"You seem to have run into some misfortune, my friend." Zast let out in drunken and slurred words toward the young man that just tried to rob him. The Cazenax had gotten the upper hand and was now holding his flintlock to the muggers head. "You could have picked anyone, anyone at all. But, unfortunately, you chose to come after me and now you won't live to see the next sunrise." The mugger pleaded for mercy but Cawuio-Zast didn't falter, not even for a second. "You ever seen death? Go ahead and look into my eyes. I want them to be the last thing you remember when you reach the other side..." As if taken by a heart of steel, the young man didn't flinch at Zast's comment and locked eyes with the goblin. "I'll put you to sleep before I do it; it'll make things painless."

After a strong dose of internal chemical magic, the man was out cold. Zast lifted his unloaded flintlock away from the guy's head and twirled it around his finger before stashing it away in his belt. He then took the dagger planted in his left kidney out and watched the wound seal behind it. The dagger was twirled in his other hand as he inspected the quality of it, maybe it would fetch a reasonable price. It too found a place in Zast's belt.

Sounding a melodic whistle, Cawuio-Zast strolled out of the alleyway as if he had done nothing of great import. The robber was left sleeping peacefully and unharmed behind him. The Cazenax wondered what was in store if he were to meet that man again. It wasn't everyday that a person wakes up with a second chance at life.

Zast's whistle was that of a well-known Perrench sea shanty. It told of a day that Lady Ahn-Eshiran herself appeared on a ship of privateers. The sailors were weary of her appearance, knowing it to be a sign of misfortune and death ahead. However, the youngest boy in the crew decided to approach the god instead and offered to dance. And dance they did, up and down the ship, 'oh what a dance it was' says the shanty. The song ends with the ship coming across a raging storm, one that no sailor could withstand, and only the young deck hand was able it out alive.

Some are confused by the ending and rush to make theories. The most common of which guesses that Lady Ahn-Eshiran was giving a test to her faithful. But Cawuio-Zast knew that not to be the truth. He knew that the boy held no particular love for the god in his heart and it was, in fact, his audacity that brought him to dance. It is only those who are willing to risk and lose everything that can dance with death properly. Everyone on that ship was dancing with Ahn-Eshiran whether they liked it or not, the boy was just the best at it.

Abdel walked into the Merchants’ dorm’s kitchen, sweaty and with a sleeveless green top going along with old, brown shorts.The young teen seized a cup of water and drenched his head to cool off as he took a seat.

The budding handiman had been making extensive use of his regained mobility to work his masonry and carpentry. An art that one would believe magic had made obsolete, but oftentimes the finesse and meticulousness of the art were lost to the grand scheme of things. Much like the overly ‘perfect’ gems many binder counterfeiters made, the same would be said about the genetically adequate works commonly made by mages. Good money was found to those who kept the practice alive and even more so to those who married magic into it seamlessly.

He didn’t do it without help, as Maid Melana followed soon after. She had been the help - the one to keep the materials in order and helped the builder when requiring more than a single pair of hands. “Thanks for the help.” said a still nearly heatstroked Abdel as he regarded the puppet, although he clearly wasn’t addressing the inanimate object.

A pair of hands clasped the jug as Maura came forward to fill the boy’s glass up again. “There is something to be said about watching a strong man working hard with his tools; how could we allow the possibility slip us by?” She smiled with that cheeky charm as she considered the words. It was nice to spend time in Abdel’s company, and even if they were just casually interacting, just feeling his presence near her made her feel happy, content even. They have been together for nearly a year now, and with others already vividly discussing their marriage plans, such thoughts were not lost with her, especially as she was assisting Ashon and Penny with their wedding arrangements. They were still young, but perhaps one day… she smiled shyly as she moved to pass him a towel so he could dry himself off. “Have you given thought as to your plans for your special project?”

Abdel couldn’t get enough of the freshwater, both to wash himself and to drink. It really was that hot! “Ahhh.” he forgot his manners and went full commoner in his indulgences, if only briefly. “Actually,” he leaned forward, elbows resting over his thighs, as he looked at Maura. “I have. I got inspired yesterday.” his eyes shifted to the helper puppet and gestured for it to come closer. “They keep hammering the use of healing in binding classes, and here I am building stuff. So I thought …” with the puppet at arm’s reach, he seized one of the delicate, wooden hands to study it. “Why not meet them halfway?”

With that cryptic response, he reached for his bag with his free hand to reveal an arm similar in dimensions to the puppet’s, albeit a tad thicker and clearly made of a new material. Furthermore, there were goma tubes sticking out of the stump. “It took me all evening to make Ironwood work, but I think it came out alright. I was thinking: If weapons can have these manas flow through them, why not puppets? Like people do with blood.”

Maura simply smiled as she watched him. There have been many Yasoi refugees recently fleeing the war in the south, and it is not uncommon for the casualties to be maimed in some way. She mused as she imagined him feeling that empathy in his heart to help them, and after engaging with the puppets; it made sense. “There are prosthetics in Segonia where you have to use the gift to mobilize. They are very difficult to manage, and are inanimate. We don’t know of any that allow manas to flow through them, though…” she raised her eyebrow in curiosity, hoping he could expand his thought process. “Are you thinking of helping others with them?”

Abdel’s eyes flickered between Maura and the puppet. He drew, just mildly, to observe the many functions that occurred within himself and his beloved. The blood flow, in particular, had his interest. He imagined the same could be done to puppets, and eventually to people with new limbs. “I think so, yeah.” he beamed at the part-Segonese puppet master. “I think the first step is to see if it works on things that aren’t alive. Don’t you think?” the hand he had been holding was then twisted, and his magnetic pull caused the elbow joint of the maid to loosen enough for the forearm to be carefully extracted.

“Would you mind opening her for me, love?” he inquired with a sweet, cotton-like voice he often employed to calm Maura in one of her monologues. “I’d like to see the core.”

“Now, what is the magic word~?” Maura cooed in return, simply to prolong the interaction to tease him. She allowed the puppet to bend to allow comfortable access to its innermost workings for maintenance, otherwise known as its core. “Though, if you damage her, we are placing the repair bill on your tab.” in a gentle reminder to be careful.

Abdel rolled his eyes playfully. “Pretty please.” he uttered right before diving into the complex workings of the prime puppet. Fascinated but by no means surprised, he immediately got to work. The wires he had crafted stretched from the bicep, through the shoulder and snaked through the metal structural beams to eventually reach the mana-filled container serving as a means to increase the capacity of the puppet and a base to reconstruct it in the case of destruction. “It’s kind of like a heart, isn’t it?” he remarked, nose still dug deep into his work.

The main conundrum was making an opening to connect the tubes. “... You won’t get too mad if I make a mess, right?” he looked up to Maura sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes as he asked that question, as she gave him a playful smile. “If we did, we certainly chose the wrong boy to be dating.” She stuck her tongue out towards him in that mischievous manner. “Just as long as you clean up afterwards.”

Abdel chuckled and shook his head. He got to work, meticulously creating an opening onto the metal haul. The carving was slow, minute and did not go all the way. Instead, he made enough of a gap to fit the tub in before locking it in place. There was blood magic used to finish the hole, very minor but still blood magic nonetheless, prompting Abdel to look up to his partner if there were any objections.

Once the tube was plugged in to serve as the puppet’s fire artery, he observed the mana-charged liquid flow … For a second. “Ah.” he looked disappointed. “There’s nothing to really make it flow, is there?”

Maura simply shook her head, “Puppets don’t have a beating heart inside of them, even if they can be lifelike.” She paused for a moment, “You could use a waterskin, connect it to both sides, then you could squeeze it like a heart, probably. Might need some refinement.” She used her chair to go backwards, then head over to pick up a waterskin and bring it back for Abdel to use.

Abdel drilled a second hole to allow the other extremity of the artery within the unbeating ‘heart’ as none of the fluid ever made it to the end. “You’re right,” he agreed, lips pursed as he rethought the process. “if we could actually make that core take the consistency of a waterskin, then maybe you could make it work like a heart?” with the item in hand, he carefully approached it to the metallic nut in the centre of the puppet. “Ideally, we make the material change without removing anything.” with a lack of chemical magic, however, he relied solely on binding magic. And he was no Trypano when it came to memorising all materials.

Maura spent a good few moments considering what they could use, taking some inspiration from their surroundings. “We have an idea, though we might need some prototypes first. We need to make an internal structure, and this could be binding some springs together, then we surround this by thin sheets of metal. We would need a value to prevent the liquid going back the wrong direction. Then, we wield the sheets and tubes together, so it is a tight seal. If we squeeze it, it should pump around in one direction, and drain back into the heart.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Do you think that is something you can put together?”

Abdel thought about it. In his musing and having his marble presented physically before him, he realized his masterwork needed far more work to be done. “I can.” he confirmed. “But it will take some time. A lot of it.” with that concession, he manipulated the tubes and made the fluids return into the core before he quickly sealed the holes. He did not remove the tubes, however. “The arm should still work, but you would have to learn to use it.” he warned, just as he employed his magnetic magic to make the puppet’s fingers wiggle and the forearm to expand ever so slightly into something that resembled a metal buckler. “It’d work much better if it had a steady and direct stream of power but …” he gesture his index finger to prompt the puppet to punch the floor, prompting the stone to leave a small fissure on impact. “I suppose ironwood with mild enhancement will do!” he grinned impishly at his girlfriend. “She might even be able to lift you up, now!”

