Chen!

"I'm new!" said Cyanis. She's already bounded onto the top of the car after it stopped and her head is upside-down in the window. She extends a hand awkwardly in through the window to shake one of your tied hands. "Cyanis! Two-tails! Just getting started!"

"Well, feel like getting started with an actual for-real Princess?" said Elkibrant, spinning the roller so he could look out the window at her. "This here's Chen. Absolute softie. I reckon you could have her wrapped around your tails in a matter of hours."

"Oh! Wow!" Cyanis said, half-clambering in through the window to get a better look at Chen. "An actual - already? A real - was this because of my fliers?" she looks at Elkibrant with amazement. "Those were my idea, by the way! J'el said that advertising was undignified and burrowery but I thought that maybe if I let people know I was going to grant wishes then I might get more business! And I was right!!" she somehow props herself up on her elbows on the base of the window while her legs and tails were still firmly settled on the roof of the car. She looks genuinely shocked and amazed that her idea had worked.

"Yeah - well word certainly got around," said Elkibrant. "You've got the monks hot on our heels behind this, so you want to do this deal quickly?"

Cyanis didn't seem to hear him, focusing in on Chen, and letting her hand trail down to toy with her scarf. "Are you really Princess Chen?" she said. "Aren't you the unstoppable mega-Princess who is going to save the world from Princess Qiu? How did these guys catch you?"

Rose!

In the darkness of night, Princess Yin is a radiant star brighter than any other. In the brightness of day she seems an exhausted echo. She runs her Shard harder than any other Princess for her needs are greater than any other Princess, and so too does she demand a level of perfection from herself that never was sustainable. When she comes walking the forest path, dress torn and scorched from clashing blades with a devil, she is not that goddess of that darkens the world to properly contrast her brilliance. Instead she is drab and downcast and burned-out, eyes bloodshot from staring too long at her own light.

Her woven-antlered stag too follows at the most gradual pace, head nodding and crystals chiming as it borders on exhaustion. Travel, too, has its prices and even a mythical beast like hers may tire. The main thing keeping the two of them awake is the music playing from Princess Yin's phone - one headphone in her own ear, one headphone in the ear of the stag. The surprisingly low-quality cabled things bleed music into the surrounding softness of the forest, at this distance no more than a tinny echo of some goth-rock opera.

As they near where you have hidden yourself, Princess Yin pauses to yawn, stretch and sniff the air. Even odds to if she winds up noticing you or not, but for now you have the drop on her.

Yue!

This ghost is not an echo of words, it's an echo of sensation. Some monks say that there are two souls; the higher, that dwells in the crown and deals with thought open to the sky, and the lower, which dwells in the stomach and deals with senses deep like the base of the mountain. It does not tell you a story, because stories are things of words and thought. It shares with you a memory, real and visceral and drawn from every nerve and sensation.

You feel the shift coming when you say you are pretty. A deep sense of uncertainty wells up within you; an eruption of butterflies and doubt and defense and denial. Hot blood flushes the cheeks like rain after a drought, the throat swallows air and imagines it to be a frog, the heart remembers to tell you how hard it is beating. The sunlight is bright and the view is familiar and yet not - the enormous steps of the Terraced Lake before the Red Dam had broken. Instead of the blue cascading water and constant waterfalls that seemed an eternal part of your home you see oceans of green and brown criss-crossed with lines. Rice-paddy fields fill the entire three-tiered crater, roads winding between them like serpents. You can hear, too, the flapping of the tall war-banners - ten thousand of them and all of them black and red, the colours of the Warlord. They rise above the valley and in their shadows stand figures of hard edges and long swords. An army to watch a people enslaved in the shadow of a puzzle-box fairy-tale castle, alight with plum blossoms whose purple flowers blow though the valley and into your hair.

You were young. You were unsure of everything but the blade at your side. This was a time when the lower soul ruled you and all that you thought of was trading for the rice that would fill your belly. But then she said that you were pretty. And then the wind picked up and the sun shined brightly and for a moment you felt yourself recognized for something other than the blade that made others call you the Demon Swordswoman. In this moment on this hilltop in the shadow of war you received a smile from someone who did not want or need you to draw your blade.

The sword still came to your hand in the end. You couldn't keep it away, it was as much a part of you as your fingernails and even if you cut it short it would grow back. But a fingernail did not need to be a weapon - a thing of tearing and clawing. It could be painted. It could be coloured. It could be brilliant. It could be sexual. Could not that apply to this sword that you had sculpted your hands to carry? If you had the skill to kill any opponent could you not instead use your blade to write a story? Could you not use it to express a heart that could never find its way through uncertain words?

Could you not teach others to do the same?

Could you not mAke A sUccessfUl bUsIness OUt Of It reAsOnAble rAtes ApplY $39.99 fOr the fIrst twO lessOns BARGAIN BARGAIN BARGAIN BARGAIN

The memory falls apart and the offensive redoubles. The dress comes at you harder, faster, fiercer - still not looking to hurt but determined to make you feel like you're getting your money's worth. Toxic hijacked messages blare at you from all directions, from the walls, from hidden speakers. LOOK at how out of shape you are YOU NEED THIS. LOOK at how pretty you can be - green shards of broken glassy crystal light up in the muck clinging to the dress giving it an eerie air - YOU WANT THIS. LOOK at how DANGEROUS the world can be DONT LET IT PUNCH YOU WHEN YOU CAN STAB IT FIRST. LEARN TO BEAT ANYONE WITH THIS WEIRD TRICK - SAMURAI HATE IT!

Hey! What? No! You can't just... what does any of that even, we were just getting to the good part! What is, why are, how dare you? How dare you, how dare you, how dare you do this to her? Don't you feel the slightest bit of shame just spewing all that... all that... nonsense at her all the time? Look what you're doing! And, a-and is it 39 or is it 99?! 39 or 99 what?!

Anger flashes in Yue's eyes like it hasn't in her entire life. Not even that time when Sis borrowed her best dress without asking and wound up ruining it by going firewalking on a dare. Not even that other time when she was at the market and the chicken-seller insisted he was only trading for butt pinches, or any other silly story she can call to mind. No, not even then! She's never had a reason to burn like this before, and she's never had anything to burn at that she wasn't too afraid of hurting to really let it show like this even if she had.

Kat's heart would break on the spot if she ever saw her Yue like this, but these ads, these buzzing little flies, all hot swordswomen in her area and galaxy lights with oddly satisfying skin masks, hey this blew up! Wanna become famous? Buy followers and subs at bogfellows dot com! Buzzing, droning, swallowing consuming, just what in the heck is a credit chit to begin with? It must have served a purpose to somebody, once upon a time, and maybe even it was considered beautiful. But there's so much of it here piled up so high it's toppling over in on itself and the only thing it's causing is pain. That'd get anybody's eyes to angry burn, just you see if it wouldn't.

"I can't!" she cries, "I won't! Just, just stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

Yue's fully free of the dance, now. So when she suddenly lunges and throws a wild diagonal slash at the floating dress, it's the first move in the entire set of duels she's picked for herself. Cross! Thrust! Slide and stab! Like this and like this, finishing like this, but now pivot and slash again! It isn't elegant or masterful, all she's doing is copying the muscle memories of somebody smarter and better and prettier than her. But in the end it doesn't matter, because it's her heart and her body that's choosing each move. This is her dance. She swats at the blade held opposite her again and again and again. Even though her arms are burning, again! Even though her lungs are screaming, again! Clack, clack, clatter clack, again, again, again! Again, until the sounds of the fight are loud enough that nobody can talk to her about the expiring warranty on her car and she can finally, finally, finally think straight!

What's a girl to do? If she were a magician then maybe she could purge this place with a spell or six and return to the beautiful and natural state it belonged in. Maybe that would fix everything. But she's not. She's a sun farmer and she couldn't tease so much as half a handmaiden's worth of spellcraft out of a whole bag of her best beads even if she were brave enough to try. If she were a brilliant swordswoman like her ghost friend was in life then maybe she could win so hard it'd strike the heart of this lower spirit and satisfy her all the way to her final well deserved resting place even through the muck and ick and if you sing or dance you lose (very hard for multistans!). But obviously if she were that she wouldn't have needed this girl's lessons in the first place.

Maybe she should have been a monk. Then at least she'd understand all of this upper lower higher, uh... l-lower silliness that keeps flashing around inside her head, and she might know the right words or poems to be able to speak her heart. It wouldn't fix the problem, not unless it would, but at least she'd have a language more potent than her own stupid words to convey all the love and hurt and want she's felt today. Or would she? Maybe being a monk would mean she wouldn't have felt any of those feelings, in which case that was good and useless, wasn't it? But in any case here she is, spinning and clacking away with her wooden sword with another ten minutes left in her, tops, and no plans at all for how to fix any of this.

But, it turns out? You should never ask for a miracle until you've asked nature for her advice. It's a total accident that she catches it at all, actually. Yue's ears are straining so much already just because every other part of her is that she can't help but push her hearing too, and that's the only reason she catches it.

Caw CAW! The throaty croak of a silken-feathered raven. Caw CAW! There's a chorus of them, somewhere up above her just hacking and hemming and singing their terribly ugly song maybe just for her. Or maybe because they just want to drown out all the drivel, too. But in either care, isn't it strange? Ravens are supposed to be kingly birds, all sorts of stories agree. What would they be doing in such a broken rotting place unless there was..?

She twists her head to find them and catches the flat of a sword on her ribs for her trouble. She yelps and topples over, but in the space it takes what's left of her puppet's string to pull her back up, she's spotted them. Caw CAW, friends! Hello! They're gathered up above her, by a patch of shaped stone that seems different from all the rest. She squints and strains and by luck more than anything catches the glint of a valve.

"Oh... thank you friends! Thank you so much! I can... j-j-just... hold on, ok? I can... fix this! I can! I know I can fix this! So please, give me... let... eep! EEP!"

Yue stumbles backwards on both heels and barely manages to avoid the latest strike that might have knocked her legs out from under her for good and all. Goodness, that'd almost be nice, wouldn't it? She's so tired. She's just... oh, but it doesn't matter. There's work to do, and she'll never be able to smile at another waterfall for as long as she lives if she doesn't do everything she can right now. Her scrawny, gangly legs tense up with the poise and purpose of a warrior. She lunges with everything she has, basic flat thrust. She cringes physically when she feels the tip hit fabric, and hears a tiny tear that's somehow still more terrible than all the chanting and dazzling laughter Princess Yin could throw at her.

