Phoe

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Tell me. Tell me tell me tell me! Princess, tell me! Tell me how it feels!

When you thrash and you struggle and you strain, and all you do is shiver? Tell me how it feels!
When your heart pounds fierce inside your chest, and no one even knows? Tell me how it feels!
When the warmth of your love grows cold again, grows cold again
You promised that it never would, but grows cold again? Tell me how it feels!
When your power and your pride can be stuffed inside a bag? Tell me how it feels!

Don't! You! Snivel!
Don't You! Cry!
How dare you dare you dare you, how dare you be so weak?

When you're diamond and invincible, but all you do is cry? Tell me how it feels!
When you make so many promises, but can't even keep them for yourself? Tell me how it feels!
When your shining light is gumdrops, tickle fights, is tickle fights
You promised that you understood, and still you're tickle fights? Tell me how it feels!
When your dreams and your bonds are just stupid shattered glass? Tell me how it feels!

Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me! Princess, tell me! Tell me how it feels!

Why can't she stop crying? Oh, this is so pathetic. Hadn't she promised? In the sea by Argossa, hadn't she promised? Not a dozen other times before, hadn't she promised she'd be better? Stop crying!

STOP CRYING! STOP IT, STOP BEING WEAK!

Kazelia, please! Kazelia, you have to believe her! Kazelia no, these sounds aren't what they seem! She's not just squeaking like a tiny useless doll, she's not! She's trying to tell you, but her mouth is stuffed with acrid cloth! It's so dry she can't even drool! It burns, and that's why it sounds like she's whimpering and crying like some silly pet!

But she's trying to... to tell you... to be strong! To be strong, Kazelia! You're so loved, so precious! You're so loved, Kazelia! You're an irreplaceable friend!

S-so... don't. Please. Don't. Don't... don't look at her like that. Don't make that face, don't use those eyes. Please don't... you have to believe her. But she can't even... it's so cold. She's so cold, Kazelia. She can't even say the words.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

There was a Comstar and a bunch of armed goons back then, too. The first time she saw that hand reaching for her like this, that is. That first in a chain of horrible mistakes that might have meant the difference between them finding each other like this and drifting apart forever. Euna laughs her dumb snorty dork laugh.

Sara you big dummy, you're not supposed to be standing there. We rehearsed this! You're supposed to wait for her by the altar! You're supposed to take her hands when she finishes the trip and reaches out to you, not... not...

She reaches her hand anyway. It feels the same. It feels almost exactly like it did back then, the same kind of desperation, the same kind of yearning, the same kind of wanting to pull her close and keep her safe forever. Only this time, Sara looks so warm. So impossibly beautiful and warm. She's smiling and she's crying and this time she's the one who's reaching out to help and it's all more than a girl can bear. The sniffle catches her off guard. Then the tears start falling down her cheeks, and the only thing in the whole world she can see anymore is that hand. She reaches for it and lets herself be pulled into a new world.

"I love you," she whispers, "I love you so much."

They're so badly off script now. But even so, there's rules that need to be followed, you know? Euna doesn't lift her veil or kiss her perfect bride. Not yet. They have to say the words first, and then they get to kiss! But that doesn't stop her from wrapping her arms around Sara and trapping her smoky grays in the twin rivers of white and silver that are her sleeves. It doesn't stop her from pulling her close, as though even now all she can think to be is her precious heart's shield.

She buries her face in Sara's neck and breathes in every part of her. The smell of her hair, her skin, the little wisp of ozone and the perfume she uses to cover it, and her tears. Euna laughs, and she cries, and she stains that perfect neck with the happiest tears of her life. This is where the moment lead them. This is how they'll wait the next turn on the stage. Euna pins Sara's arms against her, and guides them gently down around her waist.

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Alina goes limp against her restraints. The only thing keeping her head from slumping down against her chest is Cassian's grip on her jaw, which she's no longer clenching to keep him from stuffing her mouth full of whatever gross gag he happens to have lying around. Her eyes drift shut. She is no longer blazing gold. Her spark isn't burning for anyone to see anymore; the only thing Alina Cascade is in this moment is a prisoner.