“Why would we need her for that, when we have you~?” Maura teased as she held her arms out towards him.

Abdel tried to hide his big fat smile, but there it was. He leapt at her and caught Maura out of her chair for a mighty lift. His noodle arms weren’t so weak nowadays with all that carpentry and masonry. “Downside with me is I don’t take orders!”

She smiled mischievously, “The best ones don’t need them.” as she leaned forward to place a fond kiss on the boy’s lips.

O girl, who wears the face of a devil. Thy heart is more rose than briar. What hast thou learned, ye who study not the things of love and beauty?

O foolish girl, more clever than wise. Thy hands are stained of murder. Hast thou forgotten thine oath?

Woe, O girl; thy heart is full of beauty, but thine eyes do not see it. Thou art quick of wit, but slow of learning. Thy hands cling tightly to power, but are swift to relinquish morality.

And what is this? Thy Valor is acknowledged before Eshiran, yet it availeth thee naught. Thy feet are swift unto retreat; the strength to stand against thine enemies hath departed thee. Thou scatter amongst the rocks and kill like a coward.

The hour of Eshiran is upon thee; yea, and the hour of Dami's Judgment approacheth. Reflect now, thou sluggard: death has spared thee, but what of war? The hour of thy greatest trial approaches, and what hast thou done to prepare?

Thou art a fool; yea, thou keepest the company of fools.

Thou art a fool; yea, thine ears hear only the advice of the foolish.

Thou art foolish.
Thou art foolish; yea, thou art a fool.

---

It was unwise the traverse the desert during the day, Xiuyang knew—but her body demanded rest and cared not for the hour. Most of the night was wasted—or had an entire day passed? Regardless, she was still here, and the yasoi from before were still stalking her. Casting a veil about herself with arcane magic to obscure her form, she brought what little kinetic magic she knew to bear her weight and keep herself off the sand, lest it give away her position. For the hours of Ipte, she was well concealed. During the hours of Shune, her kinetic magic failed her due to her inexperience and exhaustion.

The hours of Oraff would test her. The cold and unyielding desert was beginning to turn mercilessly hot. Wiping sweat from her brow, she soon realized that she was being tracked. An enemy was approaching—weak, but able to call for reinforcements if she were to be discovered. May Oraff forgive me for what I'm about to do. This blood is on your hands, Juulet. With only this thought to quell her rapidly beating heart, she ambushed the yasoi from around a boulder and silenced his cry for help—not with her unreliable kinetic magic, but with blood magic, tearing the vocal cords right out of his throat. He collapsed, dead amongst the brush of the hidden oasis. The hours of Oraff would pass, not without sacrifice—but it was better to sacrifice this one on the altar of her survival, than for herself to be sacrificed upon the altar of Juulet.

To her own disappointment, she had the presence of mind and the stomach to hide the body, feeding it to a predator she'd sensed in the waters nearby. She looked away, gritting her teeth at the horrible sounds of splashing and tearing of flesh. To kill a yasoi, during the hours of Oraff, with blood magic no less. Her stomach turned, but she could not muster enough bile to lose her lunch. She poured one out for the poor bastard, and moved on. She cried, not for her pursuer, but for her inability to reconcile her identity with this uncaring corner of the world. To survive was to kill, but to kill required the pacifist within to die. How many times had she looked down on others for fighting and killing—over "trinkets?" But if those trinkets helped one to fight and survive, what was the difference between that and this? A cynical part of her told her that she was a failure. Seviin, surely, would have... no, just what would she have done? Just let her pursuers do with her as they pleased? No. Self-defense was the only option, but to do so without killing required a level of strength that Xiuyang didn't have, and could never have.

BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THEM, YOU HAVE FAILED TO CULTIVATE STRENGTH.

Y̴̕͜O̵̬̅U̷̙͑R̶̜̂ ̵͖̀W̶̜͛Ë̵͕́Ȧ̶͕K̵͈̒N̸̗͘É̴͈S̴̫̏S̵͈̋ ̸͇͛I̷̱̋S̸̬͗ ̵͚͘M̵̻̾E̷̙̓R̷̡̈́E̶̠͗L̵̠̿Y̸̢͐ ̵̙́T̶̤̈H̶̲͛Ė̷͓ ̷͇̉R̵̼͘E̷̘̿S̵̛̭U̵̞͠Ļ̸̈́T̵̟͘ ̸̩͗Ö̷̫́F̴̛̯ ̵͚́Y̷͔͋Ǒ̵̮Ũ̷̹R̸̭̓ ̴̮̚Ǒ̵̻W̴̞̋N̵̛͚ ̴̧̐M̶̙͛O̶͇͝R̷̘̈Á̶͎L̵̯͑ ̶̺̚Ĭ̴͈N̵̖̓Ā̵̠Ḓ̷̛Ë̷̝́Q̴̲̐U̸̗͗Ḁ̸͋C̷͍̅Ȳ̸̙.̸̠̓

---

How she'd been a fool to dismiss, and at times curse, Eshiran. Yet still, the lady of death had heard her plea to be spared. It had to be purposeful. Someone had clearly tampered with the magics at play, giving Xiuyang an impossible edge. It couldn't have just been random chance. It had to mean something. As the hours of Eshiran dragged on, Xiuyang persevered, but the desert's heat took its toll. She began to hallucinate. At first they were mild and easily dismissed, but then, as she raised her head after covering some of her tracks, she caught a glimpse of a one-legged yasoi. She couldn't stop herself from screaming, and her sonic bubble failed. There was shouting in the distance, and her heart went cold. She ran, but exhaustion was catching up to her, and she found herself instinctively running downhill into a valley to try to lose them. She could go no further today; she'd have to find a nice rocky crag to sleep under.

Just as she'd found the perfect spot to hide, one of her pursuers caught up with her. Once again, she silenced his cries for help. It wasn't as clean of a job as the previous, and she found her hands trembling, her heart hesitating. Just as she was fighting off the part of her that still wanted to let him go, he charged at her in aberration-addled rage. Momentarily, Xiuyang stood frozen in fright, but just as he came within inches of her, she forced herself to act, finishing the botched job. This time, however, there was no time to hide the body. She fled further into the valley, abandoning the spot for now. She'd have to use her remaining strength to kite her enemies somewhere else first, then return here, and hope the yasoi wouldn't eagerly retread old ground.

The hours of Dami dragged on as Xiuyang hid under her rock, concealed by illusions, drinking to the very limits of what her Devourer manas would allow just to stay hydrated, drifting in and out of consciousness. As the heatstroke came down gradually, her drunkenness went up, and several apparitions visited her. First came Ingrid—an example of, in her mind, someone who had properly cultivated their strength. Unlike herself, few would mess with Ingrid. She didn't have to skulk around, disguised as other students just to feel safe in the same school as Juulet. She was a reminder of what true strength looked like, a monument to Xiuyang's foolishness for spurning the study of atomic magic. Next was Jamboi, holding the familiar staff of the monkey king. Funny—she'd picked it out for him, but ended up keeping it, out of fear of her own weakness after what happened in ReTan. If Juulet had stolen it from her and given it to him, perhaps that was right and fair. He was a worthy wielder, unlike her, who would probably just smack herself in the head with it if she tried anything spectacular. Gods, how she'd messed up. If she had just known her place and kept her head down, she could be sharing a drink with Ciro on a beach instead of drying up alone under a rock with bugs for company. With that thought in her mind, she passed out.

"Oira Luuntai! You have done good making it so far. Though as the Perrench say, La cavalerie est arrivée!" He gave one of his goofy grins towards her. "There is probably something similar in Revidian and ReTannese too."

Jamboi was here. Jamboi was here? It wasn't a hallucination?!

"...J-ham-bhoi?" came the raspy reply, with a barely-suppressed cough. The true voice of Xiuyang, which only Ashon would recognize, came from beneath her hat. "It's too late..." She coughed.

"...for heat stroke. You're really here..?"

"We got the rest of the crew too. It seems you got a little band out here on a Saving Xiuyang mission." He called the others over, especially towards Trypano and Roslyn, "Looks like you might need to patch her up with that magic of yours. I want her as good as new."

Trypano approached, examining the situation before her. Performing a preliminary scan of her vitals she extended her senses through Xiuyang's body, looking for damages or other distortions to her body as she drew from her surroundings, readying to restore her flesh.

Hearing Ashon's shouts, Roslyn shortly joined the rest. Relief spread across her face at seeing the huddled figure half buried in the sand. She glanced in her medical satchel while she spoke.

"I know a decent level of binding and brought bandages in case. I used the skinglue in the canon so I can't 'sap' together any severed limbs."

Ingrid's cool persona gave way with a sigh, even if Xiuyang was injured, she was alive. She pulled out a mask from her bag and offered it to Xiuyang, "I heard your mask got smashed, so I brought you a new one. It's imbued to help with things." Ingrid made sure to look away if she would grab it. Whatever was under the mask was for Xiuyang to know.

