The ropes (thick, unyielding, joyful) melt away into... perhaps smoke. Yes. That is the sort of thing that other things melt into. Rose may use her mouth again; it is time for her to be able to speak. That is what Sai a’Niz commanded of her, after all.

When the Dragon shows up, you are to do exactly as you are told. And you are to say exactly as you are told. And obeying makes you so happy.

A shiver runs through Rose as she speaks, her voice dreamy and breathy and just this side of a moan. “In the name of the Goddess, I offer you these treasures, noble dragon: a helpless princess and the noble knight who tried to save her... and myself, the High Priestess of Omnibenevolent Sai a’Niz.” (Surely that is not a squeak from someone who is realizing that she was much cockier than she should have been, somewhere distant. Surely not. Goddesses do not squeak through the hands cupping their face, eyes peeking horrified through splayed fingers, tails constricting as if trying to shrink down out of sight. In a locked dungeon cell, something made of coils and scales and petals laughs huskily to herself.)

“Please spare them your wrath,” she continues, cupping the talon in her hands. Despite the dissimilar shapes... no, they’re nothing alike. These are the hands of a helpless woman giving herself over to a dragon. They’re not weapons and Rose is not dangerous at all. “Take us and tie us tighter and carry us off to your lair, where you will of course offer the Goddess a reward for her generous gifts: two precious cinnamon rolls and a silly, air-headed holy woman who does whatever she’s told.”

One command cleared, the next slams roughly into place. Clean the Princess’s foot? Which one? The one whose foot she’s holding. Not a cute, dainty... no, Princess Jessic is not dainty. She is large. Powerful. Strong. Beautiful.

She drags her hot tongue along the back of one powerful talon, not caring how her gag must have made her mouth so wet. That, that’s why... why she’s drooling. Yes. Built up by... by the things that the Goddess had told her she’d used. So many! Frilly and lacy and stretchy! Until her cheeks were stuffed and packed full! But now her mouth is magically empty, as the Goddess wills it, and what better use could she put it to?

Her world narrows, focused on the task at foot. How her fingers need to adjust, tilt the great claw, so that she can get every inch. How she needs to use her long, clever tongue just so. How she needs to nuzzle and pat her cheeks against the talons that could shatter stone with a simple flex, to make sure the princess’s noble foot is dried off, no matter what it might do to her own face. How a pressure and heat builds up inside her, even deeper than a simple positive reinforcement feedback loop made by a very clever and smart and talented Goddess.

The part where she smushes her face against the soft pad of the foot, for example, as she serves the “heel” of the dragon with her tongue: unnecessary, mortifying (for onlookers prone to embarrassment, which she’s sure describes... somebody she knows?), and possibly capable of making whatever lies imprisoned at the bottom of Rose’s heart thrash and shriek and gnaw at herself in helpless flustered frenzy. The sort of thing that powerful, self-conscious, and complicated monks would never lower themselves to doing; the kind of thing that makes Rose purr as she marks herself with a dragon’s scent and a high priestess’s shame.

Rose sits back on her haunches, cheeks a mess, hair (...”hair”?) beginning to frazzle, eyes half-lidded, shoulder straps frantically trying to hold on and not slip down uselessly, with eyes only for Princess Jessic. She lets her tongue loll out of her mouth as she sits, waiting for her next order, managing to only squirm a little bit with needy expectation.

Whatever it is, she’ll do it. For the sake of her Princess and Knight, and for the sake of the pressure throbbing in her chest, and for the glory of the Goddess.

Yue burns so brightly you could probably start a fireworks show with her body, assuming you'd come prepared for the possibility. That is to say, she's not packing sparklers or big star burst rockets under her armor or anything, and she's not glinting and gleaming and dazzlingly beautiful or determined. She's watching Rose with eyes so wide they might keep her from sleeping tonight, you see.

A body like Yue is super bad at lying. With her face all flushed like it is you don't need her to open her mouth to know that she's never seen, um. Never, uh, s-seen anything like this before. Never seen (oh gosh) somebody use (meep!) their tongue like... l-l-like that before, and on! Oh goshies, on that and... oh shoot, knights don't say goshies, do they? See what I mean? Terrible liar.

And if it's obvious she's never been in a situation like this before it's just as obvious that any attempt she made to claim otherwise would sound so ridiculous that you'd go and call the next person to tell you something a liar too just to balance out the scales. She'd say it with her squeaky little stammer but the words would be all bravado and other junk she's read in romance novels, and all the one's she's read are famous enough that you probably know them by heart. Don't you? Doesn't everybody? Yeah.

And if it's obvious that she's combustulating with embarrassment and that she shouldn't bother trying to lie her way past it, then it's even more obvious that she's not brave or valiant. Or at the very least, that she's not seasoned or experienced in... anything, really. Maybe if you were a generous Countess you'd chalk her trembling up to her very obvious and extremely real (ha!) injuries, but you couldn't miss that shake shake shake that gets her armor all rattly and clankerous-like. And brave knights worth the act of conquest don't shiver themselves half to death in the face of dragons, and their fingers don't curl daintily into their gauntleteded hands with the distinct impression they're having thoughts about touching their own bodies and dreaming about what they've seen. No, a Proper Knight wouldn't do any of that stuff.

And if it's obvious that she's blushyful and can't talk her way past it and some kind of impossible combination of scared and turned on (but like, in a very innocent country maiden sorta way, y'know?), then it's the most obvious thing of all that her little beginner's gag isn't the least bit necessary to keep her tongue tied and mute for the duration of this little conversation. Y'know? She's sunk deeeeeeeeep beneath the waves of this here leviathan of a situation and she. Is. Duh-rowning in her stuff, and if she dared to open her mouth at all she'd be lucky if a whimper came out of her. And if she was unlucky: a moan. Oh, she's turning even pinker! So you see, she doesn't need to say anything to explain so super clearly that she's not a knight, not at all, the outfit might be gorgeous but she doesn't even really know where she got it, right? She's nobody worth mentioning, nobody worth treasuring, nobody worth the effort it takes to throw her in a dungeon and tease her secrets out of her.

Though, if you tried that you'd get them all inside of half an hour. If you were any good at the job. So that's kind've a point in her favor, right? Like I said, honest girl. All sun farmers are honest to a fault. And when you've met another one, you can tell me that it isn't true, so there.

But she chances a tiny glance at Cyanis and she sees the way the poor cutie is shaking like a leaf on a paint can mixer on a seesaw in the middle of an earthquake, and how her tails are sooooooo bushy-scared and losing their comfy pampered luster right before her eyes, so nervous is our favorite two-tails. And she sees the way Cyanis is trying to sneakily nod at her, no wait shake her head, no wait nod, no wait shnod diagonalwise? But her eyes are saying please and please and please and just for good measure pwease. Don't sell me out! Aren't we friends? Buddies? Acquaintances? We had that tea!

If it's obvious that all the other stuff is true, it's just as obvious that silly Yue's eyes are gleaming full of courage right now. The every day sort of courage that knows it's not up to the task but makes the effort to try anyway. The absolute power of an overwhelmed girl who does her best to sit up straight before her magic ouchies make her hunch so dramatically back down. The maximum effort baring of her maiden's heart and staring straight back into the eyes of the Countess Keron. And not even losing the staring contest, at that!

She shakes her head. Almost imperceptibly at first, but then firmly. And, oh, would you look at that? She is a knight, at least in the ways that count. Because knights don't flinch when the moment calls for it most, right? Because knights are bravest when they need to be, right? Because knights protect adorable and innocent little maidens from cutie jail. Right?

Of course they do. And of course she does. Guess you've got no choice but to throw her in your Sky Dungeons, huh?

This is, this is just too much, okay? Okay?! Hello out there?!

Chen was already overheating before having her ropes yanked hard by someone assuming they would come right off instead of stretch and pull her legs taut with the most intense pressure on her thighs as all the dress fabric pressed in on her. And when her sense started coming back to her, Rose was...was...eeeeeeeeep! She was...cleaning Jessic's talon with...oh gosh oh oh...how could she...ah, ah! Just looking at Rose humiliate herself like that made Chen blush a brighter red than the ripest tomato you'd ever seen!

She couldn't bear it. She had to...to...she couldn't move! Aaaah, the ropes were really really honest to gosh real and she couldn't move or turn or...or anything. She tried to close her eyes, but she knew what was in front of her, and without anything to stop her she just started imagining even more! Rose finishing up and then having her beautiful priest dress all balled and stuffed into her by the dragon talons and and...she opened her eyes and Rose was still working on the soft footpad with a look of pure bliss on her face. If...if it were possible for a person to suddenly turn into a train and shoot pure hot steam out of their head, that would give you the best feel for Chen's emotions at this point. She squirms and wiggles and squeaks into her gag and she's loving every second of it and there's absolutely nothing to be done!