So when she suddenly jerks up and thrashes with all her might, it's super easy to headbutt Cassian right in his stupid face. The sound of his surprised grunt is so satisfying! Is this really her? Even as recently as the Gala she would have been too paralyzed by fear to even think about trying something like this. But when she opens her eyes again her eyes are alight with the unconquerable spark of a princess who's got something to protect. Her smile is pure defiance.

"I'm so sad for you," she says with a laugh, "Your sisters all managed to figure it out. Why can't you? Even Azora's carving out a life for herself that doesn't mean she has to hide under your father's legs like you are. And even then... look at you! How much more helpless do you need me to be before you stop shaking? Your poor sisters must be weeping."

That's right, eyes on her, you half-formed princeling. You've got her all tied and all the fight's been pinched out of her everywhere except those bright green eyes of hers. And weren't they different the last time you saw her? Aren't you curious? Come on, pay attention! Take control! And while you're at it, let your guard down, because Alina's betting everything on that flash of pink she saw before she got carried off to here. And if her heart is even half right to still be hoping even now, then neither you nor she is the star of this particular show. That's a lesson that took her a very long time to learn, Cassian. So pay attention now, and let her give you the crash course.

[Keep Them Busy: 7]

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

They're playing the song. The one she fought so hard to get played! It's not a traditional processional by any means, though it's not exactly a trendy choice, either. Actually it's... yeah, it's pretty embarrassing but, you know the movie Burn, My Sword right? It's a period piece, all swordfights and brave heroes on both sides and action action action. It's Euna's favorite movie. And there's one, exactly one kiss scene in that movie.

The spotlight clicks down on top of her. Euna glitters like a princess from another universe. She's got the veil draped over her face now, but it's just sheer enough for her smile and her silver painted lips to shine through it, all the way down the aisle and to the stage. They're playing the song that scores that one perfect kiss where romance triumphs over the chaos of the battlefield; a soulful downtempo piano version originally mixed by a fan before it was remastered by the original composer again and put on the soundtrack. To Euna, this is what love sounds like. There couldn't have been any other choice.

Sara is so beautiful. It's, she's... wow. Standing there with that look on her face, seeing her wife for the first time and smiling like she's forgotten there's a stage. That's the most beautiful woman in the world. That is the woman Euna is going to spend the rest of her life with, and there's not a damn thing anybody is going to do to stop that.

She probably has forgotten the stage, honestly. Look at her. Standing there all spellbound with that elemental, vulnerable smile, all the light in her eyes... and Comstar still dangling from the edge of the platform caught up in her fists. That's what love looks like. She's so awestruck that Euna almost misses the little lip licking gesture Sara flashes her way. She blushes, and it's the most beautiful she's ever felt in her entire life.

Nothing else matters right now. They're playing her song, and her flower is falling like snow from the rafters, and the most stunningly perfect woman in history is waiting for her right now. Euna gathers up her skirts just like she's rehearsed a dozen times, and takes that first perfect step toward her big moment. And the next one, and then the next, flowing like mercury down the walkway with her heart pounding happily in her chest. Watch her, everybody. Turn your heads and watch. How does it make you feel?

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

She burns.

Beneath the waves, her hair rises and sways with the currents. Her dress flutters around her like a sea fan. Hot tears bubble up out of her eyes and rise to the surface to join the wreckage still splashing down from on high. And she burns golden.

Of course she does! She is the diamond that has been crushed and pressured until all that's left is shining and inviolate; the little piece of Alina that even the void saw and said, "Ah yes. You." There's nothing left to break. No more pieces of her to slough off and leave to the graces of the ocean around her. This is the whole of her, and she is burning. Of course she is!

Her halo burns golden as the Garthim swarm and scrabble about her. Even now her eyes are darting this way and that for any sign, anything at all, of a cat or a girl, of her beloved heart who is both of these at once. Her fingers curl around sharp spears of blazing orange and yellow light. She lashes through the water and they cut as though in air, smashing into hard shells and knocking Garthim away from her. She twirls Yellow in her left hand and thrusts with Orange in her right, a shield and a sword in single form. But she must fight with spears: this is what Kazelia means.

