to be looking away. She wasn't in a hurry to talk to him, either, after what happened. So, instead, she approached Maura, with rather unfortunate timing—thankfully, unbeknownst to her. "Quite an eventful week we've had, haven't we? I'm so tired, I almost had to be dragged here. Me, the party girl," she japed, taking a sip of her wine.
As Xiuyang arrived, she smiled towards her but lifted an eyebrow as if to ask if she was okay, as she detected the comments and their tone as they communicated in subtle body language. “It seems the party girl has caught herself a party boy to join the festivities with.” She nodded her head toward Ciro speaking with Juulet, “Is it true that his tongue is really made out of silver? ...We need to disappear for a moment, to pamper our noses.” She motioned to her nose while using her elbow to nudge Niallus hard in the leg, strongly hinting to him. “You beautiful people keep talking.” She gestured to Xiuyang for them to move away.
Xiuyang nodded with a slight smile, letting Maura know that she was okay. That was until she turned to regard who Maura was gesturing at, only to find Ciro talking to... Juulet? She instinctively took a step forward, and a look of worry came upon her face as she looked on, trying to get a feel for the tone of their conversation. She tried and failed to hide her sigh of relief as Juulet offered only her usual indifference to humans.
She waved at Niallus and Lunara as she and Maura excused themselves. "Powdering my nose, Maura? Really?" she whispered with a soft chuckle. "Imagine me doing something so feminine," she scoffed playfully. Despite saying so, though, she was definitely wearing a subtle layer of makeup to make her scars less noticeable, perhaps out of respect for Zarina as a host.
At first, she dodged Maura's question, but she eventually relented. Unlike Ciro, she was not bold enough to forego a sonic bubble before speaking her mind. "Believe it or not, behind closed doors... his tongue can be sharp, too. He says what needs to be said, even if I don't want to hear it. Maybe that's why I believe the things he says." She sighed fondly. "I really love him, Maura. I really, really do. He was supposed to be just a business partner, and yet... It just worked, and we both saw it. It's all happening so fast I can barely keep up, but I knew I had to seize this chance. He's the one." As she spoke, she didn't take her eyes off of him for more than a second. This was the girl who had cowered in fear during the Melon Derby, hiding away from Juulet. Now, she appeared ready to rush to Ciro's defense if Juulet so much as stood up from her chair in his general direction.
“Even the prettiest of roses have thorns,” she smiled as she moved to hold Xiuyang’s hand for a moment and gave it a squeeze. “We are happy for you, truly. May it work out well for you, as you deserve some good news after what you have been through this last week alone,” she gave a knowing look as she cast her eyes over to Ciro as she watched him discuss with Juulet. “We know what it is like when we met Abdel,” she moved her eyes as she saw him talking with Dorothea, “It was during that aberration incident a year ago, a crazed Tan Zeno attacked the both of us and Penny. As you can imagine, we could barely keep ourselves out of harm's way. But he was there for me, watching my back at every turn and looking out for me. Still got hurt, nothing is ever perfect, but afterwards, he kept dropping in to see me, making sure we were okay. We knew then, we needed to grab him and make him mine.” She grinned at Xiuyang, “Cute looking too, like your man.” She winked and squeezed the hand tightly before she let go, “You deserve to be treated like royalty, nothing less.”
"I have been through a lot," Xiuyang remarked dryly. "So much so that it's almost frightening that I'm still here. This is the kind of luck you only hear about in history books," she added meaningfully, a slight anxiety in her tone. As Maura squeezed her hand, she suddenly realized, awkwardly, that she was still standing, when there was a perfectly good chair right there. So, she sat.
"He was with me through it all—the pain and struggle and failure. Never once did he judge me, or abandon me, when I know others would have. Even when my ideas were just bad, he at least listened. He never lets me feel like I've wasted my efforts." Her grip on Maura's hand tightened as she reminisced. It wasn't that long ago that Xiuyang had been at rock bottom, wondering what she'd been doing with her life up to now, working for her father's company only to have her position usurped by her elder sister in the end. "...I never thought Ipte would bless me. I'd given up, Maura. I was... prepared to die alone." She drew a breath, willing herself not to cry this time.
"...Doesn't hurt that he's good looking, too," she confessed in agreement, snickering. "I know he'd give me the princess treatment if I let him, but I don't need it. We're a team, and we'll make the world better together. That's a dream. It's everything I wanted and more."
Maura rolled her eyes, “We never said princess treatment; we said treat you like royalty. You know the expression, behind every great king is a greater queen.” She mused for a moment, as she cast her eyes about, looking towards Raffie and Ayla, “We have enough princesses as it is.”
Xiuyang's eyes lazily drifted toward Raffaella. "Oh, hells no. If I allowed myself to become that spoiled, he would lose interest," she replied confidently. "I'm sure he's had enough money hungry women try to seduce him. Probably still trying, too, but he's too much of a gentleman to complain about it to me."
