Phoe

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

The maid of honor's duty is to the bride. This is why Alina's still standing in the spot where she's been led, straight and dignified and looking directly at Ourania in spite of everything else that's happening. Even now at the very edge of total disaster, she doesn't pull out some fantastic trick or brave sacrifice play.

Of course she doesn't. How could she? Argossa is too sick to reward all of her other sacrifices with new magic. There are no more colors on her crown. Her arms and legs are bound and she's still being held on a leash by Cassian. She can't even say something brave or defiant or bring hope to her friends while she's gagged like this.

Oh, Adila. She's so sorry. Fly. Please, fly! While there's still time, spread your beautiful wings and fly! She thinks it over and over again, screaming it inside her head just in case that makes a difference. But of course, she can't project her thoughts even an inch in front of her face, so who knows if that's doing any good. She switches to wishing with her heart, instead.

This is the end of the journey. Alina feels so very tired. Oberon is so hopelessly strong. But do you see it, Ourania? Her beautiful green eyes are dazzling and bright. Her posture is tall and proud. There's not a hint of a shake or a shiver to her anywhere, even though she's standing so close to him! This is the shape of your latest miracle: a broken princess being strong for you. All for you! So that, just this once, you can let yourself be weak. Cry if you need to, it's ok.

But, you know the funny thing about miracles? It's the tiny ones that always seem to make the biggest difference. A young girl sees a sunrise at just the right moment, and it makes her heart melt. A cat and a mermaid become friends at a party both were invited to by accident. All these tiny, trite moments cascade into each other until they're a force more powerful than the tallest waterfall. Like how a single snowflake can become part of a flurry. And that flurry can grow into a blizzard, and then the blizzard leads to a single perfect Solstice Morning where two little girls can bundle up and go shell hunting on the riverbank together which, although they don't realize it until many years afterwards, leads directly to them falling in love.

Those are the true miracles, the real magic of Hyperborea. And you know what? They're too small and too numerous for someone like Oberon Greymane to stamp them all out. Maybe that's what Alina's thinking when she turns to look at the snow falling down on you from the sky. Will you look too, Your Majesty? Can you hope the way that she hopes, for one more tiny miracle to turn the tide?

Chuubo's GMD: Love and Shattered Alchemy

Point of order: Dulcinea already knew the day's temperature would hit record highs twenty such and such minutes after it had begun declining for the day. Why do you think she took the time to open that couple's umbrella? Somebody's got to have an eye toward the future, even if nobody appreciates that sort of thing.

"Well, anyway, you... right. Yeah. You two have a lovely evening? Ok byeeeeee~"

Heh, suckers. It's 15:14 right now, any quantifiable state of evening is hours away. Niiiiiice. Gosh, she hopes this one ends in kissing. It feels, you know, well, I mean, it doesn't feel much of anything when people get kisses. There's no tactile sensation (obviously!) and no pitter patter doki doki adrenaline surge that tells a person to get excited. But her Conscience Crystal turns bright pink whenever it happens, which objectively means the thing happening is good. Maybe someday she'll have enough data to understand why.

You... I mean, you know. Empirically. She signed that contract fair and square and all.

Regardless! The Sun! Is too hot! It is behaving Abnormally! But one data point doesn't exactly make a graph, now does it? Like, yes, she could slink home right this second, where the AC is acting up again (she keeps demanding 'fair wages'? whatever that means?) but at least there are copious amounts of delightfully sun-free shadows in which to work and construct a Sun-Catching Net or a Self Altering Reverse Magnifying Glass or to construct an obsidian fortress around Fortitude and block out the radioactive hellbeast once and for all! She could do that! Obviously. She's Dulcinea d'Avingon!

It's just, well, this could easily be because too many people got the hiccups all at once and the sun noticed and started doing it too. Or maybe a lighthouse got mad. A wizard's curse. The birth of a thousand and oneth cat (wait, no. what? ridiculous. stop looking at wikipedia during hypothesis). Or because it's still a relatively new sun it might just still be calibrating. It hasn't needed calibrating yet, but it could need it. The point is she might very well wake up tomorrow to discover everything is completely and frustratingly normal. Again. And more's the point, the sun being in the sky is one of those objectively good pink-crystal moment kind of things, which is why she carved out her own heart to put it there.

So like... yeah. Further data required, and all that. So that meant the obvious next step was to take readings and find out exactly what the deal is here. Later. Tonight. With cooler air and better working conditions for canvassing the whole of the Fortitude Sky. Also to be frank, it's rude to stare. You know how light changes its form when it knows you're viewing it? Same principle, but a glowing yellow orb in the sky.