Across her legs and through her stomach, up one arm and down the other, through her neck and up her cheeks to join around her eyes, red veins of light and power crackle all about her. The strength of a hundred tiny princesses compresses itself into her single form. She swims at speeds beyond her ability, a mighty huntress of the sea, and kicks wave and rotting monster crab alike with unrestrained power and bravery. Somewhere deep inside of her she's always been afraid to let this power take her fully. Perhaps because it was borrowed, or perhaps because it scared her to wind up like a certain someone, having to struggle and forcibly relearn how to hold things without destroying them. But here at last, she embraces it fully, and it accepts her in return. A claw catches about her wrist. She flings herself into a spiraling, underwater flip and smashes the offending Garthim against three of its friends. Her Red is reborn in full, and the name it whispers is Adila.

All about her back are motes of color. Blue, Indigo, Violet, and even gentle Green are firing, crashing, distracting, shielding their princess. Violet catches the underside of a Garthim with a shot hot enough to scald the sea itself, and the beast floats in stillness for a moment before weakly clacking its terrible grasping claws at a broken crate. In the space freed around her, Green and Blue snatch what pieces of the ship they can find closer and hold them in their Princess' aura for a moment before discarding them. Is this? No, but is that? Is this? Is this? Rita where are you?

And she burns golden. Invincible and untouchable and all alone. All about her there is bits of ship sinking down or floating up while Garthim scrabble and bubble and hiss in numbers too much for any princess. Is this it? Well that's, that's, that's fine then. If everything she is, all of her wisdom born from pain with the full glory of her crown, the memories of her most precious friends, her love, her life, her everything, and even the ultimate treasure of her homeland... if, if, if, if if if if that is not enough to swat away some crabs, then...

So be it. She'll carve this next failure into her heart as well. Gold swells up around her, brighter and brighter, before it shrinks into a single molten point at the tip of her left spear. No one. Not ever again. She's going to protect everything that is left for her to hold, and if she can't do that, then let her fall while her heart still burns. She draws the spear back and thrusts it with a wave of force that sounds across Argossa like a mighty thunderclap once it breaks the surface of the water. The golden beam of light tears effortlessly through a full dozen Garthim at once. But there are still an impossible number of them surrounding her.

Claws grab at her waist, her legs, and her arms. Bubbles escape from her lips. Through it all her spark stays lit, but the darkness takes her anyway.

[Alina Cascade has gained the power of the Chronicles of Crystal. Hereafter she may name one Overlord or Location stat per scene and grant those in her lantern's light Protection]

Chuubo's GMD: Love and Shattered Alchemy

Name: Dulcinea d’Avignon, Nightmare's Angel
Academics Skill: Teach The Controversy (but not that controversy!)
Sports Skill: Ordinary
Favorite Foods: Ramen, Hot Chocolate
Blood Type: B
Animal: Tiger
Age: a year older than you

EMOTION XP
Speechlessness. For when your ideas, declarations, or effects stun people into silence. Or if they evoke a feeling of "I can't even with this right now." Seems kind of hard, actually.

CONNECTIONS!
Child of the Sun 1 - strangely easy to get along with
That is it
There are no other connections
Probably?

HEALTH
2 Normal
1 Tough
3 Divine

SKILLS

Weather-Sense 2. You have an uncanny sense for the weather. Especially good for knowing when it’s going to rain, when there’ll be dramatically appropriate lightning, and dressing appropriately for the day.
Perseverance 2. You are good at not giving up; or, rather, when you don’t give up, when you power through, things turn out all right.
Nightmare Science 2. A skill for making terrifying nightmares made flesh and bending them to your will. Despite the liberal application of sorcery, this is still science. That's why there's a notebook, ok?
Love for the Wicked 1. You believe everybody deserves kindness, maybe especially the wicked and sinister, who so rarely receive it. The "Scorpia skill".
Shield 1. You know how to protect people. Usually by interposing yourself. The "Adora skill".
Dream Analysis 0. Your dream analysis isn’t really useful. But it sounds cool.
People Skills 0. You’re, uh. Not actually good at the whole, well... socializing thing?
Swimming -1. You are, ominously, a terrible swimmer.
Domestic Tasks -1. You could burn a glass of water. And burn the house down, somehow, while cleaning the bathroom.