Tyrel stood back and watched the joyous reunion. She managed a small but genuine smile and gave Xiuyang her privacy. She understood a thing or two about being self-conscious. When it was appropriate to do so, she inclined her head in Xiuyang's direction. "Good to see you are okay."

Trypano administered healing efforts onto Xiuyang, fully restoring her bodily integrity as well as hydrating her sufficiently, scanning once more to ensure no lingering symptoms persisted.

"T-Trhy-pano? Rosl-hn?" Xiuyang coughed. A bloodied, bandaged hand reached out blindly and took the mask from Ingrid, then retreated into the darkness. The coughing abruptly stopped as she took long, slow, even breaths. "Fucksake. I'm not dying, you guys," she chuckled, rather unconvincingly. "The air here, it's just terrible. Stinks like death. I can barely breathe without this thing. Ingrid, you're a blessing. This... This means so much more to me than you could ever know." She got a bit misty eyed.

For almost a full minute, she simply lay there and let Trypano go to work. Aside from being battered and bruised, a few scrapes and cuts here and there, and being totally exhausted, she was more or less in top shape. Trypano could obviously see that she had subsisted on nothing but alcohol for nearly two days, further confirming the Devourer theory.

Trypano examined her, and noticed something odd, but couldn't quite determine what it was just yet. Her bandages seemed to be imbued with some kind of magic that interfered with her attempts to examine her more closely. Being damaged, she could inspect Xiuyang's injuries, and confirm that the Devourer blood she found earlier belonged to her. She could also see scarring on her throat, which may have something to do with her inability to speak properly without one of these enchanted masks. Though, unhealed scars on a binder was a bit of a mystery in itself.

Sleep tempted Xiuyang several times throughout the process, but she managed to force herself to stay awake. If she allowed herself to fall asleep, would she wake up to find it was all just a dream? That couldn't happen. She was losing the war of attrition, losing her wits and her energy as her pursuers refused to allow her any rest. "Somehow, with all of you here, I think I'd be fine even if I was actually dying," she japed.

"But, I..." She froze. Behind Ashon, Trypano, Roslyn and Ingrid, there was another figure—a one-legged one. For a moment, she shook, but as she looked up... "Tyrel," she breathed, sighing in relief. "...You're here too?!" The sudden realization seemed to energize her. Now she knew she wasn't dreaming. She crawled out of her crevice, looking filthy and ridiculous, covered in dust, plants and bugs.

It made one wonder just what she was hiding from.

Hmm... A curious state indeed. It was little mystery that Xiuyang was purposefully concealing her state of being. Given her interest in her research and the possible revelations their book may hold it was clear that she was concealing something of a physical nature. Given how it was untreated despite being a binder she concluded that it was probably something inherent to the blood. Perhaps a malformation of the flesh such as Penny's leg was, or a rare mana virus she'd yet to study. Either which way, she had blood sampled already and there were other times to seek deeper insight. Not here, not now. Extrication was their main prerogative here.

"After ye' get yer' bearings feel free t' bring us up to speed on yer' situation." Trypano spoke, her hatted accent kicking up once again. "On our side'a the situation the school authorities only found a mound set up where 'ya were last at. Not pressin' the issue further they declared you dead and washed their hands of it. We and a few of th' others picked up where they left off and traced th' temporal signal out t' here." Having given Xiuyang a quick recap of the aftermath of her disappearance Trypano turned and looked out, surveying the environment as the wind swept by, long crimson hair dancing in the moonlight below her black bowler cap.

"Ah'll admit ya hid well... almost too well."

Roslyn pulled her hand from her medical kit when she spied Trypano tending to Xiuyang. She had forgotten the tall woman's mention of being a healer. Her eyes lingered on Xiuyang as the woman coughed and placed on her new mask. Despite her bravo, Roslyn saw the cracks in it. Her mother often did the same thing especially during her last years.

She shook herself back to the present, smiling at seeing her friend alive.

"Umm, maybe we should get moving? I don't think a group this big will go unnoticed and I'd rather avoid trouble. Do we have a way back?"

Xiuyang's eyes darkened after Trypano's explanation, but she didn't seem surprised. "I didn't think anyone would come. Using portals is too dangerous now." She tried to dust off her robes a little. "It was Juulet. I tried to reason with her, but it was useless." She left out the reason why she attacked her. It was pointless, though. Her secret would be out soon anyway. Juulet surely wouldn't keep it to herself, no matter how badly it might have appeared to rattle her in the moment. Xiuyang could only picture her laughing it off after the fact. Should she just tell them, first? Control the narrative, as her father taught?

She ran through the possibilities in her mind, of what might happen if they all learned she was a Facemimic. It was fitting, perhaps, that a mixed bag like her had a mana type that was considered blessed, and one considered cursed or demonic. As she considered how each of them may react, she realized that someone was missing from this reunion.

Before she could ask anyone where Ciro was, however, there was movement. All of them sensed it. The yasoi approaching them felt no need to be stealthy. There were at least a dozen of them, and three were drawing at over a 9 RAS level.

"Elaz! Ven'sali!" their apparent leader shouted.

"Anax'sali!" another called out.

"Moad, daxtoil yanii!" cried a third.

Xiuyang was drawing too, now. "What are they saying?" She grimaced, remembering the body she had no time to hide. The others would have seen it on their way into the valley. "I... If it's about the man I killed... I had to kill him. Tyrel, I had to. If I didn't, they—" She swallowed. Then, her eyes landed upon one of the weaker yasoi. She glared at him, her hand twitching as she held back her murderous intent. "Dog," she snarled.

"We didn't have any issues coming through." Roslyn said, giving Xuiyang an odd look. She didn't understand what Xiuyang meant about the portals being dangerous. Those were just rumors, right? Before she could ask anything else, shouts and rushing footsteps caught her attention. Her eys turned to see a group of natives approaching them. Everything about their body language screamed danger to her frightened instinct. She tried to translate the language spoken, but she knew only three words.

"I only recall the words: there, die, and human," Roslyn regretted not knowing more, "I really need to study harder. But I don't think die is a good thing. Are we fighting or running?"

She couldn't help stepping closer to Xiuyang. Her hand canon stayed at her side, lowered to the ground but ready to fire. This looked really bad.

Ingrid was about to pull out some clothes and water for her. Who wants to return to the school looking a mess. It would only satisfy Xuiyang's attacker to see the impact it had. The name was of no surprise but it still stirred Ingrid's anger.

Juulet had done so many things already. But this was a blatant attempt at murder. Not even Benny crossed that line on school grounds.

Well, not so explicitly at least.

Either way, Juulet needed to be removed, either by the school throwing her out now that there could be testimony or by an unfortunate accident. But now an issue showed its head, some strong yasoi were making their way to us. "If we could we should run," Ingrid looked at Tyrel as she was the temporal mage here, "And if not we should make time to run."

This could be some hell of a practice for Mano e Mano, Ingrid grimly thought.

Ashon stretched as he positioned himself between the Yanii and the other Yasoi, giving Luuntai's friends the space to attend to her. As he gazed at the intruders, he cast a disdainful look over them and casually waved his hand dismissively. "A’lash, pelosh joi tiin. Exi," he declared, slamming his fist against his chest with a force reminiscent of a gorilla. "Yanii tox Jamboi'Ismax."

With a confident motion, he gestured toward Tyrel. "Yrash'toshdon ruii laz." He continued to stand with a commanding presence, a stalwart guardian who stood as a bulwark against the threat they pose.

"You needn't justify yourself. I ain't no stranger to th' state of Yasoi affairs." She dismissed Xiuyang's attempts to justify the situation with the body. She wasn't pegged as one to kill wantonly and after her mission in Rettan it would take a far more severe instance of moral degeneracy to raise her concern.

Looking up at their greeting party she stood and was slowly, discretely drawing power. A fight wasn't unlikely and unless their lanky accompaniment were somehow more persuasive than she'd credited them for then the need for some buffing and general medical service would soon follow.

"I beg you," Tyrel said in yasoi, "allow us to discuss this as people and not fight as animals." She nonetheless drew, and drew, and drew up to nearly her full capacity. "You would not want to be treated as animals, would you?"

Xiuyang considered Roslyn and Ingrid's words. The smart option was to run, surely. However, a primal, enraged part of her also wanted to fight—if not to kill, then certainly to put the fear of divine retribution into these animals that had chased her for nearly two days, and never stopped coming. At some point, a group of six had become a hunting party of more than double that. There was not an ounce of sympathy among them for a displaced Huusoi: they looked at her like she was a dangerous pest at best, and comparable to a prey animal at worst.

While she was caught in her indecisiveness, Ashon and Tyrel tried to negotiate with words she couldn't follow. A few of the less aberration-addled Yasoi were intimidated by Tyrel's drawing capacity, but an insane pair of addicts mirrored her gesture, and a third one followed suit, all of them drawing near or into the 9 RAS range. That was when a decision was made for them: Mr. Solari's hired hands all charged at the Yasoi party, unwilling to let these monsters draw in any more power. As one of them turned to face Xiuyang, the Yasoi in front of him vanished without a trace.