Xiuyang had no pockets to speak of, and she wasn't the type to carry a handbag. However, it was only a matter of time until she felt the slightly irritating sensation of parchment against the side of her neck. Pulling the note from her collar and reading it, her eyes flicked back to Ciro as it disintegrated in her hand. If their eyes met, she'd offered only a defeated shrug. "He does have me beat in almost every way," she added, still speaking to Maura. "I'll have to work hard to catch up."
She shot him a smile of admiration. Really, if she thought at all about how she was in the past, she should have been terrified of this man, with skills and means beyond her understanding. Yet, she loved him. Briefly, she wondered what changed—what led her to accept such a deep bond of trust with someone she couldn't control? Not so long ago, it would have been unthinkable. Yet, he'd been nothing but reliable. Why shouldn't she trust him? Because she "knew better?" Perhaps she had matured, if only slightly, in the aftermath of her struggles to grasp the cruelty of Sipenta.
After a bit of milling around and searching, Roslyn caught sight of Xiuyang and Maura. The pair were locked in conversation while glancing over at Ciro near... Juulet?!? Roslyn blinked in shock at the unexpected image and hoped there wasn't going to be trouble. Upon approaching the two girls, she greeted them kindly.
"Hey, I found you two. Xiuyang, where have you disappeared to lately? And Maura, I wanted to thank you for help at the auction. I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise." She made sure not to stare too much at Xiuyang's scars, she didn't want to be rude after all.
As Roslyn approached, she simply smiled sweetly. "We are not interested in money, though. If you want to offer something in return, we would gladly accept your friendship." She moved her hands onto Roslyn's own and squeezed them, "We just wanted to see people smiling at the auction, so take good care of it."
Xiuyang smiled at Roslyn, inviting her into their sonic bubble. At her unusual shyness, though, she smirked, deciding to playfully put on airs. "Messer Volta has arranged safe lodgings for yours truly," she answered with a mocking imitation of a snooty noble lady. "Not that I cannot defend myself, of course—perish the thought—but we would not want any Perrench rabble to get themselves hurt, now would we?" She winked, then dropped the preposterous accent. "Can't say exactly where. You never know who's listening. I'm aware of the rumors floating about that we're under the same roof and all that, though."
Roslyn let out a soft chuckle at Xiuyang's imitation. It felt good to hear her own thoughts now as she weighed the information.
"Well, you know my opinion of rumors. Unless I have confirmation, I don't believe in them." She said, referring to their conversation during the Society Faire. Roslyn reflected on her next words before adding. "But I understand. The less people that know where you are, the safer it is. I will admit, you two are cute together." She let the tease surface in her voice.
"Smart girl," Xiuyang replied simply. "Then, allow me to offer you confirmation: if you see the Forte Impresa... stay away from it," she warned. "The black flag is famous, but not all pyrates show the courtesy of flying it." She looked at Maura and nodded, her face grim and somewhat sad, warning her as well.
Then, just like that, she stood up, dropping the sonic bubble. "I know! My cuteness score goes up just standing next to him," she japed, as if she'd said nothing of importance at all while the bubble covered them. "I should go back to him, but I just have so many people to talk to."
As Xiuyang arrived, she smiled towards her but lifted an eyebrow as if to ask if she was okay, as she detected the comments and their tone as they communicated in subtle body language. “It seems the party girl has caught herself a party boy to join the festivities with.” She nodded her head toward Ciro speaking with Juulet, “Is it true that his tongue is really made out of silver? ...We need to disappear for a moment, to pamper our noses.” She motioned to her nose while using her elbow to nudge Niallus hard in the leg, strongly hinting to him. “You beautiful people keep talking.” She gestured to Xiuyang for them to move away.
Xiuyang nodded with a slight smile, letting Maura know that she was okay. That was until she turned to regard who Maura was gesturing at, only to find Ciro talking to... Juulet? She instinctively took a step forward, and a look of worry came upon her face as she looked on, trying to get a feel for the tone of their conversation. She tried and failed to hide her sigh of relief as Juulet offered only her usual indifference to humans.
She waved at Niallus and Lunara as she and Maura excused themselves. "Powdering my nose, Maura? Really?" she whispered with a soft chuckle. "Imagine me doing something so feminine," she scoffed playfully. Despite saying so, though, she was definitely wearing a subtle layer of makeup to make her scars less noticeable, perhaps out of respect for Zarina as a host.
At first, she dodged Maura's question, but she eventually relented. Unlike Ciro, she was not bold enough to forego a sonic bubble before speaking her mind. "Believe it or not, behind closed doors... his tongue can be sharp, too. He says what needs to be said, even if I don't want to hear it. Maybe that's why I believe the things he says." She sighed fondly. "I really love him, Maura. I really, really do. He was supposed to be just a business partner, and yet... It just worked, and we both saw it. It's all happening so fast I can barely keep up, but I knew I had to seize this chance. He's the one." As she spoke, she didn't take her eyes off of him for more than a second. This was the girl who had cowered in fear during the Melon Derby, hiding away from Juulet. Now, she appeared ready to rush to Ciro's defense if Juulet so much as stood up from her chair in his general direction.