"I'm sorry! But you wouldn't! I just! I'm sorry!"

It buys her just enough space to let her run away. She cries fresh tears as she goes, though she doesn't have the breath to spare for any of them. She runs as her entire body burns with shame under the palpable aura of disappointment. This ghost misjudged her. The sense of betrayal is so raw it almost makes her turn around again. But she doesn't. Her legs beat as fast as they know how across the hard stone floor and the slippery blooms that cover it, because she needs every bit of speed she can find to make that jump.

She climbs. The answer is above her, so she climbs. Her raven helpers croak encouragement and add a mad flutter-flap of wingbeats to guide her along. They take flight before she reaches them, swooping away with their mad song ringing in her ears to divebomb the pursuing ghost, to silence Hyra's furious howls, and to terrify Kat just for the fun of it. Yue winces and knows she's just cost herself a month of vixietreats to undo the damage she's just caused. But at least she's reached her chance. She's so sorry, flooferdoodle.

It'd be impossible to believe these pipes could still pump water if you didn't live your life at the Terraced Lake. Sometimes a bad storm could clog the dam, and the waterfalls that so defined her home almost seemed to shut off. But when it happened nobody ever panicked, because the stuck up water always found a way. It just needed a might of encouraging, sometimes. Yue very nearly drops her sword as she reaches for the first valve, descending into a torrent of panicked squeaks as she very double nearly drops the blessed thing all the way back down into those awful puddles so full of muck she's not even sure she'd want to fish it back out again, Hyra promises or no. It's a trickier thing than she'd expected to turn a rusted crank with her hands half full of sword.

"I'm not! Going! To let! You live like this! Anymore!"

Her muscles are fire now. Every inch of her including muscles she never knew existed is howling, shaking, and begging her to stop, but she squeezes and strains against the metal anyway. If you didn't want to work this hard, body, then you should have learned how to be a swords-wizard-monk by now!

"You! Deserve! To feel! Loved! Because! I!!"

There's a nasty creaking and crunching sound, and for a moment it seems like she's broken the valve off instead of turning it. But then, blessed squeaks. She pumps her arms for all they're worth, squeak squeak squeak! And... nothing. She slumps, defeated, and in her brilliant tactical defeated slumping notices the massive fortress of sludge and hair and total nastiness that's built up inside this pipe. Oh no. Oh gosh oh no oh gosh, please. Was this really not en-- eeeeuuuuuughaahck!

Such is the war cry of Yue. Just Yue, if you please. Her open hand digs in and, urp! Oh sweet sun in the sky, she's going to hurl. The smell! The texture! The... the... blorf!! And now her throat tastes like burning too, and you would not believe how not better that makes all of this. But she digs on. Her fist closes around a blob of, actually, she would really rather not know. She yanks it with every spare ounce of strength, even the bit she was saving to be able to lift chopsticks to her mouth for dinner tonight, and she gives zero thought or care to where the disgusting blob lands beneath her. There's more to dig, there's, urp, more to...

Bubble. Blurble. Gush and splort. Is that the sounds of..?

"Gack! Eeeerrrk! Phhhhbbbtt!"

The first water that hits her in the face is the most disgusting, foul smelling liquid mankind has ever beheld in all its time upon this rock. To be honest, probably on all the other rocks they've been on since, too. Yue squeaks, screams, and scrambles backwards to try and make it stop, but this is what she wanted, wasn't it? It follows her like an overexcited puppy, and enough of it winds up in her mouth that come to think of it the idea of dinner tonight is really not sounding like a thing that she wants to happen after all.

It might have been thirty seconds like this. Or thirty lifetimes, or another hour plus like her training. She doesn't know! All she knows is muck and muck and spray and... oh joy! More muck! There is nothing but muck unless you count regret, in which case there is muck and regret. Until finally, mercifully, the waters of her homeland win out and the torrent that soaks her down to the bones is as clear and crystal-sparkling as anything she's ever seen.

It's so strong it knocks her right off her feet. She screams as she falls, tumbling and somehow also flailing back down to the main platform beneath the statuary she'd climbed up to be here. But, y'know? It's a great view to watch the first great waterfall of remembrance this place has seen in at least a dozen lifetimes as it starts to do what water's best at. If she wasn't scared and screaming for her life she might even have found it in her to smile at the way it started to wash away the filth and offer just a hint of what this place was meant to be.

But then... but then? Well, what happened next?

[Yue is Defying Disaster and it doesn't really matter with what because she got a 10. This is what it looks like when she does something with style, ok?]

”Yin?” he hisses, maneuvering his horse between his charge and her pack, ever too chivalrous to expose her weakness. “Yin, you are exhausted. You need to call it here.” Her hair is sticking limply to her forehead and her eyes are struggling to remain focused and present. The shadow-ape pack had fought like demons, wrenching at her leg in the last pass and nearly unhorsing her; he’d had to flare his light and burn them with the sword’s edge. But the hunt isn’t over yet. Not while the alpha isn’t downed.

“What kind of Anahata would give up now?” Yin snaps back under her breath. “This is my kingdom, First.” Unspoken: and I know it better than you. I rode these shadowed hillsides while you, First, lay in your archaeotech tomb. He grips the bridle tighter.

“And your kingdom will be served by their Princess being pulled off her mount and beaten with stones until she needs to be carried back to the Pelican?” He can already feel her blood trickling down his luminous plate, holding her close with one hand while she burns the last scraps of her power to stay alive, their knights forming a flickering rearguard as he races for another coffin of ancient days. Even death can be bound and muzzled in the Radiant Lands, but First, here and now, does not want to race that rider. Again.

Yin is silent a moment, and then digs in her heels. Her mount goes bounding forward sure-footed into the dark. And First, furious, follows as fast as he can safely go, as she knew he would.

***

“Let me give you the advice your monks wouldn’t, Yin.” Rose from the River only agonized and let her heart tear at itself for a moment. Fire consumes itself, but living wood remains strong when the fire passes. “Yue the Shepherdess’s path doesn’t lead to you, nor yours to her.” Which you would know if you listened to the subtle stirrings of the Way instead of being so self-assured that the roar of your own passions was its voice. Then again, it would take a much wiser Princess to shut her ears to the chorus of praise and adulation all about. Righteousness is a heady cup.

The birds are still quiet. The stag’s horns gently chime as it shifts its weight. Rose from the River dares to offer one hand, palm up, her other holding her staff in a loose grip. “But if you can promise me you’re going home, I can make it easier for you. Because as you are right now?” Exhausted, singed, and alone, low on light and power, a note held too long. “You’d be lucky to overcome the shepherdess, let alone a Pilgrim of the Way who’s, well, standing in your way.” There it is. Implicit challenge. The kind of putting her foot down that First never could get away with.

Because Rose from the River is not going to let the first person she ever really tried to love make a fool of herself in front of others. Either Yin can do the smart thing for once, please, or Rose can send her home tossed over the stag’s saddle, because her duty is to get in Yin’s way and stop her from reaching Yue. But it doesn’t have to be humiliating, Yin. Just take Rose’s hand, and she’ll soothe you for your road home; she’ll wipe those bruises away and clear the clogged channels of your body and leave you as radiant as ever.

Even if seven to one says that Yin will start the fight again about how the highest service to the Way is service to the Anahata; even if Rose is leaving herself vulnerable to having her rescue thrown back in her face again; even if Yin tries to guilt or seduce or capture her into coming back and being her Rose in the Light. Rose from the River still has to try, no matter how exposed she feels, how open to injury, how full of regret that Yin couldn’t have been happy for her. She has her path to follow, and it demands nothing but the best from her, and she has to scramble to live up to it.

[Reputation: 3+4+2=9. Cyanis has heard that Chen is particularly gifted with the sword, plus one more from the MC side.]

Chen smiles at the pretty fox resting her head at an impossible angle in the car's window. It's a real smile at first, a little giggle when Cyanis shakes her bound hand and plays with her scarf, but it leaves her eyes when the fox asks if she's the "megaprincess" and instead there's a tiredness to her view. For a moment, she doesn't answer. She considers lying, telling Cyanis that she's not the real Chen and she led on the thieves. But she's still got the real Chen's sword under her bindings and it would only take a call to her parents to prove she was real, it would just be twice as embarrassing, and not in the good way.

When the fox starts to look a little uncomfortable, Chen breaks her silence. "Yes, I'm the real Chen. Princess of the Northern Wind. The future leader of the soon to be reunited Hot and Cold Alliances, twin shard heiress, master swordswoman, and..." here she brightens despite herself "aspiring painter." Chen is really liking including that as part of her intro now and it shows in her focus, attention, and attitude. That smile becomes a grin that she can't entirely hide.

Her attention renewed, Chen looks Cyanis through the car window. Actually looks at her. She's cute! Those teal eyes so eager, happily shouting "I'm new!" and that white hair turning to black, that looked really good. Chen blushed and squirmed trying to straighten herself up in the car. She was suddenly conscious of her own state still wearing the thin silks that Qiu had made for her, Rose's scarf binding hiding only enough to show off the skin and translucent silks.

"They didn't capture me" she says, more defensive than originally intended. And was that a pout? Surely not, Princesses never pout! "I got captured by a powerful ancient huntress who is definitely following this car and is probably setting up a sneaky ambush at this very moment just as soon as she finishes herding an entire flock of sheep! She was trying to help all the travelers in the road and these two, who have promised me that they are honorable gentlemen who had nothing to do with the wandering sheep, jumped on the opportunity to steal me away since I was already bound by this old-world seal." Chen helpfully wiggles her ankles to demonstrate Rose's very high-quality binding work.

Before Cyanis can do more than nod thoughtfully, Chen continues quickly, a thought suddenly occurring to her and making her eyes light up mischievously. "Oh, and I guess they did see your flyers because they said right away that they were going to trade me to a fox, so they already knew about you. And this really must be my lucky day because an up and coming fox is just who I need to see too! You see, I'm really, reaaaally hoping to find someone before any of the other Princesses in the area pull it off and maaaaybe you could help? Cyanis Two-Tails, right? Maybe you could grant a Princess's simple little wish?"

Chen!