"Run, milady! We'll cover your es—"



Instantly, the man and his partner were decapitated. A punch that Xiuyang couldn't see sent the man's head flying right past her own. Then, she saw her own head fall right from her body—and recovered from her confusion just in time to realize that she was seeing the future, and dodge the incoming attack. She was approached by two of the Yasoi, a stronger one and a weaker one. For lack of a better weapon, she smacked the weaker one with her gourd in a panic, and cracked his skull open.

Something snapped inside Xiuyang's mind. This wasn't like her battle in ReTan, where only one or two of the most insane minds present there actually wanted to fight the students of Ersand'Enise, who were technically still children. It was a situation where even defeat may not have meant death, at least until the knower titan showed up. That was what she'd told herself after the fact, anyway, to cope with the stress.

This was a murderous mob of insane Yasoi.

It was kill or be killed—a free for all.

She screamed, and threw a chemically enhanced ball of flame at a second Yasoi. It burned her hands to do it without her wand, but she didn't care. It was one less pair of crazed, deranged, ravenous eyes.

It was one less "Juulet" in the world—and it felt good to be rid of him. If there had been a chance to flee, Xiuyang had missed it. She and her fellow students were surrounded.

A few of the Yasoi yowled out for help—but nobody came. While these hunters had been occupied chasing a Yanii with a face like a devil, others had dealt with one that had the face of an angel. Whether they were simply scared off, or rapt in the bliss of aberrations, or even dead didn't matter. Every other Yasoi for miles was quite indisposed to help the rather unfortunate hunting party. None of them would be laying a finger on Xiuyang.

Tyrel could see that these people were gone. The darklings had claimed them, as they claimed so many Consoi. She could also see that, deranged as they were, their magics were wild and unpracticed. "Everyone back from me!" she commanded. In truth, her heart was hammering. In truth, she knew that the combat training that had been drilled into her from girlhood was never meant to have been used. In truth, she doubted her substantial abilities and did not want to kill.

In truth, Tyrel was a killer.

The first imploded into shreds of skin and shards of bone. The second launched three arcane lances at her. She spun away from one, absorbed another, and the final one cleanly missed. She blasted him back with triple the energy and the last thing that he knew was heat. For a moment, that made the others think twice about attacking her. "Siip'najo taca!" came the shouts, but they swirled away from her like stupid, mocking poca-parrots. "Siip'najo yambiid!" they chorused. She saw an opportunity and lopped another's head off with a kinetic blade.

Some of the huusoi were struggling and, for a moment, she wondered why she was protecting them. They were so weak and they were her people's enemy. She shook her head visibly to clear it, knowing better, and focused on a new spell: Infinity Loop. Momentarily, as another fool made to approach the Living Goddess, a great burning aura of nuclear fire surrounded her person. He melted before he reached her with a strangled cry. "Oapen'ven!" she bellowed, "rey etuulan axuu'it joi! Vel rey joi moad."

Then, she felt them in the distance - at the far hazy edge of her energy senses: dozens more bodies, dozens more of these beasts coming towards her. There was no way they could possibly win a battle of attrition, and what would the cost be? The 'goddess' changed tactics. "Xiuyang!" she shouted, "Ingrid! Cover me! I'm going to get us out of here."

One of these enemies was unreasonably strong. She blasted away at a cornered Roslyn and Tyrel's heart skipped a beat. Then there was the second wave, approaching, about to enter the sensing range of her allies. They were all about to see how fucked they were.

She reached out for them and, for a moment, felt something unholy. She felt it and then... there was nothing.

Xiuyang's scream, followed by a fire ball was enough to jerk Roslyn back into the present. She raised the Smoking Bandit. A sticky goo splattered at the feet of a female attacker. She shrieked and struggled to free herself. However, her partner dissolved it effortlessly.

He inhaled then sent an ear shattering scream at Roslyn. She twisted her weapon to point at him, uttering a spell to redirect it. "Sonic Break!"

The spell broke through her defense. Roslyn's feet lifted and she flew back. Her body rolled cross the sands, coming to a stop a few meters from the group. Blood trickled from her ears as she got on to all fours. She shook her head clear and pushed onto her feet.

"I need to pay better attention to Mr. Secto during class." Roslyn mumbled.

She caught sight of movement in her peripheral. Two more Yasoi had joined her attacker. Roslyn grabbed her weapon and lifted it again. One rushed in with a gut wrench. Too fast! The girl clenched her teeth and braced for the impact. Suddenly they all evaporated into ashes when Tyrel turned her attention on them. Roslyn's face paled at the raw power demonstrated.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side, Tyrel." She managed to say then added. "I got an idea."

She dug in her satchel. Damn it, two of her bottles broke. The girl hoisted the remaining three up by their necks. With a deep breath, she drew. The air started to chill as she stole what little heat she could. Her manas stretched into the alcohol and shifted it into pure ethanol. Shaking them up to add heat, she warned her allies.

"Careful, these have a nice burn to them."

She chucked one bottle at the feet of the two of the remaining threats. Fire erupted before them, forcing them and others back. Roslyn readied the next before a Yasoi burst past the wall of flames and reached for her.

Fear had little place In Ingrid's hardened heart. How could a group of maddened Yasoi cause anything more than mild worry? Her infinity loop was long heating up before the battle commenced.

In an instance, the rock roared to life and the air around Ingrid distorted. Heat shed off of her just to be absorbed again. Ingrid did not let an ounce of energy go.

She threw herself at the stronger of the enemies, deep into their area. That distortion around Ingrid only grew until the air started to combust around her, sand glassing underneath her. A spark, a light, a plasmatic beam slammed into one. There was no torso left to to heal, only assortment of limbs.

Attacks of all types came at her and with a judicial stare, any matter disintegrated on trying to reach her. Her normal weakness to Internal was slashed by the amount of energy interference in the way.

She was unstoppable right now and Ingrid knew it. They weren't strong enough to stop her but Ingrid found herself not strong enough to wipe them out in a flash.

The Majesty she wore was now boring into her. She pressed and pushed herself to keep it up. It was her spear and shield. She needed to destroy them before it exhausted herself. And then Tyrel called out.

Ingrid recalled herself to block off a side of Tyrel. She didn't care to be commanded by Tyrel, having someone at the helm let her do what she was good at. Sandstone formed and shattered and froze until she was able to command a mighty jagged wall with Kinetic.

It shifted further, details etched in to the jagged sand, creating scales. It took the form of wither a Royal Sand Wyrm or Arrow Dragon. Ingrid was not good at faces. Either way it should give the Yasoi something to hit other than Tyrel.

In this nameless valley of Yarsoc, where Xiuyang would have otherwise met her end alone, the eclectic Fait Accompli fought as one coordinated unit. The Yasoi had several powerhouses to match their own, but they were wild and out of sync with each other. Tyrel and Ingrid fought off the strong, the distraction proving effective, while the rest banded together against the remaining enemies. The battle ended as quickly as it had began, the slaughter lasting no longer than a couple minutes.

Just when it seemed that enemy reinforcements might be coming, they suddenly vanished, leaving the six students as the only ones standing. All of the Solari mercenari and local Yasoi were dead.

All but one.

Xiuyang struggled with this last enemy like she had a vendetta. He tried to use his magic against her, but she drew it away to nothing every time. With binding and chemical magics, she wore him down with her bare fists, until, suddenly, he gained the upper hand. He got one last swipe at her face which had barely missed before Tyrel got a clear shot and essentially vaporized him.

"Thank you--" Xiuyang exhaled in that raspy voice as she caught her breath. As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes went wide with fear as she realized the Yasoi had snatched the mask from her.

What Fait Accompli saw now was the true face of Xiuyang Solari: though she had the eyes of a woman, the lower half of her face was that of a man. It was a face Roslyn recognized as one she had seen recently. Xiuyang's face was disfigured indeed--by the face of her own father.

Worse still, her body seemed to be trying to fight off the familiar visage as though it were an infection. There were several scars across her face, two of them right at the edge of where her mask met flesh. One crossed the bridge of her nose right under her eyes, dividing her face almost neatly in half.

"NO!!" she suddenly screeched, reaching up with both arms to cover her face. "Don't--look--at me!" she managed to sputter between coughs as she scrambled to find the lost mask in a panic, hyperventilating in between each coughing fit. "It's not--not what you think..." she sobbed as she looked away, having found the mask. She put it to her face quickly, taking deeper breaths as she slowly steadied herself.

As the melee initiated everyone took to blade and spell as they engaged the enemies. She herself knew her position, to mend and block attacks from the enemy. The others did what they did best: Murder. Yasoi bend, rent apart and burned until they ceased and yet it did little to dull the fervor of the other ones. Annoyingly one decided to engage her himself. Dashing at her with a long blade he attempted to impale her, only instead the blade slid off the handle as she consumed a single sliver of the blade's matter, right at the base. She had snatched the yasoi attacker by his throat, lifting him from his feet with one arm like he was a poorly weighted tankard of ale raised in toast.

