Phoe

Return to Thellamie

"Excuse me? If somebody could please-"

Eclair takes a fast step forward and pivots on the balls of her feet an instant after. In the same motion she leans forward and snatches up the little dragon by the scruff of the neck. Dragons are, in fact, like cats. This is known to all who care for one for a living. And part of that when you take hold of the base of their shoulders like this, they go completely limp.

She lifts this... what is this, exactly? What is happening right now? Everything made perfect sense until precisely ten seconds ago and now... what? What just knocked the foundations of the world off of its agreed upon track?

"If the progenitor of this... sassy, lost child would kindly step forth? You had ought take better care not to misplace such creatures in the future."

Hm. What, precisely, is she holding in any case? Dragon spawn. Quite young. Not dissimilar to the confluence of Morning's challenge and Evening's prank, but altogether not similar enough to be quite comfortable. Fangs appear in good health, gum coloration normal. Claws have not finished hardening, wings appear normal for development level but not yet capable of flight. Pupil dilation, tracking, no problems detected. High tension? Stress response?

"...Apparent fatigue. How lost are you, little one? Your mother seems rather sluggish to collect you. Again, anyone? Anyone at all? I do not have time to wait around in this place!"

Eclair shrugs and stuffs the little dragon into her pouch, next to the pocket with her tablet in it. The inside is cluttered with a great deal of things that Aren't Quite Yet, requisitions from the Manor she has failed to specify (nor shall she until she knows what she needs). So it is perhaps not the most comfortable of resting places. But it is dark, and smells faintly of the Long Sleep from where it splashed into the pools that Timtam had been meddling with.

"Perhaps in the meantime a name. Given her coloration, I suggest Soline."

"...What? Mayzie, what? Why that look? Do you not think it is funny?"

Breathless Dead

So, here's a fun and funny fact! Yue? Doesn't know Chen's sword flight technique! The ancient scroll she bought at market one fine afternoon taught her a personal flight spell, one that did not use a conduit. Another fun fact is that Yue is famously terrible at extrapolation! Yaaaaay! She knows what she knows and does not know what she does not know, and the basic principles from the first thing simply do not carry over to the second no matter how similar they may or may not be. Double yaaaaay!

Want a third fun and funny fact? Ok! Since you insist! Bella? Ok, shh shh shh, don't tell anybody this, but Bella? Incredibly heavy. You wouldn't think it to look at her but she must seriously be denser than Dense-ium (the densest mineral known to fox kind!) because, like, wowies meowies. It is a shame the only path to the Sky Castle involves Yue carrying her there the whole way!

I'd tell you another fun fact about this but you are out of freebies. If you want to hear it, pay a fun fine. I offer very reasonable deals to first timers!

"How did she know I was hurt? Nobody's said a word about it since it happened, not even Vesper. She wasn't even fighting me seriously, so what gave it away?"

"Nnnnnnnf." says Yue, trying as hard as she can not to breathe more than she needs to or drop the cool cat lady she's holding several hundred meters above the ground.

"...I should have known better. Every time I've ever thought I was at the pinnacle something came along and knocked me off of it. But I didn't even think people lived here!"

"Ynn?"

"No. I'm not explaining it twice. You'll get your answer after I see this Jessic person."

"......."

And that is the story of how Yue just barely landed on the grounds of the Sky Castle, and why she immediately crumpled into a sweaty, breathless heap upon doing so. But hey, who wants another fun fact? It turns out, Princess Jessic is actually...

Ha! You thought I was gonna say it, didn't you? Nerds. Ask someone else~

*****

"Oh wow, you got Snake Time! That's when the game hisses at you because you did so good! Congratulations, buddy! You must be a musician or somethin' 'cause I swear you're feelin' the notes."

Kat beams hearts and sunshine at Dolce, wagging several tails at what is genuinely the highest score she's ever seen at that cabinet. Everyone's got a talent or six up their sleeves, right? Even if they don't know it yet. There is something about the combination of sights on display in this quietly buzzing little arcade, the sheep uncertainly poking every little button without an understanding as to how it works but also commanding them with such supremacy as to nearly set a track record with... what? Five attempts? Or so? That's just kind of... adorable. Y'know?

"You're way better than the last guy I took videogaming. Though right now?"

Her tail twitches, and through a shimmery haze she produces a small box of candy. Ridiculous, indulgent little things: a small cluster of hard sugar clumps around a soft gummy core. She pops one in her mouth and crunchy-chews with a delighted grin before offering the box to Dolce with a tempting little rattle and shake.

"You're reminding me a lot of him."

It is true that a body only gets one first arcade experience. There's no going back and redoing it, and no accounting for lost magic once that same body knows what to expect, even if just a little. That's all the more reason to try and make it as special as possible, right?

Luckily there are cathedrals everywhere for those with eyes to see.

The Skee Ball skees. It also balls, not that it matters. Its the sort of challenge you can't really brute force, a sort of becoming oneness with the little ball roll up the hard packed little slope and leap! into the air on its way to one of several cute little rings. It takes some getting used to, especially for a girl like Kat who has never been very keen on grinding past failure (unless there is a timer running), but with her good luck sheep in tow she very quickly completes the team up to heist enough tickets and foxgirl scheme her way into a Hatsune Miku noodle topper and a soft, huggable deer plush to ward away bad luck and evil spirits.

She gives both to Dolce with a wink and a kiss of his hand.

The fighting games are games in which you fight. This particular arcade is very fond of them and has a whole row in the back wall dedicated to all manner of styles and specialties. A long time can be spent on pure, 3D simulation battle games where the most important tech to master is something called a Korean Back Dash, though exactly where and how this little double tappy wonder got its name nobody is quite sure. There are Princess Simulators, which instead of being tense struggles for positioning (until the timer runs out) are much more realistic rushdowns of Perfect Super Ultimate Death Shots that chain and counter off of each other into infinity (until the timer runs out). There are glitchy, ancient messes where everything moves at one quarter speed and pressing two buttons at the same time causes the cabinet to reboot. And everything in between.

Kat is very gracious in her explanations for each game and character, keeping it concise enough not to overwhelm but never skipping past a question and only one time chooses a character in any of them she could describe as a "favorite" (a purple haired girl with a beret who fights with a combination of razor wire and a handgun).

"Heh. That was all within my calculations." she preens.

And then hands Dolce a very pretty, cold can of matcha latte.

Being gifted with lots of open space and an obsessive manager, there are a great many kinds of games and things to do here. All at one's own pace, of course. The air hockey table with the warped surface is pretty cool, of course, or the pinball wing and the defunct gacha game arcade pods which haven't worked in hundreds of years but will still print out stickers of your favorite characters if you ask it to. Assuming you have a favorite character, of course.

All around, there are people. Not so many that it makes a huge scene, but enough that the place doesn't feel like the ghost town that Shana's ramen bar is. Some are old, and some are very young. Some seem like absurd talents who belong in some kind of professional league, and others have only a passing interest in the claw machine full of cute girl figurines.

Games aren't like duels, you see. Especially taken as a whole, there's no real way to say what being the best at them really means. Unlike sword fighting, which has a clear and obvious hierarchy with Yue at the top because everybody who has ever beaten her is a dirty stupid cheater and I hate them. Except the ones I don't, cheaters though they are.

Anyway, it is possible to lose a very long time here, under the gentle guidance of friendly fluffy tails. I say 'lose' but it's really more 'misplace'. Certainly it cannot be wasted, not when it's all this fun. Some people seem to live here, others merely pass through. It could be everything, or it could be nothing.

But it's enough to say that it is. Y'know?

*****

Violet laughs.

Well only, that doesn't really tell the story does it?

Let's say rather that she guffaws. She has a rich, not really so much melodious but all the same kinda sort musical, deep laugh that comes directly from her belly and never lets up. It shakes her chest and all the way to her shoulders until she's forced (forced I say!) to sit down again just to stay stable enough to not fall over and learn how well she can laugh in the water.

Probably... not very well. Good thing we don't get to find out!

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Man. That's a good line! I've gotta remember that one. Private hot spring. Dang."

She looks half ready to lose herself in laughter again, but manages to just shake her head and grin.

"Friends, then? Yeah. Hell yeah! Your name's... Dyssia? Sick, I'll remember it. Haha! All right then, you said you wanna talk about the... water? Ok, we'll..."

All of a sudden and seemingly at random, the fight drains out of Violet all at once. She slides down into the water, past her neck, until she has to tilt her chin up to keep her mouth above water. She sighs as she floats there, and then switches from floating to slowly paddling around on her back, even though this really isn't the kinda place where people should be doing that.

"We're friends, right? You said that, right? You're not gonna take that back?" She heaves a long sigh even as she surges a full 7 meters on one kick of her powerful legs, splashing the rocks in a profoundly petulant manner, "Alright well I'm holdin' you to that."

She lifts herself up out of the water again to look at this very large, foreign snake-woman directly in the eyes. There's a fierceness in hers now that wasn't there before. It breaks again when she glances toward the exit and doesn't see a certain silhouette waiting for her.