"She's adorable!" Cyanis declared, yanking Chen's scarf up and pulling the ends tight so that it gagged her. "I love her! Almost enough to overlook the fact that she comes packaged with some sort of ancient world monster hot on the chase. W-O-W guys, you were just gonna dump that live grenade on me and split town?" Her eyes widened and her lip trembled. "Betrayed, on my very first Princess purchase? You were just gonna take advantage of my seiso heart and throw me to the robot wolves where I'd be captured and bound and made the plaything of the entire pack?"

"Woah, no, Cyanis we were totally going to tell you -" said Elkibrant, but was immediately cut off because Cyanis wasn't even close to done yet.

"And then, after months and months of the cruelest torture, and no less than five failed escape attempts, each of which is punished more severely and extensively than the last, pushed to my absolute physical and mental limits and in the end when I'm of no more use, you'd see me dumped shivering and gasping on the edge of the woods with nothing but my tails!?"

Only the faint thump of fluff hitting metal indicated that her tails were wagging. Her face maintained its betrayed and distraught look.

"So, uh..." said Elkibrant. "I swear, I wasn't going to - I mean, I had a technomancer distract her -"

"Two months good fortune," said Cyanis. "Final offer."

"Two months!? This is one of the most valuable Princesses in the world!"

"Oh, I'd be delighted to stay and haggle," said Cyanis, thump-thumping on the roof picking up tempo. "You know. If you don't think that big ol' monster you've just set on me isn't the kind of problem you need a head start getting away from."

"This is daylight robbery!"

"Chen, snookums, didn't you say there were other Princesses in the area too? Mumble once for yes."

With much ferocious grumbling, the fox contract is signed and you, Princess Chen, are dumped out onto the soft grass in front of Cyanis' crumbling temple, left in the spreading dust of the departing car.

"So anyway," said Cyanis happily, putting her feet up on top of you. "I hear that you're the kind of Princess who enjoys being captured, dressed as a maid, and being ordered around. What's all that about? Hard work is miserable! Anyway, I'll help you with your wish, you just need to promise to help clean out an itty-bitty amount of dirt from inside my awesome new temple. Sound fair?"

Rose!

"And this is what we are to each other now, then, Rose?" said Yin, as much to herself as to you. "Princess and monk. Condemned by fate. Severed so utterly that we might only know each other with harsh words and with battle."

She draws her sword with the determination of an executioner - or the condemned.

"Well, then, Rose," she said with weary voice and steely eyes. No bright magic or wicked wolves or choir of horrors plays court to her this time, she faces you as powerless as any other maiden. "Step from my path or force me from it. You have held my life in your hands too many times for me to fear you - and you know too much of my capabilities for you not to fear me. Do you think you could hold to your ideals were you my prisoner? Of course not. You fled the Radiant Lands because it was only a matter of time before you realized that love matters more than freedom. If you do not flee again now I will see to it that your heart catches up to you at last."

Yue!

Water is rot. Water is ruin. Water is pollution. Water is danger. These are the lessons children are taught, and taught for good reason, but they lay the blame at the wrong feet.

Water is purification. Water is rebirth. Water is motion.

It is because of water's purity that it accepted every evil cast into it. It is because of water's selflessness it flowed uncomplaining as it became choked with polymers and tin and glass. Water bore all the weight of the world's evils uncomplaining until it was so full of choking toxins it clung to itself and forgot how to move. Forgot that it was water at all. Forgot that it was beautiful. Forgot that it was loved.

But, like a princess, all it ever needed was a reminder.

When water remembers how to move, oh how does it move. It shifts slowly and then gains speed, faster and faster, roaring and racing and once again carrying the thick of evil away to the deep places below the earth from whence it came. And, like a princess, it offers no extended warranty plan for this service and instead just shines as a light to guide weary hearts.

Throughout the tombs the waterfalls erupt. Steady drips become rushing flows. Fetid pools become gleaming lakes. Ugly muck-creatures in the depths are washed away to become glittering carp, goggling in fishy amazement at each other's forest-fire colours so long concealed.

And in a single beam of sunlight stands one more similarly purified creature. One shouldering colours of the sea in a world that has forgotten that the sea could have such colours.

Scales drip in blue silver and sea gold, so smooth and sleek and cutting, set with faint lines of coral-gems - deep magenta, glacier blue, squid black. The armour trails down in elegant and asymmetric angles, rising bands of metal wrapping around the right shoulder in bands of woven adamant. It is unbalanced in the most graceful way, the precisely placed protection of a swordswoman who knows exactly where a blade might fall and eschewed protection on places where it might not. It is armour that does not make sense until one is in a duelling pose - and there it seems unbreakable. At its base, empty guards on the shin and knee taper away to shoes of living, shifting sand - at times becoming as hard and clear and brilliant as slippers as glass, at others as flowing and mobile and comfortable to walk upon as the loose-packed sand upon a beach.

Above the armour, wrapped comfortably around its shoulders, is a kimono of sunset daisy yellow contrasted against patterns of twining black branches heavy with blossoms. In stillness it is subtle, gentle, as serene as a flower in the garden - but when it moves the edges flash with orange and magenta and it seems as though the sun dances back and forth upon the horizon, colours that would be chaos if not set against the eternal branches of that blossoming tree.

The armour-dress has no wearer - the princess who wore this died happily and departed oh so long ago. What animates it now is not evil or wickedness or corruption or craving. It's joy - memories of joy worn so deep into steel and fabric, memories of love found while dancing and dueling, passion that burned so bright for so long how could it do anything other than leap to life with drawn sword upon the arrival of a maiden of pure heart? It raises its sword in ready salute - a gesture performed so often it's as much a part of the dress as the shoes or gems - and offers its blade and hand for one more dance.

Please take what I have to give for this joy is too much for me alone.

It would be a masterful feat indeed if Rose from the River could bat aside the sword-blows of Yin, Anahata of the Radiant Lands, with nothing but her staff. And perhaps she very well could! She is perilous, after all, with her roots sunk deep into the mysteries of the Burrows. Perhaps her role would then be to prove the limits of hubris, or to battle Yin until the Way revealed some better path, interceding through signs and lesser deities, pilgrims or stray pets.

But Rose from the River will not do this. Ask her why! She will give you possibilities: that she is too cautious to risk falling into those omened arms, or merely too humble to insult Yin so, or it is simply that she takes this fight seriously, moreso than any other she has fought since she looked upon the Pyre on that gentle slope, hidden among the twilight shadows. But she will not tell you the truth: that she does not have the strength to shame the woman who loved her, not in that manner, by refusing to meet her as an equal. So with a flick of her wrist, the Conciliatory Ice-Star Blade gleams in the low light. Skillful Thorn Pilgrim! How she sweeps her sword into guard, held high, both hands on the long hilt! She is like the storm that gathers its clouds in great piles, when the air is pungent with the promise of rain.

“The falling leaf does not choose its path,” Rose says. The two step closer, each pace measured and careful. “It is merely a part of grander movements. The wind tosses it up to lie in the place it was always meant to be.”

One! Two!

Blinding sparks. The two wheel back, blades moving in elegant arcs as they are brought to guard again, the afterimage of their meeting still seared onto the air, slow to fade. When Rose moves, it is like the sway of willow-branches over the water, mesmerizing in its grace. When Yin moves, it is with sullen determination, each move as if preordained before her birth.

“When the songbird—“

“Enough!”

One! Two!

The air sears!

How can Yin not see this as an affectation? As a thing unbefitting her dream? He was the shape of her desire, and she did not allow herself to question the miracle. And if she was weak in this, what of it? Who could be strong in the face of what First of the Radiants offered her? And now her waking dream mocks her with proverbs and sayings, as if she does not have a wealth of them stored up in her heart, as if these are not the tributes offered by her own monks.

And yet how else is Rose to reach that heart, girded and buttressed about with shining righteousness? Is it not said:
A thing strange to behold!
Revealed, impossible to see;
hidden, laid clear for a child.

“Speak like you used to,” Yin challenges. “Don’t hide behind maxims in the hope that I will not find you out and bring you back to yourself.”

“I was a mirror,” Rose from the River says, her tone light, her eyes darker. “And now I grow into something new. Mind my shards.”

One! Two!

Three!

They stand there, blades locked, eyes intent on each other. The stag looks up from its snack of clover at the two women, their breathing deliberately calm and measured, their arms straining to hold each other in place, their eyes daring each other to look away in shame first.

“You know,” Rose from the River says with a dangerously careless smile, a dagger slipped under Yin’s guard, a flash of the thing she is underneath masks and vows. “If you give me too much trouble, Yin, maybe I’ll send you and Princess Chen back to Qiu together. She’s not too bad a view for that ride.”

Impish Thorn Pilgrim! Whose resolve would not buckle, imagining Chen’s lovely eyes and rosy cheeks, the sway of the stag’s hindquarters beneath them, the elegant gift-ribbons woven about the two! And who would not be stirred into jealous passion, wondering why that privileged, pampered princess would be invoked! A moment’s hesitation would be enough to tip the scales.

[Rose from the River Fights! With an 8, so thank goodness this wasn’t a Figuring Out. Rose from the River gains a String on Yin and inflicts a Condition; Yin may return the favor as she pleases.]

"Mmmph!" Chen says once, confirming to Cyanis that there are plenty of other princesses in the area and making her only contribution to the negotiations. She was listening of course, Cyanis was underselling her and could obviously tell that the two thieves were nervous and ready to buckle under pressure. Shrewd. But the grass was also comfy, and so was her scarf and it was easy to just lie back to the sound of those two excitedly wagging black and white tails and imagine them brushing over her face and maybe daintily over the back of her neck with the lightest little touch, oh wouldn't that just feel amazing?

She is brought back to a more pressing reality quite literally with Cyanis using her as a foot rest and she lets out an indigant eep that is instantly cut short by the brightest blush suffusing her whole body, which has also gone stiff. How did she know?! She had only done that one time with princess Ishan when she'd first been out training and had stumbled upon Ishan's pirate fleet. Why Ishan had a maid costume in her ship they had never discussed, but both of them had considered it a fair deal to have Chen clean out Ishan's entire personal cabin dressed in it in exchange for secrecy about the location and existence of the fleet!

Okay, well, there was also that one other time when she had briefly captured Ishan herself a year later just before Qiu's big move and Chen still had the maid costume and it just seemed like a nice thing to do for her captive to make her comfortable, plus Chen's room in Ysel had been so dusty since she didn't visit that often. But it had only been two times!

