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ATTN: @AzureKnight & @The Irish Tree
Tiziana wasn't hard to sense; a Mana like her was loud, performative - demanding attention, and ready to put on a show - and desperate, and John loved the smell of desperation. "Desperate girls are easy prey for easy play," so one of her brothers had told her, years on years ago - they hadn't spoken since, after she slept with his girlfriend that same time, and tossed the advice in his face. It wasn't that she did it out of malice or anything - she loved her brothers, especially Bazz; it was just their faults for raising her as "one of the boys," and not expecting this outcome.

As she followed her guide, she would play back the fight, critiquing her movements, and her mercy. However, John didn't have long to dwell, as Tiziana's Mana was on fast approach, and planned to land beside her without regard to personal space or caution.


"I imagine you make a hobby of getting into fights wherever you go?"

"Fights find me," John says. "I can't help it, if a bunch of little boys get angry that their friend ignorantly slipped on a banana peel I dropped."

John's guide snickered, "That's quite the classic deflection."

"You probably noticed me following you. I came here to return this back to you, you left it. Perhaps, too busy inflicting violence on a poor innocent soul?"

John quirked an eyebrow, as Tiziana barreled through the back-and-forth, as if neither of the other women had spoken. "I invite you to recall the aforementioned reason," she says.

"Oh, she heard you, darlin', but these artist types ain't kind to unfinished sentences," the woman says, "Something of an artist yourself, Johanna Alighieri?" John's blood ran cold, as the woman chuckled, "My mistake. You go by Wattsun, don't you? The Fiery Detective, John Wattsun."

"You -- " John cut the sentence short with a sharp punch of her shotgun barrel against the woman's back, "That's -- " Anger was cutting her thoughts, as she tried to formulate words.

"Now, now, cher," the woman says, looking back; her eyes were changed, empty, black hollows with a meager, red light glimmering from the back like a light at the end of a long, treacherous tunnel into hell. "Juniper Mofferan, charmed," she says, her voice becoming more pleasant and her accent shining through even better, "It's not every day I come across celebrities," Juniper looked ahead, "Tiziana Maggiore, in my little neck of the desert. Oh, joyous days~!"

John tightened her expression, and grimaced, before she relaxed. "Seems my reputation precedes me," she says, smugly. If a Witch was good at anything, more than potions and being discriminated against, it was saving face and putting on airs. However, she noticed the woman's twin bangs were, suddenly, standing oddly - almost like... antenna?

"That they do," Juniper says, her hair drooping back down, as she squeezed her eyes close with the excited an exclaim of: "I even saw another up-and-coming artists. Little Lady Alina d'Aureville! The Stonemistress of Lascuta!"

John tilted her head, "Stonemistress, huh? Sounds like an edgy, little shit."

Juniper giggled, now a noticeably buzzy sound. "We're almost there..."

"There, being," John asks.

"Now, now, cher, that's not a question you ask," Juniper grinned, "It's a surprise, after all."
No standalone Alice post, but a Carroll post instead! And, a little spicy at the end. Eyebrows do waggle.
As Carroll slithered back towards the village that was hosting them, Alice was drifting off into an uneventful sleep - her first real rest since the training session, mere hours ago. A mistake, that. It was a small thing, but small things had the tendency of growing over time - mountains of molehills, so to speak. And, though her mortal existence was not commonplace as others, Carroll still bore the same, lascivious cravings as any Mamono; cursed, as she were.

Her stomach rumbled in desperation; a timeless cry for proper sustenance. She took what she could from Alice - a little bit here, a little bit there - but it was akin to living on bread crusts and water. A stale, hardtack diet could never replace the luxurious meal she could find in someone like the young lord or his samurai retainer. However, she couldn't betray her Alice so easily - even as her starvation was allowing her to slip through her metaphorical and manifested fingers.

And, Alice was slipping away. Recall, the aforementioned mistake, and the training done. To control multiple mindsets was a strenuous task; a juggling act that couldn't afford a single drop, yet someone had snatched two pieces out of the air before her. In Wonderland, there was no concept such as Chi; the Human Realm did not apply to the Insanity of Magic. There, it was easy to control and maintain her dying illusion, but here...