“Even the prettiest of roses have thorns,” she smiled as she moved to hold Xiuyang’s hand for a moment and gave it a squeeze. “We are happy for you, truly. May it work out well for you, as you deserve some good news after what you have been through this last week alone,” she gave a knowing look as she cast her eyes over to Ciro as she watched him discuss with Juulet. “We know what it is like when we met Abdel,” she moved her eyes as she saw him talking with Dorothea, “It was during that aberration incident a year ago, a crazed Tan Zeno attacked the both of us and Penny. As you can imagine, we could barely keep ourselves out of harm's way. But he was there for me, watching my back at every turn and looking out for me. Still got hurt, nothing is ever perfect, but afterwards, he kept dropping in to see me, making sure we were okay. We knew then, we needed to grab him and make him mine.” She grinned at Xiuyang, “Cute looking too, like your man.” She winked and squeezed the hand tightly before she let go, “You deserve to be treated like royalty, nothing less.”
"I have been through a lot," Xiuyang remarked dryly. "So much so that it's almost frightening that I'm still here. This is the kind of luck you only hear about in history books," she added meaningfully, a slight anxiety in her tone. As Maura squeezed her hand, she suddenly realized, awkwardly, that she was still standing, when there was a perfectly good chair right there. So, she sat.
"He was with me through it all—the pain and struggle and failure. Never once did he judge me, or abandon me, when I know others would have. Even when my ideas were just bad, he at least listened. He never lets me feel like I've wasted my efforts." Her grip on Maura's hand tightened as she reminisced. It wasn't that long ago that Xiuyang had been at rock bottom, wondering what she'd been doing with her life up to now, working for her father's company only to have her position usurped by her elder sister in the end. "...I never thought Ipte would bless me. I'd given up, Maura. I was... prepared to die alone." She drew a breath, willing herself not to cry this time.
"...Doesn't hurt that he's good looking, too," she confessed in agreement, snickering. "I know he'd give me the princess treatment if I let him, but I don't need it. We're a team, and we'll make the world better together. That's a dream. It's everything I wanted and more."
Maura rolled her eyes, “We never said princess treatment; we said treat you like royalty. You know the expression, behind every great king is a greater queen.” She mused for a moment, as she cast her eyes about, looking towards Raffie and Ayla, “We have enough princesses as it is.”
Xiuyang's eyes lazily drifted toward Raffaella. "Oh, hells no. If I allowed myself to become that spoiled, he would lose interest," she replied confidently. "I'm sure he's had enough money hungry women try to seduce him. Probably still trying, too, but he's too much of a gentleman to complain about it to me."
Xiuyang had no pockets to speak of, and she wasn't the type to carry a handbag. However, it was only a matter of time until she felt the slightly irritating sensation of parchment against the side of her neck. Pulling the note from her collar and reading it, her eyes flicked back to Ciro as it disintegrated in her hand. If their eyes met, she'd offered only a defeated shrug. "He does have me beat in almost every way," she added, still speaking to Maura. "I'll have to work hard to catch up."
She shot him a smile of admiration. Really, if she thought at all about how she was in the past, she should have been terrified of this man, with skills and means beyond her understanding. Yet, she loved him. Briefly, she wondered what changed—what led her to accept such a deep bond of trust with someone she couldn't control? Not so long ago, it would have been unthinkable. Yet, he'd been nothing but reliable. Why shouldn't she trust him? Because she "knew better?" Perhaps she had matured, if only slightly, in the aftermath of her struggles to grasp the cruelty of Sipenta.
After a bit of milling around and searching, Roslyn caught sight of Xiuyang and Maura. The pair were locked in conversation while glancing over at Ciro near... Juulet?!? Roslyn blinked in shock at the unexpected image and hoped there wasn't going to be trouble. Upon approaching the two girls, she greeted them kindly.
"Hey, I found you two. Xiuyang, where have you disappeared to lately? And Maura, I wanted to thank you for help at the auction. I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise." She made sure not to stare too much at Xiuyang's scars, she didn't want to be rude after all.
As Roslyn approached, she simply smiled sweetly. "We are not interested in money, though. If you want to offer something in return, we would gladly accept your friendship." She moved her hands onto Roslyn's own and squeezed them, "We just wanted to see people smiling at the auction, so take good care of it."
Xiuyang smiled at Roslyn, inviting her into their sonic bubble. At her unusual shyness, though, she smirked, deciding to playfully put on airs. "Messer Volta has arranged safe lodgings for yours truly," she answered with a mocking imitation of a snooty noble lady. "Not that I cannot defend myself, of course—perish the thought—but we would not want any Perrench rabble to get themselves hurt, now would we?" She winked, then dropped the preposterous accent. "Can't say exactly where. You never know who's listening. I'm aware of the rumors floating about that we're under the same roof and all that, though."
Roslyn let out a soft chuckle at Xiuyang's imitation. It felt good to hear her own thoughts now as she weighed the information.
"Well, you know my opinion of rumors. Unless I have confirmation, I don't believe in them." She said, referring to their conversation during the Society Faire. Roslyn reflected on her next words before adding. "But I understand. The less people that know where you are, the safer it is. I will admit, you two are cute together." She let the tease surface in her voice.