Well, unless you counted the time that Chen had disguised herself as a (quickly captured) handmaiden to infiltrate Yin's kingdom for information before escaping, but that one hardly counted because maid costumes were not see through and they had to have a little apron to really count, thank you very much. And anyway, that was only three times, so how could Cyanis have possibly known about this?!

Chen squirmed uncomfortably and her blush did not go away as she looked at Cyanis. She was tied and gagged, she could just moan and protest but she'd never been very good at lying that way. Her talent for deceit was in the exasperated groan and the "get off my back" eye roll that made all activities equally suspicious and unsuspicious at the same time. But directly lying when confronted, that was hard and Chen had a million tells for her discomfort. So, presently, she gives Cyanis just the smallest nod amidst her blush that yes that sounds fair and then immediately looks away and tries to pretend that if she can't see that beautiful little fox, she must not exist at all!

The water is crisp and cool. It feels like it's draining all the heat from her body, but after all of that running and climbing and burning and sweating (yuck!) she can't say that she minds it all that much. The water is gentle. It was soft and thoughtful enough to catch her, not to mention wash the grime and corruption from her body. If there was anything left of her dress it's gone now, as gone as gone gets. But that's ok, isn't it? You don't need to wear anything at bath time.

Yue's baths are normally a lot warmer than this. It generally has to be so you know it's safe, y'know? But it's still her favorite thing on days when she's been working too hard, and this one might be her favorite thing of all. The current tugs her hair and lifts her body to the surface, where the air she breathes tastes a little sweeter each time she tries it, while curious and freshly glimmering carp zip up to nibble ticklishly at her legs and back.

And actually... can you keep a secret? When she said all that stuff about not being out of shape? That... that was a lie. So sorry to mislead you! It's not, y'know, a vanity thing, she just... it just felt like, if she admitted it she'd have never been able to move that much. A-and it's not like she's a complete sack of potatoes! R-right? She just... there's no definition on her scrawny little muscles stretched out on that gangly "fairy" body of hers because she's always been content to let her life be her exercise routine. And why shouldn't she? Her lifestyle's plenty active, it just doesn't involve a bunch of crazy-people adventure stuff like hours of swordfighting and climbing and running around while screaming and... well, yeah.

She thought she was tired before, but, aish! Hoo, gosh. Goshies. It's nothing compared to now! Before it was burning and dramatic, but the secret of wearing down like that is that it kinda sorta pushes you to keep going even as it punishes you for trying. One more step, one more swing, one more spin, y'know? But here in the water, with her aching... everything being teased and soothed and cooled, the only thing that's left is nothing. Yue is nothing. Yue is one with the pool, and if the pool is content to float here she is not about to tell it otherwise. But between the two? This is a much better sort of tired. It's emptier, but it's also... fuller? Like before, she'd had to struggle, but now she's earned the rest.

When the dress reaches its sleeve down to pull her up, she almost groans. Almost. She doesn't, because that's air she needs for gasping instead. Yue can't exactly claim to be a worldly traveler, y'know. She's seen a pretty thing or six, because the world's full of 'em, but this is the farthest she's ever gone from home and even then if she went outside and climbed a tall enough tree she'd bet she could still find her house from here. But she's seen Princess Yin dazzling like a star against the night sky, and until this moment it had been impossible for her to imagine anything or anybody ever being more beautiful than that.

And now? Now she's smiling, because it's the only thing that makes sense to do. She lets herself be lifted back onto her exhausted feet and she lifts her sword to dip into her own bow in reply.

"I know, I know. Just one more, right? A promise is a promise. Just... just one sec, ok? I need to... to... a-AASHYII!"

Yue blinks, and then she blushes. Then she shivers, just for good measure. Aish, that'll wake a body up! But that's... sneezing isn't what she meant, hold up! Still clutching her sword in one hand, she gathers up what feels like 10 kilograms of sopping wet hair and twists it all together like she's wringing out a mop. Pitter patter splitter splat splat splat goes the water on the floor, and then drip drip drip THWACK! down her body when she tosses it free again and it slaps itself back down all across her back and with several sodden locks criss-crossing down her chest. That'll... whew! That'll wake a body up too!

"Ok! Sorry, sorry, yes, I'm ready now! Would you like to dance? It's really the least that I can do."

She settles into a dainty stance that's half what she's been taught and half her own imagination, and twirls her wooden blade to call for her final duel to begin. And when it does, it's like magic. It starts like this, then moves like this, then finishes like nothing, because you're crazy if you think she's about to give this up right now!

Even though her body feels as heavy as the stones that make this tomb, she floats lighter than the air around her. If you watched her, you wouldn't call her form perfect. You might not even call it good. Her swings are enormous and sloppy, and here and there she spins not to dodge out of the way of anything but just to see the way the light glimmers off the armor's scales as it moves to follow her. Her bright and earnest giggles ring off the walls and cover up the clash of the two swords as they thrust and counterthrust and seek something so much greater than a victory.

The shape of her moves resemble everything that she's been taught, but the order and the weight are things she chooses for herself. Her she blocks, and here she rolls, here she goes high, and here she ducks low, here jumps into the air and even manages a half turn before she brings her sword and CLACK! They meet in perfect symmetry. She's not a warrior, y'know? She never has been. But until just last night she never thought she'd ever see a Princess with her own eyes, and once she had she never thought she'd see anything more beautiful. And now she has, and as she lifts her sword high and brings it to the ground in a great vertical cleave that lifts her onto tiptoes, she's suddenly gotta admit that maybe that could change, too.

For somebody who's never had to speak the language of swords before, Yue is a dab hand at it. Like this means 'I love the way you move', and like this means 'I love the way you make me feel', and like this this this means 'Please, teach me more, give me more, I don't want this to end!' The duel is not for dominance, and it's for position or even for fun. This duel is about singing a song with a voice that's long passed from the world. Just one more time, as loudly and clearly as she can. So that the water will remember it. So that the little fishes and the ravens will remember it again. So that the rocks and moss and the beautiful-hearted foxes who dwell here will remember how it goes. Forever and ever and forever again, the way it was meant to be. Because somebody so bright and warm and wonderful should never be forgotten. And she should never be remembered as anything less than what she really was.

But everything has to come to an end eventually. Yue's sore and tired legs fall behind the beating of her heart, and with a gasp and a squeaky little EEK she winds up tumbling to the floor when she asks herself to take one step too many. No, Yue. Now is the time for resting, after all! She falls backwards onto her butt, and with her arms splayed out behind her to keep her back lifted up off the ground there's nothing for her to hold up in defense for the blow that must surely be about to fall! She winces and squeezes her eyes shut, afraid to look in spite of everything...

But then she opens them again. And she sees the dress floating there in front of her. It's the most beautiful thing in the world, she just knows it is. A love song to the water and to the body she had when she was alive, to the dance of blades and the beauty that's impossible to speak into the world any other way. A miracle in golden blues and dappled yellows and frothing, foamy whites. A vision so perfect she'd bet an entire year's worth of sunshine that it'd trade favorably against any Princess' shards.

She feels the tip of the glittering blade touch her chin so gently and warmly that it might as well be a fingertip. Yue feels her entire face turn pinker than the dawn as it lifts her head up, up, up. But in the end, she smiles. And then she sticks out her tongue like some sort of sillyhead and ruins everything.

"Guess you win!" she chirps, "You're amazing. Did you know how pretty you are? Someone really oughta tell you, heee. I'm so, so glad I got to meet you..."

[Emotional Support with Spirit: 6+4+2=12. as her option, Yue will select insight from the GM]

Chen!

"Awesome!" said Cyanis. "You won't regret this! But that said all deals are final and magically enforced."

She tries to snap her fingers, though it sounds a bit off (close analysis would reveal she's just making the gesture and clicking her tongue because she never could figure out how it worked). What she does not do is magically transform your clothes into maid dresses - instead, she creates from air a big, beautiful flowing maid dress made entirely out of frills and ruffles - and cutting short just above the knee - hanging from a mannequin standing above you. Then she loosens your ropes and continues to stare with the utterly innocent smile of someone to whom things like 'looking away to give privacy while changing outfits' simply does not occur.

Rose!

"Do you know where wild growth gets you, Rose?" said Princess Yin. "It gets you forests of groaning, ancient trees filled with wolves who menace the innocent. There is no virtue in growth."

You have driven her back, back, back. To the edge of exhaustion and the edge of tears. There seems so much vulnerability in her then - such gentle weakness, unprepared for a conflict like this. It seems unfair how you fight her, a demon against a girl.

Ah, Rose. You face Princess Yin during the day - the little dot of black amidst the radiant white. You do not see her true hand in this because in your past life you were that hand. Now she has others.

You hear the thunder of hooves.

Knights slam their dog-catcher lances into place around your neck and around your arms. The loops pull tight and muscle and armour strain together to drag you down to the ground like an animal. It is love that fuels that strength and you know how fierce it is for you used to wield it yourself.

Princess Yin stands over you. "Mastery is not creating more diseased forests, Rose," she said. "Mastery is creating a bonsai that will grow more beautiful and perfect with every year. All that is necessary for love to triumph is to fit you for the cords."

[Marking Hopeless, both summoning allies and creating an opportunity for them to bring you low]

Yue!

The ghostly dress holds its blade under Yue's chin, shining in the woodland sunshine. Then it steps into the final step of this dance. It lowers itself on one knee, bending to the point where a pair of lips might touch Yue's forehead. For a moment the feeling touches there, dry and just a little bit warm but leaving a tingling happiness far deeper than the touch itself should allow.

Then, with a twist of light and rustle of fabric, the armour of the Demon Swordswoman embraces Yue. Fabric with the soft flow of cotton cooled by mountain snow and steel with the warmth of the ocean in summer slide into place. Straps and bonds wrap and bind, the tug and pull and restriction of each leather cord promising that it will keep you safe. It takes but a moment and then you are armoured for a wonderful kind of war.

The remnant of the ghost does not try to control you any longer but you can feel it latent alongside you. It no longer will force its lessons upon you but the feeling of them will always be there against your skin. In future days and future duels it will not force you to do it right, but it will help you recognize what 'right' is. It provides its advice softly, like a teacher, or a map.

And as you rest in a temple of water, the thought finally occurs: You have succeeded at your quest and helped a Fox. You... could go up there and ask Cyanis to make everyone forget about you. You could decide that this, right now, this magical day was enough. You could go back to your home and have memories for a lifetime. If you wanted, this could be the end of the adventure.