"...What does it mean to be 'cool', d'you think? I'm, like, all my life that's all I've really wanted to be. You know? Not the strongest or the fastest or the smartest, not even the bravest. The coolest! That's why I've always thrown myself at every challenge that catches my eye. I don't care if it's not in my skill set or whatever, or if my opponents are more experienced or even what it is I'm doing. Racing, fighting, hot dog eating, ghost stories around a campfire... I'm down, right? And I'm gonna be cool as hell!"

She shakes her head. She is not, in fact, cool as hell. She is moping, Dyssia. The least cool thing anyone can do.

"I really envy Scar. She's so... uh, what's the word? Driven? Yeah. Like her whole thing is bein' number one, and she works real hard at it. She runs every day to keep in shape, she takes me on motorcycle rides to keep her cornering sharp, and it's just always, like, aim for the top right? And I've always figured that ain't me! If you're cool then you should be able to be cool no matter how things go down in the end, shouldn't you? But then, like, I kinda just run my mouth and then when I eat shit after I look like the biggest dork of all time. That ain't cool at all! I don't, like... know what I'm chasing, any more. You don't usually get that long in this game to make it all fit together and I'm just kinda spinnin' my wheels not goin' anywhere. What the hell is cool, anyway? What'm I after here, if it's not that? Like I know I just said I'd fix things with Scar, but like honestly? I dunno if I deserve a girl like her."

She laughs again, a little less pretty this time.

"Ah, well. It'll work out one way or the other. Maybe I want to be cool because I'm just that lame. That'd figure, right?"

Return to Thellamie

Hm, what a curious notion... the emotional appeal of allowing one's thoughts to dissolve. Is it meant to be peaceful? Relaxing? Fun? It feels like an unusual thing to want.

"What an unfortunate piece of luck, friend. Had any other Maid of the Aurora found you they would have been able to treat this wound on the spot. I alone among the order lack medical skills of any degree," Eclair shrugs her shoulders to adjust (Aadya?)'s weight upon them a little better, "I could, of course, attempt to punch the hole in your stomach off of you but even my rudimentary understanding of the healing process tells me that is unlikely to be helpful. You will simply have to grit your teeth and live with it until I can take you to a house of healing."

An argument could be made for some sort of meditative state? A focus, perhaps, from a vast range of possible thoughts down to a single line of observation or deliberation for a period of an hour or so. Is this possible to accomplish without the aid of a notebook? Simply by the presence of another person?

Certainly that would seem to be the right manner of catalyst, particularly if the individual is sufficiently stimulating and vibrant. But that would not seem to follow from the lamentation, as it implies the sort of person one is looking for is better described as a thought suppressant. That would be counterproductive, would it not?

"Hrm. A regalia of buttons, stolen from Civil Nuns. A possibility space to be avoided. Khaganate warriors in false Maid-Knights' clothes. This fits with the testimony of the little princess and the Khatun's sudden overt aggression. That would seem to confirm at least the likelihood that Timtam has a new patron. It is difficult to draw the line all the way to this campaign without the promise of some manner of alliance enabled by her participation, rather than she herself being the catalyst. She is talented, but not enough to set in motion a plot of this scope. No more than I myself would be."

What is the appeal, exactly, of an actual absence of thought? It is at least important to distinguish the notion from mere thoughtlessness, lest it become poisoned from the onset by negative association. Nevertheless, is this desirable to begin with? It sounds similar to a drug addiction. In this melted, buzzing state, could a person have any assurance that they are in control of their faculties? To say nothing of their body?

Perhaps it is pleasurable. This allowance can be made. But again it calls to mind a sedative or narcotic. At best a medication: the Long Sleep, but misapplied in the pursuit of recreation. If there is a case then it requires a detective to solve it. If there is a detective solving the case she needs must be thinking until the job is complete. Surely this logic is beyond all reproach.

"The problem facing us at the moment is that we lack firm evidence to come forward with. Even if our, erm, Paladin friend here is interested in offering testimony, her story at best complicates the narrative; it does little and less to overturn the presuppositions of the Church. I could, perhaps, hand myself over as an act of good faith? But that would seem to be counterproductive, wouldn't it? I would prefer to remain free and active on the board. Or off of it, as the case may be."

No, the notion is rejected. Refuted. Whatever the value of a quiet mind may be, it is nothing against the beauty of an active one. So what if it costs a few cuts here and there? A general lack of productive sleep? Difficulties with any nameable act of daily care? These are irrelevant concerns. A chorus of ideas, each with their own distinct colors... that is worth any amount of difficulty or pain. What, are a person's thoughts supposed to turn off during sex? That sounds horrid.

"What do you think, Mayzie? Given our current knowledge and needs, what line of inquiry would you pursue? Shall we hunt some of the hunters, or trace a neglected path for information I would have overlooked the first time? Maybe there is physical evidence we could find in Crevas or Vespergift. I would very much like to hear your thoughts before I leap down another idiot pathway. And while we're on that topic, why... did you follow me here? That was such a dangerous thing to do!"

Breathless Dead

"Ah jeez, how lame can I get?? Not only did I mess things up with Scarlet but now I'm hitting up a stranger's first hot springs visit and she goes and tells me that! Ahhhhhhhhh, this is so far away from cool it's not even funny!"

Spikes clutches her head in her hands and messes with her hair in an act of raw frustration. Amazingly, this technique is so practiced that despite the erratic motions of her fingers she only manages to mess up her hair in a 'cool' way - that is to say, the messy sort of 'yeah I woke up like this' mop that you very very definitely use a wet brush in the morning to make happen on purpose. But carefully, carefully! S'gotta look like an accident. But she's just done it here, possibly by actual accident.

She is trembling in her disgust with herself.

"I'm real sorry, lady. You've clearly been through it and here I am dragging you into my nonsense. I'll be fine, don't worry about it. Me 'n Scar go through spats like this all the time, I'll owe her dinner, we'll get past it. Though maybe I need a break. Feel like I'm losing sight of... argh, stop it, she doesn't need your backstory, man!"

Spikes takes a breath before going in for a friendly fistbump. She changes her mind and the gesture turns into an invitation for a high five before Dyssia can do anything about it, then a very timid handshake, before finally melting into a sad and sorry excuse for a thumbs up. She covers it up with a cheesy grin that does not hide the flush of her cheeks at all. She is not, uh, doing well at the moment. But it's not your problem Dyssie, don't worry about it~

"My name's, uh, well you can call me Violet. S'not my real name but what mom and dad thought was a cool thing to call their daughter's between me and them, so like, yeah. Anyway I know I'm butting in but you sound like you're really in the middle of it with something and, uh, yeah. Maybe I can help? Or I can just... get out of your way. If talking to the wall'd be more helpful and all."

Violet is already standing, half out of the water but turned in your direction with a hopeful look in her eyes. It could be a chance encounter with nobody, or you might have met a new friend. But it's not like Violet's the only person with an opinion on water, so you do you Dyssie.

*****

Kat grins a little fox grin and deftly lifts her own egg out of her bowl with her spoon. She blows on it once. And then twice. And then if you can believe this she blows on it a third time! Like phewwww, phewww, phewie! So amazing!!

She brings the spoon up to her lips, mouth opening wide to show off her darling foxy teeth, and pops the whole thing in her mouth in one go. Her attempt at a smug look is immediately thwarted when her eyes flutter shut in ecstasy. She has (of course!) already finished her vegetables and noodles! There's an order to this stuff and it just doesn't do to ignore it. With a final flourish, she picks up her bowl and drains the broth in a series of long but equally dainty gulps. If a gulp can in fact be dainty, which it can! It can if you believe, ok?

She sets down her finished meal, first finished as she is first cutie'd, and leans on one elbow against the bar to watch Dolce work his way through his own.

"Y'know Shana, I think--"

"Yes, I prefer this new one as well. He is quiet, which suits the temperament of my current position better than my current customer. You may leave, Katherine. It is not necessary for you to darken my doorstep any longer."

"Suits your," sputters Kat (ignoring the jab), "Shana you're thinking about killing him! You're imagining all the ways to explode him right now!"

Shana cocks her head to one side, possibly trying to peer a the pair of them from underneath her blindfold. She picks up her knife and very serenely wipes it clean before placing it on a hook behind her with a clean toss that she does not bother to turn around for. Or aim. She smiles. Which is to say her lips make the shape of a smile. It's maybe more accurate to say she doesn't frown.

"Hm. And if I am? What then, fox?"

"Shana, Shana, Shana we've been over this! If people come here to eat you can't just duel them unless they ask you to! You're never gonna get any repeat customers if you keep tryin'a slice 'em in half!"

"Ramen is its own reward, Katherine. It merely requires a sharp enough blade that I do not fall behind the demands of my craft. What use have I for patrons that cannot serve as my whetstone?"

"She's, uh, kidding buddy. Ok? Don't worry about it. That Shana, always tellin' jokes hahahaha... ha."