"Smart girl," Xiuyang replied simply. "Then, allow me to offer you confirmation: if you see the Forte Impresa... stay away from it," she warned. "The black flag is famous, but not all pyrates show the courtesy of flying it." She looked at Maura and nodded, her face grim and somewhat sad, warning her as well.
Then, just like that, she stood up, dropping the sonic bubble. "I know! My cuteness score goes up just standing next to him," she japed, as if she'd said nothing of importance at all while the bubble covered them. "I should go back to him, but I just have so many people to talk to."
And talk, she did. First, she walked over to Jocasta, thanking her for, well, everything. It almost sounded like a final farewell, and she promptly turned this into a joke, complete with sarcastic boo-hooing. Then, while her guard was down, she congratulated her and Yalen, and scampered off with a silly grin like she'd just committed some grand act of mischief. Yes, I'm sure you're tired of hearing it, her face seemed to suggest teasingly.
"Is there something I'm missing?" Yalen could be heard saying as Xiuyang departed. "You'd think marriage meant we were going to disappear."
"And it's still months away," Jocasta grumbled in reply. That was the last that Xiuyang heard of their conversation before it was overwhelmed by the party's other noise. Yet, it continued.
"I see you're not using my gift yet," Yalen continued. "Familiarity or does it..."
"Suck?" Jocasta found the word for him. She shook her head, though. "It's wonderful, actually: a superior piece of equipment. I just want to save it for the wedding so I can pass it off as your gift then and you don't keep spending our funds, Yalen Castel."
"Sheesh." He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head. "I feel like I'm being chided by a parent right now."
"Ah, so you have that kind of fantasy, do you?" She burst out laughing. After a moment, so did he.
...
Then, after mingling a bit, Xiuyang approached Tyrel, with a polite and unusually graceful bow. "Your radiance. I thank you again for giving me a chance. You saved my life in at least three ways, maybe more. Meeting you was worth the trouble Juulet caused me. My only regret is that my lacking talents held you back. You deserved better." She looked up at Tyrel with a sheepish smile. Her words were sincere, but something about her eyes seemed impish, suggesting that Tyrel should be in on some kind of joke. The joke being, perhaps, that because they were firmly in their social roles at the moment, she couldn't simply brush off her praise. In much the same manner that others might put on a show and fill Tyrel's ears with empty words, Xiuyang plainly spoke her mind.
Tyrel had begun to let herself go at this point. She'd had a good few drinks. She'd arm-wrestled Miret and some other girl, made out with Chad in the garden, and a couple of her fleeting tetsoi were already beginning to rub off. Chad was sweet-talking some yanii girl and was alone momentarily. Tyrel was... perhaps not ready for such an earnest moment and it caught her off-guard. The first hour or so had been reserved for those, with the rest set aside for just... being a yasoi.
She fell back on her as-manufactured settings responded by deflecting. "The goddess thanks you for your praise and homage and accepts your penance," she responded with mock-formal grandeur. Then, she sighed. "Nobody deserves anything here, pal." She shrugged, taking a couple idle restless steps as yasoi were wont to do and ending up exactly where she'd started. "We get what we earn and what the gods give us. I've had a helluva time here, all said, so I owe you just as much for being a part of it." She paused. "Well, saving your hide is maybe worth a teensy bit more," she admitted with a smirk, "But we'll work out a payment plan for that debt."
Xiuyang offered a ladylike chuckle from behind a dainty hand in response to the faux formalities. If their roles were reversed, she'd have likely done the same or a similar bit. "I'm inclined to agree. In a perfect world, that would be right—but at times, I see the gods offer only opportunities, and what is earned is not always given by the powers that be. Sometimes, you have to take it," she said, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.
She downed yet another drink, in a quite unladylike way. "I owe you a debt, do I?" Her sigh was heavy with sarcasm. "Guess it can't be helped; I suppose you'll just have to accept an unconditional favor from this shady-looking Yanii." A conspiratorial smile graced her lips.
"You speak as if that wasn't my plan all along. Now the shady Grey Army operative on the charm offensive has bound the shady yanii to her in loyalty." She steepled her fingers together most evilly. "Muahahahaaaa.... or something." She downed a half-full glass in a single gulp, swaying a bit. "I find myself very tempted, in fact, to get rip-roaring drunk for some reason." The Avatar of Vyshta furrowed her brow. "I don't quite know why!" she giggled.
"You planned it all? I'm shocked," Xiuyang replied, feigning shock and maybe even a little offense. "Truly, I have been finessed, outfoxed even." She took another drink of the Ellermane Bleu. "I'll say this, though: any debts I owe to the goddess, are owed to you—not the Grey Fleet or its Admiralty."
It would be a gross exaggeration to say that Xiuyang had planned it all exactly the way it happened. Of course, everything had gone horribly wrong in every possible way that it could; in the end, though, "owing Tyrel" a favor or three had been her aim, and fortunately, she'd achieved it. More fortunately still, Tyrel seemed to understand. Yasoi were loathe to accept help from Yanii, lest they exact some price for their services at a later date. The fear was not unfounded, but it made honest generosity difficult. This was Xiuyang's foot successfully in the door, so she believed.