She drains her coffee in a single swig, then fills the cup again with her ice cream. Waste not. She saunters away from her third favorite cafe. And then zips back again at double speed to the tremendous consternation of a pair of beautiful lovebirds. Forgot her notebook, sorry.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

Euna Kim is fighting twenty armed terrorists dressed in Sara's backup costumes. She jumps up and split-kicks two of them in the chest, then grabs a third by the back of the head and slams him into the ground on her way down. She bends over backwards out of the way of a punch, dropping lower and lower until her head brushes against the ground before her heel digs in and her legs whip her back to standing in an impossible arc that ends in a vicious headbutt just like the ones from the incredible series finale of Princess Champions of Hyperborea. She grabs an arm, she's not sure whose, and hip checks the woman attached to it into three of her friends. She knee drops the pile for good measure.

There's a couple of people still watching her do it. A camera drone or three angling for closeups. It's mostly just to get a reaction shot of her face. How will the blushing, battling bride-to-be react to this stunning new development? Will scream? Swear? Angrily leap across the stage and demand right then and there to be dealt in? Euna come on you just started drinking, you can't even handle a Smirnoff Ice! Not the point! It's something like that, right? Right? Scale of one to ten, how mad is she?

Wait, what? She's... smiling? She looks... gosh, wow. Smitten. Just completely dreamy-eyed and elated. That's the right word, yeah? Yeah. Elated. No no, wait! That's pride. She looks proud. She swerves out of the line of a hail of gunfire without even glancing at the barrel. See, if it were her over there... well, you can guess. Dominus has a total monopoly on Euna's list of faces she'd really love to punch but for various reasons probably never will. There's nothing that would thrill her more than to see Sara get as angry as she just did and start spitting fire and hardlight.

But, you know? Just look at her over there. The way she's controlling the scene. The way she's keeping her audience guessing, and de-clawing Dominus in a way that... it's so cute, actually. It's so Sara. But it's perfect because she's not cutting off Dominus' lifeline. Conflict resolution with consideration toward rehabilitation. But still kinda alpha-bitch posturing? It's like Euna rubbed off on her, but in the Saraiest way possible. This is such a clever way to play for time!

She... she is playing for time, right?

Euna Kim is fighting ten, no sorry, eight armed terrorists dressed in Sara's backup costumes. Give her another minute and she'll be fighting none. But even with nobody to keep her busy, she'll still be watching the show. Now, as ever, the Number One Fan. Yeah, you heard her Angelica.

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

"Did you know, before Father brought us here it had been absolute aaaaages since I had any materials to work with other than snow and worn out leather? Oh yes darling, it was horrible! Well. Imagine my disappointment when I wind up as prince of the one country in this entire little menagerie you call a planet that doesn't understand how to work in anything other than silk! It's like, honey, haven't you ever heard of satin? Cotton, wool, fur, hmm? Velvet? Lamé? Do you have any of these words in that pretty little head of yours?"

Alina's head shakes 'no', thanks to Cassian's guiding hand that's squeezing her jaw. He chuckles at his own little game, then goes back to ruining her hair. Her eyes roll so hard it's a wonder they don't fall out. With her lips so tightly gagged, that's the only form of rebellion she's got left. Somehow, that isn't the worst part. Not the ropes pinning her arms in place and crushing her chest flat, not this stiff satin nightmare he's tossed on top of her bare skin without any in between layers, not even the pointy glass shoes he's stuffed her into that are a size too small for even her feet.

No, it's the talking. He won't. Shut. Up! He's like an insufferable daddy's boy who has to fill every second with inane chatter about how great he is because he's worried if he stops puffing himself up for one second everyone will forget his majesty and he'll melt into nothing on the spot. He's a pale, grating imitation of his father, and he's every bit as bad at keeping his hands to himself.

She might have bought the pretense of him fluffing the poofy white rose patterned shoulders on her dress, except that he's still doing it fifteen minutes later and keeps switching to stroking her arms until she starts to shudder. She wouldn't have minded him tying the black satin sash around her waist if he didn't keep pinching her while he did it.

"Frankly, I still can't believe how ghastly your people's sense of color is! Baby doll, just pick a palette! Goodness knows you're got enough rivers clotting up your little rat's nest to build a perfectly gorgeous identity around some nice soothing blues, maybe a splash of green here and there for contrast. But you Illuminans are all... eugh, warm on warm on warm on cold! Of course, for you I would have suggested a full ensemble of cherry-frosting pink, darling. You know, a nice vapid color to match your empty bubble ditz charms! But, alas, Father has needs and those must be met. So it's back to the Classics for now~"

Yeah sure, the classics. Alina feels like a Rider stereotype right now, which is funny because there aren't Riders anymore. Her dress is such a deep shade of blue it looks black in most lights, contrasted with the ceremonial white ropes tied thither and yon across her chest and arms like lines of frost growing on a lake. Or stars falling from the sky, depending on how you tilt your head. Her arms are tied very precisely so that her hands rest demurely together in front of her waist, secured by a length of powder blue ribbon around the wrists. It's forcing her hands closed around the centerpiece of the dress: a bouquet of ice flowers she's already being made to hold in her bare hands despite having no one to show them to. What's sad is that they are beautiful, despite all the pain they're causing her fingers. Alina would absolutely keep these in her house, if only she'd come by them in some happier way.