This is so much, it's over the top, it's more than she ever dreamed and and and as Chen lets herself melt into incoherent squeaks a little part of her inside thinks about how this is the best part of being a Princess!

This is not the first time you have flown, Yue. Your adventure started with you whisked off into the sky in the arms of a girl with the grace and power of the full moon. Your feet stepped upon empty air as though it was solid and you felt the wind run through your hair and dress and heart as though they were transparent. That was different from this; Hyra's flight was the magic of dreams. This is the machinery of muscle and fire. The forces involved in each flex of those mighty wings, each rush of air and rise and fall across those strokes of wings, it all contributes to a fearsome respect for what flight is. Flight is not a game for Princess Jessic, not least when hauling three maidens bound together in a tangled net along with two riders. Gravity is not a trivial force to be disregarded. It takes not just the power of shining muscles to send a dragon aloft but hard-won skill, understanding of wind and momentum, when to climb and when to dive and when to glide and when to angle your course to catch the thermals emanating from long black roads crossing the land below like ribbons. Flight is natural for dragons, you may have thought! Well, running for days at a time is natural for human beings.

To fly so long and strong over such a distance while carrying five humans - that's not something you can do just because you're a dragon. That's something you can do because you're an athlete, because you train for it, because you're filled with passion and dedication and the desire to be the best you can be.

This might be the first time you have flown, Chen. Certainly, you glide regularly, and Sourcefall is an enormously vertical city with many brilliantly designed elevators and marvels of vertical transportation. But flight? Upon wings of fire, overland, from this altitude? This is a rare gift indeed. You might even find more time to appreciate it were you not somehow on the bottom of this pile, crushed beneath Rose from the River. Perhaps you would be able to appreciate the soaring rivers and valleys, the strange rectangle clusters of houses, the distant horizon where you can even see your home surrounded by clouds and mist, along with the glittering space elevators that ring the equator at regular intervals. If only you were not being so crushed by a girl too good to even say a harsh word to.

This is the first time you have flown, Rose. The ancient world had no use for the open sky, filled as it was by the feared and hated suns. Even when the suns had fallen they did not turn to flight in atmosphere, instead weaving mighty elevators all the way into outer space so that they could bypass this clear and blue sky entirely. The ancient world, for all its hubris, never dreamed of flight. If anything was to take to the air it was to be drones or demons.

And now here you are. In an open sky beneath a shining sun and a glittering orbital ring of sunshards, performing an action that your programming never conceived. The blockage of your cognitive functions emphasize rather than dampen this effect. You've got no way to rationalize this, no way to compress it into your worldview. You were born ten thousand miles below ground and the fires of the planet's core warmed the forge where your alloys were smelted, and now here you are above it.

Chen could fly perfectly well, thank you very much! Now sure, sword flight wasn't a high altitude sort of thing, but she could clear the treetops and she would take your bet if you offered her a sprint against Jessic. Sword flight was magical and direct. A simple spell could work slow levitation or a gentle glide, yes. But better execution and more complex magic might give you a dash or a sprint, the sword almost tugging you along, so fast did it want to sail. And if you became comfortable with it, you could relax into long stretches of overland flight riding atop the sword at moderate to high speed. It may not offer the sort of bird's eye view of a high flyer or access to the sky castle, but Chen had gotten used to her skills and that was how she could travel so far from home yet be expected to be responsive to her parents. Sword flight was freedom! It was the exhilaration of going fast, and the little knowledge of special places to gaze at the sunsets that only a skilled climber could reach on foot. Chen hadn't just taken up painting on a whim, she wanted to capture what she saw in these special spots around the world.

But, never had Chen flown with a dragon or been carried by one. There was a vast power at play here. The curving, sinuous muscles pressing her tightly, and even greater the way that the wind rolled and twisted and Jessic rolled and twisted with it. The sound of the air was different, a dull roar like being immersed in water instead of the light sound of the wind rushing past from Chen's normal flying. The pressure was different too, a lurching, stomach dropping, who knows what topsy turvy sort of pressure rather than the growing resistance of going faster and faster. And as they started rising higher and higher, there was a prickling on Chen's skin and little bits of cold formed where her thick dress and luscious gems didn't protect her.

This was a type of magic, but far different from the direct dash of the sword ignoring the world around it. This was in tune with the natural world. It was a trained magic so assured that it felt like it was natural and easy, the payoff of years of practice appearing simpy as the way the world ought to be. Yet it was simultaneously terrifying as the wind itself can be terrifying: fierce, wild, impossible to predict.

The experience would have been more than perfect had Chen merely been able to concentrate on the ride, the pressure of Jessic's muscles and scales as she strove through the air. But on top of that (or on bottom rather) was a humongous and blissful Rose pressed so tight into Chen that it was difficult to catch more than a few glimpses of the distant terrain. Instead, the rolling hills Chen saw were muscles and the mountains a chest, the mountains of Rose pressed right up against her by Jessic's talons keeping them safe against the rushing wind.

Chen blushed and the blood rushed to her skin to warm her against the cold. Her dress, already thick with its hoop skirt and rolls of fabric was whipping, whirling, and whapping against her legs where it wasn't pressed thick and tight against her by Rose's bulk. She felt rather like a child, all wrapped up in rolls and rolls of blankets to stay warm, though it was just the twisting of her dress and the pressure of Rose's body and enthusiastic hugs and nudges. But, despite the ever-growing height laid out vast before them and the chill warring with the warming of her cheeks, Chen felt safe. S-she even buried her head a little deeper into Rose for a snuggle, w-which was just to help keep her skin warm, of course!

“FFFN! Fff’fff fffhhh mmmmmffn!!” Rose enthuses, eyes wide, looking out over the world in a way she’s never seen before. It’s nothing short of miraculous, and she hardly notices the ropes that the Baroness has set her in for display purposes, and she definitely isn’t letting the thick white band of silk over her mouth stop her from trying to share her enthusiasm with the princess squirming underneath her.

How could she? This is magic. This is a beauty that she has yearned for all her life without knowing, a secret spell woven on her heart. How often did she look up at the peach-bruise sky and find inside her a nameless desire? How often has she sat on the side of roads and looked up, and up, and up, at the lights flickering up and down the elevators, mysterious and incredibly distant?

After all, the Burrow Folk made no aircraft, allowed no competitors in the sky. There was no reason for them to flash warning lights so that dragons like Princess Jessic would one day be able to avoid them even in the dark, even in the fog, even in battle. There was no message they needed to proclaim to the surface, no final testament they sought to leave behind; it cannot be communication. Or if it is, it is in no code or cipher that the people of the world know.

And yet the lights flicker anyway.

The world is full of things like that! Up here, she can see them all. She grunts in delight and nudges Yue with her shoulder and gestures with her head, trying to get her to see: look, below them, a Five-Tailed Firebird (not actually on fire, named for their bright plumage, tail does split into five long and distinct trails)! And, oh, oh, mmmph, hmmmph, look at that, brave Knight! Look at that! The shards! The sunshards! Oh, if only the Princess could see! But the Princess is hiding her face, isn’t she? What a silly girl, nuzzling into Rose instead of watching the world made new and strange and beautiful!

...but she cannot judge the sweet little thing too harshly. Maybe she’s afraid of heights! Or maybe she’s stuck down there! That might be it. Princesses do tend to get stuck places. That’s why Rose is going to do her best to explain everything, everything she sees, even if talking’s a little difficult right now?

But, but isn’t that the fun, too? Yes, Rose is very certain that’s fun. It’s difficult to explain, but... but trying to talk is more fun than actually talking. It makes her feel all kinds of hot and warm and excited, not being able to talk! And Chen— ah, maybe that’s it! Maybe that’s the key. She must be cold up here, where the winds are so strong, where the air howls so incredibly, where it exerts strange pressures on the head. She must be looking for the warmth radiating out of Rose’s heart in happy beats.

No fear, little princess. That warmth is yours, too. So Rose makes sure to envelop the princess as best she can, to be blanket and pillows and comforting weight, even as she shares bright, sparkling looks with the Knight. Isn’t this wonderful? Truly, Sai a’Niz is full of miracles. Just like her world! It’s simply incredible to think that one fox goddess could have painted the sky with these hyperreal colors and then given her loyal priestess the opportunity to experience it with such amazing companions!

And deep within her, a thing of scales purrs happily and settles into itself, thinking impossible things, enjoying the relief of freedom through bondage, silenced at last, and yet safe, safe, safe. No mountains to lie beneath, no dark dreams, just Chen and Yue and a wide open sky, and a burning candle.

Y'know what's funny? For most of her life, Yue assumed she was afraid of heights. It was just, well, trips to the top of the waterfall were so scary! And any time she had to climb a ladder she got a sense of vertigo, like her stomach as a knot and a hawk at the same time and was twist-swooping down into her legs and blurrgh arrrgh flegh. So, like, yeah. What else was she supposed to think?