"Some say this wine is good for closing business deals. That's the superstition, anyway. Alcohol's not supposed to work on me, although... I guess it does? Just can't seem to put the stuff down." She smiled slyly.
Tyrel downed some more. "Well, you've gotten me plenty sauced up." She paused and tilted her head to the side. "What do you want, yanii?" she asked, her voice still lighthearted enough, but a note wariness, or perhaps weariness had crept in beneath a surface of good humour.
Xiuyang's face fell slightly as she briefly regarded her drink, rather than Tyrel. "To see the Yasoi thrive. ...Yanii are poor stewards of peoples and land. History teaches what will happen if they grow stronger and more numerous, while the Yasoi remain weakened. They'll do the same to your kind as they do to each other. Do you think it an arrogance on my part to assume that I might play a role in averting that?" She looked at Tyrel seriously. "I'm not some wide-eyed idealist. I don't see a future where Yanii and Yasoi walk hand-in-hand in a unified society. Peace exists only when war and conquest are less profitable than cooperation and trade. It's cynical, but it's true. Few pay attention to history. Fewer learn from it. Fewer still have the power to change its course, and choose to do so, let alone on behalf of others. I'm asking you to be open to giving me a chance to someday be one of those few. ...The chance Juulet refused me," she added, the fear of rejection plain on her face. "If I must get something out of it for you to trust me, call it 'leaving my mark on history,' or something."
Tyrel seemed to consider. She was drunk, but perhaps not as drunk as she seemed. From the direction of Zarina, Miret, and Chad came laughter and loud conversation. Cal was with them, not pushing drugs for once, and even Seviin had been drawn in and she was blushing ferociously. "Well what was I supposed to do!?" she laugh-wailed. "I had to try to win and it was all I could think of, you know!"
Both of their eyes flicked there for a moment before Tyrel's returned. "I trust you, suunei. I trust you to be honest in your intent." She shrugged. "Much as the current situation will allow, I'm open to working together." She poured herself some more wine and, without asking, topped Xiuyang up as well. "Thing is... I have to know that you can keep the peace, and Juulet... distasteful a thing as she can be at times, might be the key to that. I know well your history with her. I shall hold her to account once I've established more of a rapport, but..." Tyrel hesitated, glancing down at her wine.
Xiuyang's eyes narrowed, though not with malice. "She told Jamboi that I'd be fine—but she confessed to me that she didn't expect me to survive. She's a snake—and the tongue of a snake is good for tickling ears. I don't know what she said to 'make up' with you, Tyrel, but I wouldn't trust a word of it. That woman's only out for herself."
She punctuated her accusation by downing her drink in one go. "You were there. You saw what I had to deal with. Those dogs would have roasted me over an open flame after they were done beating me within an inch of my life. I'll have nightmares about it until the day I die, and she thinks it's funny. The only peace that woman will ever make is the peace I've made with death," she spat. "—but no. I'm not stupid enough to try to fight her again. You don't need to worry about that."
Whatever Tyrel might've said next, it died on her tongue. She offered up a noncommittal shrug. "I am under no illusion that she's a good person," she replied. "You needn't worry." She downed the last of her drink as well. "Just as I needn't worry about you going rogue." She set it down and ran a finger along the lip. "We're both reasonable, functional people here, after all."
Cal seemed to have pulled Chad aside and they were speaking in hushed tones. She craned her neck to look their way, half-rising. "Speaking of..." She bit her lower lip and glanced back at Xiuyang. "I may have a boyfriend to go save from a certain conversation." She began reaching for her crutches - the new ones she'd picked from The Trials.
Xiuyang made a slightly dismissive hand gesture, like she were dropping dice on the table, or perhaps dropping the matter at hand. Out of your minds, both of you, she thought privately.
Then, she caught Tyrel reaching for her crutches. "Uh, Tyrel? What are you planning on doing with those?" she japed, laughing nervously.
"Something nefarious," she joked, "and definitely not just walking." She grinned, resting her stump on the table's edge for a moment and fixing her dress. "Come 'ere, suunei. Let's hug. Then I have to go spend time with my boyfriend. Don't you have one somewhere around here too?"
Xiuyang stood up, smiling and hugging the Avatar of Vyshta without a care. "I do, but it's not good to be too clingy. He's a busy bee. For a merchant, a party is never just a party. That goes for both of us, of course." She gave Tyrel a wink and a grin. "I have business with that man, anyway. I believe I owe him feedback on his product. I'll occupy him for you." With that, she "excused" herself, though she was going essentially the same direction as Tyrel. She greeted Cal with a wave.
"Is there something I'm missing?" Yalen could be heard saying as Xiuyang departed. "You'd think marriage meant we were going to disappear."
"And it's still months away," Jocasta grumbled in reply. That was the last that Xiuyang heard of their conversation before it was overwhelmed by the party's other noise. Yet, it continued.
"I see you're not using my gift yet," Yalen continued. "Familiarity or does it..."
"Suck?" Jocasta found the word for him. She shook her head, though. "It's wonderful, actually: a superior piece of equipment. I just want to save it for the wedding so I can pass it off as your gift then and you don't keep spending our funds, Yalen Castel."