MIRACLES

[HEARTLESS]
# When not in sunlight, you cannot bleed, you cannot suffer chest wounds, and you cannot be hurt emotionally. After a few minutes, you can spend 1 MP to take a few mechanically perfect actions, done with flawless precision and speed; exerting yourself more lets you continue as long as you’re in the dark.
# Once a week, after spending a few hours in the dark, you can recover from anything, up to and including death. MP expenditure can invoke this again within that period, or make it happen instantly.
# The Heart-centric powers of Rinley Yatskaya (or anyone else, for that matter) do not work on you in the dark. Or possibly not at all.
# These powers only work while you don’t have a heart (and lock in one Divine Health Level).

[FRIENDLESS]
# Once a week, after making necessary preparations, you may save someone. You can heal them from even death (but only when “it’s impossible, Dulcinea!”); take away unbearable pain; protect, save, or shelter an innocent; or reverse aging and decay. This only works on physical or spiritual harm; you can’t ease social, emotional or moral suffering. MP expenditure can invoke this again within that period, or make it happen instantly.
# Given a few hours to prepare, you can bear the most agonizing or impossible burdens indefinitely. For 4 MP, you can do it instantly.
# These powers only work while you choose to have no friends and no loved ones. You can trick the rules if you protest loudly enough that you’re not doing this because you like them.

[CORRUPTED]
# After a few minutes, you can pull a couple of components or devices out of a nightmare. Spending 1 MP can let you push those limits, and 2 MP lets you pull out a workshop’s worth of raw materials and inventions out.
# Once a week, after a few hours of sleep, the nightmares inside you start leaking out: worms and rot and swamps. You could spend MP to use it more often, and 4 MP would let you use it instantly while awake, but why would you??
# These powers only work while there’s a nightmare swamp inside your soul.

[General]
# Once per week, you can experience surreal effects and then become more corrupted or traumatized by something. The power is that you then get XP and the HG will give you a point of Sickness, which brings its own rewards. Presumably you can be corrupted and traumatized after things go all surreal more than once a week, though you probably don’t want to.
# It’s always appropriate for you to be present in a scene where people are talking about romance or being lovey-dovey. The camera just pans over to you.
# You automatically possess the following rituals, artifacts, or curses levied upon the world: something that sustains the sun, an artificial conscience, a familiar, a means of measuring the Outside, a means of making impossible nightmare devices, and a tool belt full of ingredients, reagents and tools.
# If you ever lose your last Divine Health Level, the nightmare swamp will explode out of you.
# Once per season, you can burn a Divine Health Level and declare that any wound you have just taken has, in fact, given you superpowers. (You did this with your heart. And your friendships. And the nightmare swamp.) These wounds can only be healed if you give up those powers.
# Once per season, you can make a Wish, based on one of your wounds. Whatever you Wish happens. Invoking [FRIENDLESS] might let you erase painful memories from others. Invoking [CORRUPTED] might let you summon a custom horror from your nightmares capable of doing any one thing, no matter how difficult. As long as it’s in theme somehow, the sky’s the limit. For 4 MP, you can do this again; only the first one per season’s free.
# Once per season, you can turbocharge Jasper’s connection to you. Like, to mythic levels. It only lasts a scene, but she gets a small permanent boost afterwards.

QUESTS!
Natural Scientist: 0/9
The Outside Stirs: 0/24
The Hidden Library: 0/15
(Optional) Deeds of the Binder: 0/9

Chuubo's GMD: Love and Shattered Alchemy

JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER 387:
The seasons are out of alignment. The UnConvergence. The DisOrganization. The Un...Cola? Theoretical Phenomenon Name Pending. Whatever. Moving on. Regardless! Local literature suggests Spring as an idyllic period of lesser heats (hereafter defined as 22.778 degrees centigrade), gentle breezes (hereafter defined as sustained bursts of 7-10 knots. 0 garlic knots. have checked), and fresh strawberries (hereafter defined as fragaria x ananassa, a bright red fruit with lauded moisture retaining properties). Also? Picnics.