But when she was flying with Hyra, she was was so amazed to be up there, seeing what birds see that she just sort of... forgot to be scared. At first she thought it was because Hyra was holding her, and those wonderful, beautiful arms were making her feel too safe for the rest of it to catch back up with her brain. But then the demons came and she was definitely scared to be up there floating all by herself, and with so much... everything going on she couldn't tell her heart from her butt, if y'know what I mean.

And even that'd been her home, right? Those were her trees, her river, her house off in the wayyyyy distance, her grass, her flowers, even her demons, sorta kinda maybe. They say starting the journey is the hardest part, but at this point she's gotta wonder if they haven't heard about continuing it. So many paths look like the way home if you squint at 'em hard enough, and when your legs are aching and your stomach's empty and the longer you think about it the more you realize you're about to run out of good tea and, goshies, when was the last time you even got to run around gathering leaves? Yeah, the longer you think about it the more those roads home look mighty tempting. Every choice you make to keep on keeping on is a tiny little sliver of iron will those sillies with the fancy pens keep forgetting to write about. And maybe in the meantime you try to master a flight spell to keep yourself feeling like you belong, and you don't stop to think about how scary you're supposed to think that is?

But now she knows. Now she knows. It wasn't heights that scared her, how could it be? She's being carried HOW far up? Tangled up in a net? Being carried by a dragon? And she's not even shaking! Well, maybe a little bitty shiver, but that's on account of how much colder the air gets up here. She's just, it's so, everything is, is... wow! Wowies!

This is so much farther than she ever dreamed of going. Sometimes she worries she's repeating that thought a lot, but then all that stuff about bitty little slivers happens and she takes another step and, sheesh wouldn't you know it that's a new personal record all over again. These are not her trees, her river. Those certainly aren't her sunshards. Her eyes turn to liquid with wonder and delight as she gazes far below her the the grand... no, ruins wasn't the right word, was it? Signposts? Monuments! These beautiful shells of pure art and love that call back to a time when, they say, a Princess declared there were too many suns.

And the cliff face! She never knew that rocks could be so red! Oh gosh, Rose! Rosie! What plant is that down there? What... ohhhh, a Firebird! For true? Yue wriggles into the net for the first time all journey, trying to wave at the marvelous creature. Oh, hello there! Hello! Thanks so much for stopping by, friend! Love your coat, would you mind treating us to a little song? Oh, you're busy? Haha, that's ok! Safe journeys and pleasant wings, friend! Byyyyeeeee!

She never thought she'd see half of what she's seen just this afternoon. And if flying and being up all high and stuff was what brought it all in front of her, then how on earth could it be so bad?

And... and that's another thing, ok? That's another thing! This whole time, her whole dang life she looked up at the sky and thought it couldn't belong to her. She'd been kinda slacking off on her practice for just that very reason. Well, plus she's been a bit busy, but now? Even though she can't really bring her hands together properly, she's moving them like this. Then like this. Then like this. Finishing like this.

And it's 'cause of what's going on above her. Power turning into fire turning into speed. Turning into flight, yeah? Yeah! Yue glances up at Jessic and smiles with the deepest sense of wonder she's felt the whole trip so far every time she does it, 'cause... 'cause... she knows that power. Shut up, she does! She's got maybe more in common with this dragon than a single person in her little hometown! Even Sis, just maybe! She's got more in common with a dragon than any person she's ever met.

'Cause that up there? That's work. Effort. That's practice, for something so completely normal and obvious that nobody would ever guess you needed to do it. And that's... that's her! That's her too! What's Yue ever been good at in her life? Nothin', 'cept what she put all the work her body could handle into. And all've that was always such silly, petty things that nobody ever really gave her credit for it. But sometimes she sees Jessic shift her tail or a muscle twitches and sends a ripple through her powerful body and Yue and her two good friends go bumping and giggling into each other, and...

Oh gosh! Oh goshies and goshlings! Do it again, please! Make a mistake! And then keep going! You're incredible Ms. Dragon! You make flight look like hard work! You make it look so, so tricky! You make it look like years and years went into this, and years and years'll come after to finish getting it right! You make it look so pretty! So real!

'Cause if a dragon has to work so hard to ride the winds the stories all say she was born to? Then it's ok for Yue, Silly Stupid Yue Just Yue The Sun Farmer to have to try so hard at everything, too. It feels like, like, it feels like a journey with an end? Something she can achieve, y'know? So just watch her! Watch her, Rosie! Watch her, uh... o-oh, maybe Chen won't be watching much of anything right now. But she'll tell you later, ok? She's gonna do it! Why couldn't she be like a dragon, too?

Just a little, bitty bit?

In ancient times the skies were still free
So come, come, my darling, to the skies with me

The fragment of that ancient song hovered on the edge of perception, on the edge of mind and heart. The tune is so vibrant that it makes you wish you knew the language of music so that you could do it justice, that the wind wasn't rushing through your hair so you might try to hum it. Despite its gentle, internal presence it is not of you - it is the whispering, brushing thought of an unguarded dragon whose heart overflows with music as the distant Sky Castle appears through the clouds.

And oh, the flags! The kites! They soar in their thousands, hanging in every colour and arrangement from every house's roof and balcony, from every exposed metal strut and from every ancient stonework! They fly and twist in the breeze, wind given form and colour and a population of hundreds of thousands! Perhaps without these schools of airborne fish, these ribbon snakes, these paper birds the Sky Castle might seem a grim thing. Perhaps it might seem to be what it once was - a huge and heavy vessel with a beak to crack asteroids and suck the water from comets. This is only a perhaps, though, for even if all the gifts of the winds were to be packed away tomorrow the flat and ugly ship would still be buried beneath the waving roots of impossible trees.

When we were still children the skies were free
So come, come, my darling, to the skies with me

And around and above the kites buzz biplanes, triplanes, marvels of wood and fabric, the pride of each household's collective labour and effort. They glitter like dreams against the sunshards, bounding and leaping and diving in that strange flock logic that perhaps makes sense to each individual bird but together, from a distance, makes them subject to strange arcs and turns and dips and flows.

It's the border of the world, the Sky Castle. If you are cursed then you must come here to find a cure; if you come here without a curse you will obtain one. If you have a childhood friend who goes away to live here she'll return a daring air pirate to snatch you away one night when you least suspect it; if you go away to visit it for the summer you'll fall in love with a goddess of the wind and will ever afterwards feel her fingers in your hair when the east wind rises. If you catch the golden ladder that hangs from the bottom of the castle and climb then when you reach the top you'll find a glorious dragon with her full court awaiting you to give you a wish; if you steal in with devil magic you'll find yourself overthrowing all to become king for a glorious season before the palace coup sees you fallen back to earth again. All the stories agree: you can't visit a place like this without it changing you somehow.

I still love you and the skies are now free
So come, come, my darling, to the skies with me

You touch down onto the cool metal, softened by moss and corroded to natural colours by rust. Princess Jessic lands a moment later, pacing rapidly and flexing her wings to cool down after her long flight. Countess Keron takes the time to stroke her neck and give her a large flask of water before finally turning back to you.

"So, what should I do with each of you?" asked the Countess, moving close, serpentine. She casually takes Rose, then Yue, by the chin, turning their heads gently this way and that as her aloof dark eyes calculate. "Everything has its place, but what is yours? It'd be such a waste to throw such pretty girls in the dungeon when they might still be useful..."

"So what should I do with it?"

"What can't you do with it?" Its handler taps on the screen of their tablet, and the HUNTER-Class 猎犬 extruded more eyes and feelers as electricity raced down its spine unbidden. "Surveillance, primarily. It has the ability to optimize its sensory data in ways that not even demons can match. But also--"

"It was a rhetorical question," its buyer says. Behind the mask, his eyes are yellowed, strained. "I read your briefing. It's a hunter-carceral. It's a dog that goes and fetches what it's told to. The real question, the real question is simply... who do I send it after first?"

"I can't, uh, on the record..."

Whatever you want, the HUNTER-Class 猎犬 thinks. It wants to run. It has run, before, but on closed circuits, in mazes, in tests. Let it into the world. Let it run. Let it play. And it'll bring back whoever you want. The fire burns inside it, the active principle, and there is a strange itch in its hands where the claws meet the skin. It does not speak. It is not permitted to speak. But it lets its long, forked tongue loll, trying to express its need. Let it run. Let it find. Let it bite.

That's what it was made for, after all. That's why it exists.