"Sheesh." He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head. "I feel like I'm being chided by a parent right now."
"Ah, so you have that kind of fantasy, do you?" She burst out laughing. After a moment, so did he.
...
Then, after mingling a bit, Xiuyang approached Tyrel, with a polite and unusually graceful bow. "Your radiance. I thank you again for giving me a chance. You saved my life in at least three ways, maybe more. Meeting you was worth the trouble Juulet caused me. My only regret is that my lacking talents held you back. You deserved better." She looked up at Tyrel with a sheepish smile. Her words were sincere, but something about her eyes seemed impish, suggesting that Tyrel should be in on some kind of joke. The joke being, perhaps, that because they were firmly in their social roles at the moment, she couldn't simply brush off her praise. In much the same manner that others might put on a show and fill Tyrel's ears with empty words, Xiuyang plainly spoke her mind.
Tyrel had begun to let herself go at this point. She'd had a good few drinks. She'd arm-wrestled Miret and some other girl, made out with Chad in the garden, and a couple of her fleeting tetsoi were already beginning to rub off. Chad was sweet-talking some yanii girl and was alone momentarily. Tyrel was... perhaps not ready for such an earnest moment and it caught her off-guard. The first hour or so had been reserved for those, with the rest set aside for just... being a yasoi.
She fell back on her as-manufactured settings responded by deflecting. "The goddess thanks you for your praise and homage and accepts your penance," she responded with mock-formal grandeur. Then, she sighed. "Nobody deserves anything here, pal." She shrugged, taking a couple idle restless steps as yasoi were wont to do and ending up exactly where she'd started. "We get what we earn and what the gods give us. I've had a helluva time here, all said, so I owe you just as much for being a part of it." She paused. "Well, saving your hide is maybe worth a teensy bit more," she admitted with a smirk, "But we'll work out a payment plan for that debt."
Xiuyang offered a ladylike chuckle from behind a dainty hand in response to the faux formalities. If their roles were reversed, she'd have likely done the same or a similar bit. "I'm inclined to agree. In a perfect world, that would be right—but at times, I see the gods offer only opportunities, and what is earned is not always given by the powers that be. Sometimes, you have to take it," she said, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.
She downed yet another drink, in a quite unladylike way. "I owe you a debt, do I?" Her sigh was heavy with sarcasm. "Guess it can't be helped; I suppose you'll just have to accept an unconditional favor from this shady-looking Yanii." A conspiratorial smile graced her lips.
"You speak as if that wasn't my plan all along. Now the shady Grey Army operative on the charm offensive has bound the shady yanii to her in loyalty." She steepled her fingers together most evilly. "Muahahahaaaa.... or something." She downed a half-full glass in a single gulp, swaying a bit. "I find myself very tempted, in fact, to get rip-roaring drunk for some reason." The Avatar of Vyshta furrowed her brow. "I don't quite know why!" she giggled.
"You planned it all? I'm shocked," Xiuyang replied, feigning shock and maybe even a little offense. "Truly, I have been finessed, outfoxed even." She took another drink of the Ellermane Bleu. "I'll say this, though: any debts I owe to the goddess, are owed to you—not the Grey Fleet or its Admiralty."
It would be a gross exaggeration to say that Xiuyang had planned it all exactly the way it happened. Of course, everything had gone horribly wrong in every possible way that it could; in the end, though, "owing Tyrel" a favor or three had been her aim, and fortunately, she'd achieved it. More fortunately still, Tyrel seemed to understand. Yasoi were loathe to accept help from Yanii, lest they exact some price for their services at a later date. The fear was not unfounded, but it made honest generosity difficult. This was Xiuyang's foot successfully in the door, so she believed.
"Some say this wine is good for closing business deals. That's the superstition, anyway. Alcohol's not supposed to work on me, although... I guess it does? Just can't seem to put the stuff down." She smiled slyly.
Tyrel downed some more. "Well, you've gotten me plenty sauced up." She paused and tilted her head to the side. "What do you want, yanii?" she asked, her voice still lighthearted enough, but a note wariness, or perhaps weariness had crept in beneath a surface of good humour.
Xiuyang's face fell slightly as she briefly regarded her drink, rather than Tyrel. "To see the Yasoi thrive. ...Yanii are poor stewards of peoples and land. History teaches what will happen if they grow stronger and more numerous, while the Yasoi remain weakened. They'll do the same to your kind as they do to each other. Do you think it an arrogance on my part to assume that I might play a role in averting that?" She looked at Tyrel seriously. "I'm not some wide-eyed idealist. I don't see a future where Yanii and Yasoi walk hand-in-hand in a unified society. Peace exists only when war and conquest are less profitable than cooperation and trade. It's cynical, but it's true. Few pay attention to history. Fewer learn from it. Fewer still have the power to change its course, and choose to do so, let alone on behalf of others. I'm asking you to be open to giving me a chance to someday be one of those few. ...The chance Juulet refused me," she added, the fear of rejection plain on her face. "If I must get something out of it for you to trust me, call it 'leaving my mark on history,' or something."