Kat's hand drops down to the sword at her hip. And this is perhaps the best proof that Shana cannot see anything through her bindings, because if the woman who had made this revengeoriffic ramen had put eyes to that kind of gesture she would surely have pounced over her own bar counter and started brawling. It would be madness and chaos and deep, edgy laughter. Just an endless string of teleporting behind someone with a quick 'heh' and a 'nothing personnel'. And Kat would counter, and there would be counter-counters, and maybe counter-counter-counters on top of that, to say nothing of the counter, which would of course still be there holding a mysterious space sheep's lunch across the whole thing.

But none of that happens at all. Shana does not even tense in response, but merely shrugs her shoulders and chuckles like a proud aunt.

"I was in fact quite famous for my sense of humor, once upon a time. But those days are behind me. If it is given to me to assist in a young woman's revenge then however much or little she deserves it I will of course lend my full assistance. I trust you are not satisfied with just this, Katherine? Be certain to carry out the thing to the end, lest the flames consume you instead, mmhmhmhm."

"Oh natch! Don't you worry about a thing, I've got him dancing in the palm of my hand! Isn't that right, buddy?"

Heh. Heh heh heh! Heh, even! You can pretend we're dueling as equals all you want, Dolce. But after this? After this we're going to the arcade! The arcade, Dolce! You're gonna get revenged so hard there won't be anything left of the spiky mess masquerading as a cloud who betrayed me so in front of the Supreme Ruler.

Not after... video games! Nyehehehehe~!

*****

Bella's heartbeat is strong and steady, even after several duels and a series of increasingly passionate dances where she gave herself wholly over to love. Her body is firm and solid to the point where it is once again possible to believe the myth of her invincibility. But she is also soft, especially where Redana rests her head.

Her fingers tease their way through her wife's hair, and deadly claws that can gouge quadronix plates here pick their way precisely through golden tangles without severing a single thread. Up, down, and through. Up, down, and through. Her whole being relaxes into this soothing gesture, for once without pretending to do it in the name of making her princess presentable, or for any other reason other than that she is with the woman that she loves, and it is a good thing to touch someone that special in this way.

Yue watches the whole thing with undisguised awe. She is constantly tapping Chen on the shoulder and pointing to the pair of them with little nods like, "look, look, look, look at this! Look at this! Isn't it the most precious and beautiful thing you've ever seen!?!?"

When Bella wraps her arms around Redana and leans in to breathe in her wife's scent, it sends Yue over the edge. Her hands cup her mouth to muffle (poorly) her squeaks and her goshies.

And it is a very long moment before anything else happens. And this is just fine, isn't it? There's no reason to rush at all.

"I had been planning on leaving this place as soon as I could. It's obvious to anyone with eyes that I don't belong here. Even if my ship's unfixable I figured fuck it, there's a space elevator not too far from here. And I know there's an old shipyard just a few planets down. If I held my breath I'd make it that far, and from there... it's not like it's my first time putting one together myself. I'm sure Dany would like another adventure. Just as long as it wasn't here."

She looks at her wife and smiles, fresh as dew and softer than sunrise. And then she lifts her arm and flashes her claws at Chen and Yue, mouth twisting into a horrible, toothy smile.

"But after meeting you two little cretins, I've changed my mind. I am going to stay right here. And I'm going to find myself a teacher and learn this qi-whatever-the-fuck for myself, and I'm not going to stop until I beat both of your asses senseless. You don't mind, do you Redana? It sounds kind of nice to me: having some place to come back to."

Breathless Dead

"Buddy, you're not even... ugh, whatever."

There was a time in Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits' life when she would have wasted a lot of air tryin' to yap this guy into submission. Just, lots and lots and lots (and lots!) of words to tell him that the world she lived in is beautiful and lovely and that she's sorry he can't see it. It's, like, a crime for a dude this quiet and fluffy to be basically made out of spikes, y'know?

That time has passed. She's a hero now, y'know? And a hero's job is to save the world from Clearly Evil Space Sheeps. Among other things obviously, please do not put in the paper that heroes only fight one thing or save one thing or sheep one... thing? Ok wait I'm lost. Let's start over!

Kat doesn't have a lot to say on the ride. She doesn't glower, naturally. That's a villainous act if ever there was one. Heroes try not to perform any acts synonymous with frowning (even when they're deep in thought) I've heard it said, so long as you're not quotin' me on this. But yeah. Which is to say no. Which is to say no, yeah. A Fluffybiscuits Move in this case would be to flash a dazzling smile, which in this moment is basically indistinguishable from a devious smirk.

The only way to save the world? Fox Crimes.

And so, this intrepid pair comes to a stop outside of a nearly empty building made out of nice wood that's maybe been out in the sun a little too long. The paint isn't as fresh as it would like, not if its job was exalting the glory of whatever was inside. The sign's a bit beat up too, come to think. But the door is slid all the way open.

The smells coming from inside are otherwordly. Rich, fatty, savory, salty aromas assault Dolce's nostrils with such intensity that the clouds of delicious steam almost physically lift him into the air as though they were a pie cooling on the windowsill. It takes days to develop something like this. Days of cooking, of not eating or serving but merely preparing. Discipline to rival an Azura craftsman. But this is not a holy place. No gods attend here. None would dare.

"Hey Shana, can I please get..."

"Katherine."

Across the room, beyond rows and rows of completely empty tables and on the other side of an equally empty bar, there stands a woman wearing an apron. And pants and a shirt! Obviously! Sheeeeeeeesh. She is nearly of a height with Bella, with features sharper than the knife she's using to cut radishes on the countertop.

"We have been over this. I will not allow you to use my shop as a staging ground for your or Cyanis' ridiculous schemes. I have been party to more than enough farcical delusions to last me a lifetime."

"It's, uh, pronounced 'foxgirl' actually."

"ENOUGH!"

The woman named Shana slams her hand on the counter and fixes Kat with a glare that could wilt flowers. This is all the more impressive considering her eyes are completely covered by a crimson blindfold. Her lips, currently pulled into a scowl, are painted an absolutely toxic shade of purple. Her hair is blacker than blindness and set in six perfect loops like wings spreading behind her head that have each been speared by a gold-and-ruby hair stick. She is royalty. Or an assassin. The assassin's Queen, maybe. Her every motion is martial perfection and she seems wholly out of place in this run down little shop. But goshies gollies gees, the smells in this place.

"I could use a little more respect, Shana. I'm your best customer, y'know?"

"Tch. Meaningless drivel: you are my only customer."

"Wha- how is that s'posed to undermine my position?! A-and look! Anyway I'm not here for schemin' so there. Y'see that guy? He has woe'd upon me! So I'm here to revenge him, see? Revenge him good!"

Shana's posture shifts in an instant from the threat of ultra-violence to absolute stillness. Unless you count her breathing, or the way she tilts her head like a cat that doesn't understand something. Or the smile spreading across her poisonous lips. Aside from all those things? Still as a portrait.

"Oho? Vengeance..... you say?"

"Yush!"

Shana lifts her knife to her forehead like a swordsman's prayer. She flips the blade and her blindfold is sliced clean in two. And I'd say something about waste, but I can't because holy wowies, her eyes. They are the most bizarre and violent things a body's ever set eyes on. Concentric circles of green, red, orange, and purple dance with nightmarish delight. Her lips part into a wide grin that flashes her perfect teeth, which feature canines that would be more at home on a vampire than anything else.

"Kehe.... kuhahaha! INTERESTING! INTERESTING, FLUFFYBISCUITS! THEN LET THE DANCE OF SHADOWS DESCEND UPON THIS SHATTERED STAGE ONCE MORE! HOWL, MY SWORD! MY FANGS OF HELL!"

Should I have warned you? I feel like I did. Shana is an edgelord. A former princess, in fact, who got herself out of the game some time ago but never got around to getting the game out of herself. Now that she's been activated, her knife work takes on a whole new quality to it. Where she had been rather blandly cutting radishes she now reveals this to have been a sort of forced calm. She doesn't slice the vegetables so much as attack them. One slash creates a whirlwind that does for all of her peppers and her onions. Spinach and more radish slices follow on the counterstroke, while a downward thrust manages to perfectly slice the most tender, perfectly cooked beef into beautiful cross sections that show off their marbling.

She tosses the blade into the air and whirls toward the counter with a pair of large earthenware bowls that she fills with steaming, nigh-crystal clear broth with such force that it's a wonder and a miracle nothing spills. It's true though! Everything's pristine. And as the knife lands it cleaves a pair of soft boiled eggs in half, and nobody watching can even be sure when those even got here.

She holds a pair of strainers, one in each hand crossed over the opposite shoulder. She shudders with laughter, and! Slash! Swish! Dunk! Hold! Pull! Flick! Set!

"Your doom tonight is... SHIO!" She pauses and ties a fresh wrap around her eyes, and suddenly she is still again. She bows with a gesture toward the bowls, "Please. Enjoy."

Kat wiggles her tails in anticipation, and carefully measures some broth to go with noodles and one of every vegetable and meat inside the wide, flat spoon she's holding. Thus does she display her Ultimate Technique.

But she doesn't eat. And she doesn't say anything. There are, she knows, two types of spiky people in the universe. And one solution for each. Which is this sheep? It's time to find out!

Well, Dolce? How does Fox Vengeance taste?