They could fit in here. This entire family and all the people they dragged with them. Every one of the sisters is proof of that. What made the rest of them so different? Alina grits her teeth and glances down at her skirt, before too much pity runs through her and washes away her fight. The blues get lighter as the dress opens up at her feet, dotting the (hmm, that must be damask) fabric with swirling snowflakes that freeze into harsh icicles at the hem. Her shoes are glass and, again, a size too small, with sharp high heels that lift her permanently onto her toes, and a line of diamond chain clasping two anklets together and forcing her to take only the absolute daintiest of steps. She can walk, it's just... only the way she's supposed to. This entire outfit is about forcing her into submission, making her exclusively into something to be looked at, and only in the exact way Oberon wants her to be. It's disgusting.

And then Cassian smirks and clicks a deep blue collar around her neck, with a length of that same diamond chain serving as a leash wrapped tightly around his hand. He holds up a mirror so she can see the black streaks specked with 'starry' jewels he's painted around her eyes, the frozen blue lipstick that shines overtop the cleft of her gag, and the way he's unstyled her hair and brushed down her curls until they've simply given up and died. He flashes her an over satisfied smirk, and caresses her cheek with a thumb.

"So what do you think? Perfect, right?" he nods her head for her, "Yes, I thought so too. Mm, I do have a gift for fashion, after all. Thank goodness Asteria's not still around to ruin my good work."

Cassian circles around her once. And then again. There's something awful in his eyes, and the way he smiles sends a shiver crawling down Alina's spine, especially when he licks his lips right after. His gloved hand cups her chin, and he leans in far too close for comfort. Despite all his perfumes, he's still covered in the stench of the Garthim. Possibly he will be for the rest of his life. She has to fight hard not to flinch.

"Hmmmm, you know honestly, not bad. Not at all bad, if I do say so myself. Yes darling, you were just the pick-me-up I needed. You know, I must say, I originally had designs on your little sister, but... now that I've finally gotten a closer look at you, you really are the more fetching prize, aren't you? Yes, I think you'll make a very fine wife. Something of an after party for the main event, I suppose, but you'll see just how good I am at showing ladies like yourself what pleasure really--"

Alina's headbutt connects hard enough this time to draw blood from his nose. She can't tell with him holding it and whimpering like he is, but she might have even broken it. Good. Cassian's eyes flash darkly, and he backhands her cheek hard enough to drop her from her chair. With no arms to catch herself with she tumbles all the way to the ground, only not cracking her head on the floor because she ran out of leash before she got there, and merely finds herself being choked instead.

"You little wh--" Cassian takes a deep breath and runs both hands through his slicked back hair. He tugs importantly on his jacket and straightens up importantly. The nastiest smile she's ever seen spreads across his face, "You know what? That's fine. I was going to save this as a surprise, but since you're such a... hmph. I can't wait to see what you turn into. Father needs a new set of daughters, you see, and you're first in line you savage little ditz. He's going, haha, he's going to rip all of your precious memories right out of that frilly little heart of yours until you can't even recognize your harlot kitty friend! I'm sure once we're finished filling you back up with ice you'll be even more useless than Ninian was, but, mmm haha, that's fine! It would please me to have a new doll to play with! Now get on your feet! We have places to be!"

He doesn't dare touch her himself. No, he makes the Garthim grab her by the armpits and drag her back up. She figures out where he wants her to follow by the tugging on her leash, and scrambles to keep pace with the ridiculous bindings around her ankles. This is how Alina Cascade faces the most important stage she's even been on in her entire life. Her heart pounds frantically in her chest. And, perhaps, Cassian Fleet would not have dared to bring her there if he had noticed she had no more tears in her eyes...

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

A wise person once said that love is a battlefield. This is... probably not what they meant. Although, funny story? The Shogun said something similar at her bachelorette party, and this is absolutely what she meant.

"Just wait right here, love," she says with the most loving and tender stroke of Sara's cheek in recorded history, "I don't want this to delay our vows any more than it has to."

Euna smiles dreamily as she turns toward this bunch of dead people goons. She gives all of her guests in the audience a little wave. It's always about playing to the cameras when Comstar is involved. And then she transforms from a bride into a silver comet, bending impossibly around the field of armed troopers and edgelord bridesmaids as if they weren't in her way at all. Blink and you'll miss it: she's already standing in front of the cannon. Now, if you're an Errant fan you're probably expecting her to heroically jump in front of the beam and save her wedding guests or something.