Is it?

[Mark XP]

When she was younger, a situation like this would have been frightfully easy for the HUNTER-Class 猎犬. She was a thing of fickle fire in her inner furnace, and her flesh yielded like thought; every cell of her was its own torch. She could compress herself down into a flicker of scales and then lash out in a tangle of limbs, consciousness dividing among new eye clusters and brain braids as glue-wetted tentacles dragged captors off their mounts and slammed them against whatever came to hand. It had taken a sibling made for the task to defeat her when she raised her flag of rebellion, one that could match and overcome every transformation and trap her in an adamant mesh.

First of the Radiants had been chilled and still as winter on the sea; he had taken the form Yin chose for him, and in doing so, exhausted what little fire he had left. He would have overcome Yin and her knights by not arguing with her at all, but making countermoves to bring him what he wanted, if he even dared oppose her. He would have had nothing here but haughty, wounded silence.

But Rose from the River now is a thing that changes by growth, slower than her days of fire. She is a new thing, trusting not in orders or her own whim. For a moment she considers rooting herself to the earth and becoming immovable, but Yin would simply set guards on her and hare off for the shepherdess. Then the Princess would return in triumph and bring Rose along in a jar, a quite literal bonsai for the glory of She Who Makes The Way Straight. No. That will not do.

“Each tree in this forest would serve you better as an advisor than your courtiers,” Rose says, head bowed, eyes on Yin’s muddy shoes. With one hand, she traces a magical glyph of command, one which she cannot enforce with a magician’s will but which will be a message for that one who watches unseen.

(And the name of the rune is: RE-TU-SEN. And its power is one of banishment to dark servers beneath the earth; and the virtue by which one dispatches a messenger received; and there are means by which it may become the wicked rune RE-ALL, which compels the spirits of the burrow to whisper their news in the ears of all they meet, and yet frees them to do wicked violence to the meaning of the words. For this reason, make not the sign of RE-TU-SEN save in your need: when the spirit will not be laid to rest by other means, or when the messenger will not leave your sanctum, but rather threatens ill to you and your secret arts.)

“After all, they know the shape of the world better than we do. They understand time, and community, and patience. Even when one falls, crashing to earth, they bring forth new life in their wake. And attempt to bind one,” she says, and here she lifts her head and eyes Carlyle struggling to keep her arms pinned with his lance, pale hair flopping into his face, “and it will subsume what binds it fast, devouring vine and cord alike.”

She lets the threat hang in the air for a moment, letting Carlyle sweat, before giving an adorably sheepish grin. “A technique I have not mastered yet, unfortunately. But try to prune me, Yin? I’ll show you what it means to be enveloped when you least expect it. I’ll drown you in flowers and hold you fast as steel. And then I’ll give you over to a passing fox, because I will not spend my days in pilgrimage thinking only about you any longer.”

Defiance as firm as her sword, but without the venom and roiling panic of her youth. Truly, Rose from the River is grown from the shapes she has worn before. Laudable Thorn Pilgrim! Even bowed on her knees she is strong as the trees whispering behind Yin, and she allows the knights she once trained to worry that when she decides to shuck their restraints she will not be able to be stopped. How then are they to hold fast a creature of ancient terrors? By enchantment. If the rumors are to be believed, by the arts of foxes. Or, perhaps, by the very hand of a Princess. No less could stop Rose from the River if she rose up in sudden fury among them.

Chen first looks to herself. She has been stretched out, carried, and flung about and she's tense. With her bonds loosened by Cyanis, she stands, gathers her scarf into a nice fold that she places down next to her reverently, and does some stretches. She rubs her wrists, then her ankles, reaching all the way to her toes. She lets herself luxuriate for a moment in the feeling of loose muscles after tension, the warmth of the sun caressing her face, and the cool springy feeling of the grass beneath her feet.

She's ready to change of course, she made the deal, but Cyanis isn't moving. As Chen draws out her stretches and keeps expecting Cyanis to turn around, another blush slowly begins to creep up on her and overtakes her calm routine entirely. "W-well?!" she stammers, expecting Cyanis to get a hint that is a million miles above the innocent little fox's fluffy black and white head. When there is no response, she looks point blank at the fox and adds "a-aren't you going to turn around. S-so I can change?"

When Cyanis responds with a slight cock of her head and a confused "uh, why" Chen quite nearly explodes! "Because! B-because it's n-not. You s-shouldn't! You can't look while...I...er...um." Chen looks away, unable to meet those bright teal eyes as she imagines Cyanis looking at her while she changes. She's not a little kid, she doesn't need somebody to watch her while she's putting her fancy dress on in case she needs help! But she can't quite say it because the rapid beating of what is clearly her little rabbit heart is getting in the way of finishing her sentence and in her mind she's imagining Cyanis do a little more than just watching as she changes, and the thought of those fluffy tails curling around her leg as she's working on the dress is just...eeeep!

Chen cuts through this entire train of thought by flinging her arms out in a last strong stretch, straightening her shoulders, and before anyone can stop her, least of all her own brain, she pulls her silks off, strides up to the dress in nothing but her underwear and throws it over her head! She only slightly struggles with getting the neck on that way, and pulls it over, starting to smooth and place some of the ruffles in the front. That is when she notices that there are some fastenings along the back for a tighter fit beneath all the ruffles and, with the absolute and utmost mortification, utters in a tiny voice: "Um, C-Cyanis, c-could you help me finish putting this on?"

She could do it. The thought is so strong it pushes Yue straight back to the ground after she'd thought she'd gained her feet again at last. She could do it and after a few weeks of indulgently long bedtimes, hot dumplings, leek soup, and fox scritches she could close the book on what by then would have turned out to be a single absolutely perfect day.

She could do it! And it would be so easy, wouldn't it? Wishing for a quiet ending is a much simpler thing than wishing for the story to go on and on, when you get right down to it, and even though she'd never say this out loud doesn't Cyanis kind of owe her one after everything she's just done? So it's simple. It's easy. All she has to do is ask.

She could do it. She could trudge out of here and make her wish, and whatever weirdness she'd gotten herself caught up in would go back to sleep. She'd have a hike and a half on her hands to make it back home, but without any demons chasing her or terrifying Princesses pretending she was worth bothering with it'd actually be... well it's a super nice day today, y'know? As long as she took it slow, it'd actually be pretty fun! A walking song or three, the wind on her face and the sun glinting off this lovely armor-dress.

Everyone in the village would all laugh. Bao Bao would clap her on the back (again) and tell her that was too much dress for her, and Mei Ren would shake her all exasperated know-it-all and say something about maintenance and upkeep and everybody would want to know how and where and why, but when she told them that she'd found True Love, if only for a day, and then danced her sword wheel they'd see it in the sparkle in her eyes and the arc of her body, and faster than blinking they'd all jump straight to being happy for her.

And it'd all go back to normal after that. She'd wear the dress every day, for a month. Two months, maybe three or even four if she was feeling particularly wicked. After that it'd start to seem a little... much. So she'd build a tiny shrine of her own and she'd hang it up there to quietly worship and love it in her own way. Somewhere that the sun would still catch it, yeah, over by the big window on the east wall. And if she was extremely clever and traded a few weeks' worth of sunshine at the market she could probably find a way to run some water through there so that it'd still feel at home even in hers.

And on every Water's Day she would take it down and put it on, and then together they'd spend an hour or two practicing with her wooden blade to keep the memories alive and flowing before they sat down somewhere with a good view of the Terraced Lake to take in tea and sweets. Tanghulu would be the best, of course, but nobody would say no to red jam and rice, right? Not to mention, as long as she could find the materials to make the dough, the possibility of something really exotic like taiyaki or even (dare she dream?) cake! The wind would play with her hair and the sun would warm her body and Kat would curl up in her skirts and be safer and more in love than anybody ever, and on days like that she could feel bigger than a mountain so what would she even need, really actually honestly maybe, with the kind of life that would put her in the songs? Why would she need it, when she could have this?

Yue catches sight of Hyra staring at her, and she blushes. Her fur is gorgeous in the daylight; her wolfen features so perfect and elegant that it shames her just to look at them. Those red eyes are as piercing as ever as they stare straight through her. Yue can't bear to look straight at them. Hyra doesn't pad closer to congratulate her or nuzzle at her bruises or even just get close enough to share a connection. She just... watches, like she's waiting for the betrayal to come at last.

Ah. That's it, isn't it? That's the reason not to make her silly wish. Because she... no, that's not right. That's not a good reason at all. No, hey, no! Stop it! Stop looking at her like that! It's, it's, it's more complicated than that, ok? What business does she really have going on bigger adventures than this, huh? Didn't she just prove that even this was too much for her without all the help in the world? What if Yin caught her? What if Yin... er, s-s-sorry, Princess Yin wasn't alone? What if there were more giant sword demons and big snake ladies and daemons and ad campaigns or somehow something even worse than those? It's too much! It's irresponsible! And it's scary and she misses her house, ok? Is that so wrong??

And... besides. If... if she wishes for everyone to forget about her, it's not like Hyra will have to suffer. The only reason she's trapped as a wolf in the first place is because of Yue! With no Yue to try and protect there's no reason for Princess Yin to be mad at her! Right? So Yue goes home, Hyra is human again, and nobody else has to sit around feeling sad about it or anything! Everybody wins! Everybody... wins.

It takes the effort of a thousand left-handed parallel thrusts, but Yue stands up. This time it sticks. She's holding two swords in her hands, her own wooden blade, and the glittering sword that lifted her chin just a little while ago. She looks down at it and tries to smile, but something catches in her throat and she winds up sniffling instead. Well, this is it. If she's going to do it, she should go ahead and put this somewhere honorable so the shrine still has a treasure. That's the proper thing to do, isn't it? It's what a hero would do, anyway, at the end of her journey.

And maybe that's why? Maybe that's why she doesn't do it. She bends down to fetch her bag instead, and tucks the priceless treasure inside there, instead. She takes a deep, sniffling breath. In... a-a-a-aand o-ou-out. Ok, well, one little mistake's not gonna mar the end of her adventure, right? She takes her first step toward freedom, and sees Hyra turn and pad away ahead of her.