***

Rose has changed before. She can't remember exactly when, but, well, it's obvious, isn't it? She wasn't always the High Priestess of Sai a'Niz. Is it possible that this place could change her, too? No, no, of course not! She is defined by her faith in the goddess, that's the cornerstone of her identity! But perhaps it will change here, too-- that her prayers will twist and take on new dimensions as they race to Heaven along the strings of the kites fluttering in their hundreds in the breeze, a cresting wave that reminds her of places she can't quite remember, but that makes her heart warm, warm, so warm indeed.

(The thing deep inside her knows better; "Rose" is malleable indeed. She is not the actress but the role; change the role, through fox magic or subtler ways, and Rose will remember being a high priestess only vaguely, as in a dream. Consistency, the choice of roles, the synthesis of who you were with who you are: those things are locked away in a candle wick. It would be easy to convince her that she is a maid of the castle, with strong arms for doing the washing-up and shapely legs for the curve of stockings; it would be easy to convince her that she was secretly a princess all along, and not just any princess but a demure, helpless one; it would be easy to convince her that she was a guard of the Sky Castle all along and set her to guard the prisoners; it would be effortless to convince her that she is a slave-girl, a decoration and a companion, a sultry thing that makes the monk-thing inside her squirm and hide its head beneath its coils.)

(Only, please, the thing of coils begs silently: no more running. No more chasing. No more hurting. This world is a kinder world, but the memories still come at her with hot irons and whips and brands of shame. The looks of despair, or hatred, or betrayed agony; the feeling of skin yielding under its hands, of bones coming undone, of the body being unraveled beneath its claws. First it did it because it loved the work; then it did it because it could not become other than it was; then it did it because it would not let anything stand between it and an elusive freedom. But it killed. It was a killer. And now she will always have been a killer.)

(What if the Baroness decides to use the Equal of Crowns for conquest? Make of it a sword, a weapon, a terrible word which is Devotion, an invincible sword-saint trained and honed and brutal? What if the candle is locked away and never lit again? What if, what if, what if? What if your weakness doomed this world to blood and ruin again, nameless thing of power and desire? What if your inability to control your desire and your powerlessness before the wiles of foxes has trampled your dreams of being a new growth and a new creation underfoot?)

Not knowing why she does it, Rose tilts her head just an inch in the fingers of the Baroness and looks up at her as those gloved fingers brush against the bottom fringe of her gag, and her eyes are vulnerable and exposed, begging for something that she cannot even say to herself. She is, despite all her strength, despite her size, as small and meek in that moment as Princess Chen, helpless and forced to rely on someone outside of herself. She longs, she fears, she craves, she aches, and she doesn't understand any, any of it. All she knows is that she has to convince the Baroness of, of something. Or the world will crack in and not even Sai a'Niz will be able to save her priestess from the end of everything.

Rose has one advantage over the nameless thing, too: she is shameless. There is no self-consciousness in her silent pleading, no hesitancy as she manually overrides pride and dignity, no awareness of her companions, as much as they mean to her, watching her as she opens herself through her eyes and her body language, every small gesture, every shudder, every slackening of muscle writ large on her statuesque form. She makes herself pitiable with the same thoughtless serenity as she worshiped the dragon's foot, appealing to the heart of this shining world that flows through this entire castle of transformations, of changes in the wind, of numberless kites.

[I kept arguing with myself if I should roll Entice again, but the whole point of this post is being vulnerable and shameless and so I will do it anyway. 8, which is perfect. Like, that's such a good result for this beat.]

How come she's crying? It's not like Yue's a mind reader or anything. She's not even that good with faces! One time on market day she paid three times the usual price for a jar of red beans because she'd misread the seller's surprise for disappointment and accidentally haggled her way up instead of down. So it's not like... it's not, it's not like she can see Rosie's dream, right? It's not like, it's not, it's, it's... stop it stop it stop it Yue! You're being so, so..!

It's not like Rose said a word about anything one way or the other. She could be thinking about a perfectly baked loaf of bread (with nuts and seeds and spirals of cardamom baked inside!) as easily as she could be begging for her life. Maybe? But the Countess isn't scary any more than Jessic was, and she was a dragon carrying her across the endless skies. There's just, just, just no reason!

But the fact of the matter's that she's crying just as surely as she's blushing. And she's blushing as surely as she's shaking. And she's shaking about as much as she's swallowing, as if somewhere in the air she's gulping there'll be some words for her to spit back out that'll do what she needs them to do. Which is what, exactly? She's never been so confused in all her life, unless you count the time that Sis asked her what the sound of one hand clapping was and then shook her head when she tried to make it.

"I..."

She's not sure where she's trying to take that 'I'. Where's it supposed to go, and where she wants it to, and if either of those two things are different from each other. What she's sure of, though, is that Rose is big and strong and scary in a way that Yue never can be. And that she's the one who's making those eyes that remind of her Kat's, that she's not making threats or standing up or brandishing the... uh... what was it again? The Consillyuhsomething Blade Or Other? She's not using that to break anybody out, not demanding anything at all or doing any of the stuff she's pretty sure Hyra would be doing in this situation. She's just looking. Like that. So vulnerable. So quiet.

It's beautiful to Yue, even if she can't figure out why. Maybe it's not beautiful to anybody else, but for her it's just... it's weird, y'know? It makes her wish she was every bit the knight she was dressed as. It makes her wish she was a master with her sword and that she could fly like a princess already and carve glittering circles through the air with the sword she'd inherited from the shrine. It makes her dream of a world full of maidens just like Rose offering kisses and adventures and doe-eyed looks just like this one to wanderers who look a lot like Yue.

"I don't..."

She forces herself to stand up to the full degree her fox-wounds will allow her. She wipes her eyes on her sleeve even though her sleeve is overlapping plates of metal right now and ow. She sniffles loudly as she accepts the touch under her chin with the closest she can manage to polite acceptance instead of total flusterbarassment.

"I don't know." she says, with an oddly tinny pitch.

Yue folds in on herself like a paper fan in the hands of a courtesan. All the effort of pretending and feeling and thinking and realizing and wondering scorches its way out of her body and leaves her with nothing but frazzled nerves and a dream thumping inside of her chest with insistent power that she's got no idea how it got there. It can't be hers, can it? Gosh, it'd be nice to just... just have like a, uh, a hot bath and a cup of tea and get to sleep in a soft bed tonight. Wouldn't it? Don't ya think? It'd be nice if there was a way to ask for that, too.

The tears on her cheeks are so warm and soft that they're making her smile. She must look like a complete moron. Might as well sound like one too, y'know?

"I'm not good for much of anything. I'm still learning how to hold a sword. Oh, and uh, and swing it too. I don't know how to... oh, I'm an ok cook, I guess? Princess Qiu seemed like she liked my cookies, at least before she chased me in that helicopter and, um. N-no, I mean, that's not..."

She swallows one more time. Come on words, help her out here.

"I just wanna, I just. I, uh, gosh. Ahaha. I wanna keep my friends safe. I wanna be strong so they can be soft instead when they wanna. I wanna save my girlf-- um!!! M-my g-g-gahhh very special person from a curse! I wanna, I wanna... I wanna belong up here! What... d'you want me to say, t-to make that happen? Where do you have to put me, to pay for all've that?"

Chen didn't know what to say at first. She couldn't just blurt out I'm here for dragon counseling because Qiu thought Jessic could help me out. It was embarrassing and anyway the countess didn't even seem to be paying attention to her. Princesses were a known quantity, she guess, unlike wandering ancient monks and random villagers who somehow pulled your heartstrings every which way constantly.

She let out an squeak that said "hey I'm still here, jerk!" but before she could do more, she saw that look on Rose's face and everything in her just started to melt. She was...not ready for that. The idea had been building up in her mind ever since she saw the collar. Even when Rose had been piggy-backing her around the town like she was a toddler, Chen was starting to think about what Rose wanted and how she seemed to press and show off to hide the fact that maybe what she wanted was someone to push her over. Then she'd agreed so quickly to the Cyanis wish plan, which was objectively nowhere near the best plan to get Jessic's attention when Chen could have just called her, but Rose had leapt at this innocent beauty nearly as fast as Chen had leapt for the thicky fluffy dress she knew she'd get to wish for.

But this, this was like somebody opening a window in her heart and fresh air bursting through and pushing out all the gunked up parts that were full of pressure and worry. Chen gasped out loud. She noticed distantly that Yue was staring at Rose and crying, and for a moment Chen wanted to cry too. But she wanted something else even more than to cry right now. More than letting out the pressure and getting help dealing with her family and all that other stuff all put together.

She wanted Rose to look at her, right at her, at Chen, with that beautiful innocent, just a little pitiful stare. She wanted it more than anything.

Then, in the fantasy that was now flashing through her mind, they'd hug and Rose would lift her up like she weighed nothing, but she'd do a trickly half-flying half leg throw sort of thing that would bring Rose flat on her back. Then! Then Chen would fish out the ropes from Rose's bag and truss her up twice as tight as she'd made Chen when carrying her like a bindle.