Not so much.

Her mental hold on Alice had slipped for, but an instant, yet that was long enough to do irreparable damage in her current state. By the time she had the energy to deal with it, she would have to struggle to regain her Alice as she were. By then, it would, in all likelihood, be too late to recover her. Already, she could see the wear, as she looked down upon Alice's hatless head; roots of red showing in the cascade of gold she'd so carefully built up. It wouldn't be long before the charade fell through...

Then... what?

Her stomach rumbled. She needed to eat. It wasn't too late. She could turn around, and sneak attack the Jiangshi at the cost of being attacked by the High Orc, the sister she had in the Jorougumo, and her Goblin lover. Not to mention, the unrivaled disdain of the elder stateswoman and the fostering of mistrust from the young lord; both of which would only serve to inconvenience Alice. She needed to eat, but, for the sake of her ambition, she couldn't be reckless.


No, she had to make do, as she had been.

So, she did.

Lying Alice upon the loamy soil, sunkissed and windswept, the Cursed Sword in her stolen guise of a corporeal being would look upon her eldest pawn, so close to promotion, and lie with her. A one-sided affair, as the Mad Hatter slept; ignorant to the nigh-masturbatory molestation - fiingers ghosted over unblemished skin, as smooth and pale as porcelain; lips, plush and lavender, pulled gently upon lips, prim and bubblegum, in longing embrace; her thick tail wrapped around thin legs, as they met in the middle.

Yet, this affair was quick - a top off of the aforementioned bread crusts and water.

Despite the airs of passion, it was clinical and calculated. In minutes, it was over, and Carroll drew Alice into her arms, and resumed her journey home.

Her stomach grumbled, but the rumble was gone... for now.
Update out! But also, announcement!

There won't be an update until next weekend so y'all can take your time posting this round.

I refuse. I'mma post so fast, I post twice! XD

Actually might, though, depending on a potential collab with Azure and having a standalone post done for Alice.
ATTN: @Polaris North
Despite her face being buried in the toxic sludge, Scarlett's ears were above water, so to speak, and she was listening to the stranger. As Hector pulled on her shoulders in a futile bid to raise her head, he would be witness to the creeping crawl of iron sand pouring out of her shoulder, and formation a shoulder-mounted launcher with a series of gears and pulleys to interact with the chain links growing out of her exposed blood vessels, which were assisting in winding the thin veins into a thicker coil. Before Hector could do much else, the gears would be released and the built-up pressure unleashed to fire the coiled chain length from the static weapon platform.

The puesdo-spear whipped past his head - the wind pressure like that of a bullet - and a loud squelching sound would be heard, followed by, likely, Lapis's scream and Shavis's shock, as the blunt attack whiffed Keith's head - her intended target - and slammed into his solar plexus; the chains embedded in the man, and undulating, as if... swallowing.

"Hrm..." Scarlett grumbled, as she raised her head. "Sho yure leik meh, den? Shaffish, Lappiss, Heckdoor, hessa regic - hic~! - a regee - hic~! - rebodymaker! HIC~!" she drunkenly spat, turning around and slapping the drum over, as she ripped her chains back, so Keith could regenerate and prove her point.

"Ofufufu~!" Scarlett's drunken ojousama laugh was punctuated by her regenerating her arm, before forming a morph that turned her right hand into a bladed gauntlet - strangely enough, it appeared like an oversized paw of a cat with oversized nails. "Fite! HIC~! Fite! Fite!" she cackled, dropping to all fours, as iron sand formed into fluffy cat ears and whippy tail, as she shed her cloak.

"Nyahaha - hic~! - ha!!!" Scarlett laughed, showing that her canines had elongated into proper fangs, as the iron sand form sharp claws on her left hand fingers and her toes.

Her feral transformation seemed complete...

Poisoned, severely, Scarlett was in a state of crisis, and functioning on second personality, while she addressed the problems at hand.

In a snap, Shavis would remember something she was told before Scarlett was handed off to her:

"A final notation, Miss Namista. You weren't chosen at random for this task. This is an assignment you were exclusively chosen for. Inside that woman's head is a Creature from the Void, like a Malfested. A bridge between Miss Ishval and whatever put it there.