Her heart is shattered glass. No, she's wrong. She's wrong! She was wrong! If this is right, then why? Why can't she stop crying? Her legs are aching and tired, but she pushes herself to move quicker. Catch up, you idiot! You have to... no! No! Hyra's lope picks up speed, determined to stay ahead of the news. Yue runs faster and faster, but it's a heck of a thing for a person to catch a wolf on foot, isn't it? For somebody who's never even run a race, let along, won, it's completely impossible. The flash of silver fur disappears farther and farther ahead, never to be seen again.

"Wait! Hyra, wait! W-wait for me!!"

Her voice strains hard enough that it cracks on the final few syllables, music for breathing sincerity into the world. The silver flash stops. Does it turn around? She doesn't wait to find out. Her footfalls are heavy and increasingly clumsy, even with her shifting glass sandals. But the tugging sensation in her armor tells her this is right. This is the only right thing for her to do. She gets closer and closer and closer, close enough to touch. Close enough to trip and fall and throw her arms around the neck of a great white wolf in a way that leaves her with a skinned knee she doesn't feel at all. She buries her face in Hyra's softness and feels the proud muscles rippling underneath. And she cries, and she cries, and she cries. Until there's no more tears left for her to give, or breath for her to speak.

In the quiet, there is only the two of them. Only her shuddered breathing, and Hyra's quiet snuffles. Only the feeling that this is right, and if this is right, then there's only one thing to be done. Yue pulls away and breaks into an awkward, wet smile. She's still holding her sword, see Hyra? She lets it fall to the ground with a clatter. She needs both hands to hold the wolf's face firm. And she has to hold it firm, because how else can she pull close enough to take her lips and kiss Hyra full on the muzzle?

Soft. Wet. Lingering... Fuzzy. As first kisses go, it's far from what she dreamed of. But all the same, when she pulls away she's blushing like the setting sun. Her fingers won't stop trembling as she fumbles to pick her sword back up, and she almost falls over twice trying to stand back up. Only Hyra's weight and her gentle push gets her upright again.

"Uh... r-right. Let's, uh, um! Y-yes! Let's go... yes! Get, um. Let's go do the... the thing! I promised, right? Let's fix you up."

Daily Affirmation of the Way <3:

A student once walked by a river and found enlightenment. He stood there for a long time, enraptured in cosmic bliss, until his master came by and gave him an apple. Immediately his stomach rumbled and he fell back into samsara.

"Why did you give me this apple?" said the student angrily. "I was perfectly in tune with the universe, and you ruined it!"

"It seems like you were in tune with a poor universe," said the master.

Chen!

Today you have learned a valuable lesson from a wise mistress regarding the relativity of concepts. A master might demonstrate incredible skill in swordplay and nonetheless criticism herself for a slip that only she can perceive. Likewise, a fox might look at a temple abandoned to the forest for a hundred years and flushed with an open trash pipe to the Underground and say that it was a tiny bit of dirt. Perhaps kitsune society is a strange and relative culture worthy of devoted study.

Perhaps you might have learned a second, deeper lesson about the ability of foxes to misrepresent a universally recognized objective truth - but were you to voice such a thought it would be blasted by the tearful eyes of a heartbroken fox who was betrayed by someone she considered a friend. How could you, Chen? What evil lurks in the hearts of princesses to allow them to get away with such wickedness??

Either way you're up to your ankles in muck armed with naught but a mop and a dress that seems innocent enough at first but tends to reveal rather too much of your thighs when you bend over to pick something up.

Cyanis is supervising your work from a nearby sunbeam, a task that's so exhausting and selfless that the Wheel of Karma itself insisted that she balance the scales by eating some delicious green tea ice cream, lest the injustice shatter the cycle of reincarnation. You were called over to spoon it into her mouth on a few occasions when lifting it was too much for her poor, delicate arms. She has, thus far, declined to share any with you, but she has given you some encouraging pats on the behind with her fluffy tails. So selfless!

But that was a while ago and Cyanis is now napping and you are trudging through sludge when suddenly a great flow of water gushes down the corridor, sweeping you from your feet. When it is past the worst of the muck is gone and Cyanis has moved all the way to the edge of her sunbeam to see if you are all right - and then immediately suggest that if it is the case you have somehow managed to flood her one and only home then, while she is understanding and forgiving for what was no doubt a genuine accident, it would still be honourable to stay her slave until the debt was paid -

But then, from the shadows of the tunnel, emerges a warrior princess of legend, flanked by a magnificent silver wolf.

Yue!

Right now, in this moment, you're not just Yue. The way Cyanis and her, ah, new maid(?) are looking at you? This is the way that the people in the vision looked at the Demon Swordswoman. Awe.

You're not sure if it's the dress or the kiss that is making you so radiant right now.

"Yue?" said Cyanis, tails waving uncertainly as she looked down at you, lying flat at the top of the stairs so just her face and elbows were visible. "Are you, um. Possessed by the ghost of an unstoppable demon swordswoman, perhaps? Because if you are, don't worry, I have my personal maid, Princess Chen, working to clean this tomb and bring honour to your memory, so you don't have any quarrels with me!"

Hyra gave what was, to your more sensitive ears, a playful growl, but it was one that made Cyanis' ears lie flat across her head and made her duck her head so just her eyes were visible.

(Did she say Princess...?)

Rose!

There are chains and there are chains - and these are distinctly the non-italicised version.

Ah, Yin! What happened to these knights? Where is Hyra? She might have been, if not your equal, at least your best student - and one who would have been frightening indeed to see leading this pack of knights. Instead it is Carlyle here and, oh, there must have been some staff turnover if he wound up as the right hand of the Princess. You ask and see a flash of openly grumpy anger on Yin's face and that's answer enough.

You can't run a kingdom on heartbreak alone. It makes you too sensitive to betrayal. Yin has been doing poorly without you, it seems.

Does that soften your heart at all, Thorn Pilgrim? Does standing in the fullness of your power even while wearing Yin's brittle collar give rise to pity or compassion? Does seeing how lost she is, nursing hurt until it ferments to anger, spark some form of mercy in your heart?

Or does it spark mischief, trickery, thievery, and general brattiness?

Chen stands, spitting out water and looks in awe of the armored lady striding towards them with her wolf companion. The first thing it makes Chen think about is her friend Li, the little snow leopard who stays with Chen at home. She hadn't come on this trip because Chen had wanted to focus on her painting, but she imagined since she had been out all afternoon that Li had assumed she was entirely abandoned and when Chen got back, Li would wrap up her favorite princess in her long fluffy tail and demand treats and ear scritchies for a whole evening before she was mollified.

The second thing is that her mouth drops open because holy shit this warrior is gorgeous. Chen, Princess of the Northern Wind spends most of her time living in Sourcefall. She has seen the morning dawn bounce across a million water droplets like shards of molten gold. She has seen the midday sun race in its chariot of galloping horses after a fleeing storm cloud that thought it could disperse before the sun could summon the rainbow. She has seen the last reds of the evening sun strike like an old-world laser and make the faces of people ruddy with warmth. Chen has painted these things. Not perfectly, but she has taken the time to make her own little mental snapshots of each of these moments in their turn. It would be fair to say that Chen is an expert on the beauty of light and water! But this! THIS! This warrior is gorgeous. The sun and the water combine on her armor in a color of flowing, wavy azure so perfect, it is as though the sky and the lake agreed to a marriage and this beauty was their wedding gift. Chen already has her first painting planned and the woman will need to pose for her at least thrice more for the series!

Only in distant third does Cyanis saying the name "Yue" penetrate Chen's dumbfounded brain, and when it does, it sets off a reaction of shocked delight that can only be met with a high squeel at first as she gathers up her short skirts, her extensive ruffles, and her mop and leaps forwards. Chen has just enough presence of mind to first give Cyanis a look of gratitude. "Oh, gosh, my gosh, you're really good at this wish thing! I hadn't even told you who I was looking for yet and you already granted my wish. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you Cyanis!" She gives the fox a quick little hug, leaning forward with just her upper body and keeping the mop gingerly away so as not to drip even a drop of water on her.

Then, she turns entirely to Yue (and her pet fluffer!) and goes down on one knee, her little skirt and her many ruffles pooling on the grass before her. She almost, almost calls her princess before she remembers what Qiu and said and how Cyanis had just spoken to her. Instead, she settles for the more ambiguous lady.

"Lady Yue, my name is Chen of the Northern Wind, Princess of Sourcefall and Ys, heir to twin sunshards, and...aspiring artist." There is a moment, just one moment for a little grin that suggests Chen is in fact a real person and not some strange maid princess beyond your ken. "And though I am currently indisposed granting a wish for this lovely fox who helped me find you, I am here to offer you my protection and safe passage to princess Qiu Tian, who is the source of the bounty upon you that you may...become a h-handmaiden in her training."

Though Chen delivers her greeting with a formal perfection that belies the silliness of her maid outfit and the mop held before her like a sword on offering (and the slight glint of the sheathed crystal sword upon her back) there is the slightest quaver in her voice as she reaches the end. She is not sure that she wants to take Yue to Qiu, and quite sure that she would take her anywhere if asked. Even though Qiu would be after her. And Yin, and Rose. And both her parents would yell at her for abrogating her duty and she quails before that. Even so, Yue, just Yue has struck Chen in this moment and she couldn't dream of abducting her against her will.

[Chen is declaring herself smitten, even their respective station is such that every major player in the world would try make sure they couldn't be together.]

The HUNTER-Class 猎犬 had possessed no use for music. It cannot entirely be blamed, however. In the days of the Burrow Empire, even melody and harmony had been conquered and turned to the task of exploitation. Memetic infernopop assaults vied for attention and memory every moment of the day, from the soothing hum of Macheo starts your day right to the pounding rhythm of Need a lift? Call our store! Every day, we give you more! to the honey-dripping sound of Calio Pé crooning with her forked tongue: We want you more than words can say, my darling, my love. Mountains fell, the world burned, and here we wait needy for you. The lower classes had expression stripped from them, gouged away by songs they were not allowed to forget. No wonder their own music was wordless electroscream drone howling to drown out the covetous melodies of Hell.

As for the 猎犬? It developed memetic defenses early. It tore apart simple algorithms in the vat-womb, took a taste to them. It hummed atonal infrasound to tear apart Hell’s compositions with its hidden auxiliary throat and chuckled at the mischief it sowed in its wake. Not for nothing was one of its nicknames in the underworld the Unraveling Silence. What was music, in that age, but the tendrils of some vast leviathan winding fast about you? And what use had the 猎犬 for that? Its own tendrils were finer by far.