She passed only a brief glance at the struggling addict before tossing him into a fire that Roslyn had started. Just more screaming to fill the cries in the air as she turned to stall one of the heavier casters of the Yasoi group. They employed blood magic crudely, basic techniques that were easily dismantled no matter how high their RAS might of been. Without much way to harm them it was only a matter of time before their own caster's power consumed their foes.

Despite their efforts it would have seemed that the Yasoi had done more damage than she would have given them credit for. Their numbers availed them only in slaying the mercenaries that were in tow, the students proving far too formidable for the yasoi regardless of their numerical superiority.

Of course she then turned her attention to Xiuyang who had, in the excitement, forgotten her mask. The state of her face indicated a unique condition, something that Trypano had already gleamed but could now see in full effect. Xiuyang herself however reacted as though their stares burned her as an arcane lance would, reeling in horror with the realization of her own error. Despite how she might of feared that she was in some way a monster Trypano's expression remained cold, stoic as ever. She simply tipped her hat up, giving her a few seconds to steady herself before looking straight through the sockets of her mask into her panicked eyes.

"I know what y' must be thinkin': 'That 'yer somethin' else 'cause of all that, some sort'a ungodly mistake p'haps. Folk's 'round you could never understand that b'neath that skin the actual you resides, right?" She reached up and casually swept aside some of her crimson red hair in a symbolic gesture. She took a couple steps forward, leaving enough space for the others but staying relatively within arms reach of her. She cast a probing glance at the others, a warning to those who might of been ready to judge Xiuyang for this, before looking back and addressing her once more.

"Tell me this: Who do you think y' are? 'Cause I'm looking at you an' I just see Xiuyang."

Roslyn stood there, her eyes locked onto the familiar sight. Her teeth bit her lower lip as she examined her feelings. A primal part of her recoiled at the sight seeing it as unnatural and confusing. She swallowed down that sensation when it became a hardened lump in her throat. With a deep breath, she let her face relax. At least she knew she wasn't crazy when she saw those eyes shift colors. Still it felt like she was missing pieces of a mystery and that sensation gnawed at her. She approached Xiuyang with hesitation in her form. Not from fear of what the girl looked like, but concern for her well being.

She caught Trypano's words and shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure I can put my thoughts into words right now. They are too jumbled up and confused."

Roslyn turned back to Xiuyang, "At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me. It's a bit of a relief to know otherwise, but is this why you were in pain back at the Society Faire? What happened?"

Ingrid was utterly shocked. Xuiyang was a man?! But he's so small, is he a runt? Ingrid considered it, thinking about his athletic prowess and interest in Trypano. I mean it was weird but, hey, not the worst. Not my colors but to each's own right?

No, that's stupid. Xuiyang is no man, maybe? Gods, the stubble is throwing me off. Just take it slow Ingy, she is Xuiyang, your friend.

"Come now, ain't nobody here will hurt you," she stayed a decent step away not to crowd. "We came all the way here for you, and we are here for you." Ingrid kept her voice steady and soft, not trying to demean her but hopefully give the tenderness she needs. "Do you think you can tell us what's happening Xuiyang?"

"But there are people who would kill me for looking like this. I'm... a Facemimic," she confessed, as there was little purpose to be gained from hiding it now. "Blessed and cursed blood in the same body—most people would consider that an 'ungodly mistake.' Why shouldn't it be? You can see the result," she replied bitterly. "I'm... a freak, and I'll be one forever if I can't learn how to fix this. I can't rely on anyone else. If this secret gets out before I can cure it, I'm ruined." Tears rolled down her face. "...and Juulet knows. The bitch is probably telling everyone right now."

"Well, we have more than a handful of skilled binders here, don't we?" It was Tyrel, not the sort to let Xiuyang wallow, no matter how meaningful. "I don't see any reason we should just accept the bad things in life and let them lay us low." She took a couple of steps forward before stopping and resting her stump on a crutch handle, as was her habit. "And I'm not so bad with time, you know." She took in the others with a sweeping glance. "I should be able to give you some time to work, maybe even anchor a few errors away."

Tyrel shrugged, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Juulet can be a petulant child, so then let her be made a liar, too, if she's going to be vicious like that." She looked meaningfully at the others.

Still, they had not gotten to the bottom of whatever had splattered those other onrushing yasoi, but it hadn't seemed to target them and, for now, that was enough. Handling her crutches again, Tyrel took a couple of steps back, planting her foot in the dirt. "We're going to try, at least. I will accept nothing else."

A spark. "That..." *won't be enough,* her battered heart instinctively commanded her to say, but she choked it back. Binding *wouldn't* be enough—but Tyrel was a yasoi. She understood as much, and it didn't need to be said. Here in Yarsoc, in the middle of nowhere, far away from the school and the church and any judgmental eyes, they were free to use any magic they pleased. "It might... work," she managed to say, her tone unconvinced but her eyes filled with hope.

It would be an arduous process, she warned, and one she didn't wish for Ashon to see. The "infection" had spread to her upper torso and much of her right arm. She had already tried to modify her own vocal cords long ago, with visibly disastrous results.

Ashon stood guard while the others worked. Tyrel set the temporal anchor. Roslyn held Xiuyang's hand and dulled the pain with her chemical magic, so she could focus on her temporal precognizance and direct Ingrid and Trypano as they used their respective magics. Ingrid used controlled atomic to destroy the invasive tissue's ability to replicate itself, while Trypano constructed new flesh in the likeness of Xiuyang's own.

The first attempt was a complete disaster. The second was almost perfect, but the "scars" proved immovable. Everyone agreed that they should try again, so they did: a third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh time produced wildly unpredictable results. The eighth attempt, the most arduous yet most promising of all ended up nearly identical to the second, and by then, all were exhausted. "Stop, please! No more! This... is enough," Xiuyang panted, catching her breath. Breathing came slightly easier now, she noticed.

Looking at the image of her new face, she reflected on these friends she'd gathered, most of them quite recently. They'd given their best efforts for her sake, selflessly and at great personal risk—something she could not yet imagine doing, herself. They didn't owe her a perfect face. They'd done enough.

For the first time in a long while, she felt the smoothness of her skin, the roundness of her chest, and heard the sound of her own voice, rather than her mother's, when she spoke. "You could never understand how, grateful I am," she sobbed as she smiled. "I thought I was going to die here, alone, and now I have my *life* back."

She embraced Tyrel and squeezed, as hard as she could—with no fear of judgment, of some horrible secret being discovered. She hugged every one of them, and showed the smile that she never could from behind a mask. The scars were ugly things, but they were an almost insignificant price to pay to be allowed to be who she was, with no concessions. This moment, these friends, and her smile—these were beautiful things.

Early in the hours of Shune, there was a gentle knock on the door of where the Soul Sisters were staying. It was Xiuyang, having miraculously returned from her involuntary pilgrimage to Yarsoc. "Hey. I missed you in the last event. Thought I'd pay a visit before the big reveal."

Mio opened the door to Xiuyang, smiling brightly as she came forward to embrace her lightly on her shoulders. "They said you disappeared, what happened?" She showed concern towards the girl.

"Juulet happened," she replied darkly. "But I'm... I'll be alright." She sighed heavily, her voice trembling only slightly. "She didn't get what she wanted out of me," she said simply, a hint of a smile in her eyes. "I'll be more than alright, in fact. May I come in?"

"Oh, the yasoi, right?" She shook her head as she recalled the Yasoi, she knows what their kind is like, especially after Ai Medda. "Sure, come on in. Shall I put the tea on?"

"Would you please? I'd love a cup of warm tea, right now." Now, she was definitely smiling. She tapped her fingertips together as she waited at the table for Mio to return. "I pulled some strings to be able to do one of the Trials with you. I'm sad that I missed it, but thanks to that, I have a different kind of opportunity, now."

She sipped her tea from beneath the veil on her face. It suddenly dawned on Mio that she wasn't wearing her mask. "My teammates were so busy trying to find me, they didn't realize that you had our box the whole time. I was hoping to get it from you, but more than that, I wanted to meet at least one more time."

She moved over to pour green tea out for Xiuyang, though pleasantly surprised she was without her mask. "Are you here to return my hat?" Her tone has a teasing element to it.

"We encountered a quite... persistent person during the event, who threatened to endanger the plan. It took your replacement to get rid of her. I imagine boxes were the least of their concerns."

"Yeah, I heard about that. I'll need to be aware of her pernicious nature in the future. Sorry that you had to deal with her." She scratched her chin, contemplating. In a way, her survival and her current circumstances were partially owed to the beanie that Taleja traded her for, but both of them probably imagined that they got the better deal.

"I could return your hat, but I think I'll keep it." She winked. "It'll remind me of what you told me last time. Those words are priceless to me. Instead, I have something better to show you..."

And while it took a bit of arcane trickery to conceal the scars, she showed it to Mio first.



"My biggest smile! How's that? Is that worth a box?" She chuckled.

"Words... ... oh, those great words of sage wisdom were discovered baked in a fortune cookie." She playfully gave a wink at Xiuyang, as she played them down. Though, obviously she took the compliment to heart.

She smiled in return as the other girl showed her expression. "Not quite enough, I insist you write to me, from time to time. If you want the box." Her expression showing some deviousness to it.