It took the form of a feral cat, for whatever reason, and we believe with your force of personality, you can assert Alpha Dominance over it, long enough to subdue it. Should she become a threat, neutralize her, and keep her bound until Miss Ishval regains control.

Lastly, you'll know this Malfested is free, if Miss Ishval forms a bladed gauntlet like an oversized cat's paw. Once it's complete, it's on your judgment on how to proceed.
It's not a super big deal, but I'm going to be changing the colours for Alice's Personalities to make it clear which is in control moving forward, since I can't do much to differentiate six voices elsewise.
From the outside looking in, it would seem that Alice was more than fine with allowing Hinami to rampage to her undead heart's content. However, to the more discerning, her lack of action had purpose; by riling up her Spirit Energy, mimicking a Human in the heat of passion, she was baiting Hinami to come and attack her - for no other reason that she was the most interesting opponent in the bunch, and she wanted that smoke.

However, she didn't want anything other than a one-on-one session with the feral zombie, because she was bound to a rather selfish code of honour.

It prevented her from fully focusing on battle, if she was supposed to be working alongside another, or others. It was part of the reason she lost control during the training; fighting as a part of a team, and not the spearhead of it, threw her out of alignment, and forced her to default to her oldest personality.

Fortunately, it seemed her baiting was successful and her concerns unfounded, as Hinami pivoted off Takeshi, and blindly charged to her position. Smirking, she stood up...

"Direct assault. It seems you are much like him..." she says, as she flashed forward a few steps, much like Shizuka, but she wasn't countering any attack. No, this was just forward movement to attack on her own accord - only to break that imperceptible stride, as Skarsneek suddenly launched from behind Hinami, and grappled her.

He was invading her duel space - damaging her focus, and causing her Energy to fluctuate as a result. Alice grit her teeth, as she watched Skarsneek's grapple flowed into Gringor's sudden binding attack, and her temper flared.

Her smartly baited fight was scooped out from underneath her by rash action and opportunists!

Annoyed, Alice pivoted on her heel. "Carroll, we're going home," she says, "There's nothing left here to be concerned about."

"Sounds like a plan," Carroll says, as she slithered from behind the tombstone, and scooped Alice up. "I think we'll make better time with my speed, and be back before noon."

Alice just grunted, and settled in Carroll's arms, as the Manifested Cursed Sword displayed what she's gained from possessing Shizuka and their training - the ability to manipulate her possessed slime into a semi-human form, in her case, a redhead Lamia. Carroll giggled, and set back off for Shizuyama, and whatever they'd do there.

She knew it was hopeless to argue the current Persona into staying - not that she would anyway.
Casually strolling out of the cargo hanger, and into the proper township of Zweidaya, John would listen to the sounds of hustle and bustle of a city that drifted upon a sea of sand. Immediately, her mind set to working on her circumstances, and the last few things she remembered - prominently, the Uveran twins were featured, but she knew they were of zero importance to the matter of her exile; a pair of wandering savages were nothing but wandering potential to certain trades in Averton.

No, there was a better reason...

'Those mercenaries...' John rubbed the back of her head, trying to "warm" her brain. 'They were dressed in Walton fashion. Adorned in their coat-of-arms,' she grimaced, holding her chest. 'Those chumps weren't any kind of trained force, however. Not even close. Probably had those insignias for show. Bazz was the actual threat,' John straightened her back, as she pushed through a crowded marketplace, 'Still, those were Walton colours, and legit. Likely, Bazz rounded up some hoodlums to try and coax me into conceding - using them as cannon fodder for his bombs. They were dead as soon as they suited up...'

Around her, the distracting hawkers pitched their wares, goods, and services alike and aplenty. A town that moved from place to place, serving as a port for locales of all sorts, made for a varied and exotic shopping trip - both material and immaterial. It wasn't enough to tear her from her thoughts, however, as she continued through them...