And as that thought came to a close and Chen felt her familiar blush rising up to her cheeks, she felt another feeling, one that demanded she shout out because Rose looked a little like she might really be afraid. Pushing out her gag a bit (Cyanis hadn't done hers nearly so tight even if she'd been content with squeaks earlier), tiny little Chen shouted out, "hey, hands off! Rose is my girlfriend and you're scaring her!"

Then Chen realizes what she said and collapses entirely back into squeaking. But it's defiant squeaking. The absolute most defiant embarrassed squeaks you ever heard in your life, and unlike normal she doesn't avert her eyes because even as she's flushing, she's staring at Rose and hoping for some sign, any sign at all that what she said was okay.

Countess Keron snapped her fingers imperiously. Immediately guards in flowing scale armour with black and white capes surrounded her. "This one," she said, pointing at Chen. "Has spoken out of turn. Have her strung up by her heels above the market square until she learns respect." Another snap and two of them have moved to take Chen by the arms.

"This one," she said, looking at Rose. Her voice was the kindness of authority, so certain it overrode all doubt, "is weak. Fragile. Useless. Look at her, she doesn't even know she is meant to apply makeup, the pathetic creature. Take her away and teach her how to be presentable for goodness sake. The next time I see her I want her to look soft."

"And you?" said Countess Keron, bending down to look at Yue. "And you, little knight? You need strength, and the only way to gain that is by taking it away from someone else."

Despite the harshness of those words and the coldness of her eyes, Countess Keron is not cruel when she says that. She dealt with Chen and Rose like they were nothing and oh, that made her mighty, but there is no contempt in her voice for either of them. Having power, rendering another weak kneed and short of breath and trembling against the ropes, is not the same thing as being mean.

"And so you will fight in the arena," she said, drawing herself up again. "And there you will stay until you can overcome me in a clash of blades. Challenge me whenever you like, but be assured you will need the strength of many victories to stand against me."

Weak. Fragile. Useless.

My girlfriend.

Weak. Fragile. Useless.

My girlfriend.

Rose is used to mantras. Because... because it is expected of a priestess? Yes. That must be it. Long hours spent in meditation over the miracles of the goddess, her ten thousand transcendent titles, her eight million fluffy tails. She lets the words step into the spotlight of her mind, declare themselves into the resounding dark, and step back into shadow, one at a time, over and over.

Weak. Fragile. Useless.

My girlfriend.

She is weak. She is not strong. Her restraints are hopeless; she shouldn’t even bother to struggle against them. She could never lift the sword that— what sword? Was she thinking of the bronze rod the Countess was holding? That surely must be it. As she is walked through the castle, her arms become slimmer with a slow and gradual diminishing, until the ropes (inescapable, adamantine, heavy) are dangling on the cock of her wrists.

Weak. Fragile. Useless.

My girlfriend.

She is fragile. She is not a mountain, not a serpent with invulnerable scales, not Equal To... well, anyone. She is a flower. She is a rose. She needs to be held and kept safe. She dwindles like a candle in the arms of her guards until she is no longer towering over them, but dainty, delicate, very holdable, just begging to be swept up into someone’s arms or over their shoulder. A white cloth slides down her chin and rests like a scarf around her collarbone.

Weak. Fragile. Useless.

My girlfriend.

She is useless, not skilled or useful or competent. Her chest is... awkward, compared to the rest of her, just a little too big, made for getting in the way of holding swords or fitting in tight spaces. Her hind end, the same, made for bumping into things and being smacked. Her footfall is not a sure, confident thing, but now stumbles and is hesitant, the body being made to forget... forget something. Why had she been so sure and capable before? No, she wasn’t, she must have been misremembering. She’s a silly little thing, all blushing and muffledly squeaking as she remembers her betters saying:

Weak. Fragile. Useless.

My girlfriend.

She is pushed into a small, warmly-lit room full of mirrors, where she is given the opportunity to look at herself, and she sees: the girlfriend of Princess Chen. Weak and fragile and useless and so, so lucky. She is told to sit; her bonds are removed, the sodden gag pulled from between her teeth; she is told to wait. Then the door is closed.

Rose, Princess Chen’s girlfriend, waits. Not just because she’s been told, but because she knows that Chen will come and save her, and that she is supposed to be in need of saving. She’s weak and fragile and useless and loved, after all, and—

Her fingers find something hidden away underneath her outfit, which is starting to fall away from her, leaving her very exposed. She runs her fingers over it reverently, over the pink leather, over the studs, and she remembers where she got it. Of course she does. How could she forget?

She lifts the collar that has her name on it and buckles it around her throat, just snug enough that she’ll remember, no matter what, Chen fitting it around her neck for the first time at the Flying Market of Princess Jessic; and their soft, gentle kiss; and how Rose felt safer and happier then than she had felt in, in mil— in years. Because she’s just a silly little priestess who has the cutest artist princess girlfriend in the world. And no matter what happens while she waits for Chen to escape and come save her, she can hold onto that truth.

Maybe Yue didn't understand enough about prisons.

It didn't look like the kind've thing she'd imagined a prison would look like. There weren't any bars or chains or hard stone floors or, or uh... racks? Prisons had racks, right? She's pretty sure. And whatever those are, this room didn't have them. So that's a knock against it right there. In terms of its Prison Score, you see. Anyway she wasn't sure about this? But it did seem like from the way people wrote and talked about prison cells that they'd be... y'know, smaller? With no soft beds covered in super fluffy pillows and the coziest blankets you ever did see?

Then again maybe not. But they definitely didn't have bubbling jacuzzi baths or room service where they brought you delicious dumplings and soba and a frankly astonishing array of traybakes too numerous to even try to name. Oh, and they definitely definitely didn't let you bring pets and girlfriends (meep!) in with you. Unless they did? Maybe she just hadn't seen any good prisons. Or any prisons. Or... y'know. It had to be something. There had to be an explanation.

'Cause for as nice as everything was? She still felt trapped here.

"Ohhhh, what am I gonna do, Hyra? I can't fight my way up an entire castle's worth of rankings! I don't even know if I can fight in the first place! The duel is supposed to be about the duel but now I'm supposed to be stealing strength from someone? And a lot of someones, at that? Goshies, Hyra, this is too much! What am I doing here? I shouldn't be here!"

And Hyra did not answer her, because Yue did not give her time to take a breath.

"No I know, I know! If I go I'm leaving all my friends just when I got finished meeting them. I shouldn't. I should stay. They'll be so upset. Maybe duels, like... leak extra strength into the air or something? And I just breathe it in? Is, is that how it works? That wouldn't be so bad, but I, augh! Ohhh, I can't I can't I can't, I can't do it, Hyra! They won't even let me make tea! All my leaves are gonna go bad and it's been sooooo long since I've got to harvest any, and, and my good sun spots are probably all taken up by lizards now, and I bet all the animals are just freaking out without me, and, and I... I miss home, ok? I do! Is that so wrong?"

And Hyra did not answer her, because the full moon did not shine in the night sky.

"Yeah I know they don't want me to leave, but they've all gotta go to sleep sooner or later, right? I'll just... sneak out, and, and uh... I dunno, there's probably a rope ladder somewhere I can climb down on and, oh what do you mean it's not going to be long enough to reach? Of course it... oh wait no, you're supposed to fly up aren't you? Ok new plan, I climb the rope ladder part way down and then I wait there until I can ask a big enough bird to carry me the rest of the-- oh, but that would leave you behind, wouldn't it? Ok no, we'll steal a basket, right? And then... Hyra, are you even listening to me?"

And Hyra did not answer her. Because she is a wolf. Are you stupid?

"Look. No, you're right. I'm sorry. But I can't do this. I don't wanna, and I can't. I can't, ok? I'm just gonna apologize and tell them there's been a mistake, would you mind flying closeish to home please? And I'll go back to my cabin and that'll be that, and Yi-- PRINCESS Yin'll uncurse you 'cause I'm not there anymore, and you can be happy again too. So, so just... move, please, so I can go find someone to tell and we'll get all of this-- h-hey! Give that back!"

Yue reaches, but too slow. Her fingers close on empty air, as Hyra plants all four feet firmly on the ground between Yue and the door to ordinary freedom. Her red eyes shine with fierce determination against the ceiling lights and the evening air. In her mouth, clenched between her sharp and gleaming teeth, is Yue's wooden sword.

"Hyra, this isn't funny. I made that sword myself, give it back! What're you... h-hey, don't point that at me! What do you think I've been trying to... NO I can't do this! I told you why! I don't care if you believe in me, I'm getting out of here and that's, ow! Ow! Owies!!"