*****

As everyone is no doubt aware, water on Earth tends to be haunted. Well, maybe haunted isn't the right word. Cursed is a bit more on the nose. It's the demons, you see. Rivers are so clogged with them and their wicked curses that fish up and packed their bags for the sky a long time ago.

It's mostly not a problem? The government is dependable and good about pumping purified water into most everybody's houses, and ferrying it in nice, usable packages where the homes are a little bit too remote for the normal infrastructure to reach. Drinkable fluids and regular bath times are not at risk here, it's mostly just that old saying about always walking with your cart to the river, if you remember it.

But all the same, y'know? Curses build in potency where they roll downhill and pool. People don't forget a thing like that. So there's a goodly amount of caution among regular folk as regards large bodies of water, be it standing or running. It's why the Terraced Lake, beautiful as it is (and to be sure it DEFINITELY qualifies as The Big City) is kind've a Sticksburg compared to, say, Ys. Sure it's safe enough but who'd really wanna live there? Do you really want the reminder all the time if you've got options elsewhere?

I mean. Takes all kinds I guess. But the point is, it's a big deal when somebody with sufficient spiritual Oomph (to use the technical term) comes along and uncurses some water. But even when that's good and done, when the celebration is over habit tends to kick in, unless it's like, a really good well or something. Again, who wants the reminder? Most people don't enjoy fighting demons. Obvious enough when you say it, right?

And that's a whole lotta air to say that, especially in the dark of night, only two kinds've people frequent hot springs: the very very brave, and the very very foolish. And there's a lot I wish I could say about geothermal springs right now and solitude and the effects of mineral water on your skins or scales or whatever. I've got this whole routine about how the pipes need to be clean because they acrete sulfur and calcium and junk just from the slow little drip drip drip until there's enough to make a puck out of. Or how a mountaintop spring like this is a perfect place to hunt for falling fragments of the old suns. Even though those fall everywhere, but a place like this is--

"Excuse me?! I think maybe you should check our record again before you say something like that to me!"

"Oh what, like 62-58 is anything worth bragging about???"

"62 to-- darling, please get your head looked at. You're so delusional you're going to drown!"

"The water here's nowhere near deep enough for that to happen!"

"NOT THE... It! Is! A! Metaphor! You're drowning in your delusions, you little dunce!"

"Tch. Yeah sure, I'm the delusional one here. You wanna go again?"

"I'd love nothing better! But unfortunately"

"Come on let's go! Let's go right now!"

"Without getting dressed?!"

"Pffft, NOW you're embarrassed? I've already seen everything!"

Dyssia, you have walked into a storm. There are women here. Exactly one women: that is, two womans. Neither is wearing anything other than a soaked towel that's stuck to them through the miracles of mineral water. The first of them is very much a pretty girl's idea of a pretty girl, with a glittering tiara sitting atop her head even here in the bath and her hair stubbornly worn in twintails so long they dip into the waters even while she's standing.

Her, um, partner is lounging in the water with her arms pulled up and back behind her to rest on the rocks she's leaning against. She's a study in contrasts to the woman she's arguing with. Slender and cut where her opposite number is curvy and built. Short cropped, rather butch hair against that stunning, magical girl-esque femininity, its color a rich chocolatey brown against the first girl's softer, sandier look. Her face is slashed down the middle by a mess of soaked bangs worn overlong with a flash of super cool white lightning painted inside of it.

"That is NOT the point," says Twintails.

"Then what is?" Spikes shoots back.

"This is a bath! That is not! Are you suggesting it is appropriate to race in this?!?"

She plucks at her towel. Very carefully, so it does not betray her. Spikes throws her head back and laughs.

"Sure! I'd love to see that! And you'll love checking out my ass when I go shooting past you!"

"Ex, e-e-EXCUSE??" Twintails' face turns redder than a beet, "That isn't... what I... you'd be stuck behind me anyway so I wouldn't-- I mean no! What! If! Somebody! Sees! Us????"

"Izzat what's bothering you? Scar', nobody cares! Like, look! There's somebody here right now! She sees! Check it! You don't mind, right lady? Right? Like hell, who would?! Body like this!"

And she takes the opportunity to strike with the precision of a loosed arrow and snatch away her partner's towel (and dignity) to prove her point.

The slap that follows echoes on the water five times before it falls silent. The woman named 'Scar' (presumably that's short for something because her skin is frankly flawless) trembles with barely contained rage. Her mouth opens twice to say something, but no words will come. The water sprays everywhere as she suddenly turns and dashes at full speed for the showers and the locker rooms beyond. As she goes, her beautiful tiara falls from her head and she does not stop at all to collect it.

"Ugh, women." says the woman who remains, sinking back into the springs and blowing really cool and not at all frustrated bubbles.

She pokes her head back up almost immediately and takes in Dyssia properly for the first time.

"Uh. I... I screwed that up pretty bad. Didn't I?"

*****

"Chennnnnnnnnn! Oh my gosh hiiiiiiiiiiii!"

There are hugs, and there is delighted dancing, and there is cake with strawberries in it, and a bottle of sparkling cider that Yue fishes out of her seemingly bottomless bag, since it doesn't go at all with sake.

"Don't, um, don't get the wrong idea," she leans in close to her friend and whispers, "It's her accent, right? She's from space and all. So when she says 'Princess' she really means--"

"So."

Bella looks up from her cake, which she has been devouring with surprising speed given the degree to which she is observing the Laws of Decorum. Her eyes shine fiercely in the night, one cat looking at another for the first time in her life.

"You're one of them, then? These fabled superior duelists Yue was describing? I'll ask you then. How does she... no. How do I rate?"

Return to Thellamie

"Hm. As you wish."

This is not quite action faster thought. If it was, there would have been no time for a pithy one-liner. Say rather that this is action faster than consideration. Before calculation, before the chain of consequences can be unraveled or resolved. This is action before justification.

Or perhaps it is merely the consequence of a very intense dream. If that is the case, Timtam has nobody to blame but herself.

Step One: shift weight toward back foot, begin rightward roll off of Timtam. As body shifts, switch grip from sword to grab target by the collar. Grip tightly and lean into spin. Jerk upward as momentum peaks, grab hold with second hand and initiate full spin. Repeat for two rotations, plant foot. Torque hip and release opponent into air.

Step Two: follow with backflip. Extend left foot and snap kick at point of balance inversion. Heel connects with opponent's jaw, disorienting. Juggling. Regain eye contact with ground, plant feet. Light-assisted leap into air.

Step Three: Momentum of own body causing mid-air twirl. Pull arms toward chest to accelerate movement. Wheel around and, at pinnacle of spin, extend right leg and connect full-on with boot in maximum hip rotation kick.

The kick connects with a flash of blinding opal light not unlike a bolt of lightning (if one were to pass through this transit hall on its way to some distant cloudy sky). Thunder roars after it, furious and deafening. In fact, the arc of light follows Timtam as she sails helplessly through the station until it and she both crash into a wall and leave a comical hole where they pass. Eclair Espoir does not believe in codified combat, but the principles of the first strike the handmaiden of Heron had shown her that first night in the Chrysanthemum were simple enough to emulate. And inspiring enough to try.

In truth what she'd done was little more than simple brute force. Nothing but burning a significant portion of her Light into raw energy and kicking it out with the use of several heartblades. Nothing of mastery and nothing of technique. Timtam is skilled and well armored enough that the strike will be far from lethal. Impossible to calculate the effects beyond the here and now. But within that lense it has most certainly rendered her unconscious. The fight is finished.

Eclair lands heavily on her side, having committed so much herself to the strike that she had nothing left for the landing. She pushes up off the ground with both hands, but it is a struggle until she can pull her left leg under her and firmly plant her boot on solid ground. The right has gone almost completely numb. Consequences of channeling so much of her offense so directly through her body.

Action before consideration indeed. She tilts her head toward the ruined sword in her hand, its length twisted and warped beyond the point of use. She tosses it aside with a loud clatter and brushes her fingers across her thigh.

"I see. So that is why you channel it through the medium of a weapon."

Her forehead splits open, oozing blood around her left eye and down her cheek. She touches the fingers of her glove to it to check the flow: not enough to be worth the bother of attending to. She simply dips her head so that nothing drips on the floor as she turns away from the quarry she can no longer chase and turns her attention back to the people she came here to protect.

It's an easy sacrifice to make, in the end. She had not come here to win. Neither had she come here to return to the Manor. She came because somebody was in trouble. She came because nobody else was positioned to do anything about it. Now that she has discharged that duty it is time to collect the people here who need collecting, and to leave.

No more attempting to jump to the end of the game. She stoops, hiding the struggle as best she can, and throws the Idiot over her shoulder.

"If you need to be carried as well, this is the moment to admit it."

Very romantic, no?

[if it's necessary the Fight roll is an 11]

Return to Thellamie

I possess three advantages.

The first is the most obvious: this collapsing possibility space of 'myself', along with my very sudden and impossible arrival here have granted me the element of surprise. Whatever their purpose in gathering here I (and 'I') have them on the back foot.