But you'd be wrong! She lifts a leg up all the way over her head, completely heedless for a moment of the fact that she's in a skirt that does not modestly allow for this sort of move, and crushes the floor underneath it with a vicious axe kick. She jumps twelve feet into the air and punches the cannon just as it finishes charging, bending the barrel and crumpling the entire off-balance edifice in on itself. Will it scatter itself across the multiverse? Will it break? Explode? Who knows? Who cares! It's in the way! She lands, and blurs again.

[spending one (1) hold to redirect an attack]

What follows can only be described as an orgy of violence. Euna is as good as her word. Her legs bend impossibly as she stalks forward toward Comstar, and every time they do there's a snap and a howl and another person drops to the floor even though by all appearances she hasn't touched anyone. Guns fire all over, everywhere but where she is. She is inevitable. Inexorable. She is white, bridal Death. She rears a hand back and slaps Comstar hard enough for the sound to ring out all the way to the back rows, jerking her head all the way to her shoulder.

"Get. Off. Of. My. Altar!"

[Directly Engage: 11 again. Avoid blows and Impress/Surprise/Frighten]

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

She's alive! Oh thank goodness. Oh... oh rivers and raindrops and, and whiskers and sunshine and rainbows and... whatever, she's going to be ok! Oh, oh... oh.

Alina rests her head against the wardrobe and shivers. It feels like her entire body is uncoiling all at once, as if she was a knot of ribbon that just got tossed in a lake. If you told her she could get up and walk out of this room right now and Rita would be there waiting for her with kisses and an Askaian spiced custard... she's not sure that she could do it.

"I guess I'm going to have a lot of extra time on my hands pretty soon, huh?" she asks Ourania, "Do you think Freesia will do better in the next selection ceremony? I hope so. I'm not sure that Jess is... she's going to want to be an adventurer, I mean."

She flinches. Then she glances down at Diana, and her expression softens again. No, this was worth it. Her family would be mad, but if she explained... they'd be even madder. And then they'd understand. What kind of queen would she have been, anyway? Princess Alina put Diana into this horrible situation. It took ordinary, nobody-Alina to be brave enough to save her. And hadn't it been a dancing girl who saved Helya and Jessamine in Jedad? And a cat in a suit who'd done all those amazing things in the Labyrinth? Being a princess hadn't helped at all. So it was fine. This was fine.

But, still.

"Hey, um," her voice is trembling in spite of everything, "Do you think... Rita will mind? Having me as a, a trophy wife, I mean?"

There's no answer, of course. Ourania just watches her from her chair prison with an inscrutable expression in her eyes. Alina sighs and leans back as much as she can without dropping Diana, and closes her eyes.

The sweet smell of incense is always so rich and thick on hot summer days like this. The winds tickle your face and tug on your skirt, and help make the bright sun a little easier to handle. The sky is a sparkling blue without even a hint of clouds, and everywhere you look the air is filled with the sound of birdsong.

It's a perfect day for laundry.

Alina has to stretch a little to get the pristine white sheets up on the line, but she's got this down to an art form. The way she spins and extends as she pins the fabric in place is like a dance. No, it is a dance. It's her new dance. She hums happily as she frolics from line to line, the tune of an Askaian marching song she still hasn't learned all the words to. But that's ok too. Just hearing it makes her happy.

She pauses to wipe the sweat off her brow, and admires her handiwork. Not bad at all, Lina. She smiles, and dances her way inside the house. The oven should be hot enough by now! She kicks off her shoes and nudges the door shut behind her with her butt, peeling off her too-warm shirt before it's even all the way closed. One hand reaches up onto a shelf and fetches a hair band, while the other expertly combs through her floofy purple hair and pulls it into a cute ponytail. Step two three, and twirl two three, and leap! The beautiful ballerina, prize of the greatest kitty queen the world's ever seen, dances her way into the kitchen. She snatches up a knife with practiced grace and slips into her apron in the same motion. The black cloth is still stained with flour from her last trip in here, but it doesn't bother her. You can still see the pink gingham trim and the little paw prints walking all the way up her chest, and that's good enough for her.

Her knife sings its own song as it tap tap taps its way through the rhubarb. She hums her song again as she dices up the strawberries. Her voice melts into silly giggles while she mixes them with just so, so, so much sugar, and carefully wraps them in the pastry she'd spent all morning preparing. No one does pies like Askaia. No one better than Alina von Catabas. Or, well, give her another year of this, and she'll be there. Promise.

There's a knock on the door frame, and she lights up like a lantern boat to see the most beautiful princess in the entire world standing there all decked out in her feathers and her adventuring cap, with a little kitten purring in her arms and mischievously mussing with her shockingly pink hair that is definitely not supposed to be that color, please and thank you.

"You'll never guess who got into the wishing pools again." says Rita with a weary sigh and an even livelier smile.

Alina bounds over to kiss them both and there is nothing in all the world but laughter and the smell of gently baking pie, and there is nothing left in the world that could trouble her ever again.

Alina's eyes flutter open again. She lifts one exhausted hand to brush a lock of hair off of Diana's face.