Tyrel seemed to consider. She was drunk, but perhaps not as drunk as she seemed. From the direction of Zarina, Miret, and Chad came laughter and loud conversation. Cal was with them, not pushing drugs for once, and even Seviin had been drawn in and she was blushing ferociously. "Well what was I supposed to do!?" she laugh-wailed. "I had to try to win and it was all I could think of, you know!"
Both of their eyes flicked there for a moment before Tyrel's returned. "I trust you, suunei. I trust you to be honest in your intent." She shrugged. "Much as the current situation will allow, I'm open to working together." She poured herself some more wine and, without asking, topped Xiuyang up as well. "Thing is... I have to know that you can keep the peace, and Juulet... distasteful a thing as she can be at times, might be the key to that. I know well your history with her. I shall hold her to account once I've established more of a rapport, but..." Tyrel hesitated, glancing down at her wine.
Xiuyang's eyes narrowed, though not with malice. "She told Jamboi that I'd be fine—but she confessed to me that she didn't expect me to survive. She's a snake—and the tongue of a snake is good for tickling ears. I don't know what she said to 'make up' with you, Tyrel, but I wouldn't trust a word of it. That woman's only out for herself."
She punctuated her accusation by downing her drink in one go. "You were there. You saw what I had to deal with. Those dogs would have roasted me over an open flame after they were done beating me within an inch of my life. I'll have nightmares about it until the day I die, and she thinks it's funny. The only peace that woman will ever make is the peace I've made with death," she spat. "—but no. I'm not stupid enough to try to fight her again. You don't need to worry about that."
Whatever Tyrel might've said next, it died on her tongue. She offered up a noncommittal shrug. "I am under no illusion that she's a good person," she replied. "You needn't worry." She downed the last of her drink as well. "Just as I needn't worry about you going rogue." She set it down and ran a finger along the lip. "We're both reasonable, functional people here, after all."
Cal seemed to have pulled Chad aside and they were speaking in hushed tones. She craned her neck to look their way, half-rising. "Speaking of..." She bit her lower lip and glanced back at Xiuyang. "I may have a boyfriend to go save from a certain conversation." She began reaching for her crutches - the new ones she'd picked from The Trials.
Xiuyang made a slightly dismissive hand gesture, like she were dropping dice on the table, or perhaps dropping the matter at hand. Out of your minds, both of you, she thought privately.
Then, she caught Tyrel reaching for her crutches. "Uh, Tyrel? What are you planning on doing with those?" she japed, laughing nervously.
"Something nefarious," she joked, "and definitely not just walking." She grinned, resting her stump on the table's edge for a moment and fixing her dress. "Come 'ere, suunei. Let's hug. Then I have to go spend time with my boyfriend. Don't you have one somewhere around here too?"
Xiuyang stood up, smiling and hugging the Avatar of Vyshta without a care. "I do, but it's not good to be too clingy. He's a busy bee. For a merchant, a party is never just a party. That goes for both of us, of course." She gave Tyrel a wink and a grin. "I have business with that man, anyway. I believe I owe him feedback on his product. I'll occupy him for you." With that, she "excused" herself, though she was going essentially the same direction as Tyrel. She greeted Cal with a wave.
Cal {Placeholder}
For a while, Xiuyang mingled with the Yasoi, keeping an eye on Tyrel to ensure she didn't wander off and discover something she didn't need to see. Eventually, though, conversation died down, and she'd run well out of excuses to stay. None would say it openly, of course, but... if the "tree-rider" had no business, she was an eyesore to most of them. Ashon was different, but he was also not present.
So it was that Xiuyang eventually wandered off, herself, wondering if she should excuse herself and check up on Marci. It would be the first time she'd use facemimicry since the incident in Yarsoc, and she couldn't be sure what it would do to her. Still, she couldn't just not use it for the rest of her life out of fear—but that was when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clumsy footsteps in the grass.
"You aren't leaving, are you?!" a sweet voice called out to her urgently.
Xiuyang whirled around to see the girl with the pink hair giving her that same fake smile she always did. "I wanted to meet you! Since you're an illusionist like me." She almost whispered the last two words. "I just have to ask! I'm like, dying of curiosity—why don't you use your magic to hide your scars? Since you don't wanna wear a mask anymore." Her smile was as saccharine as ever.
Xiuyang couldn't help but smirk, just slightly. A few tactless fools had asked her why she didn't just heal them, but this was the first time she'd been asked why she didn't hide them instead. "I suppose the easy answer is that I'm doing it to fu—mess with someone," she replied truthfully, correcting her language in spite of herself due to the girl's innocent appearance. It was true, though Juulet's reaction had been pretty disappointingly underwhelming. Then again, everyone's reaction was underwhelming. No one pointed and laughed at her facial scars. A few people, including Roslyn, refused to gawk out of courtesy. There just wasn't much point in hiding them.
"But don't you think your boyfriend finds them uh, unsightly?" the girl replied, without an ounce of malice in her tone of voice. Yet, it irked Xiuyang a little.
"He's never once said such a thing to me. I doubt he cares about them. He likes me because I'm an intelligent business partner," she replied confidently. Really, a marital union between two Revidian merchants is more or less a glorified business deal, anyway, she considered, laughing to herself.