The second is that I have walked this particular path before. That is to say I am aware (because I asked the last time) that phosphophyllite is a soft and deeply brittle gemstone, and that the specimens on display at Hero's Haven have been protected by a layer of diamond and clear amber. Knowing the trick of its construction I can tell at a glance which areas have needed repair and are resultantly composed of a greater quantity of amber to diamond and therefore which sections of the path offer the least friction to a set of wheels. That is to say, I know where to build speed on a board, and where to tech the rough patches. I am not finished flying yet.

Therefore, stomp landing and pump four times in succession. Kickflip, nosegrind, 180, adjust stance. Pump twice more and glide. Kickflip, adjust angle of hip, kick. Resultant missile targeted at false-maid nearest to Mayzie's landing spot. Board should collide with her head, attack velocity enough to take her feet out. Result is slight concussion and neutralized opponent, plus giving Mayzie something to at least hide behind if 'I' fail to defend her properly.

No orders are to be given to 'myself'. 'I' should be within sufficient alignment that the mental load would only slow me down. Target selection so blatant that even the most "Aestevali-pilled" among 'me' (am I using that term properly, Yuki Edogawa?) should find their place without the bother of being told where it is.

Left foot touch ground on amethyst patch. Allow bend in leg. Dig in sole of boot. Tense. Coil. Release! Full sprint for two seconds and leap horizontally, drawing metal sword while in transit. Land. Target: idiot's right shoulder, opposite side of body from wound. Use her as platform for greater height, resultant push knocking her to ground. Necessary unkindness, will explain after battle. Will likely not be listened to, but that is presently beyond the limits of my calculations.

The third advantage is that my sword is not sharp, as is proper. Lift high, torque hip, swing with descent. Timtam to raise own weapon in guard. Unshaped metal meeting a honed edge will result in immediate cracking and chipping, rendering her sidearm useless as a lethal force. Follow with flurry, vault over face high block, stomp toward ground with kick into ribs.

"No. Thou fool, not one cut more."

Resume stance, tense, immediate pounce. My disadvantage is that there are two people I must protect. I can only accomplish this by being the kind of threat that must be retreated from. Aim to crush shoulder, spin when dodged, knife hand strike to throat. Follow with rising knee, raise sword, thrust. Follow through with second step, turn on ball of foot and duck. Sweep legs, downward swing with blade. Intended target is Timtam's armor. By crushing its plates I intend to penetrate her Light seal and render continued combat unacceptably dangerous.

"Easy to win when I am blind, is it not? I have opened my eyes, Timtam."

[Fight with Daring is a 9. Eclair is eschewing the chance to inflict a Condition or pilfer physical evidence in this battle to seize a superior position and create an opportunity for her many selves to overwhelm the rest of the fight]

Breathless Dead

"It's ok. Redana, I'm fine. Look, she didn't even touch me! I'm fine! I'm fine, I'm fine damn it, I'm..."

But words have always been powerless against tears like that. Reality is often meaningless against fear like that. Against love like that. All Bella can really do is wrap her strong, healthy arms around her wife and hold her close until the wracking sobs burn down to quiet hiccups and undignified sniffles, and then until the sniffles melt into soft breathing under the moonlight, and then a while longer after that.

She is here. She is alive. She is only a little bit humiliated, and that's hardly anything new for her. Is it?

Yue is silent throughout it all. Part of the time she spends standing there, equal parts awkward and miserable. Then she gets it in her head to go and retrieve that sword that went flying all kersploosh into the water. Then she fusses with all of the various weapons she brought and arranges them in a nice, neat line. Then a circle again. Then a line. She glances over occasionally. Then a circle. She purses her lips and leaves the swords where they are so she can go fishing around in her bag.

She pulls out a stone jug and several little saucer shaped cups. And then she waits. The sound of the jar, 'foomp' unstoppering and restoppering cuts the ambience no fewer than four times each. Finally she pours and offers a cup of fragrant, clear liquid to each of her guests.

"Well gosh, I really screwed up there didn't I? That's so typical. I'm really sorry for spooking you."

Bella says nothing. With one arm still wrapped around Redana, she lifts her little cup and drains it in a single smooth motion. She tilts her head and licks her lips.

"This wine?"

"Uh. Kinda, yeah. Did you... want more?"

A nod, a pour, a sip, a sigh. Yue sits down on a rock and stares up at the moon.

"I'm really sorry. I sure went and put my foot in it, huh? Are you two ok?"

"I SAID I'M... nnnn. Yes. We are. Sorry, we've... it's... never mind. Just tell me what happened, please. I've never felt anything like that before in my life."

But Yue is quiet for a good while longer. All she does is sit quietly and stare at the moon, making occasional furtive glances toward Redana. It's only when Dany finally settles enough to try her own sake that she finally lets herself relax enough to open her mouth again. She brushes her hands through her hair in a nervous little display of, uh, nervousness I guess. She tries to smile, but it falters.

"I had it in my head that if you felt it, you'd just know. Man. The worst part of any anime is when somebody's gotta explain the magic system. I guess I needed Kat for this after all. She could have stood here and given commentary and then we wouldn't be in this mess. But here we are! In this mess. Right. Uh. Where to begin?"

"You can start by letting my know what a 'secret sword' is." says Bella in between sips of sake.

Yue pours her own, rather overflowing cup before sliding the jug over to the married couple. She stares at her reflection in the liquid and then drains the whole thing in one go, with only minor squeaking and sputtering in the aftermath. Her smile is a little lopsided, but it's there now.

"A Secret Sword is, hm. I guess you could call it the culmination of a swordperson's journey? Truths of the heart and blade and stuff, y'know? They're ultimate techniques, ways of cutting stuff that you wouldn't think could get cut unless you practice."

"And that's how you defeated me?"

"Heeheehee! You're really cute, I'm glad you're not mad. No, that's not how I beat you. Beating you's not that hard that it'd require a super move. Either of you, really. Or both! It's a bit like beating a little kid at a cart racer. Or, like, peeling a carrot I guess? There's no technique required because you pretty much can't fight back."

Bella snarls, but she is quiet for a moment. She's been in a lot of fights in her life, but they've all been horrible bloody knock down, drag out attrition fests. She's never danced with anyone, never understood why Artemis valued her so little until this exact moment. But pride isn't something you can just swallow up and forget inside of a single evening. She drains her cup and rallies.

"I know I'm stronger than you." she says.

"Oh yeah," Yue agrees with a smile, "Tons! You've been so much help around the house carrying all that stuff for me. Thanks!"

"I'm faster, too."

"Yeppers! What's this got to do with winning, though?"

"Everything!" snaps Bella, but in the moonlit blank stare that follows, she falters. "...Doesn't it?"

"Eh, a little. But you don't have any Qi, so like... oh. You probably have another word for it, huh? Or do you? Uh, lemme see... mana? Magical energy? Spiritual pressure? What else, what else? Oh, uh! Uh, uh, uh... aura! Right? That must ring a bell!"

"What the f-"

"Okokokokokokok ok ok ok ok nope right yup yuppy yuppers no that's a no that's ok we'll just move on! I dunno how to explain this though, especially to someone so... raw? Like, you just don't have any spirit at all. It's like you're from the void or somethin'. Lots of power, but it's all, like, external and graspy? I'm not even sure where it comes from, but whatever it is it makes you real weak in a fight.

"See, like, in a Princess Duel it'd be way normal to see them, like, parry an attack by cutting the idea of the attack, or pushing out a bit of Qi so that a deep cut turns into a little nick or just, well if you ever see Qiu fight you'll understand in a heartbeat. But when you guys attack it's just kinda, like, rawr~! Playfightin' with sticks, y'know? That you were even surprised I could cut a ship in half says a lot about your level of experience. Not that there's anything wrong with that! No shame at all in bein' a beginner, right? I'd be the last person on earth who'd have any room to criticize you on that point. But just, you seem like you want to be in a lot of fights. Like you've been in a ton of 'em. And to me that just seems really scary. You could get hurt."

More silence covers the shrine. Which is a little weird and more than a little bit sad, because with drink as nice as everybody's got (I assume anyway, I've never touched the stuff) this really should be a moment for a song or six. But Bella just looks at Yue through those shining golden eyes of hers like she's trying to stare a crack into her armor or something, or like she could defeat this whole nonsense explanation with, well not facts and logic, but a really mean gaze.

But more than that, she's thinking. She's been on eggshells since she got here. Everything she expected, everything she was so excited to see, was all ruins and remnants of a wonderful but ultimately failed civilization. She never expected to land and find what grew out of the last seeds, right? Never mind that those seeds might have sprouted into something that surpassed her understanding of the universe.

It's very tough to suddenly be told you're a kid again. It's even tougher when you don't have any way to refute that. Most people tend to dig in their heels in a moment like that.

"Well," Bella begins carefully, "You could give me a little credit for making it this far. I might not be able to fight a master like you, but--"

"Ha, well. See. That's the thing right? I keep trying to tell you, I'm pretty bad at this myself. All of my friends are better than I am. I'm all flash and no fundamentals and even then it's like... so I told you about my Secret Sword, right? Have you figured out its effect?"

"No. Is it some kind of invocation to the gods? That might make you stronger for a bit, if that's what you're getting at."