"Not so bad," she says with a tiny smile, as fresh tears wash gently down her face, "Not so bad at all..."

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

"I didn't need a spy."

She can barely get the words out. Her shoulders heave and there's nothing to wipe her nose on, but she can't let that stop her. Her eyes sting from all the tears, but she has to sniffle out the apology anyway. This is a thousand times worse than last time. She wishes there was... no, she doesn't. This is what she deserves. No punishments to fall back on, nobody to love her enough to make it better. This time she has to be strong. And honest, the way a princess is supposed to be.

Even though, even though it means...

"I, I, I didn't need a spy!" Alina's voice quivers. No no no, stay with her Diana! Don't die, you can't die! Alina's fingers are trembling, but she brushes them through Diana's hair anyway, "That was... I, he told me that... I, I! It was... just, j-just something I said to make myself feel better! I thought! I thought if I... I was just, t-too much of a coward. Too scared to even be selfish without an excuse to hide behind. I'm sorry, Diana. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

All the rest of her words turn into choking sobs and horribly ugly sniffles. She sits there, helplessly holding this beautiful, brave, and... dying girl. She can't say she didn't know what Oberon would do. Other than his daughters, did anyone else in the whole world know better than she did? She can't say she did it for her family. They would have abandoned her if they knew. And even then it takes a special kind of monster to trade one life for another. She can't say she was scared. Diana was around him this whole time, wasn't she? And she still found the courage to face him so bravely that he broke her forever!

Because she believed it was for a purpose. Because she trusted her friend to tell the truth. Alina lifts her head and looks miserably at Ourania, looking for the coward's way out yet again. Please, do something! Punish her, save Diana, do something she doesn't have to watch her friend die in her arms! Just do... just...

The... wall? The wall! Argossa! This is still Argossa!

"H-hang in there, Diana! I'm going to..."

But she pulls up short. Now that she's stopped crying, the only sound in the room is the rotted, bubbling breath of the Garthim standing guard around her. She looks at the wall again and her whole body goes cold. All of that, that rot. Just look what he's done to this place already. If she makes a mistake, then!

It's no good. Ourania's plan won't work. Alina is no witch. She doesn't understand the first thing about real magic! Even when she toured the Academy she played hooky in all but one of her scheduled classes, and let's face it even then she spent the entire time doodling adventure plans to go on with Rita. It's hopeless. She's useless.

She cradles Diana against her chest, so careful not to squeeze too hard, and finally finds the courage to look into those infinitely deep blue eyes. They look so glassy now, but even then there's a hardness there, and an anger. Alina can see it all clearly. She's run herself out of tears. That's ok. That's ok, she thinks, go on and blame her. She's sorry, ok? Above anything else, she's sorry that she's so worthless.

...Unless.

Something draws Alina's eye to the bag sitting on the table, out of her reach. A wild, fantastic hope fills every corner of her body. Her lights! She may not understand proper witch magic, but if there's one thing she does know it's exactly what her little lights are capable of. She can do it! Here, bolstered by Argossa itself she can..!

Be brave, Alina. You're the only one who can fix this.

It all comes back to Feloria, in the end. It always had to, right? Sooner or later, she was going to need to pay the price. So many people insisted for so long that she wasn't to blame for what happened to Illumina, and maybe they were even right about it. She was a silly little girl back then who knew nothing outside of tickle fights, what was she supposed to have done? This was the part that really was all her fault. It's only fitting that she answers for it here at the end.

She laughs when she looks at them, in spite of everything. It all comes back to Feloria, in the end. Including these throwing knives Asteria decorated her outfit with back then. She's sorry for calling you useless, little knives. The first one clatters harmlessly against the far wall. Just noise to draw the Garthim's attention away from her work, if only for a moment. The second one hurtles right at the bag and glances off of it, leaving a small but superficial tear.

Her lights pound frantically against the inside of their prison. Alina takes a deep breath. She's got one more shot at this. She wraps her fingers around Diana's hand, and she throws. The dagger seems to hang suspended in time. She forgets how to breathe or move, nothing more than a helpless doll waiting to be played with. The blade catches on her first tiny tear and rips a proper hole in its side. Then everything happens at once. The Garthim screech, sensing magic. Her lights zip straight forward into her outstretched hand. She closes her palm around Blue.

And then all around her, a wall of rainbow light erupts. It's a barrier of pure magic, nothing but a feast for the Garthim, but that's exactly what she's after right now. She needs time, but this can't look like an escape attempt. Oberon is sure to punish her by hurting Diana, instead. She smiles, because that's what a brave princess is supposed to do for somebody who's hurting all over.

"It's going to be ok, Diana. You don't have to forgive me, ok? Not ever ever ever. I'm a selfish monster and I don't deserve it anyway. B-but I'm not gonna let you die, ok? And I'm not gonna let you be a cripple, either. Just leave, just leave everything to me..."