Xiuyang shrugged. "Nothing new under the sun. But to me, they're your words, because you were the first to say them to me."

She took another sip of her tea, and grinned impishly in reply. "I'd like that very much, but... What should I write to you about?"

"How life is treating you. I like to hear from my fans. Can tell me about any boys you like, which is your favourite song, anything in your adventures." Mio moved over towards the box as she placed it on her own lap as she sat down. She got a cloth as she decided to place some mooncakes within it as she bundled it on top as well.

"I get mooncakes too?" Xiuyang replied, rubbing her hands together in a rare display of overt eagerness. "You drive a hard bargain, mio Mio. I'm usually not a very open person, but I'll try to change that, starting with you. You got yourself a deal."

She stood up and opened her arms up. "Here, for the mooncakes—and because I feel like it. I chickened out last time."

The two shared a brief hug, and some more idle conversation. Today was a good day.

The clues hidden within the Cherune boxes led Fait Accompli to the Forked Tower. There, they raced against competing teams Rock and Stone and Huggy Bears to be the second to arrive and solve a riddle, behind distant first place winners Vyshta's More Favoured. The riddle in question was:

Riddle me this, for Shune-Zept's sake: I cannot be used before I break. What am I?

Immediately, Xiuyang thought of an egg. You couldn't eat the shell, obviously—but wait, you could cook with an egg with the shell still on, and wouldn't making hardboiled eggs count as a use? Her mind strayed to other things that required breaking them in order to be used. She strained her mind to think of something less obvious, less childish. She was afraid to be wrong about something like a simple riddle, with Ciro standing right there. She vaguely recalled something, perhaps some piece of sirrahi technology that glowed when cracked, but she could hardly name it if she didn't remember what it was called, and it might be too obscure for something like a riddle. There was something else that came to mind, of course, but it couldn't be that, right? Her cheeks turned a light pink at the thought of even suggesting it. No, leave it to the Huggy Bears to guess something so obscene, and, if they were right, she supposed they deserved their prize for being so daring.

Right as she was about to give in to a trial-and-error approach, Marz gave the correct answer: an egg.

Seriously? The child's answer was the correct one? I want to crawl into a hole and disappear...

Moments before the match, Ciro offered his hand to Xiuyang. Taking it, she looked up at him. She must have given off the vibe that she wanted to say something, too, because Ciro responded with his reassuring smile. "Well, I know that look..." he said with teasing expectance.

"Um, well. I just wanted to say... no matter what happens now, I think we make a pretty good team." She averted her eyes, blushing just slightly.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "That we do."

Xiuyang raised her scarf up, hiding a big smile as she walked into the arena. "Ready to save my ass again?" she exhaled, upon laying eyes on her opponents. Fuck.

"You're going down, scarface!" Raffie cheered, sticking her tongue out at the Revidian pair. How the boos rained down when the Revidian pair entered. There were not too many people allowed to spectate, but those who were did their best to make the place feel hostile towards their enemies.

Zarina then regarded the opposition. "No point asking for a courtesy hug beforehand, huh?" she smirked.

Xiuyang turned to Zarina, unsure what to make of the comment yet. "Sorry, I'm fresh out," she replied, cheeky but friendly.

Ciro shrugged. "I assume that's your way of asking if we'd let you have a grace period. In that case, I agree." He smiled and his body language clearly indicated that he had not raised any defenses, content to let his opponents strengthen. He might do the same himself.

"Huh?" Zarina raised a brow. "Nah, just making a joke. No graces today."

"Very well," he said with a smile.

...

Zarina and Miret were fierce opponents, and Ciro held his own better than Xiuyang expected. Had she vastly underestimated his capabilities? Among the four of them, Xiuyang was the weak link, and everyone quickly put that together. It didn't matter than she was showing vastly superior strength compared to last year's Trials—her opponents were simply stronger than the best that she could muster. She tried to conceal herself with illusions so she could support Ciro, but it was not enough. After only a few rounds of attacks, she was sent hurtling out of the ring by Zarina. She could have killed her. If this were a real battle, she'd be dead, and she knew it.

Xiuyang was eliminated. Ciro's face fell. "Well, I guess that's that, then." He shot Xiuyang a sad look. "I am so sorry I couldn't help you do this, my love."

Zarina shrugged. "Sorry, habibi."

Ciro adjusted the red rose in his lapel. He took it out and took a sniff. "Well, I'd appreciate if you'd let me shake your hands and walk out. I'd like to remember uh..." He scratched at the back of his head. "What not to do next time."

Zarina raised a brow. "Shake hands? Sure, after the match is over. You can walk out, though."

He held his hand out and watched it refused. He shook his head. "Nevermind." He walked out, and the crowd roared. The Virangish had won in Virang; the Revidians had been defeated.

Xiuyang was sent hurtling into a bench, and did not land gracefully. Her world spun around, and agonizing pain assaulted her back and stomach. Virangish spectators jeered, tossing food at her as she struggled to stand and catch her breath. At least, she wasn't dead. Ciro came and embraced her as the boos rained down upon them. "Remember, the opinions of these... people don't define who you are," he murmured into her ear. "But they are not like us: they care only for their bread and circuses. I will never sink to their level, I promise. I pray you do the same."

"Oi!" yelled Zarina, arms flailing and all those gestures for attention. "A little grace for the opponents. Ya Hmar! They played honourably." Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. That she was with one of those filthy knife-ears could be overlooked, in theory. It was simply their team composition and Zarina had been given no choice in that, most likely. Now she was calling Revidians honourable!? The whispers and gossip got Zarina to enter the defensive with her arms crossed. "Thank you for coming to see us and the cheers." she bowed her head before marching to the benches and join her team.

Xiuyang bit her lip. It was hard not to be disappointed, when she had taken the finals almost for granted, until Raffaella had unleashed... that. It was surreal. It felt unfair. It felt how the Perrench had probably felt after her "victory." In reality, she knew she hadn't deserved to make it to semifinals, to begin with.

"Let's go," she sighed, sounding only slightly morose. A surprising underreaction, given how fired up she was to defeat Penny. Perhaps the difference in power had taken the wind out of her sails. "I'm so exhausted, Ciro... from everything. I just want a bath, a nice dinner, and about... three days and nights of uninterrupted sleep." She offered him a wry smile. He smiled and walked beside her, holding his hand out playfully. "Yup, it can all go burn for now." He shook his head. "The rest sounds lovely, though, and better enjoyed... dare I say it—with company?"

Xiuyang gave him the sly eyes—the look she always had when she was hatching some plan to amuse herself. She played at ignoring his hand, plucking a piece of lettuce out of his hair instead. Then, she took him by the arm. "My father is impressed by you, you know?" she hinted. "That's not easy to do. It's almost as hard as impressing me," she japed.

"Well, I am pretty impressive," he remarked. Then he scratched at the back of his head. "Just uh... scrub today from the books, huh?" He offered a self-effacing smile and, together, they walked away. But Xiuyang would not forget—how Ciro, ever the image of a perfect gentleman, had put himself in the crowd's line of fire to lift her up, physically and emotionally. "Nope. Don't think I can, so you'll just have to treat me," she teased, smiling.

And that, he did.

Following the conclusion of Mano e Mano, Xiuyang called a final team meeting. It was, at least, officially a team meeting, but there was also a subtle but distinct "consolation pizza and beer party" vibe to it. She certainly wasn't going to admit to it, and nobody was likely to point it out. She had the plausible deniability of being a perpetually drunk Revidian. This was Xiuyang's vibe, and it was fun for a while, but eventually, the others looked to her for some kind of purpose for the meeting. She shrugged. She was never any good at starting any kind of "official" anything.

"We are gathered here todayy..." she drawled comically, "...to talk strategy. The old greybeards aren't done using us for their own amusement yet." She chugged another pint's worth of beer from her gourd. "I'll get straight to the point. We're in the spotlight of a massive controversy. People hate us. 'Specially me." She grimaced, not from guilt but from distaste.

"We're in seventh place, but we'll probably get spited into the ground if we don't pick up some good PR. That's why I passed on fighting for third place. We could maybe take down Maura's team if we're extremely lucky and on our absolute A game, but let's be honest... we're not. We're all exhausted, and those points aren't worth the hassle compared to what we're gonna get by playing the good sports, looking like the victims of someone else's grand design—which we probably are, but everyone needs to know it." She smirked. "We need the Zenos of Ersand'Enise to take the fall for us on that Fiske n' Chips match. I'm sure their infighting has something to do with this. It's the least they can do for us. Our efforts are better spent elsewhere."

She chugged again. "I've got more unfinished business with Penny than I thought. I knew she didn't like me, but apparently she hates my guts badly enough to spit death threats with just a little bit of provocation. So, there's nothing for it. I'll just have to give her the apology she wants. The Perrench outnumber us. She's holding all the cards. I need her to agree to a ceasefire, or we'll lose our place in the top ten." She swirled her gourd around, acting like she didn't give a care—but in truth, this clever ruse was just an excuse. Penny was hurting, and despite her best efforts not to care... she did. "Anyone else got any bright ideas to deal with this problem? If not, I'll settle for letting you handle right or spite, while I deal with the jealous girlfriend issue. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it," she japed, with the vibe of a mob boss. "If I don't come back, you know who killed me," she added, deadpan.