Yue laughs with a sad expression in her eyes. In this moment she's got the chance to recite the opinion of a recent friend on the matter of gods, but she chooses not to.

"It, uh, doesn't make me stronger. Or you weaker. The duel is not about who prays to what. The duel is not about cruelty, or about kindness. The duel does not prove right or wrong. The duel is about the duel. That's The Nature of the Duel. It just... makes those things be true, so that sillyheads with no idea what they're doing can have a pure fight without it hurting anybody. Or, like, my other big move, the Sword of Validation? All that does is make it so I can push beyond my physical limits in a fight, but only until I succeed in making my opponent feel loved. Isn't that so lame? Everything else is just stupid little parlor tricks, and the heart of my swordsmanship is just... different ways of saying I love you."

See, Bella and Redana? That's what you lost to. That's what terrified you. Just this scrawny, now slightly drunk and sniffly girl. If you're willing to believe her, there are entire hosts of duelists far more skilled than she is.

*****

"You're not very good at this, are you?"

Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits is standing in the woods. More specifically, she is standing in the woods looking up at a tree. More specifically still, she is standing in the woods looking up at a tree with a sheep dangling from a net. She's got an expression on her face that is half deeply annoyed and half wanting to die of laughter.

See, in terms of the amount of effort she put into this particular trap? Well it, it was meant to be the decoy trap, you see. The obvious net on the ground with a tiny handful of leaves scattered across it that's soooooo obvious the prey rolls their eyes and steps around it, only to fall into the REAL, deviously clever pit trap with a soft down mattress at the bottom so nobody gets hurt. The real trap, which is so perfectly concealed that even now an onlooker would have no idea how to spot it unless they already knew where it was. And possibly even then!

And the reason why it's so perfectly concealed still is because this silly floofleboofle WALKED RIGHT INTO THE DECOY!

"You big jerk." she sniffs with fox offense. Which is like mock offense, but foxy. Nyeh heh, and stuff.

Allow me to break down the allegations against Mr. Dolce thusly: One! He is a jerk. Two! He is big! QED! He is a big jerk! Furthermore (because I don't want to count higher than two and risk breaking Fox Law), he is accused of falling for a dumb and obvious trap on purpose. Because what other reason could he have? A body that gets stuck in a net this lazy can only believe he belongs in that net. Or else I guess he's so wrapped up in his own nonsense that he literally can't see his own two feet for the trouble.

Either way, my card sir. Again. It is still a leaf, I'm sorry. My card guy is out of town. Actually I don't have a card guy. My credentials are actually a different, bigger leaf. Please don't ask to see them. I've got a good thing going as a Cutie Lawyer, you understand.

"Not a single Duper. Not one! You didn't say any of the lines we rehearsed, it's like you don't want to be a shining stage girl with me at all! What the fluff, dude?"

Kat huffs and then leaps into the air, in that order. She draws the sword she wears on her belt with a smooth, very foxy sort of surety and slices the rope suspending Dolce to that fateful tree. This does nothing to free him from his Netty Doom but does everything to put him on the ground again, where he can watch Katherine land lightly on her toes and return her blade to its sheathe without consideration for pointing it at her prisoner. She uses her finger for that, which is far more devastating.

"I tried to be nice about this, y'know. But the kiddy gloves come off now. No more Ms. Nice Fox. I'm gonna revenge you so hard your head'll spin."

She grins her Wicked Fox Grin. She pulls out her Wicked Fox Phone. And she calls for a Wicker Fox Taxi, which turns out to be a very tired but sweet looking farmer in a beat up old kei truck. Which is the story of how you, Dolce, wound up in the bed of said truck riding down the winding hills toward the Big City, while a slender and devastatingly beautiful foxgirl watches you with a cute little smirk on her lips.

What devious, awful plans could she have in store?

"So," she chirps, "You like ramen?"

*****

"...Don't mention it."

It doesn't take long for Yin to leave, after that. She's got a... well calling it a 'home' doesn't feel right, but a house at least. Somewhere she can wash herself off, put on pajamas, and sleep off the day's work like any other girl. But that doesn't really matter, at least not right this second.

I want you to understand about the sunset, Dyssia.

It is orange, and it is pink, and it is soft, melty yellows that turn the sky into a strawberries and cream painting. It permeates the clouds and turns their puffy whiteness into a study in shading and texture that is sure to set your mind ablaze. And that's wonderful enough to be getting on with, but that's not all a sunset is around here.

There were ten suns, once. Bits of them still hang out in the sky, and I'm sure you bumped into a piece or seven on your way down here. But as the one living sun passes the remains of her sisters, she shares her light with them again. And that is when sunset really begins. The flashes of green, Dyssia, so pale and ethereal they scarcely feel like they belong to the world of the living. The light stretches on and forever into space like a winding ribbon with a smaller purple ribbon wrapped around it.

It shimmers and dances, this light does. Just like you did. Just like a snake does. It doesn't swallow the pinks and oranges and yellows and cream, but it does slash across them, and wind back around them like it's trying to wrap the whole first sunset in a giant hug. It is everywhere, this portal to the world where spirits must live, and then it is gone. And when it leaves it takes the pale oranges with it, and you are left with only a shining white orb in a sea of ink.

Did you know the sky could be black? I know what you're used to, I asked. The blindingly brilliant sky, the Endless Azure one or the wild blot painting that is the untamed rest of the universe not yet brought into enlightenment. But here it is not that. Here, at night, the sky is... black. Not so terrifyingly pitch that it robs you of your vision? The kindly moon is here to watch over you, after all.

There are brilliant little dots of white peaking out of the dark. They're swallowed up by wisps of dark cloud, only to be revealed again right where you left them when the breeze carried that misty veil away. And I know you're not stupid, Dyssia. Those are stars. You've been to many of them yourself. H*ck, you've been in one, I think I've heard.

But the thing is, they're really far away now. I guess a lot of them always were, but not like this. They're so small you could pluck them all out of the sky and not even have enough harvest for a pie, it feels like. But they're also so vast and amazing and deep that it... do you know what I'm saying, Dyssia? When you see a sky like this, you know. Y'know?

There was never anything else you could be but Dyssia. Just a girl, against the sea of stars. In this moment, they feel unconquerable.

...Hey. Hey Dyssia. You wanna check out a hot springs next? Or do you have another adventure in mind?

Return to Thellamie

For the sake of politeness I will not turn away. I will not, as they say, 'take my ball and go home'. You are within your rights, and more importantly within my rules to have shown me what you have. What can I rightfully complain about?

...In this first place I can note that you have immediately attacked the weak point in my declarations. Namely, that they are separate from my request. I cannot say that this motley 'me' is anything other than 'myself'. She is not a lie. She is recognizable. She may even in her way be something I 'need to see'. But her presence here constitute deep maliciousness on your part. It is easy to turn my nature against me. What is the secret of this 'me'? What has lead her to this point, and how has she turned so completely Aestivali, so... Timtam? What about her represents a proper direction for me to travel in? How is she more successful than I am? Why this affectation, why this movement?

'I' am very Timtam, in 'my' way. And I could dissect 'me' endlessly. That is a trap. What 'I' have to teach myself exists mainly in the aggregate. And that I think is the first shape of the trap. Which is why 'I' am here, in the first place my vision falls. My eyes may not be shut, but I may turn them where I will.

...And in turning, find 'myself' bound tightly in chains of maidly devotion. Am 'I' wearing anything beneath those scales? What a question. Of course not. 'My' body is part of the canvas that 'I' am attempting to paint for the Aurorae. An extraneous bit of clothing would only mar the perfection of 'my' efforts. But if the first 'Eclair Espoir' was a total enigma to me, or perhaps a negation of my identity, this one does not feel half so difficult for me to inhabit. 'I' have decided that 'I' may best serve the Dreamers by loving them with all of 'my' heart. 'I' must therefore live with total commitment for their vicarious experience. 'I' have bent all of 'my' tricks, skills, and priorities toward Their health and adoration. And 'I' am failing because 'I' have lost sight (in 'my' devotion to them no less) of 'my' roles as maid, as knight, and as detective.

A fractal pattern sliced down to a single point. Truly I do not think it matters which piece of myself I were to attempt to hold above the others, were I to try I would end up here. But for the moment I have passed the test. I will not linger longer on failure or speculation. My eyes refuse to shut, so I may turn them where I will.

...Am I allowed, however, to express frustration at how many of 'myself' so far seem to represent some manner of failure state? These are not paths that I can travel so much as dead ends that I must prune if I am to walk any manner of path at all. What are these 'me's? Mere reflections of Timtam. One sacrificed in the name of assimilation. One sacrificed in the name of denial. One sacrificed in the name of fruitless conflict, which is a lesson I have already extolled without your help. Any idiot can see plainly on her face that she has no focus at all on 'my' attentions. Continue to twist the knife, why not? All of 'my' focus is on defeating her, and all of hers is...

Is...

Hm. That look in her eye. I really must not allow myself to be to enthusiastic in my speculation. But even still. That is a look I was only just commenting on. That is... interesting. How hypothetical are these instances, I wonder? Are these simply fantasies, or must they necessarily draw from our essential cores? Our Radiance, I suppose. A dragon's mask? That is very interesting indeed. My eyes will not be compelled to shut, and I will turn them where I must.