Oh. She's found more tears after all. Her lights swirl all about her as her body blazes golden once again, but for just one last moment, all she does is cry.

"I'm going to miss you," she chokes, "So much. Y-you... you be g-g-good. Ok?"

There are lines of rainbow light winding between Alina's hand and Diana's heart. She can hardly see what she's doing anymore, but that's all right. She can hardly miss from this range. She places her palm against Diana's chest and squeezes her eyes shut tight.

First is Red. The color of Power that controls physical might. Her gift from Adila that she's only just finally made all her own. How is this so hard already? It's not fair. The room fills with the heat of dragon fire as red light overtakes the other colors for a moment. Alina can feel Diana's body grow cooler, just a tiny bit, as if her fever was being drawn out of her and into the air. The Garthim pound and nibble on her wall, which swirls with six colors of the rainbow. Her red crystal goes dull, and drops to the floor with an empty clack.

Next comes Orange. The color of Prowess that controls physical skill. This little light's been with her since the very beginning. Such an aggressive fellow, but so playful. And as loyal as any princess could ask for! Haha, there's so many memories she wants to cling to right now! Like, haha, how Shazari used to always swing for Orange first whenever they would duel, because she thought it would make Alina worse at swordfighting. The 'cheating light', she called it. It's saved her life so many times, Alina's completely lost count. Goodbye, friend. And thank you. Her orange crystal goes dull, and drops to the floor with an empty clack.

Now it's Yellow's turn. The color of Wisdom that controls magical might. Another newborn, barely given any time to share adventures with her princess. The color all her other lights turn to when they're scared, so they can find the courage to be heroes in their own right. And, and born right here, remember? The last time Alina came to Argossa with this same betrayal hanging over her heart. The light born directly from her love for Rita. The proof she can't cling to anymore. Farewell, little one. You've been such a wonderful helper. Her yellow crystal goes dull, and drops to the floor with an empty clack.

Next is... next is Blue's turn. The color of, the color of Chivalry that guards the innocent. Where would she even be right now without this light? How many stupid plans has it protected her from the consequences of? It... haha, oh no she's laughing again. What is wrong with her? But it's just so! She... she had her armor shaped just after she'd fled Illumina. Maybe a month or two before she approached Hobling Keep about the possibility of forging Pearlion. She'd stumbled across a small refugee camp and spent two entire weeks with them before guilt finally dragged her away. They made that beautiful armor as a gift for their princess! To keep her safe! And in the entire time since... Blue you silly light! It hasn't let a single thing put a scratch on that armor! Even once! Thank you, you beautiful idiot. Thank you so much. Don't worry about her anymore, ok? The blue crystal goes dull, and drops to the floor with an empty clack.

She's already reached Indigo? It's all happening too fast. The color... of Daring. That. That controls... technical skill. You know, maybe more than any other color, this one was probably the hero of the Labazaar. After all, it's the light that figured out how to properly channel her grappling beam technique. Alina couldn't have grabbed the Caduceus without Indigo's help. She might never have even made it to the heart of the labyrinth before succumbing to the curse of Mittens if she hadn't had this clever friend helping her navigate the mazes and the pitfalls. Maybe the Nightmare Roc would have just tossed her down that pit and had done with it. But she made it. Everyone's alive today because Indigo was there for her when she needed it. And now... now it. N-now she's done needing it. That's all. That's all. Thank you. And sorry. Goodbye. Alina's wall is a tattered wreck that can barely hold the Garthim at bay anymore. But it still shines with two colors of the rainbow. The indigo crystal goes dull, and drops to the floor with an empty clack.

Well then, that makes it Violet's turn. Beautiful light. Precious light. The color of Adaptability that controls fine manipulation. When she was a kid, you know, just a stupid little kid, Alina thought her Violet was the dumb and useless light. It didn't do anything! It just copied what the other lights could do, but weaker! She thought maybe it was just there to round out the set because having a full rainbow was important for a Princess-Promised. She never... hated it, but they never quite bonded, either. Not until she broke, and lost her first Red and Yellow. That's when, after all her other lights became confused, scared, and adrift, that she realized how special Violet really was. They practiced together for months and months and months, shaping keys and lockpicks, knives for cutting food, blankets when it got too cold at night, little birds when the walks got too lonely. It could do so much! She'd never known! So much time she'd wasted neglecting it. So many regrets. They didn't have enough time together. But now... there wasn't any more. Don't... hey, little light, don't cry. Don't cry, ok? Good girl. The violet crystal goes dull, and drops to the floor with an empty clack.