Rose from the River is different from that creature of the buy-and-sell world. She lives in a world now that knows music as something beautiful in and of itself, not as an infection vector. From the first moment she bloomed and knew herself anew, she resounded with a verdant tone. She is untrained, and does not know music the way she knows the katas of her dances, but her furnace-heart knows better than she does the power of a voice raised in song.

When she lifts her head and begins to sing, sitting side-saddle behind Carlyle, it is almost as much a surprise to her as it is to her captors. She begins low and mournful, eyes still downcast. There are no words that pass her lips, no hooks to cling in the mind and demand recollection. Whenever the note begins to rise, it finds itself constricted, trapped, forced back down; and yet it continues to try. All things grow. All things change.

When she finally finds her way into a new key, then her voice begins to swell. Behold the power of the Thorn Pilgrim, all who live beneath the boughs! Stop, hare and hart! Grow still, sparrow and dove! Listen to the song of sunlight on the leaves, of long slow growth and the digging of roots, of standing entwined and spreading out all you have to drink at the wells of both dusk and dawn. Listen to Rose from the River, master of her own breath, through whom flows the dream of the wood.

Listen! Laugh! Sing in chorus! Rose’s voice now leaps from branch to trunk, trunk to earth, earth to stone, stone to branch! Her song’s tail flicks merrily as she sings of freedom. Here, she even dares to sing the things that came before words, before language: unrefined and potent, tumbling laughing from her lips, notes rippling up and down like the back of the green-sweet snake that hangs among the leaves. This is her answer: joy. Joy in motion, joy in growth, joy in being. Against it there are few walls that can dare stand.

Here, wordless, building, is Rose from the River’s argument for her choice, her challenge again: that in leaving, she discovered this. The world entire is unfolding before her, and now she grows to meet it. Her note held is as clear and piercing as diamond, and the forest entire bends its ear to listen, and even in a temple glade, for ears of fox and princess and champion and wolf, that triumph resounds—

And then falls suddenly, silenced without resolution.

"Awawawawawawawawh-wh-WH-WHAAAAAA??!"

Did you know? Well, of course you knew. You're you! But... did you know? On her way back from the shrine, Yue had come up with this whole silly joke, see? She'd pretend to be angry and show Cyanis a few of her new moves and make a big little speech about revenge and hard work and... well, she didn't have all her lines worked out exactly, but she's really good at adlib ok? It was gonna be great!

B-but! But she didn't! It wasn't supposed to! There's too many! T-too many people here and! Did... d-d-did she Princess?! They both said Princess?!? But! Oh no! Oh gosh oh no oh gosh!

"I juh," she muses with all of her usual elegance, "Huwhabwuh? Bu... aishyaaaa!"

Ok no that's it this is a total disaster, abort, abort! Oh dear oh gosh oh dear, now they've gone and done it. Now she's gone and done it! Poor thing, she can't even remember her own name! What was it again? Francis... Xavier? No, no, no, no! What? No! Get it together Yuehhhhhh goodness they keep looking with their eyeballs and it's... with... respect? Oh no, she's kneeling! The princess girl lady is kneeling!

Yue turns a brighter red than the setting sun and hides her face in her hands, twisting and turning on her feet like a shy maiden and not the least bit like a legendary warrior or even somebody who's possessed by one? Which she is? Sort of kind of? B-b-but never mind that! She should... oh, she's disappointing them both so much right now, she can tell! She just... she can't help it! There's, there's a princess looking at her, and what on earth is she wearing that skirt is so short! And it keeps! When it shifts, it's just!

She's... she's not a pervert, ok? She's not! That's just a fact! But when Chen moves about that skirt keeps bouncing and Yue is discovering all of the secrets of noblewomen that she's pretty sure a simple girl from the Terraced Lake isn't meant to gaze upon?? Oh, she's sorry, she's sorry, she's so, so, sorry, please don't leap up and smite her, she promises your secrets are safe with her, o Chen of the... um, uh, wh-what... was it again?

"I, um. Oh gosh. P-please stand up, your majest...ness? I'm not, I, there's, um, there's lots of Yues, right? You gotta have the wrong one! I mean, I'm just... Yue! What would Princess Qiu want with me? A handmaiden? Like Hyra? Oh gosh, no no no, that's... s-sorry. I mean, sorry that, y'know, your journey isn't over. It's really nice meeting you! I could, y'know, if you're... not too busy, make some dessert? Do you like tanghulu? There's so much good fruit around here so... er, um!"

Oh, it's no use! Yue flashes her friendliest smile but she just can't stop staring. Can't stop gawking, more like! That outfit! Gosh, it's like they should swap, isn't it? Yue's is all wowies wow amazeful (it is so a word!) and this Princess Chen's is... so frilly! So poofy! So lacy delicate slinky kinda kinky sorta oh gosh no noooooo pfffftttttsnnnrrrrrk! Aha! Ahaha! Ahahahaheheheheheheeeeeeee~

"Eep! Oh no no, I'm sorry! I wasn't... I would never laugh at you, Your Princessliship! I just... w-well, if it's... if you don't mind me saying so, you're very... different. F-from Princess Yin, I mean. I thought, y'know, a princess would be more like she is, when you're so..."

But she trails off without finishing the thought. She turns her head suddenly to the sky off in the distance, because there's a sound in the breeze that's so clear and sharp and beautiful that it has to bend her ear. And when it bends her ear it also bends her neck, because really, what else can she do about it? Whatever it is, it's not an animal. She doesn't know any bird with a voice like this, and no dog or wolf with a howl so bright. And she knows a lot of birds and dogs and wolves, ok?

But the idea that it's a person is even crazier! People songs are wordier, and... well, gosh, weighed down with thoughts and words and stuff. Like Sis' songs! Or the drinking songs that creep up from the taverns on Wood's Day or, or... w-well, like that, y'know? There's a homeliness to it, or maybe a homeyness, unless it's some dazzling courtier type and then you can tell because they're crooning as much to show off their grand fortune as they are to express anything knowable by somebody like Yue.

This? This is more... pure? There's a fancy word for what this is, but Yue doesn't know it. All she knows is that, whatever's making this sound, it makes her heart ache. This is the kind of voice that needs to be taught the hymn of the demon swordswoman, because this is the voice that can join with the rock and leaf and river and sing it properly. This is a voice for making hearts flutter and lips curl into smiles and, and, and...

And it's gone. Yue stares after it without moving, except to quietly take Kat in her arms and gives her little flufflefoxy soft strokes down her fluffy back. She doesn't without thinking, or returning her attention to her friends or the girl who's probably here to kidnap her for some weird reason. Some things just need a moment.

Rose!

You sing, but it is not wordless.

"Princess Yin! Princess Yin!" the air itself twists into shape, for the wind and air itself know that the Sun is their ruler. "Princess Yin will forgiveness bring!"

The surviving sun begins to creep towards the horizon again, beginning that early and eternal twilight. A deep stirring of magic begins to run through Yin. Exhaustion washes away and the light of Yewan Night Sun starts to glow within her once again. Your wordless joy battles for expression and freedom but as the Radiant Princess awakens again in her majesty, Shard renewed, it slips further and further away. Magic starts to coil out from her, touching the trees and beasts in passing, darkening them as their light flows stolen into Yin herself.

You try to silence yourself but your voice carries on in the air around you, defiant of your closed lips. "Princess Yin! Princess Yin will sunbreak bring!"

You may be a creature of the ancient world, but if the ancients feared anything it was the suns. Toushui Water-Stealing Sun, Dongtian Cold Sun, Emo Demon Sun, Shoucheng Harvest Sun, Hangye Industry Sun, Fengbao Storm Sun, Wuxing Invisible Sun, Kuwei Wilting Sun, Yewan Night Sun. They burrowed beneath the world to hide from these primordial powers and even you knew better than to walk in their light.

Princess Yin, it seems, does not.

What is fear like for you, Rose?

Chen and Yue!

The darkness begins to gather, though its cause is distant still. Hyra's ears lie flat and she lets out a whine, and Cyanis does likewise. As Hyra presses up against your legs in warning and warding so does Cyanis scamper down the stairs to take cover behind Princess Chen.

"Oh, hey, Yue - you know, sorry to interrupt, but did you have a wish you wanted to make?" she asks. "I mean, you know, maybe you always wanted to visit the Sky Castle? I hear it's lovely up there!"

”I can’t stand it,” he admits to her. The bed and the pillows are achingly soft; Yin, draped on top of him, is softer. The night is so deep that all they are consists of shadows on shadows and the smoothness of skin.

“That’s because you’re from the Burrows,” she says, not even opening her eyes. Her heartbeat threads through him like a ribbon. “They were still alive back in your day.” Unspoken: and now it is dead, and I control its power, and we are fine. All is safe.

“Mmm,” he says, and cups the back of her head. It’s not just that, he doesn’t say. It’s that they’re not all dead. It’s that he can feel himself being observed when Yin opens the aperture of her power wide, as if some distant blue-black eye stares unceasingly at him. It’s that he knows Yin’s will is what excludes him from being under that power, under that attention, under that dead star’s hand. Because he’s not like her; he wasn’t made to be a person.

She makes a delicate little sound and he pulls her closer, just a little bit. His savior. His princess. His treasure. His to protect. His to serve. Free to serve someone who deserves it, at last.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she promises in the dark. “You don’t need to ever be afraid of the suns again.”

***

Yewan Night Sun!

Dead be eye and dead be heart
dead be all your shining art
Dead be hope and dead be light
dead be any will to fight

Blind your eyes and blind your hands
blind be all these sighing lands
Blind your ears and blind your tongue
blind until this night is done

Rose from the River doubles over as the light fades, and her voice rings gaily in merry laughter all about as the veins strain against the skin of her throat. Carlyle steadies her with one hand, uncomprehending of Rose’s pain and panic and punishment, and flinches when he feels Rose’s form writhe unnaturally under his hand.

How careless a broken promise! How careless a princess who thinks she understands her power! How careless a princess who does not understand the death of suns!