...'I' am playing children's games. 'I' am dressed in a manner that suggests that 'I' do not choose 'my' own clothes. Not that I do either, by and large, but it is still. Different. And yet, hm. For the first time in all of this panoply, I think that 'I' am beautiful. I can smile at the way 'I' have tucked away 'my' notebook. I am endeared to the vision of 'myself' as 'I' turn and lift my knee and count as is proper. There is real power here, I think. Perhaps I once shone more brightly than I do now.

Perhaps I shine so brightly now that my childhood self would lift a hand to shield her eyes. Did I ever experience youth? Or was I merely young? To answer your supposition with some of my own, the answer is that so much has changed between then and now that I might as well be standing in the same spot. My eyes will not shut no matter anything, so I should turn them toward something else.

...Is this the negation of an earlier vision? No, not the negation. Say rather antithesis or antipode. But I had beheld a maid who was no knight, and now 'I' am a knight who is no maid. But 'I' am also once again a reflection of Timtam, her aesthetic preferences and priorities, her presentation, and even her struggle. There is room to wonder if her struggle matches mine more than either of us realize. And if it has taken a toll on me, as it obviously has on 'me', what has it done to her? Surely not enrich and empower her. Not if the woman that I knew had any truth to her at all.

I will admit that I fear conflict with the Civils. I fear that it is inevitable, and I fear that inevitability looks exactly like this: a string of victories that dull the blade and dim the lights, ending ultimately in defeat and a final guttering out. Who you fight matters even more than how: opponents you cannot temper your heart by hammering yourself against them might as well be poison. I have said and will say again that I am capable of fighting the entire world and winning. If I am allowed a single prayer, it is that this boast will not be tested. Regardless, my eyes remain clear. I shall turn them elsewhere.

...What I behold is an impossibility. What I behold is the truth. I have little and less to say about this. What I have asked of Mayzie is so grossly unfair that I should be turned into golden dust for the audacity of coming even this far. Kiss her? Wake her? Do not be absurd. If she should fall asleep I will always choose to let her rest. Forever if I must. Even if the choice should cost me everything. That is the way that I can love her. The way that does not require her to love me back. My eyes are open just for her sake. I wish that they never needed to turn away.

...But they must. I have seen something I was not meant to. And though I meant to continue this dance a while longer, to be patient and probing until I was satisfied that I had the information I required to move forward, I must regretfully step away. It is true that this vision could be anything, other than false. It could be the simple future, or a trap, or a possibility that has not and may not ever come to pass even if nothing is done to prevent it.

But I cannot believe that. I will tell you my conclusions, here and now. In the first: I am now completely certain, having witnessed this, that Ruthmoreness was more or less correct. No... that is not accurate. Timtam is not herself an anti-maid, but she has gathered others toward her under a new banner which stands in opposition to the Aurora.

There is another dragon seeking maids. One that I do not know.

In the second: I am equally certain that Timtam caught my eyes. That she is aware that I have witnessed this moment, for all that she has guarded against that exact possibility. Having said that I am confident she will respond. For this one moment and in this singular circumstance I am ahead of her movements. She must move, and she must try to take that idiot with her. If anyone is to save that foolish, inept assassin and passable mount then they must go now, while the sympathetic connection holds and it is possible to leap into the Outside and arrive precisely here.

In the third: that it must be me. Only I can arrive with due speed. Only I have the strength to turn this mottled assortment of shadow maids aside. If it came to final blows I know that I would lose today. I am aware of the ridiculousness of declaring, over and over and in so many fresh forms that I must separate myself from Timtam's motions and cease to fling myself after her if I am to catch her in the end. But this is different. Today I do not move with the intent to settle things. Today I move in defense of an innocent. There is no possible way that I can fail. There is no possible way anyone else can succeed.

And so I am leaving. I am going to save that nameless moron and I am going to bring her right back here. I will only be gone a moment; you need not stop the party on my behalf. And I am going to show Timtam my disgust. The blades that we wear on our hips must never be sharpened. That was our law. To have broken it is...

Unforgivable.

Breathless Dead

"...Tianic? Tianic?! Are you serious? Why the hell would Tianic--"

Yin cuts herself off to watch her other students, who have correctly concluded from their instructor's posture that the lesson for today is finished. And thank goodness! They're all tired and hungry, and nothing really feels better than the meal you get after a good workout like this. Right? That's right, isn't it? That's so right!

They break apart into smaller clusters, gossiping about this and that and really nothing at all as they wander away without a 'thank you' or a bow or any sign of gratitude or acknowledgment at all. The Once Upon a Princess stares darkly at her retreating backs and clears her throat.

"Baths."

This is not a request. And Yin does not shout. In fact she barely more than whispers the word. And nobody even pauses in their little conversations. It's kind of weird, right? This feeling? Does it surprise you how little they seem to respect you? Does it? Is this finally the moment where you tell me yes? Or do I have to keep repeating myself?

The groups cluster together again without coordinating. The paths they tread all converge into a single cluster again, and their steps all lead in a direction they hadn't been traveling before. You know, without asking, that they're on their way to wash off. That meal'll feel better after a good soak. Y'know? Maybe a teeny nap. Take a good long minute to really feel the fatigue in those muscles before indulging. They disappear over a hill and now it's just the pair of you.

Yin turns her back to you. She is beautiful and passionate, and ohhhhhh. Goodness goshies. She is strong. Her light it radiant and in this exact moment she is denying it to you, pulling you around to seek it out again. But whether you're scared or just turned out, whether your panic compels you to seek reassurance or your self confidence pushes you to slink away or your indignation just kinda makes you want to punch her for being like this, she turns around again all on her own before you can move.

She illuminates nothing. She is just a girl after all. And you can tell just from the look in her eyes how much effort it takes to make that be true. Princess Yin, it used to go. Princess Yin. Silent screams above the din.

If it was cool to smoke a cigarette, this is the moment she would do it. But Yin doesn't befoul her lips with anything, not even a lollipop. She just sighs, and you have to imagine the smoke for yourself.

"I know whose strings you're caught up in, for the record."

*****

Yue takes the sword and slings it carelessly across her back. What holds it there is a mystery I leave to you to ponder. She turns away and scrambles over to her bag, which she starts rooting around inside of.

"Hey now, these aren't toys. You've gotta be careful with a blade, y'know?"

Her smile is warm as she approaches Dany. She unspools a roll of clean linen and dips a mess of herbs into the waters of the shrine. Then she carefully smears the mixture across the cut on that perfect hand and wraps her bandages tight. It's not expert care by any means, it's too tight by half for one, but it's still a little surprising how instantly the whole thing starts to feel better once she's finished. Especially when she takes that hand and lifts it to her lips to kiss the spot where her blade bit in.

You've got amazing bodies that can heal from just about anything with nothing but a little sleep and some weird food. This is something different. I'm not so arrogant as to say it's better, but it's warm and soft and tastes nothing like being force fed nanite capsules for your own good. Moreover it's important to Yue even if it's not important to you. She gives Redana one more little squeeze and then pushes herself back up off of her knees to look at Bella, who is staring at the scene dumbfounded.

"Sorry for the wait. You ready?"

Yue steps back into her circle of weapons and sticks her toes under that heavy iron, studded club. This is called a 'kanebo', by the way. It's a weapon that's really best suited to demons and stuff that reminds you of them. She lifts her knee into the air and her foot kicks it up into the air so that it floats in a lazy arc where Bella can easily catch it. She offers a bow to her opponent once she's properly armed, and tries her best not to spoil the moment by letting the wince show on her face from where she stubbed her toe trying to be cool. Stupid sandals. This is why true adventurers wear boots.

There is tension in the air, under the moonlight. Hesitation. Doubt. Bella snarls, and her grip around the heavy club tightens so hard the metal seems to moan.

"If you think these little displays are gonna throw me off my game, I'm going to kill you. Don't fuck with me, little girl."

"Excuse you?" Yue says through a very obvious wince, "I would never! That's the rudest thing anyone's ever said to me, oh my gosh!"

I can't compare her to lightning, or a god, or even to a beautiful ghost who loved the sword. Yue is just Yue. When she comes at Bella, leaping through the air and drawing her sword in a single smooth motion, it is not faster than the eye can follow. It isn't even, now that you look a little closer, all that smooth. Her form is plainly ridiculous. But she's coming from above Bella and that's not something anyone was expecting, and it's all the catgirl can do to raise her weapon to block in time.

You'd expect her to throw Yue off easily. To swing that mighty arm of hers with such force that the gangly awkward girl pressing down on her would sail all the way to the moon. You'd expect her to use her free hand maybe to just punch Yue in the jaw or else ram those wicked claws through her ribs, since her snarling face seems so determined to do real hurt here. But the blow is heavier than she expected. She needs both hands to keep the club steady. Her legs are actually trembling under the pressure of that silly swing, and her foot claws need to dig into the stone, which starts to crack and...

"Whoops! Let's not go breaking this place too much, if we can help it."