That's all of, that is, six is... enough. Right? Alina can't be a princess anymore if she doesn't have a light. Gold isn't hers to give, because it's not hers to keep. If she, when she gives it back to Mommy, then... maybe she'll name Jess her successor. It'll... it'll be... oh, Green. She's so sorry! The color of Compassion that controls the art of healing. But more than that it's also, did you know? When little Alina first got her lights, none of them would listen to her. They practically tried to dart off on their own every chance she got. She could hardly sleep because every time she tried they'd all sneak off and hide all over her room. The only one she could get along with at all was Green. So in a way, you could say it was her first light. The one that eventually brought all of the others to her. Her favorite, even though she's not supposed to have those.

And also... the light to suffer in Feloria, just like Diana is now. The light that became Alina's eyes after her guilt robbed her of her own. Little healer, warmest hug, oldest friend. Precious little Green. Oh, she's so sorry. She's so sorry for how everything turned out. But you're needed, now more than ever. Your friends will be so lonely without you. Alina's hand flinches just slightly, only for a moment, before she presses it back down firmly. The green crystal goes dull, and drops to the ground with an empty clatter.

Alina's wall is hazy and indistinct. Colorless. It drifts apart like mist, and the Garthim crowd back in around them. But there's no more magic for them to feast on right now. Gold has hidden itself in Alina's breast, and seven hollow crystals roll listlessly to gather at Diana's feet. The pair of them are still chained to the wardrobe, just the way they were left. Ourania is still sitting in her chair, staring more intensely than ever. Alina is still sobbing and holding Diana close to her. Everything's just the way it should be.

"Be ok, be ok, be ok, please please please, be ok..."

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

Euna allows herself a single deep breath. One long inhale, held in her belly, and then a deeeeep, controlled exhale. She's still smiling. Her arms are still wrapped around Sara. But the transformation that comes over her is terrifying.

"...Sweetheart, would you please help me with this belt? Yes, the... no, up a little. Just a-- there we go! Thank you so much."

Pay attention class, because this is important. Almost every bride who walks the aisle does so in a dress that's so much for show it's barely capable of even that much. But there's a whole reception to make it through after the "I do"s! Dancing and mingling and drinking! How can she possibly make it through all of that in something so... constrictive and, and poofy?

The belt comes off, and several layers of her dress drop delicately to the floor. A single swoopy skirt opens up at around mid-thigh, perfect for twirling and stealing the spotlight forever on the dance floor. She reaches up and with skillwire precision plucks the lace gloves off of each hand. Then she bends down for a moment and slides out of her gorgeous slippers. Artificial toes which shouldn't mind being squeezed into tiny shoes stretch and curl in the fresh air anyway. She flicks her wrists a couple of times and her sleeves wrap around her arms. She ties them in place with a dreamy look on her face.

She hesitates for a moment, but finally she reaches up and slides her veils off of her head. She cracks her neck and bounces once, twice. This is Euna Kim's wedding dress: battle mode. And the smile still plastered on her face does nothing to hide the look of absolute murderous intent in her eyes.

"This is a very special day," she says in an unusually high voice, colder than the void of space, "I have been working on it for eight months! So I am going to give you... mmmm, one last chance! To go and find some seats! But if I open my eyes! And my wife and I aren't the only ones on this stage? I'm going, teehee! To break all of your legs~"

[Before We Get Started: 11. Holding 3]

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

It's cruel of her to fight like this. To sag her head and squirm the way she is right now. Her muffled grunts of pain are like vicious little daggers in the back of the person who least deserves it in all the world. But why not? Why not be cruel? Everything already hurts so much Alina feels like she's going to tear herself in two. So why can't she be selfish and delay this final horror one more minute?

How is this possible? How can she be the same girl who stared down her literal nightmares all alone in the cold and the rain and told them that she loved them? How can she be the same person who was able to hold, and then more importantly let go of the Caduceus? Had she really saved Askaia from the Slaugh? It didn't feel real anymore. A princess who caused so much needless pain and doomed Hyperborea on her way couldn't possibly have done all those things. She goes slack, and her gag comes out. Now she needs to talk, too.

"Oh, Diana. I..."

She doesn't have another crystal growing in her heart to punish her this time. No magical muteness to hide behind, no excuses for her weakness. Ourania could probably turn her into a portrait or something, even now, but of course she's only sitting there. Watching. And gag or no gag, she most certainly hasn't explained things to Diana, either. This is her real punishment. This moment, right here. Alina's vision goes blurry with tears, and she makes no effort to stop them anymore. What would be the point?

The only good thing in all of this is that Cassian had to swap her handcuffs to chain her legs to this wardrobe. The Garthim watch her every move, but at least she's free to wrap herself around the bravest witch in the whole world and give her the hug she deserves. She strokes Diana's pale hair with loving tenderness, the way she wishes someone would do to her, and holds the trembling girl steady. Her words are all choking up her throat, so stalls for time just that little bit extra by slowly easing Diana back into a lying position, with her head cradled in Alina's lap. She tries to smile, but her face is only misery. One hand be caresses Diana's cheek.

"I promise, I'm going to..."