This has been an ENTIRELY picnic-free day. The temperature readings don't fall within expected parameters. Wind is non-existent. Strawberries... remain, but have fallen from their peak performance levels and stopped being on sale a week ago so I can't afford them anymore. Conclusion: Spring is broken.

This could signal the end of the world.

JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER 99782655432...0:
Wait wait wait. Got ahead of myself. Meteorological Spring and Solar Spring have famously been desynched since the beginning of time. Personal Calendar remains in Time Out after it tried to eat the Nightmare Barometer. It might just be Summer. Further testing is required.

Regardless! It's too hot right now. Much too hot. Things will remain in a state of Too Hot for the next 11 days. Trust me, I've done the math.

I'm going to have to do something about this. Where is my hacksaw?

JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER ♪♥♥♥♪:
Alchemy, for unknown reasons, has an absurdly high success rate at conjuring or otherwise creating fire. It should therefore be a simple matter to cause create a large scale bonfire in the center of Town. After sustaining a sufficiently large burn for a period of 14-48 hours, local phlogiston levels should rise to a sufficient but theoretically non-lethal amount to allow for the creation of an acceptably powerful Inversion Circle.

With the fire thusly turned inside out it will begin consuming, rather than exuding, heat, and bring the ambient temperature of Fortitude back down to acceptably Spring levels. Plus, bonfires are amazing for picnics.

JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER ▓ ▒ ░:
Alternative suggestion! It might be easier, and less prone to societal backlash, to construct a series of hypermagnetic obelisks and then bury them at key leylines across Fortitude, instead. After that, all I'd need to do is conjure enough lightning to activate the hypermagnet runes, and the obelisks would cause a chain reaction drawing the poles toward them.

After inverting magnetic north and south, I should find myself safely in late Autumn waiting for Winter instead of this frankly unacceptable Spring to Summer nonsense. Aside, why does Fall get such an austere alternate title while the rest of the seasons have to keep their dumb first names? I should ask somebody about this. Somebody who would know. I should commune about this.

Minor risk of turning Fortitude upside down instead, but honestly what are the odds of that?

JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER ▄▌▄▐▀:
The odds are not good. Trust me, I did the math.

JOURNAL ENTRY NUMBER ↑↑↓↓←→←→BA[start]:
The Quixotic Tree, Orochi!!! Whose mystical glass trunk is a conduit for no less than an Alien God! Whose roots sink deeper than the universe! Whose spiraling, leafless branches blot out the very stars from the sky! All hail!

By summoning and subsequently planting The Quixotic Tree, Orochi I will be able to replicate a Theoretical Pruning Event and erase all of pan-human history from existence forever, drawing an alternate and previously deceased timeline into the resulting void to take its place. The mere idea of a Late Spring will become ridiculous! Under the despotic rule of Ivan the Terrible Who Is Also A Two Hundred Foot Tall Mammoth With Lightning Tusks For Some Reason, all shall be blanketed in an eternal blizzard! Also! People won't exist anymore! Or they will! But they'll be wolves! Who are still people! This is good! It's good, actually! Wolf people are scientifically (!!!) proven to be amazing at rock music! Which is great, because if I have to listen to Future Nostalgia one! more! time! I'm going to scream!

***

Dulcinea d'Avignon is slumped in at a table under an unopen parasol deep in the heart of downtown (Down Town? Investigate). Her ice cream has half-reconstituted back into soup, and she's fanning herself vigorously with a tattered notebook. Her spare hand is clutched around an iced coffee, as black as her very soul with lots of cream and five (5) shots of tiramisu syrup. She lifts it to touch it against her forehead and wipe away her matted black hair as often as she does to sip from it.