Yue drops back and slides across the stone. She lifts her blade up into a battle stance and has barely set her form before Bella howls and pounces on her. I think even saying 'pounces' doesn't sell it right. It's not like she goes sailing through the air like Yue, right? It's more like, one second she's standing there with her back arched and her head turned toward the moon with a scream on her lips, and in the next she's on top of Yue, bringing that club down on her with the force of a meteor.

It doesn't land. There isn't even a struggle for dominance, no crossing blades and determined faces scowling or smirking at each other. Yue simply flicks her wrist and her sword smacks away the kanebo like it was a pool noodle. Do they have pool noodles where y'all're from? I hope so. The alternative is too sad to even contemplate.

Bella's eyes turn black they've gone so wide, before melting into golden pools with trembling slivers of a cat's slit inside of them. She tries again. And again. And again. Her strikes get faster and more powerful as she goes, until she's moving quickly enough to land one from the front and the back at basically the same time. Yue's form looks lazy in comparison; all she does is pivot a little bit on her feet so that her sword is facing the kanebo. And every time: thwack, twink, thwud!

It should be impossible. It is impossible. Bella hurls the club and it rips dull whooshes through the air toward Yue's head. She ducks out of the way, just barely, and almost trips on the rapier Redana had rejected earlier. The little sword jumps up after her and knocks the kanebo out of the air before it can impale a tree. Did she... do that on purpose? She didn't, right? She basically fell on her face! That was an accident! A fluke! A total dummy maneuver! Oh, sorry. Manoeuvre. I forgot where I was for a second.

But then she kips back up and she's like flowing water crashing into Bella. Her sword cuts into the invincible armor of XIII like it was a piece of wood. And then Yue is swinging up and around the hilt of her own weapon and her foot connects with the underside of Bella's chin and she goes

*****

Woah woah woah, buddy buddy buddy! Let's not strain those poor ropes so much ok? Goshies pal I didn't realize you were under so much stress! It must've been a very hard road to come this way after all. You might be a Clearly Evil Space Sheep but those ropes are Just For Fun and this isn't...

Here, look. See? Kat reaches behind your back with just one hand, just two fingers actually, and she pulls on the knot. Because it is a Magic Knot, which is to say a Hyra Knot, which is to say a knot about teasing, tricking, and misdirection it slips loose and the whole shibari look you'd had going on turns into a coil of loose rope around your ankles. If Kat was a little bit better at this a pair of doves would have escaped from the loop carrying a ribbon between them, but unfortunately dear Fluffybiscuits takes after her mom and not her mom's girlfriend.

...Oh jeez. I just had a terrible thought. So far everything's worked out on that front 'cause Hyra and Yue aren't married right. But, but, but what if Yue ever (gasps) wins? What if she proposes and it's the most romantic thing eeeeeevvveeeeerrrrrrrrrr? Kat's already flusterpated by her relationship with the woman who raised her, can she really survive if she's suddenly got two mommies? Can a world even be ready for such a huge paradigm shift?

Oh, buddy. Dang buddy. Wow. Mister Dolce Sir, is this the kind of stuff you've got goin' on under the sheepy hood? If it's half this heavy then no wonder you look like you've got a fever right now. Poor guy.

"Y'know, I was a bad girl once."

Kat's fluffers are at maximum floofle. This is a very dangerous thing for a foxgirl to be saying. Here of all places on the earth! Especially one whose best and some would say only defense is Good Girl. She blushes and hides between her first two tails while the second to shiver behind her. When she unfurls ahead she has a juice box, which she has already poked a straw inside of.

She slurps cool, strawberry goodness with an air of Totally Awesome Badass Fox. If such a thing is possible. Yeah that's right! All the cool girls sip their little juice boxes, look it up! Nerd!!

"I didn't get a treat after. Even though I asked for it! Really says a lot about society, doesn't it?"

People disobey all the time, Dolce. It tends to sort itself out before long, like with Princesses. I mean not that Princesses sort stuff out but... well I mean kinda sometimes? It's complicated business. I'm afraid if you want an itemized list we're gonna be here all year. You really... don't trust it? Us? Do you?

That's. That's really sad. That's close to the saddest thing I've ever seen, and I once saw a kitten not get delimshus leaf. You want a juice? I've got apple!

*****

flying ten meters into the air before Yue manages to crest over the top of her arc and slams her in the stomach again with another slash from her blade. Bella tumbles gracelessly through the air and splashes down into a reflecting pool, the ripples distorting the moon in a sort of echoed chuckle. Not a mean spirited one, just a... oh, she's up.

Water drips from her hair. It glistens on her skin, lit in the gleam of the true moon. Bella plants her feet and watches Yue's descent. Her nose twitches, following the scents of fruit and spice and a teeny bit of sweat. Her tail flicks in the moment she knows the attack is coming, right when the tension in the air shifts just imperceptibly so. She flashes out of the way and in the same instant rakes her claws through the space where the sword is supposed to be cutting her.

And hits only air.

"What the--"

"You're really fast, y'know that? I didn't know anybody could move like that! You'd be great if you weren't so bad, haha!"

Bella grits her teeth in frustration and kicks water in Yue's eyes. It's not very sporting, I know, but she's an assassin at the end of the day and she does have her pride. Yue lifts her sword to block the water and that's when the next strike comes. Now that it's come to claws, Bella only ever aims at the sword. If she can smash it that's enough to prove her superiority, right? It's different from a hunt, because it's a...

She didn't hit anything. Again! Her form was perfect. Her speed was faster than Yue's eyes could possibly follow. But the girl is perched atop her wrist, sword held high behind her with a very practiced, playful posture.

"You're also too honest by half. Like, you always look at where you're trying to be, aren't you? You never deviate. Never adjust. You are..."

The sword descends. Bella raises an arm to smack it aside but it cuts through her guard like nothing.

"Very."

Yue's voice has dropped an octave. The flash in her eyes looks almost dangerous.

"Easy."

Spin around and follow through, this cut catches Bella at the hip. She yowls and stumbles and you, Redana, are rooted to the spot where you stand. No amount of love or determination can move your body. Because that is only fair. Yue has a moon. You are also a moon. And both of you will only watch the duel until it finishes.

"To read."

An eight party flurry cut follows. Yue slashes through both of Bella's wrists, her knees, up her stomach to her chest where she jabs out both shoulders, and then down again across the eye of Hermes that really should have been able to see this all coming. She whirls around again, heaving water all over and

*****

Yin's back is turned to you again, Dyssia. It doesn't feel like it did the first time. There's no magnetism or powerful sense of loss to send you spinning and scrambling to get her to show you her face again. This is simply the posture of somebody who's embarrassed and doesn't know how to show it.

"So. She buttered you up with cookies, I'm guessing? That meddling little," you can tell she wants to say 'mouse' here. But she can't. She lost that fight a long time ago, "Yue. The so-called 'most valuable thing in the world.' Wolf-addled loser is more like it. God she makes me so mad."

Yin's hair tumbles like a curtain parting before a stage when she turns her head to look at you over her shoulder. She does not smile. The sun chooses this moment to set, and its red light washes over her in a way that seems to transform her into some kind of mythical creature. For a brief moment she is reborn. And then the light hits the shattered remnants of nine other suns and the whole of your world dances under a wild aurora.

This is a place where spirits and faeries and demons all clash for the right to be called the most beautiful under the moonlight. The woman watching you could be any of the three of them. She surely intends to win... but she steps back under her tree and steeps herself in shadows, instead. What a complicated woman.

"She's worse than stupid, she's incompetent. Even after all that practice she can barely even hold a sword, let alone beat someone with it. Do not even get me started on her dancing. I have never met a woman more resistant to improvement in my entire life. Useless. You know what she is? She's the first crack in the armor. You want to just ignore it, but then..."

She sighs. In the cooling air, her breathe escapes her lips in a thin stream of mist. Oh. Oh that's so cool. Pure cinema!

"...The beginner's class is on Fridays at midnight. If you're late I'll... just... try not to be late. You only get out what you put in."

*****

Bella is on her back. There is a blade pressed not quite against her throat, the flat of it pushing her chin up just so. Yue flashes a dorky little smile at her.

And the world returns to motion.

There is no blood. You are certain you saw, smelled, felt, tasted it. Yue sliced Bella with that same palm-ruining blade so many times and with such force that it broke the armor made from her own bones, even though it... didn't? Bella is whole and unharmed, except for the fact that she lost quite badly.

Are you wondering why?

"Do you understand yet?"

"Understand? I... what... what the fuck was that?"

Yue giggles, half delighted and half cringe. She pulls her sword away and flips it over her back again. This time, instead of sticking in place by strange magic it just tumbles past her and clatters to the ground. Her laugh turns all the way to cringe, and she coughs so hard she chokes.

"That. Ahem. That was the. Er. Y'know. The... my, uh. Secret Sword."

Oh nuts to it, I'll just tell you. The Wandering Tales of Yue the Sun Farmer! The Seventh Secret Sword: The Nature of the Duel.

And you, Bella and Redana, fell into its trap the instant you set foot into this shrine.