"From what ah understand th' main top ten get more leverage from spitin' than rightin'. Ah think as long as no team in the top has a specific reason t' spite us then we might a chance of movin' up on the back of other team's spite-in' one of the leadin' teams." Trypano was leaned up against a wall, arms crossed and hat casting a long shadow in the flickering light of the wall lantern.

"Since votin' uniformly gives us a boost ah think votin' spite on Vyshta's Most Favored will knock 'em down a peg, 'specially since we probably ain't gonna be the only ones. After all, bein' number one just put's a big target on their backs." She gave a long sigh, not as a statement or anything of that sort but rather she was simply weary of this distraction. She was done with these trials as soon as they even began, the amount of time these events had deducted from her actual work was grinding her nerves.

"As for curryin' favor with the teams eleven t' twenty or so I'm not the one t' ask. I'll do what ah can but hardly anyone knows me, least in a positive context that is."

"I'll go to the Eskandish, I have a reputation with them and should be able to persuade them not to vote against us." Ingrid wasn't completely confident in that but she would try at the very least. "Same with Sven. I can see if he is willing to at least not spite us and at best have some sympathy. Other than that I can hit up some old friends to try and get higher. I don't know if it will convince them but I can try."

"Good luck with Penny, she is a decent person, I swear." Ingrid added. She wasn't going to try to convince someone of her character when at times, Penny acts like a bad person to even her.

Given the events of the day, it was nigh impossible for anyone to get a moment with Penny alone, Xiuyang least of all. She decided to get her attention the only way she could think to try, which was to write a letter.

Penny,

I want you to know, first and foremost, that I bear you no ill will. I want you and Jamboi to be happy together. I would never want you to suffer as you did. Even if you don't remember a thing, I want to apologize. I don't know where the aberration came from, but I can't shake this sinking feeling that, if I'd been stronger, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

That isn't the main reason I'm writing to you, though. Penny, I don't know if anyone told you about the things you said to me in between being temporally anchored and the start of our fight. What I heard broke my heart, but it also opened my eyes. I've hurt you, far more than I ever thought or intended. In the moment, I was angry, but in hindsight, I feel ashamed. If there is anyone in this school who knows what it's like to hide bitterness behind a mask, it's me. I should have seen the pain you were in.

Please, find me at Dami's Cross, and tell me everything. Just let me have it, and get it all off your chest. I promise I won't get angry or defensive. I want both of us to leave this bitterness behind and focus on making our loved ones happy.

Sincerely, Xiuyang

Despite the presence of dozens of other students all using it as a rendezvous point, there was no missing Penny when she showed up at the Dami's Cross fountain. By her very nature, she was distinctive. She did not, however, seem to notice Xiuyang right away. Instead, she sat on one of the benches, leaning her crutches against the end of it and taking a moment to get her bearings. In the meantime, a trio of cleaners were hard at work scrubbing the paint off of the statue in the middle. Should Xiuyang wish to back out, this would perhaps be her last opportunity to do so.

Despite her promise not to get angry or defensive, no matter what Penny might say to her, Xiuyang still did not quite feel safe meeting with Penny alone. It was no coincidence that she'd chosen such a public place. The immature part of her had even hoped that Penny might just not show up. Now that she had, though, her heart began to race. As soon as she saw her, she remembered the sight of her, aberration mad, charging after her with murderous intent. She remembered how easily the death threat had escaped her mouth, and how easily she could have squished her like a bug if Ingrid wasn't there to defend her.

This, however, would be her last chance with Penny, perhaps her only chance. Anxiety written all over her face, she revealed herself. She'd been sitting on the edge of the fountain, alone. She rose to her feet slowly, and cautiously approached Penny. No theatrics, no clever jokes. She simply walked up to her. "Thanks for coming," she said softly, trying to smile. "...May I sit?" she attempted, gesturing to the other end of the bench.

Penny arched an eyebrow. "Nobody's stopping you." She looked the other girl over. At some point, Xiuyang had stopped wearing her mask. That was... not a pretty sight and, for some reason, it melted a bit of her resolve. She was not a pretty sight either, according to some. Penny said no more for the time being, however. She merely let the other speak. On the one hand, she was nearly certain that the school or some nefarious third party had been behind the incident that she did not fully remember. On the other, a small part of her still believed that it might've been Xiuyang's allies and they'd simply messed up. This was likely what it appeared to be: a simple apology for something that, to be frank, Penny owed an apology for as well. There was always a chance, though - just a slight one - that it was something much darker.

"...Thanks," came the simple reply. Anxious, she sat on the other edge of the bench, looking like an awkward teenager preparing to be scolded—which, truthfully, was exactly what she was. For Pentad's sake, Penny, please say something, she thought desperately as the short moment of silence seemed in her mind to last an eternity.

Letting a moment pass without trying to break the ice was not a strong suit of hers. So, in the end, she caved, and spoke first. "I hope you're here because you got my letter, otherwise, this is going to be really awkward..." she tried a nervous laugh, scratching her cheek. "I'll just start with the bottom line, huh? I've been... a conceited, conniving little coward. Saying that I was trying to steal your boyfriend is giving me too much credit. For a Yanii, dating a Yasoi is a big commitment, and I lacked the conviction to make a move. I used to think, 'no one would ever love a girl like me.' His rejection would have broken me. So I just... silently hoped that he would make the first move," she confessed.

"He's not that kind of guy, though. He wants a girl who will say yes, not one who will just... not say no. He's a good man. He called me beautiful because I lacked confidence, not because he liked me like that. ...Still, I should have told him to stop. I know what it feels like, now, to love someone so much that just the thought of him flirting with other girls, even if it's strictly business pleasantries, makes me feel terribly jealous. If I'd known what that was like—that I was hurting you—well, I'd like to think I would have done better... I don't know. Hearing him call me beautiful, even if it was a joke, felt so nice. No one ever said so before." She gripped the folds of her robes.

But you're not, Penny thought, and neither am I. The thought was invasive. It was not what she was supposed to think. It was not what she was meant to think. She shook her head without meaning to. "That's... a lot." Penny glanced about uncomfortably, not quite knowing how to respond to such an admission. "Dami," she laughed nervously, "I feel like such a bitch if I don't respond in kind, you know?" For a moment, she simply regarded her counterpart. She didn't know what to do with her hands.

"But thank you, and.. really." She breathed. Did she really hate Xiuyang? They'd been friendly to each other on a surface level. Penny had spent her entire life until Ersand'Enise being friendly to people who she hated and who'd hated her. Really, it had been fear: a fear of losing Ashon and everything that he represented. "I have..." she admitted, trailing off for a moment, "my own long sad story to tell, but now's not the time for it. I have my own deep-seated issues with self-worth." She knitted and unknitted her fingers. They still felt strange: that gap in her left hand that had always been there and now wasn't. She'd hated it too, but she'd accepted it, even - scandalously - used it to hold a pen or utensils with when nobody was looking. Why should a different body automatically be deemed hideous and malformed? Who got to decide that? Was it social or biological?

"Oh, I could say something trite about how we're not so different, but I think that you and I both know that now." She shook her head and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, offering a faint smile. "I don't think we'll ever be besties - I bleed green and gold - but we're not enemies and..." She shrugged. "This meant a lot. I'm not gonna cry. I don't know why. Maybe I have so many regrets piled up that I'm just numb to it at this point. Maybe life is surreal right now." She let out a snort and leaned forward, posting her weight on her hands. There was a restlessness about Penny these days. Maybe some of the yasoi had bled into her being. "I just..." It was a simple thing, really, but nobody ever apologized to her. "Apology accepted and... I should've said something before. I should've seen it and recognized where my own reaction was coming from." She hesitated. I'm... glad you're happy now." Her smile felt fake even though it wasn't. I'm sorry. She was going to say it but, then, she didn't. On some level perhaps, to do so would've been an admission of weakness. For a royal of Perrence to do that... she did not recognize it as such but, maybe, it was just a mental hurdle too far for her.

"Life is pretty fucking surreal right now," Xiuyang agreed, letting out a genuine chuckle, and palpable relief. "I'm not entitled to your regrets, Penny—but I hope you won't let them hold you back. I've been so scared of... everything lately, I almost forgot how to be happy—but I'm done crying, sick of it even. I'm not going to waste another moment regretting anything that led me to this place in time."

She stood up. "I meant what I said, when I said it—that there's nothing tying me to Revidia but a birth certificate—but... now I've gone and fallen head over heels for a Revidian, haven't I? C'est la vie, non?" she shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I still don't want war. If I knew the first thing about what happened, or who was behind it, I'd tell you. I hope you believe that."

Penny sniffed, and toed at a pebble with her single foot. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "I do, suunei." She took a breath and flashed a smiled. "I do." Quicker than one might've expected, she slid over and reached out in embrace. "Thanks for being a human. Let's hug it out, hmm?"