"Ppfft," Raffaella scoffed, blowing a raspberry. "Boys don't like it when a girl is smarter than them—or stronger, taller, older... The one thing we're allowed is to be better looking than them. The world of girls runs on cuteness!" she proclaimed, somewhat absurdly. "I'm sure he just hasn't said anything because he's a gentleman. Deep down, all guys are the sa—"
Smack.
It was sudden, and ruthless. Raffaella stumbled backwards onto the grass. Her cheek stung, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Why..?! I was just giving you honest advice! Why are you so mean?!" She glared upwards at Xiuyang.
The older girl's hand trembled with barely-withheld rage. "Hurl all the thinly-veiled insults you like at me—but don't you ever compare Ciro to some common scoundrel," Xiuyang growled.
Raffaella sobbed. "I hate you, Shoe-yang! Unlike me, you only have friends because you have money!" she choked out, scrambling to her feet and running away, crying.
A heavy feeling settled in Xiuyang's gut, in spite of herself. The girl was fake and empty inside, but she still felt bad for hitting her. Was she right, too? Were her friendships only as deep as her pockets? A great many of them were business partners, she realized, and it was her own doing; relationships were easier to navigate in terms of favors owed and given, rather than the messy and vague terms often offered by "friendship."
The abrasive words, spoken in puerile teen anger and ignorance, cut at her like a rusted knife—until she, too, wanted to cry—but, she refused. Ducking behind the railing of a nearby pavilion, she grit her teeth, teetering on the edge of tears. Stubbornly, she choked them back, bottling up her anger until it felt like she might vomit. Mercifully, she did not.
"Shallow bitch," she allowed herself, her voice barely above a whisper.
So it was that Xiuyang eventually wandered off, herself, wondering if she should excuse herself and check up on Marci. It would be the first time she'd use facemimicry since the incident in Yarsoc, and she couldn't be sure what it would do to her. Still, she couldn't just not use it for the rest of her life out of fear—but that was when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clumsy footsteps in the grass.
"You aren't leaving, are you?!" a sweet voice called out to her urgently.
Xiuyang whirled around to see the girl with the pink hair giving her that same fake smile she always did. "I wanted to meet you! Since you're an illusionist like me." She almost whispered the last two words. "I just have to ask! I'm like, dying of curiosity—why don't you use your magic to hide your scars? Since you don't wanna wear a mask anymore." Her smile was as saccharine as ever.
Xiuyang couldn't help but smirk, just slightly. A few tactless fools had asked her why she didn't just heal them, but this was the first time she'd been asked why she didn't hide them instead. "I suppose the easy answer is that I'm doing it to fu—mess with someone," she replied truthfully, correcting her language in spite of herself due to the girl's innocent appearance. It was true, though Juulet's reaction had been pretty disappointingly underwhelming. Then again, everyone's reaction was underwhelming. No one pointed and laughed at her facial scars. A few people, including Roslyn, refused to gawk out of courtesy. There just wasn't much point in hiding them.
"But don't you think your boyfriend finds them uh, unsightly?" the girl replied, without an ounce of malice in her tone of voice. Yet, it irked Xiuyang a little.
"He's never once said such a thing to me. I doubt he cares about them. He likes me because I'm an intelligent business partner," she replied confidently. Really, a marital union between two Revidian merchants is more or less a glorified business deal, anyway, she considered, laughing to herself.
"Ppfft," Raffaella scoffed, blowing a raspberry. "Boys don't like it when a girl is smarter than them—or stronger, taller, older... The one thing we're allowed is to be better looking than them. The world of girls runs on cuteness!" she proclaimed, somewhat absurdly. "I'm sure he just hasn't said anything because he's a gentleman. Deep down, all guys are the sa—"
Smack.
It was sudden, and ruthless. Raffaella stumbled backwards onto the grass. Her cheek stung, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Why..?! I was just giving you honest advice! Why are you so mean?!" She glared upwards at Xiuyang.
The older girl's hand trembled with barely-withheld rage. "Hurl all the thinly-veiled insults you like at me—but don't you ever compare Ciro to some common scoundrel," Xiuyang growled.
Raffaella sobbed. "I hate you, Shoe-yang! Unlike me, you only have friends because you have money!" she choked out, scrambling to her feet and running away, crying.
A heavy feeling settled in Xiuyang's gut, in spite of herself. The girl was fake and empty inside, but she still felt bad for hitting her. Was she right, too? Were her friendships only as deep as her pockets? A great many of them were business partners, she realized, and it was her own doing; relationships were easier to navigate in terms of favors owed and given, rather than the messy and vague terms often offered by "friendship."
The abrasive words, spoken in puerile teen anger and ignorance, cut at her like a rusted knife—until she, too, wanted to cry—but, she refused. Ducking behind the railing of a nearby pavilion, she grit her teeth, teetering on the edge of tears. Stubbornly, she choked them back, bottling up her anger until it felt like she might vomit. Mercifully, she did not.
"Shallow bitch," she allowed herself, her voice barely above a whisper.