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Three times, with perfect lupine form no less, does Hyra bring the, er, "blade" down on Yue's thighs and fill the room with frightened and pained yips. There's more of fox in ya girl than she realizes, don'tcha think? But Hyra's snarl cuts through all the philosophical quand... uh... thinkies of the evening, and she gestures sharply toward Yue with the tip. And then over to her bag. To Yue. To her bag. Yue. The bag. Yue.

"...Huh?"

Did you know it was possible for wolves to make frustrated snorts while holding swords in their mouths! I didn't! But now I do, which is neat. She rolls her eyes and pads softly over to the bag, sure to pause and gesture sharply with the sword several times in case Yue gets any bright ideas. She doesn't, she's too busy sniffling and rubbing the welt on her leg, but it's good to be prepared, y'know? She paws at the bag, and kicks it across the floor with a thumpafwoppafwippaclank. Wait, clank? Yue gasps as the pristine, glittering blade of the Demon Swordswoman clatters on the floor at her feet. She's so surprised she picks it up without thinking.

"Wait a second... no, Hyra. Absolutely not! This isn't fair to you, come on!"

Undaunted, Hyra brings the wooden sword up into the air and taps it on the side of Yue's proper one. She settles into a dueling stance, or what passes for a wolfish version of one at any rate. She's at least six... no, seven times more sure and graceful than Yue's panicked and half-remembered reply.

"That's a wooden sword, dummy! This one's real! I'm gonna hurt you and I don't want... I know you're way better than me Hyra, but you're a wolf! You don't have hands! There's no way for you to-- ow! There's no way you can, OW! Owies! St-stop th-- owwwwww!"

Yue leaps a full foot away from the next strike and parries it with a sweeping circle motion. She doesn't quite disarm her opponen, maybe 'cause she's got no arms, but it's close enough to get an appreciative wag from the veteran. Yue's stance is just how she remembers it from the shrine, which is to say she's bobbled it and she's too narrow by half a foot. But her bow is perfect. And the little smirk that plays across her lips? Oh, divine!

First Opponent: Hyra of the Wolves
Technique: Wolf Holding a Sword Style
Special Moves: ???
Secret Weapon: Is Literally Yue's Girlfriend (...Meeeeep!)

Fighters ready? The wheel of fate is... hm?

Come again? What of widdle Kat, you ask? Whither Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits, our bright and shining superheroine?

Well. Not to brag or anything, but while these two sillyheads went at it? A certain darling cutiemittens went and stole the best spot on the good pillows. And now she's good and comfy and chewing on a feather that doesn't belong to her and nobody's stopping her or even noticing her doing it, so honestly? Whatever happens here, there's your real winner.

Anyway, fighters ready! Beginify!

The true beauty of Chen’s dress is that Cyanis appears to have designed it precisely for being strung up in a public square. It’s almost as though she could have known the outcome, so uncanny were her fox senses!

She thus finds herself hanging by the heels suspended over ten feet in the air. Her hair decorations, so cunningly set with many gems, bounce the light of the sun from the horizon into a glimmering pattern of sparkles and shimmers on the ground below. It’s guaranteed to attract the attention of every shopper passing by and make them look up to Chen.

The dress itself, set with its formed hoop skirt, splays out beautifully, rotating with Chen in a wide circle of pink fabric rather like a spinning top moving in slow motion. The ropes on her heels offer just enough rotation that the dress is held in place at its greatest width as Chen slowly rotates back and forth and the rope settles its way inexorably towards a settled state.

Or rather, the rope would settle itself if Chen did not periodically squirm and try to reach up towards her feet in a powerful leg lift, only for the thick dress to bunch up too much, floor in her face with the wind and push her back downwards, setting the rope into a new and faster spin. Of course, she knew that she couldn’t (and shouldn’t) actually escape, but it was important to put on a show. And though Chen was at her reddest being offered on display for all these people, she was also enjoying herself immensely.

This sort of thing was a special type of Princess embarrassment. She had been caught and was being displayed by a rival kingdom! She had to put on a good show for them, and she also felt a certain kind of special joy in the ritual. They had strung her up like a particularly impertinent handmaiden, which was the point of course, and she knew that everyone was looking at her, but at the same time it made her feel kind of important and special, like Jessic and the Countess cared enough about her to do this sort of public display, and she’d give them the same honor if it ever came to it (though she’d have to think long and hard about how to display a dragon at Sourcefall or Ys. Maybe she could temporarily freeze Jessic and display her as an ice sculpture at a party. She’d have to ask if that would be too unpleasant, she didn’t want to do anything painful!)

So, at least initially, Chen was quite enjoying herself, almost a cute squirming time of meditation after such an overwhelming day. She was a little worried about Rose and Yue, but they were both eminently competent (even if they didn’t realize it themselves), so she felt like there was ample time for a daring rescue. Although with Rose...she was a little worried. Rose had looked happy, but she’d also still been kind of out of it, Chen hadn’t really seen any reaction before she had been dragged off, and she’d had quite an outburst. So she did want to make sure Rose was okay, which was weighing on her. Breaking out now wouldn’t help though, it would be better to wait until the candle burned down and Rose was ready, and for Chen to finish her punishment and have some time to herself. A daring escape in the courtyard would ruin her dress and turn the whole thing into a public spectacle, which would mean Jessic would be forced to catch and further embarrass Chen for the humiliation of trying to escape alone and surrounded like that (granted, if it succeeded it would be a coup throughout the kingdoms, but Chen wasn’t confident enough she could do it to go for the moonshot).

It was that last that sent her spiraling though. Chen wasn’t confident in herself. She was way out of her league and not at all up to the level of talent she expected of herself. Qiu had shown her that and sent her here. And all of this would be getting back to Chen’s parents one way or another. Mommy Ysel in particular was going to be so mad. Just so mad, it made Chen’s heart sink into her stomach in defiance of gravity.

That made her worried too. Maybe they didn’t know. What if Jessic left? Qiu had recommended Jessic help her, but they’d treated the whole thing like a normal capture and if Jessic flew off to go do something else before Chen got a chance to talk with her, she might be stuck for a while. Or what if Jessic just couldn’t help? It wasn’t like Qiu had really understood how Chen was feeling, she had her own thing going (Chen still felt guilt for missing that until it was way too late and hurting Qiu). So maybe Jessic wouldn’t be able to help at all and Chen would just get dragged home, raked over the coals (hopefully metaphorically, though Ysel might go literal on that one), and put back into training for a couple more years until they thought she was ready for another go at Qiu. The idea made her want to cry, which really would be awful hanging in the public square (if she started for real crying, it would get reported and they would come take her down, but it would be just like with Qiu and knock her out of being part of this Princess thing and that would just make her feel worse).

So Chen hung there, wiggling every so often, and tried to just kind of meditate and hold back tears. She tried not to think too hard about her parents or what they wanted, why she still wasn’t good enough, why Qiu even wanted to conquer all these kingdoms instead of just...like, giving her a hug earlier, why she felt guilty about how things went with Qiu, and anything about Rose actually being in danger because that was giving her anxiety the more she thought about it.

She ultimately settled on distracting herself with wondering what Jessic might have done in her life to be any good at counseling. Maybe dragons had all sorts of problems that were just like Chen’s. She tried to imagine a dragon mom and dad shouting at their kid for not breathing fire well enough or...or flying too slowly and bungling it when she tried to swoop and pick something up in a talon quickly. That seemed incredibly cute and at least brought her a little smile. Enough to ward off the dread of her phone ringing or someone coming to get her only to find out that everyone she hoped for had collapsed in the interim.

[I think this scene triggers Help Me~~ for Jessic or Keron since they’ve taken Chen captive now.]

Chen!

+Good evening, Princess Chen.+

The thought was soft like tracing one's fingers along a silent engine was. Hard and fierce and capable of filling with fire and heat... but choosing not to do that. Soft for all it wasn't in that moment.

Princess Jessic had come to sit below you, her head almost but not quite coming up to your eye level. She radiated the warmth and shine of having been bathed, cleaned, and made up. Her clothing was rugged and fashionable; a dragon-sized leather aviator's jacket, lined with fur, set with a crimson thunderbolt pin. Well worn and traveled, thick with pockets - clothing to brave exotic lands in. She also wore scarf, gloves, and boots - autumn's wind was here and she evidently was not somebody who liked the chill.

+Qiu told me you were having trouble,+ said Jessic. +Is this a good time?+

[Take a string on Jessic]

Rose!

You are washed. This is not left to your own care, it is the work of many hands, many soaps and many gentle sponges. Your hair is cleaned. This is not left to your own care, it is the work of many brushes, many shampoos and conditioners, and many light and gentle scissors. You are painted. This is not left to your own care, it is the work of many artists who can work on eyes and skin and lips in tandem, all working towards an outcome that seems so natural as to be invisible. You could not tell where the makeup ends and you begin, you could not say for sure where the you of this morning ended and where this new you arrived, perhaps all of the changes might be a trick of the light. But it's a good trick. It holds no matter what angle you look at it from. You can't see the seams or the paint or clearly express what has changed, but somehow everything has. Your eyes are bigger, your cheeks are warmer, your shadows are softer.