She's a mess, poor girl. The dark circles still aren't gone from her eyes, despite the liberal application of circle leeches last week. She's also wearing a turtleneck, which... eesh. That thing's clinging more than a desperate ex-girlfriend. Not that she'd... know anything about that, hahahaha. She plucks at the threads uselessly, a mess of sweat and stick and non-breathing fabrics that are all in black because for some reason every time she does the laundry that's the color everything winds up bleeding into.

"Ahahahaha, I really had you going for a second though, didn't I? It is waaaaayyyyy too hot a day for any of that stuff. Yowza."

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

"Don't worry, Euna! It'll be fiiiiiine, Euna! Nothing's going to go wrong, Euna! Put down the contingencies notebook, Euna! We'll hire the best security team in the entire city, Euna! And besides, who would wanna mess with us? God damn it Sara I am never letting you write the invitations for anything ever again."

This is, by a wide margin, the least practical combat outfit Euna Kim has ever been caught in. The corset is so tight she can only half turn right now. The shoes are... well they're really more slippers actually, real fairy tale chic, but the point is they're like walking on two glass needles. It took a whole day just to figure out how to walk in them without breaking anything. Her sleeves have such long trails they're pooling on the ground even when she lifts her hands up to shoulder height. She's got several pounds of jewelry and chains woven into her hair and several layers of misty veils trailing down on top of them, which are all making it a little difficult to turn her neck very quickly at all. Really limits her vision, even without the smaller veil flipped over her face. Her gloves are such impossibly dainty lace she'd be terrified of reducing them to powder if she punched anything while wearing them. And even setting all of that aside her skirts have such long trains that it'd be like fighting with a several foot long tail that if anybody stepped on for any reason she'd lose... actually, let's not put a number on that.

So yeah. Is she a vision of total loveliness in softest white and shimmering silvers, like the moon shining down onto a glass-black lake? That's god damn right. She's a bride. This is her special day. Is she well equipped for anything more complicated than walking down the aisle and kissing the most beautiful woman ever to walk the earth? Well... she's got her hands raised, doesn't she?

But there is murder in her eyes and stretched across her mouth, and only maybe a twelfth of that is directed at her fiancée. If looks could kill (and in some universes, they can!), Euna's glare would be deadlier than the death gun pointed at her right now. Actually, all things considered, it probably still is. It's just, if the mean look doesn't work? She's pretty helpless right now. She needs a plan. Or time. Or help.

"I'm gonna give you... ten seconds to tell me what the fuck you think it is you're doing here. And then because this is such a special day, I'll give you an extra five to leave without doing it. You can tell Comstar she god damn well knows why she didn't get an invitation."

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

"Rita..."

Alina's heart pounds staccato in her chest. Her whole body is tingling. She just ran a race up and down and back up Big Hill. She just swallowed bees. She just... oh, rivers. Rain on a wedding day! This is not! How she planned this! At all! It's too soon! She had the whole thing planned out, ok? She'd already asked Freesia to make the ring, and even managed to get it delivered a couple of hours before she had to board the (ugh) Pear. Such a pretty thing, the delicate silver band set with colored glass arranged into the traditional Rainbow Promise Knot, but with little chips of amethyst set at the top to look like little cat ears. And to really drive the point home, she'd also taken the time, secretly over the course of the last three weeks and change, to weave an Askaian Wish Band in as many different colors of yarn as she could find. It just wasn't quite finished yet, she didn't have the grasses she needed to entwine in it for it to be right, that's why she was hoping to wait...

But you don't get to be a Princess and not know what it looks like when The Moment is happening. Bzzip! Indigo shoots out and hooks the discarded shoes back into her hands. They're fine, they're perfect, actually, she just. Need to. Eep! Hurry! She sheds her clothes so fast you'd think they jumped off of her. Orange and Green lift her dress off the mannequin and float it over top of her. She lifts her arms and lets them slip it gently but quickly into place. Violet and Orange adjust the skirt, tie the ribbons, zip the back, adjust the bust, arrange the necklace, and all the other little touches while Yellow guides Blue, and Red through weaving her hair into a tight four-plaited braid with carefully careless messy curls for bangs. She dabs the pink lipstick on herself. Quick, spin! Mirror check! Is she ok? Good enough! Now sit!