'But, for what and for why,' John asks. 'What am I not remembering? There's a piece of the puzzle locked out of my head...' John admired a pile of saltpeter, as she stood before a stand selling alchemical reagents.'Could it be about the Duchess? What was her name? I barely remember her face. I don't even remember where I fucked her...' John moved to a fruit stand, overlooking the produce with scrutiny, 'An office, I think. Her husband's? No, no... I remember her saying that was too risky...' Plucking a banana, John purchased the nicely ripened fruit, and continued moving, 'There were papers on the desk. Correspondence between Waltom and Averton, but I can't remember what they said...'

Finishing her banana, John dropped the peel upon the ground, and carried on. Almost cartoonishly, a little trio of thugs - boys, really - rounded the corner, and one of them hit the peel; squishing the skin and sliding upon its slippery underside. John turned, as she heard the shout and crack of the fallen thug, as he hit ground. Looking back, John chuckled, and rubbed the back of her head.

"My bad, dude," John started, as she walked back over to retrieve the fruit skin, "I guess, I should have thrown this away."

"You did this?"

"I mean, kinda," John shrugged. "He wasn't paying attention, though," she accused, as she wasn't going down with the ship alone, "Oh, stop crying, you baby. You just hit your head. You'll be fi -- "

John was cut short by the *shick~!* of a switchblade, and she stood up with a grimace. "You don't want to do this. I'm not outnumbered. Not even close. There's only three of you, and one of you is -- "

"Shut up, bitch! You got two options: hand over all your money or we'll take it out of your organs."

"If you have guns, I would suggest using those," John says, coldly, as she picked up the banana peel, "This is going to suck for you..."

"I said, shut up, and hand over the money, before I -- "

There was a *fwoosh~!* that cut him short, before a flame was thrown at him; the banana peel ignited as a brief ball of fire, as the oils in the skin burst from John's flame. Before he could commit to screaming and scrambling to get the burning peel off his face, John was already on him; catching his knife hand in her left, and driving her right into his worst - cracking the bone and damaging the tendon, before she took the knife into her left palm.

"F-Fuck!" shouted the second man, as he barely comprehended the fight, before his brain scrambled to catch up with the burning pain in his leg. Sticking out of his left thigh was the first man's knife - glowing red to the point of vermillion. Dropping to the ground, screaming, the second man was torn between removing the knife and leaving it in.

"Get up, little boy," John says, pointing her shotgun at the third, still lying on the ground. "His left wrist is broken, and he's got a knife wound. Likely, you have a concussion. So, you two help him walk to the hospital or whatever you have around here, and get treatment." John motioned with her shotgun to hustle, and her demands were met at gunpoint. It would have been clearly foolish to do elsewise at this point. "Oh, here," John says, finishing out her money from her coat. "That should cover your medical bills, to a degree. Now, get lost, before I become uncharitable..."

Warning received, the trio would get lost, and John would pick up the charred banana peel. "Damn, now I'm actually broke..." she sighed, before her eyes tilted to the side - crimson, once more. "I'm not in a charitable mood anymore. If you wanna start something..."

"Naw, naw, cher..." spoke a woman with a deep accent, likely of Walton lineage - outskirts, judging from her rural dressing. "I couldn't help but marvel at your little display. Such talented fighting skills, and the way you used that banana peel as a weapon, not to mention that little trick with the knife, and -- "

"To the point," John says, standing up.

"I heard you’re a bit cash deficient, now? Pesky thing, being charitable to today's ignorant youth. Costly, too. However, someone like you... well, I know where you can put your fighting skills to work without worrying about any adverse costs."

"Colour me interested..." John says.

"Follow me," the woman offers, adding with a purr, "You can keep that big cannon of yours at my back the whole time, just to prove there's no funny business..."

"Trust me, I plan to," John says, before following her new tour guide of Zweidaya.
Is it Caroll/Alice's goal to do it with every single one of the pretty monster girls in the Taskforce or something? xD

Nope. Carroll's type is explicitly Wererabbits, and Alice heavily favours Undead. However, Carroll is fine with whatever Alice wants, in the end, as they share everything due to their symbiotic relationship as, ironically, two parasitic existences.
Shizuka and Io (and Yuki), sittin' in a tree... Uh... Monster-humbing all of the three~(?)
First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes incurable undead disease and a quick stuffing into a graveyard carriage~!


Thank the Demon Lord, Alice is technically Undead, as a Plant, so she'll be okay.
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