You have seen this face before. But this time, as much as you would like to, you cannot blame fox magic. All the paints and brushes and artists are still here before you, as real as the daybreak.

"Absolutely lovely," said handmaiden Thain, the director of this work, leaning back amidst her cooing assistants. "Absolutely. I can see why the Countess likes you so much, there was so much beauty in you waiting to get out."

Yue!

Tail! Tail! Aackpbbt!

Once again you're sneezing away a faceful of tickly wolf fur. Once again Hyra's crimson eyes are sardonic, amused and confident as she scores yet another win. Once again you struggle to come to grips with how little the sword matters in this sword duel.

Those crimson eyes flash and fill with confidence, brilliant and sardonic and amused but with that wary, attentive edge of a consummate performer sizing up her audience after each new trick. Then she turns and her eyes are sharp and intense and powerful and while you're catching your breath she's in so close swords are useless and she's tangled amidst your legs such that she only needs to flex her back to send you falling to the ground. A paw presses on your collar and a cold nose touches yours and a smirk - and then she's back again, standing on her hind legs and leaning on the crossguard of her sword.

Do you see it yet, Yue?

Do you see it when Hyra leans against the coat-rack, sending it toppling? You might not then, because that rack is carved mahogany and is fancier than Mr. Witthord's coat rack and you can't let it break! Who knows what they'd do to you if you broke the prison furniture!? You go for the save but - thwack! Thwack! Two more sword-blows across the thighs and Hyra is trotting away again as content as the devil.

Do you see it when she drops your sword on the ground, causing you to lower your guard and letting her rush you? Do you see it when she carves a magic pattern on the ground and you're so freaked out by all the possible things it could be that she can rush you? Do you see it when she suddenly barks and makes you flinch so badly that she's able to rush you?

Don't worry, Yue. Even if your brain is a useless fluster, eventually your bruised butt will get the message and your body will start reacting on its own. The lesson will dawn, one way or another: fighting like this isn't about skill at all. If Hyra wasn't a wolf she could no doubt move faster, more precisely, hook your chin under the tip of her blade rather than giving a clumsy whack with the flat of the blade across the thigh, but that's not what's letting her get close in the first place. What lets her get close is that she's confident. That she knows you, your habits, your instincts, your reflexes, your weaknesses. That she can stare you in the eyes so intensely that she can walk right up to you and your heart is pounding so hard that you can't lift a finger.

Hyra of the wolves is teaching you that the truth of the blade is in the heart. The head, the hand are useful. But it's the heart that sends maidens falling.

Rose does not have much experience with makeup. Her mind shies away from reasons. Something about... meditation. Or travel. Or just... it slips through her fingers like fog, and it doesn’t feel good when she tries to touch it. So she exists in the now instead. In the now, where her skin feels soft and smooth and made to be touched, gleaming like a river lit only by shardlight. In the now, where her hair falls to her shoulders, transformed from thick and vine-like braids to mossy, sweet-smelling curls, glossy green-black bangs falling loose about her face, which is... small. Dainty. Pretty, in a way which makes her chest tighten and her heart race.

Her lips are so full, so golden! They make her look like a treasure. The dusting of gold on her lashes, traced around those golden eyes, rings gleaming at her lobes and (so small!) at her nose, they make her shine, put her skin into contrast, and oh, Chen will be so happy when she sees her, won’t she?

(Deep within, the nameless thing worries whether she will. It feels joy and nervousness alike; these wrists cannot hold a sword, and she was beloved because of her power and strength... wasn’t she? Would her new friends prefer her like this, a fluttering damsel in need of their help, more than the smirking, powerful warrior?)

(...would she prefer to be this, to lose herself in Rose, innocent and beautiful, to wish the candle never blown out? The coils scrape against themselves as she realizes she does not know. Maybe it would be better for the monster to sleep soundly, never to wake while Rose hangs on her girlfriend’s arm, in desperate need of both protection and adoration, able to express her love unburdened of the knowledge of the Way and the responsibilities of strength.)

Rose stands, nearly unbalancing herself, putting out one soft and useless hand to steady herself. Then she turns and flings herself into Thain’s arms, and her tears threaten to undo much hard work.

“I look beautiful,” Rose expresses about herself, in echo with something deep within. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Oh, no. It is real. The cosmetics of the Castle in the Sky struggle to hold against Rose’s happy tears, running down her cheeks no matter how she tries to stop them, getting her more and more flustered as she waves one hand to try to dry them. “I just... I never learned, and Chen didn’t complain, but... oh, you will let me show her, won’t you? Please?”

Then she looks down at herself, and squeaks, just like her best friend, who... who... who looks after her? Yes. That’s why Yue, the brave knight, is associated with protection and haplessness. How many scrapes Yue got poor, useless Rose out of! How much Rose looks up to such a gallant country swordswoman! And the precise source of the squeak is forgotten. But she squeaks, and tries to cover herself up, very much aware that silly, useless girls like her are supposed to be embarrassed and flustered when other people see their bodies on display. Not that they really do anything about it other than getting even more useless and wound up and trying haplessly to hide themselves from everyone’s stares!

(Deep within, the nameless thing flinches in embarrassment and promises to apologize to Yue one day for... certain assumptions about her, and girls like her.)

“N-not like this,” Rose stammers. Her hair flops in her face, and she contorts herself trying to brush it out of the way while not exposing herself, which leads to her failing at both counts. “You can’t, I mean, my dress, I...” Squeak! Squeak squeak goshies! She stumbles back into the hands of giggling handmaidens, who— with soothing compliments and helping her hold her hands behind her back like a good girl— sit her back down to fix her makeup before anything else happens. Oh, don’t worry, little Rose, we’ll probably get you dressed before we show your lucky girlfriend, and if we have to change your collar to complete the look we’ll be sure to keep your old keepsake safe—

And though she doesn’t know why, Rose is helplessly smiling as she blushes furiously and squirms in their hands, even as she holds hers behind her back where they’re just as useless as the rest of her, her heart racing like a champion horse, making feeble complaints and feeling everybody’s eyes on her in ways that... that, um, monks don’t get, what an odd thought that is. Of course she’s not a monk, she’s a priestess— and, more importantly, a captive. How thrilling, knowing that at the end of all this fun, Chen will come save her and pull her into a— meep!!! Gosh gosh goshies!

She doesn't see it.

When Hyra spoils the fun of blameless little vixens by jumping onto the bed so that she'll notice what Kat is up to and then tackling her as she wrestles with her pet, she doesn't see it. She takes a thwack to the thigh and she fills the Prison Room with squeaks, but she doesn't see it. She sees a kind heart looking out for her and keeping her out of trouble by making sure jailors don't find out she's let their bed get ruined, instead.

When Hyra runs around behind her so that she trips when she tries to spin to match the movement, she doesn't see it. She takes a lick to the face and she fills the Prison Room with breathless laughter, but she doesn't see it. She sees a beautiful soul who isn't so caught up with winning that she forgets to check and make sure her partner is still having fun, instead.

Her swordplay is sloppy at best, even by the standards she set for herself while she was purifying that ghost. She's not creative with her movement and she doesn't follow the forms as she was taught them, like this then like this then like this, finishing like this. She's slow to the point of standing still, which is a courtesy born from the fact that she's much more scared of cutting Hyra on the sharp edge of her blade than she's even kinda sorta interested in winning the duel.

It's not like she doesn't try, y'know? When Hyra's on the offensive she's much brighter and smiles a whole lot more, running through whole routines where she parries, spins, releases, catches the hilt with her other hand, and grins right before she falls victim to some new trick or technique. But she blocks like a champ, my girl does, and after the twentieth or so thwap to her poor red thighs she catches onto the idea that she can use the flat of her blade too. Which helps! A bit. Maybe. But even then the slowness and the nerves creep into her style and she never lands a single touch.

And she doesn't see it. Hyra has a million ideas about fighting that she's never dared to dream about, and she falls for every single one of them. Sometimes, like with the coat-rack? It works four times before she figures out how to catch it without exposing hers--- meeeeeeep! Thwap! Ow! Ahem. Five times. Without leaving an opening, please and thank you miss. And a block's as good as a hit as far as she's concerned, 'cause she's fighting Hyra of the Wolves who is by definition the bestest and most skilled swordswoman ever to grip a blade.