Alina still takes the time to mess with the front of her hair a little more. Come on, just... ok! She smiles like an idiot at the little lump under the blankets. Pat pat pat! She teases the mattress just in front of Rita, suppressing a giggle when she sees her adorable tail start flicking eagerly. Pat pat pat! Swish swish! Her fingers dance a teasey little beat on the blankets and her hand wiggles back and forth, oh-so-chaseable and good for catching! And biting! Come on, darling, catch the fishy! Underneath the blankets, tiny paws keep trying to catch her hand. The sound of huntress chirps sings just for her. Alina pats and wiggles further up, waiting, teasing, up! Up! Turning her girlfriend around and leading her toward the pillows until... aha! She snaps both hands out and grabs those naughty little paws, scoops her Rita up and sets her on her lap. Chin rubs! Engagement chin rubs for Rita von Catabas!

Deep breath, Alina. You've got this. She brushes Rita's fur, caressing all of the nerves and embarrassment out of her beautiful kitty princess. One more deep breath. Be romantic. Lead slowly.

"If we did the Summer-and-Winter," she says with an unnecessary degree of elocution, "I would want it to be Winter/Spring and Summer/Autumn. Because the traditional way is so... huh? What was that?"

***

Alina falls in darkness. Tumbling, twisting, clutching at the tatters of her moment and finding nothing but the shrieking air.

She has no sense of time right now. No sense of place. Her eyes sting in the darkness. Her only feeling is of falling. Maybe this is her heart? Maybe she messed up, after all. She must have messed up. If she hadn't, her world wouldn't have turned into falling.

Down she goes, indistinguishable from the rest of the useless debris of the ship. Nothing but a flailing, screaming mess. The water rushes up to meet her like a scorned friend with a grudge to settle. For an instant, her body pulses in gold.

SMACK! SPLOOSH!

The world is freezing, flowing water now. Alina sinks beneath the surface with her lungs already used up from screaming. The currents push and pull her as they will, pulling at her pretty dress and tugging on her braided hair, and pushing on her chest, and...

Rita!

Alina's eyes snap open. Her lights are swirling all around her. There are shapes down here, but none of them are... where is she? Where is she?! There's no time for this. She cuts through the water like a dolphin with a knife and leaps above the waves for a moment with the grace of a shark. Her lungs fill with air that's laced with the fetid stench of the Garthim. She doesn't care; this breath is only for screaming.

"RITA! RITA WHERE ARE YOU, I CAN'T... RITA!!"

She turns her head desperately this way, then that. Her eyes slash across the flotsam in search of the only treasure on board worth saving. She fills herself with the stinking air twice more. Once to call her name again.

And twice to dive back down into danger. She has to find her. Has to! This can't...

This can't be how her moment ends.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

"Hey. Hey."

Euna reaches out across the space between them. It's such a small distance, but such a big gap to cross after all. Inside, her brain is unclenching. She lets out a breath she's secretly been holding since the hospital. Her voice is soft, and her hand stretches across the infinite space between her and Cinders.

She doesn't put that hand on her shoulder. That won't do the job. Pressure sensors would tell Cinders there was a weight there, feed her the exact psi of Euna's fingers as she closed her hand, and suggest possible sensation types that could cause these readouts plus recommended actions for responding to them. But that's not the same as feeling. It's not the same as knowing with your heart what the touch is supposed to mean.

That's why she aims slightly higher, at the base of the neck where real skin and real nerves will tell Cinders what's happening in a way she'll understand without any need for words or training. A hand capable of crushing steel squeezes her lighter than a feather on the scales of the heart.

Euna's smile is warmer and gentler than cream in a cup of cocoa. She understands. She gets it. Maybe more than anybody ever should.

"It's ok," she soothes, "It's ok, all right? Take your time. Take all of the time you need. I promise, no matter what answer you wind up giving, I'll still be here. And I'll still help you, whatever you wind up needing."