Black your sight and black your Way
black the triumph over day
Black be heart and black be bone
black be monster all alone

Born synthetic, born in pain
born the false inconstant flame
Born to seek and born to hide
born with empty night inside

Rose from the River doesn’t know what to do, alone with fear. She can dread something, but face it regardless. She can worry for someone, but then break herself if it means helping them. She can face the challenges of the Princesses and stranger things, but does so knowing this world is better than the one she knew, and if she trusts it, it will keep her safe.

But now she is afraid, feeling the fingers of something dreadful and dead seek to slot into the grooves of her old self. And Yin thinks that she is safe! The weapon that Rose from the River would become, held in the grip of Yewan Night Sun, could be held at bay by her power, by the barest flicker of her attention brought down low— but not unexpected, from behind, long fingers curling around the crown, shattering it, freeing the shard within, resounding with the need to be free, to be the only light in the dark, to hide monsters within shadows, to command, and it knows that she was made to be commanded and every step she takes away from that is denial and no matter what shapes she grows into she cannot escape the memory of command encoding and evaluation for use, she cannot escape being naked before the executive board as they examined her, it, it, it was made to be a weapon and now it will be so again—

Bare your jewel and bare your need
bare your lady’s pride and greed
Bare your collar, bare your chain
bare the means to make you tame

Dead the sun and dead the flame
dead we are but still remain
Dead your will and dead your might
dead before the King of Night
Dead the vine and dead the flower
YIELD TO THE LIVING POWER

Small wonder Carlyle’s hand goes slack and he tries to call for Yin, though the night all about devours his words. When Rose from the River raises her head, she is a shadow limned in painful light. When she opens her eyes, they are the only thing visible in her entire being, sharp gold cutting through the dark. Here is a monster of ancient days!

Chains fall to the earth soundlessly, brittle-shattered, steaming with cold. Rose from the River is at her sword and drawing it forth from itself in the space it takes Carlyle to blink; the Conciliatory Ice-Star Blade is a frigid blue-white in the dark.

And in that moment, her terror becomes a white and livid flame within her heart, and on the fire is engraved the words: aum shantae nemo padhome aum.

The Conciliatory Ice-Star Blade flickers through a sword kata, stiff and strained, and then comes to a trembling halt in guard. By the light of the blade which never was made of the world, Rose from the River is shadows upon shadows, and two eyes brighter than stars. But she does not strike. And the radiance that surrounds her flickers and fades sulkily until she, and Carlyle, and all but Yin (glorious and spotlighted by the sun she has unwisely awoken) are nothing but shadows defined by absence.

And in that dark, it is impossible to delineate Rose from the River. Even her sword now is lightless, perhaps sheathed, perhaps shrouded and waiting to be unveiled once more. In the dark, she is all places and none, a proclamation of the Way awaiting voice.

[Rose from the River staggers under the attention of Yewan Night Sun. She marks both Angry and Frightened, which along with Guilty mean she’s not doing so hot. However, she also manages to bear the blow.]

"Well, I..."

Yue's head keeps jerking toward the horizon. Did she lose track of the time? Obviously yes, but was she, is it, I mean, something feels... not right about the sky today. And she doesn't exactly have to be a double super secret heir to the, uh... the... what was it again? The Twin Somethings of Something Something and Painting? Right, well, she doesn't have to be that to have a pretty good idea why twilight is sending her heart a skip, a skip, a skip skip skipping like a hummingbird on a quiz show.

Cyanis' ears are flattened and miserable. Hyra's ears are flattened and miserable. Kat's ears are... well, Kat has just gone full-body flat and miserable. It's a flat and miserable festival for the cute ear crew, which is reason enough to worry about the darkening sky. There's only one thing she can think of that would spook them one and all like that, and now that she's thought of it she'd really rather not say it's name out loud just in case that's some kind of magic spell to summon it here. And, well, if she had a wish in her heart it probably would be something like a good week's head start on this feeling, maybe somewhere clean and warm and bright with a beautiful breeze. She'd read about oceans, once. Maybe there? Or were Ocean Demons ten times worse than River ones? Oh gosh.

"I..."

She swallows, bravely. Her arms are full of scrabbling, panicky fox scratching up her skin where her dress doesn't come with added benefits like armor or sleeves. She squirms and tries to pin Kat tight, but the usual calming rituals aren't helping at all! She's yipping and howling and eyeing The Bag with big, reproachful eyes that would shatter the hearts of ten thousand warriors, were they less prepared than Yue is. But still. But still! Kat, please... quit... you need to, nnnf, will you just..!

"Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits!" Yue's voice rings like a bell. It almost makes her jump to hear how clear and sharp it is, "Stop squirming this instant! I need you to do me an extra special Good Girl favor and let me put you where it's safe, ok? Because I... I need to know where you are right now and I can't hold you and this sword at the same... look, see? There's a sword for you too! You get to be a Guard Foxie, isn't that great? Who's so special, huh? Who's my special girl??"

And her words turn soothing and singsong, and her fox turns from rambunctious to proud and squirmy, as little Kat becomes the first of the Triangle Girls to perk up again, if only for a second. Yue lifts her up for nose kissies, and! Oh! Life is perfect! Life is ever so grand and fluffy! She barely growls at all as her idiot mistress tucks her away in the bag to protect the pretty ghost lady's shiny treasure. Wow! So cool and neat! Yip yip, the sound of a guardian who would ward off evil spirits! Yip, yip! Look upon my arfs, ye mighty!

Yue blushes and turns away from Cyanis. Her dress swirls and bursts with all the motion of a waterfall with ever small, shy twist of her body, but for all it is a thing of battle, her spirit leaves her seeming cold and tired and ashamed. Her hands reach up constantly to pull and worry at her soft brown hair, the way a maiden might when considering a wedding proposal.

"I..." she swallows, "I already told you my wish. I have to fix Hyra. I have to! I promised I'd do everything I could to help her, so if I..."

She drops to one knee and wraps her arm around Hyra's wolfen body. They press close together, sharing warmth and safety and the kind of extra special trust you can only pick up after running through the woods together for a single night while being chased by terrifying princesses and Princesses and weirdly attractive buff sword demons. The kind of soul-bound connection that comes from sharing rushed and un-honeyed cups of tea, but more importantly from showing what it meant for birds to fly, for lightning to fall from the sky, and what it was like to trust a silly girl from a tiny village with no marketable skills whatsoever to hold a sword and treat it like she deserved to have it.

"S-so unless I... no, but I don't have anything that's worth two wishes, so, except maybe these clothes? Oh but there's a ghost inside them so you probably don't... I mean, um. No. I'm sorry Cyanis, but that's my wish. I know you said it's hard and you need more tails, but I couldn't do it, ok? I tried my best and this is all I've got for you right now! So just, just try, please, ok? Just, just... just."

She looks at her friend, and... she is a friend, right? She's never had a friend before, really actually, unless you counted Kat (which obviously she does but no one else ever seemed to?), has no idea of the ins and outs and speed of this sort of thing. Was this a market haggle thingy or was it ok that this sweet little fox spirit with such big dreams snuck a smile out of her even in a moment where everything was promising to be scary and bad? That's what friendship is, right? She hasn't screwed up? Because that'd be awful fast, if she has. And it'd be awful like her, too.

"I'll pay extra, ok? I never break a promise. Never ever. Not even never never ever never."

When Yue almost instantly breaks the vision of glorious nobility she first showed, it makes Chen blush and fidget. Sure, she knew it was Yue just Yue, the simple village girl. In fact, she almost interrupted to say that's exactly who she'd been told to look for when Yue said she had the wrong person! But there was something about this young woman, so obviously empowered but at the same time so out of her depth that just felt so sincere, and that gave everything she was doing so much weight in the world of Princess politics.

So when she said she didn't mean to laugh at Chen, it made Chen's cheeks burn and her arms almost squirm of their own volition to gather her ruffles to herself self-consciously. But. But! But it was simultaneously the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her and the way that Yue really seemed to want to be nice to her made Chen feel like she was going to burst. She wanted to jump up and give Yue a big hug and she wanted to fidget and she wanted to pretend she was invisible, but that would be even more weird!

If not for the interruption, Chen would have enjoyed just staying here and reveling in her fluttering heart. She could have stammered and blushed and gathered her skirts awkwardly while Cyanis made a whole show of forcing her to finish her cleaning before they could go anywhere and she would have loved every second of it even though she would have blushed her way through the whole thing and kept on glancing back to see if Yue and Cyanis were looking at her.

But, as beautiful a vision as that was, it was not to be. Yue and Cyanis would have to settle for Chen's first blush and the moment when she cutely tried to gather her dress to herself as signs of what was in her mind. Because then there was a gentle song echoing through the air in a voice that Chen could tell was Rose's, so recently carrying her in her bundle form. Then the song stopped abruptly, held at the height of its crescendo and left to hang in unfinished silence that left Chen yearning. And then, then the darkness gathers and it's not just the setting sun. Had Rose encountered Yin first and been held up? Maybe that's why she wasn't quick on the chase after the sheep. Before Chen can think much further along that line, Cyanis is suddenly sheltering behind her and all in a flash Chen is reminded how much she's needed, for good or for ill. This was, after all her specialty.

She stands, smoothing out her dress and gathering her folded scarf, wrapping it around her neck in a double loop atop the dress, and as Yue makes her wish, Chen offers Cyanis soothing pats on the shoulders. A little smile comes to Chen's lips as she watches Yue handle her fox. Li wouldn't buckle so fast, but she knew when things were important too, and it would have been nice to have her leopard here to help keep watch.

When Yue is done, Chen offers her a solemn nod. "This is Yin's shard, isn't it? A technomancer earlier told me she was here. Is that where the wolf came from?" The way Chen says "Yin" with that tired little exhale and the look of resignation on her face speaks worlds about their interactions before. Chen hadn't been planning to say anything even though Yue had referenced Yin. After all, far be it from her to judge how a shard wielder chose to shape her world. But, now that she was going to have to deal directly, Yin was just so...much. She wasn't anywhere near the hardest Princess to work with, but she had her thing and she just had to go over the top every time before anyone else could get anything done.

Chen takes a deep breath and lets it out, then nods to herself again, as if making up her mind. She gives Cyanis a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and looks at Yue with her dark eyes focused. "Alright. I promised you my protection and I meant it. I've got another new friend out here too who I think did the singing we just heard, so I want to stay here anyway, wish or no wish. We're just going to have to weave our way through Yin's night hunt until we can escape. It's easier than it sounds. Usually." Chen offers a wry little smile and draws her crystal sword for what's coming.