But she doesn't see it. When Hyra gets in real close and plants her front paws on Yue's shoulders, she doesn't see it. She loses herself in a pair of piercing red eyes that for a moment forget to be hard or taunting or any of that because they're too busy looking into a pair of vulnerable, wide blue ones, and right when there's maybe a spark of something so real and beautiful it makes her want to cry it ends with Hyra ducking low and thwap! Thwap! Owies! And she doesn't see it. But she feels her heart flutter faster, and she's pretty sure it's not 'cause of all the working out she's doing just now.

When Hyra crouches low on the other side of the room, she doesn't see it. When she waits there, cautiously and patiently and a buncha other ly's, she super duper swooper doesn't see it. She sees a stubborn wolf who's too good at this, gosh darn it, lift her tail and wiggle it like a finger to tease a poor, sore, sweaty girl and from there it doesn't matter what she sees because something tweaks inside of her and Yue goes rushing headlong into the trap, just for the chance to wipe that smirk out of her eyes. And she... well, I mean, can't you guess? She doesn't see the trap until all that momentum catches on a paw and she goes tipping and YEEPing into a full jacuzzi bath.

She doesn't see it. Not just yet. She sees that she's sopping wet and that her frizzy hair has drooped all clingy to her back. She sees that her gorgeous and wonderful dress is stuck to every scrawny inch of her body, and she'd expect it to stop looking beautiful so that it could make her look as silly as she feels, but for some reason her reflection doesn't show her that? Instead it's beautiful, like someone made it to be wet, and only now is she allowed to understand how wonderful she can look. Especially when she's at her worst. And she sees the bubble jets turn on, and goshy goshing goshies does she moan, because a body full of sore muscles and over-thwapped bruises in warm massage-y water can't help but do anything else now can it?

She wins the fight against the bath though, give her credit. She doesn't sink into the water and just bubble about until she falls asleep, even though that's half of what she can think about and it sounds so super good, doesn't it? It's just the other half that makes her fumble about the jets for her sword and (oh-so-carefully!) grip the hilt again so she can leap out and charge again before Hyra's got time to think of a new angle. Her charge is swift and silent. Her strike is sure.

She doesn't see it. Her hands are too busy hugging every bit of wolf she can get them around, and her eyes are busy drinking in every little detail and all twists and knots of muscle, the clumps of fur and dirt, and every other wonderful tiny little thing that makes Hyra the most beautiful person on earth, even when she's not... y'know, a person just now. And she feels her heart squeeze itself to pieces and her breath choking in her throat and her hands let go of her sword. She braces for another smack. She knows it's coming, she blew it.

Just... not before she sneaks in her first good shot of the night, yeah?

"I love you." she whispers, and flushes pink with the effort of never having actually said those words out loud before.

"I love you," she says it louder, fuller, so it can't be mistaken for anything else. Come on girl, give us a shout, "I love you!"

[Figure Out a Person: 6. This is happening with blades crossed, so even though she fails she still gets to ask, "What do you hope for the future?" This nets an advance, and I'm open to suggestions]

Chen blinks and for a moment she simply twirls, silent and suspended in the air, her dress sparkling and shining little rainbow patterns onto Jessic’s scarf and fur neck lining.

How did she start here?! She ought to have rehearsed on the trip over, thought about what happened with Qiu and her parents and Yin and why she had freaked out. But gosh it sure had been a lot easier not thinking about any of those terrible things and having fun with Rose, Yue, and Cyanis instead. Especially Rose. Especially being carried around by a woman twice her size and paraded in the fairgrounds. Especially one she had called her girlfriend~!

But as well and good and blush-inducing that that thought was, she was still left with a situation that she had pointedly tried to push out of her brain until the last few minutes, and that had all been spiraling. What was she supposed to say?

Jessic, I hate my moms! That was a lie, this would be much easier if she just hated them, but instead she wanted their approval and their love and also hated how they treated her and had no idea how to talk to them about it in a way that would be seen as anything but a tantrum and cause to send her back for stricter training.

Jessic, Qiu kicked my ass and it’s sending me into a spiral because my job seems impossible! Kind of accurate, but if she had just wanted to beat Qiu at all costs she could have leaned into what her parents wanted whole-heartedly and without any qualms. But she...can’t somehow and she’s confident that just trying to hone her sword work without figuring this out won’t help at all. She doesn’t want to be what her parents want, maybe? Or maybe she just doesn’t want to get there how they want her to get there. She doesn’t view Qiu as her arch-nemesis (though she does want Qiu to stop hoarding power and messing up the world for all the other kingdoms) and she hasn’t figured out at all how she wants to view Qiu. All she knows is that they’ve very far apart, much more so than she had thought before their meeting, that they had hurt each other, and that thinking about it makes her heart hurt.

Jessic, I have a toxic relationship with my own talent! I love the things I’m good at, but I hate how people constantly judge and define me by them to the point that I’m destroying myself with pressure to never mess up and then I messed up anyway! Accurate. Too accurate for Chen, she’s not capable of articulating herself this well and probably needs someone to bonk her over the head with this realization more subtly and over time. Also, this would be all well and good but she has no idea what to do about it or even how to ask.

“Jessic, I think I’m a bad princess!” Chen blurts out. She freezes, staring at that massive dragon, but the way the voice had touched her mind and...Qiu’s advice, she keeps barreling forward.

“I mean, I know the rules and stuff, and I thought I was good at the swords and magic and everything, but Qiu wrecked me hardcore! And...and I hurt her when we fought cuz I didn’t actually do things right, like she wanted. And I hurt Yin cuz she expected me to back her up and I didn’t. And...and I’m pretty sure I hurt my moms cuz I couldn’t do what they wanted and I’m just waiting for them to call and chew me out for it. And I...I didn’t wanna tell anyone cuz I really actually love this and I’ve never felt more scared in my whole life than when Qiu told me that maybe I should take a break!”

Then she does start crying. Small, quiet, and warm tears that pool in her eyes and, because she remains upside down and twirling, make little angled routes towards her temples before catching in her hair.

Chen!

You're being lowered. Soft and as gentle as the earth's gravity after too long in space. You're held for a moment, horizontal, then set down on bench. There's a crackle of lightning and a fire starts burning nearby - an old piece of metal evaporating in a strange azure fire, fragments flaking off and evaporating into cosmic black sparks. Autumn falls at bay for a moment, settling down at the edge of the blue firelight like a wary hound.

+Everything I've seen of you today has been perfect Princess behaviour,+ thought Jessic. Her thoughts were alert but dispassionate, an eagle's curiosity. +You charmed me, defied Keron, stole a heart and bought great happiness to my people. I would disagree that you were a bad Princess, strongly. Does knowing that change how you feel?+

Rose!

"Countess Keron!" a handmaiden squeaks in surprise. There's a sudden rush as everyone gets to their feet and bows - and you are pulled to your feet and made to bow too, Rose - but some signal passes and everyone relaxes and returns to their duties. Keron takes a chair, reverses it, and sits facing you as you are pulled back to your chair for another round of hair brushing as two more handmaidens take your hands and begin working magic on nails that never truly learned how to not be talons.

The Countess' eyes are fire and her heart is hard, but in this place she too is somehow softer. As she sits handmaidens detach pieces of armour from her shoulders and back, gently kissing marks where leather straps have dug into her skin. Her command here is certain and because of that she has no need to impose it. Instead of the dominating mistress you saw earlier now she has a certain arrogant, casual satisfaction - something that you might have recognized on your own face not so long ago.

"I was right," said Keron. "You do clean up nicely... but you're nowhere near worthy of being presented to a Princess. You've got a lot to learn about manners, etiquette and obedience. Thian, have Rose pour me some tea."

Thian takes you from behind like a dance instructor, one hand on your hip and the other on your wrist. She half lifts, half-guides you just so and teaches you how to walk to across the room, her legs swinging in unison with yours. She guides you like a puppet through the steps, hands soft and cool against yours, control invisible as she guides you through the curtsy, the pour, the stirring, steeping, sugar, and teaches you how to fall to your knees without spilling a drop so that you might offer your gift to the Countess with the proper respect.

Yue!

Curses can be terrible things. They're all the pain and hurt of a heart in turmoil, sharpened and thrown like a knife. But they're also magical things, and magic has certain laws - the chief of which is, as it ever is, that love conquers all.

It's not a wolf you hold in your arms as those words sink in. It's a girl. A beautiful girl with red eyes and long wet hair and a smile that's like the sun trying to fit all its light through an upstairs window at sunset. It's the face of a rogue who doesn't have a trick for this, it's the face of an enemy you disarmed at last. She leans in to kiss you and hold you tight and you know the wish in her heart and it's much the same as yours.

And you try to hold her back... and you can't. Not easily. Not with these paws.

Because you see, Yue, while love is powerful, curses are cunning - and this one has slipped right off Hyra and stabbed itself into you. And somehow in that moment where the only thing you could see was Hyra you didn't notice that you, yourself, had been transformed into a wolf in her place.

What kind of wolf are you, Yue?