This time she does have to stop and wipe away her tears. She can't say that! She can't! All she's doing right now is getting this poor girl's face wet. She sniffles, and wishes her heart would just stop, just stop, just for one second stop breaking.

"I'm so sorry!" There it is at last. Alina's shaking almost as feverishly as Diana, but now that she's found her voice the words just keep tumbling out like a waterfall, "I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry! This never should have happened! It's all my fault! I was so selfish! I'm such a coward! Oh Diana, did they really take your magic? Did they... oh no, no no no that's so... that's just... that's how he got in here, isn't it? It's all my fault!

Shh, no, don't say anything, you don't understand! We never... I never actually needed a spy! I didn't have a plan, I lied to you! I knew exactly what kind of person he is and what he's capable of and I threw you to him anyway! I, I, I used you! I pushed you in front of me like a selfish brat because I was too scared and too weak to face him myself like I should have! And if I'd just... if I'd just hurried, maybe I could have... b-b-but I... I couldn't even manage that! I still don't have a plan! I never learn! I just, just hoped everything would turn out ok because I'm just the kind of sparkle brained ditz he said I was! I'm sorry, Diana! I'm so, so..."

And then there's no more space for words because all she's got left are hot, stinging tears. Alina cries her heart out, not even daring to look Diana in the face because she can't bear to see her looking up with that same cold distance and disdain she saw on Kazelia's face. She just can't, ok? She's a coward, she already said so! So just... just let her keep holding Diana, ok? Let her offer these meager comforts until the end. She deserves so much more, but without her lights, without a miracle, without the Caduceus in her hands anymore, what is she supposed to do?

"I'm... I p-promise I'm going to fix this, ok? I, I'm not sure what I... but, please, let me try. Please please please, let me try. Whatever I can do, from now until forever, just ask and I'll do it! I promise, ok? I know that's not worth anything, but I, but still I..."

Chuubo's GMD: Love and Shattered Alchemy

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh gosh, look at that! Look at that look at that look at that, gosh gosh gosh! Freckles! Blushing freckles! Is that not the cutest thing ever?

Objectively, no. It's around number 87 maybe? Between "kitten falling face first into a bowl of cream" and Eliza Dragorovich's pink nail polish. But still! That's really precious! And oh! The look on Ms. Curl's face! It's so great when somebody lets themselves be so obviously smitten like that. You go girl, get that cutie! Just be careful; statistics show that 67% of first dates centered around freckle kissing end in breakup after only three weeks. Conversely if you stave off temptation until the third meeting, the relationship results in stable, ultra-cuddle class marriage in roughly 52% of cases! Hey, sneer all you want but data doesn't lie!

Also, something something blah blah blah the subtle sting of jealousy who could ever be the one to bring light into my world of shadows why is it always them and not me. Yawn. You build up a tolerance to the stock reactions pretty quickly with enough exposure, it's cool. Also it turns out you need to have a heart to feel heartache, so, you know. Yeah. Let's just take this second and by happy for--

Oh shoot! Whoops! Notes notes notes, get back to documenting this phenomenon! Remember, Dulci? If you're not doing science, it's called stalking. Fan to notebook transformation sequence: go!

Dulcinea's floppy, badly abused notebook flops back down onto her table next to her ice cream with a noisy clatter. She uses her suddenly spare hand to pull out her phone and snap a picture for her archives, then drops that and fishes a big fountain pen out of her bag. Her tongue pokes out of her mouth a little bit as she writes, like it tends to do when she's concentrating really hard.

wlw mlm wlm
||||| ||||| ||||| ||| |||
||

"...Huh! Wonder if that means anything?"

She taps the pen to her lips a couple of times in idle contemplation before frowning suddenly. She glances skyward through her sodden bangs, and sighs.

"You know, there's such a thing as doing your job too well. Not for me, but... some people. Hint hint up there!"

With a groan, she drags herself out of her chair. One step forward, pause. Double back, and a looooong drag of her iced coffee. The poor ice cream's a lost cause at this point. Or, well, it's not, but it's a project unto itself to rescue the stuff and as has previously been mentioned, the heat. Some other time, some other five dollars. Preferably someone else's. She sets the cup down on top of her notebook and shuffles off precisely two tables over.

"Hi there! Don't mind me, I'm from the... well never mind it doesn't... hm. I'll just be a, nnnrgh! A minute, I've just... ooogh! Got to... fffffllllrble, why do they make these so nnnf! stubborn! Eeeep!"

Dulcinea tumbles backwards onto her butt, but flashes a tiny smile when she sees the table's umbrella opened up over the happy couple. She lifts both of her hands up and waves off their looks with dismissive little wiggles (mantis style!).

"Ok, as you were, as you were. I was never here. Oh, but if one of you could tell me how you think things are going in about..." she glances up at the sun, then down at her phone, "eeeeeleven minutes an seventeen seconds? That'd be a huge... n-no, no, as you were."