Caught off guard, Xiuyang paused, but then she sat right back down on the bench and embraced Penny. "I'm here for you both, if you need me," she whispered. "I know how they look down on us. How hard it can be." She gently squeezed. She wanted, perhaps, to say more—to get it all off her chest—but this moment was for Penny, not her. She'd said enough for today.

In the Proving Grounds, Juulet was hosting an event: allegedly, anyone could punch her in the face, for the low cost of giving their points to Vyshta's More Favoured. Predictably, Xiuyang stepped up to the proverbial plate. Her expression had certainly changed following her time in Yarsoc. She was showing her face now, bearing her scars almost with a kind of pride. She had no fear in her eyes, nor hatred, nor the mercantile glint of the expectation of bargaining. There was nothing but a cold emptiness. Was it depression? Or acceptance?

The bitch herself sat cross legged in the centre of the arena, playing with some of the sand with an idle hand to pass the time. But then came the Yanii she had banished a couple of days ago. She did not look surprised and instead greeted Xiuyang with a smug grin. "Looks like the spiritual awakening in our lands made a new you. Good for you."

"...Yeah," she replied blithely. "Sure. Let's call it a holy pilgrimage. One might even say I found some form of acceptance with the Yasoi," she japed, thinking of Tyrel, and how surprised she'd been that she came for her. She stood a fair distance from Juulet, arms crossed. "I had to see it for myself to believe it. So. Whose idea was this?"

Juulet pushed herself off her sitting position, seized one of her crutches and stood before the maskless Revidian. "Mine. I'm not as bullheaded as I seem." the crutch was placed before her, allowing for the taller Yasoi to leaned forward over it. "Interested?"

There was a pause as Xiuyang pondered the absurd offer. "Depends. Why did you choose Yarsoc? Did you think sending me to that shithole would make me give up on your people? Make me show my true, dirty Yanii colors? Or did you just think it would be funny, to write this as my epitaph: Here lies Xiuyang Solari, tree-rider extraordinaire. She died as she lived." She delivered the punchline with a tone as flat and dead as roadkill.

Juulet didn't take long to answer. An anti-climactic shrug was a proper indicator of what was to come. "I wanted to fuck you over, I'm pretty sure. Tossing you in a deathtrap shithole felt fitting at the time." She drummed her fingers over the single support she was leaned on. "I didn't even remember where exactly I sent you. Just a spur of the moment thing. But no, I don't think enough about some tree-rider Yanii to imagine writing on some tombstone." Her expression was dull as much as her tone was flat and disinterested to match Xiuyang's energy.

"I'm kind of surprised. I didn't expect you to come back." She chuckled after the mirthful remark. "I suppose it is for the better you did, Ashy was growing antsy. And now, here you are no longer with that ugly mask. No more surprise, sure, but now you can finally breathe." She then raised her index finger and tapped her cheek. "Now, stop wasting my time for answers you'll never be satisfied with and hit me. I've got points to grind."

I'll never feel like I can breathe more than halfway in. Not until the day you die, Xiuyang thought bitterly. On the outside, however, she smiled. "I'm not here to hit you, though. I'm only here to make sure that arbitrary 'score' of yours is even between us, since I know you won't stop coming for me until it is. If we're even, then I have no business with you."

With that, Xiuyang turned to walk away. Her eyes didn't linger on that monster for even a second more. Juulet wouldn't show the sad, confused expression of a broken child who was unaccustomed to kindness or forgiveness. She would show only a smug grin, or high-and-mighty scorn. No, a single act of puerile violence would not satisfy Xiuyang. She would handle this the Solari way. She would face Juulet with a smile, starting today, until the very instant she found herself with a favorable hand. Then, she would make Juulet suffer.

Later, upon seeing the final standings, Xiuyang would find out that her singular decision not to punch Juulet would cost Vyshta's More Favoured first place, bumping them down to third. She had won the moral victory, even if it felt a bit hollow.

The artifacts on offer as Trials rewards had been on display in the auction hall for some time, and all of the winners seemed to have at least a vague idea of what they wanted. It was never going to be a simple matter of choosing those items, however; it was a game in which the higher-placed teams had an advantage, items could be stolen, and the top 3 teams could get 3 rewards, while everyone else was stuck with two. Problem one: there were three items that Xiuyang absolutely had to have, and anything that didn't get chosen was going to be auctioned off. Problem two: Marceline had just seized one of the prizes Xiuyang had her eye on—an anti-magic device.

When Fait Accompli's turn came, though, Xiuyang heaved a sigh of relief, and headed straight for the Paired Mirrors of Swift Exchange, ignoring every other prize. This one took priority. Once she had it, she sat back down next to Ciro, offering him one of the mirrors with a big smile that could rival Raffaella's. "You've always been there when I needed you. Now I can return the favor." He smiled in return. "Have I told you that you're the best enough times, or would you like to hear it again?"

"Once in a while certainly doesn't hurt." She looked away to hide her blush, grinning. "Just don't wear it out." She couldn't be happier with her choice. She didn't fully understand Ciro's capabilities, and wasn't sure if the gift would be useful. Her relief was palpable, but she was also a little embarrassed—at least, she strived to seem that way. Now no one can steal this from us without looking like a villain. Only, what to do about Marci...

She considered. No, I'll let her have this. I shouldn't rush things. The next time we meet, I'll be an even match for Juulet myself—and I won't be alone. Ciro just got an anti-magic item, too. Having made her decision, she laid hands upon the Sanguine Bayonet of Endless Bloodhunger—a prize that had appeared in last year's Trials, but went unclaimed, perhaps due to its macabre nature. Indeed, there were already whispers in the room. Of course, there would be confusion about a pacifist taking up a weapon such as this. As she walked back to Ciro's side, she ignored everyone's stares. I've been too soft. These people have forgotten what it means to fuck with a Solari. Father was right—I should remind them that we are dangerous to the wrong sort.

At Xiuyang's recommendation, Ciro acquired a mask with a power that would be useful in negotiations and other social situations—an item that was useful to both of them. She waited for someone to steal her new lance. War was around the corner, and surely someone would take the opportunity to show the room that they were oh so much scarier than a pair of mere Revidian merchants. Come on, take it from me. Then I can take what I'm really after with no chance of it being stolen from me. She feigned defensiveness whenever anyone approached her team, but to her chagrin, it was always Trypano's item they were after.

In the end, Xiuyang was stuck with the lance. Well, fuck. I decided I'd be okay with this outcome, but really... those guns are perfect for combating an Avatar of Vyshta. I'm surprised Marci didn't take them. She considered her options for a moment. During the last auction, items started off expensive and the prices only got driven up from there. She had money saved from back then, but her income was the lowest it had ever been, now. Certainly, she'd had no allies to pool money with last time, and now she had Ciro, but still. She owed him enough—she shouldn't rely on him for every little thing.

Winners were being allowed to swap any prizes they were unhappy with with those still left in the pool. She could trade the lance for the guns, but what kind of message would that send? That she was indecisive after all? No, she had to keep the lance now. She just needed an item to trade. How could she make this work? There was a way, she decided as she approached the prize pool. "Anyone else trying to get another prize out of this?" She asked, a mercantile glint in her eyes. "I've got enough money here to buy at least two items during the auction, but I only want one, and I absolutely must have it. I'll buy any one item off of you with this. Any item—I'm not picky."

Immediately, a woman named Marlijn Vaanse took her up on the offer. It was a bad deal for Xiuyang, who was holding a small fortune of 1,300 magus—but she wasn't going to take even the slightest chance that someone with more money than her had their eyes on Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers. As soon as the deal was made, Xiuyang exchanged the item she'd bought off Marlijn for those guns, and wasted no time in attaching them to her hip and concealing them beneath her robe. "A pleasure doing business."

The auction was next, and Xiuyang was out of cash. She was satisfied with her haul, though, and more than content to simply sit next to Ciro and watch the show. The first interesting items to come up were some paintings by the artist Tku. One called "The Rise" depicted Juulet in the role of a divine being, facing off against a four-armed demon. How droll, Xiuyang thought, until Ciro started bidding for it against Juulet herself. Confused at first, Xiuyang eventually caught on to what he was doing: driving up the price. She fought back the urge to snicker and failed as Juulet happily paid triple her original bid.

The next painting, called "The Fall" depicted the more honest scene that Xiuyang remembered from the finals of Mano e Mano: a scared and helpless child in the grasp of an all-consuming darkness, her divinity stripped away. Ciro leaned in to Xiuyang, whispering: "Would you like it?" The question caught her off guard. Where, just where in all of Sipenta could a man find this much brazen confidence? If Juulet didn't destroy this painting herself, whoever bought it would surely be her next target, along with the artist himself. "Nah. It's burned into my mind's eye forever," she replied in truth. When the demon had appeared, she watched him taunt Juulet, even as others ran and hid behind the stone walls of the arena, as if they could offer safety from such an overwhelmingly powerful being. She had been prepared to die by the same greataxe that would have slain her greatest adversary. Just how cold had her heart grown to the prospect of dying, after everything she'd witnessed in the past months? Death, and even what she knew of the hells were a mercy compared to that endless nothing she had experienced firsthand.

Meanwhile, everyone was bidding on the painting, including Trypano, Penny, Desmond, and... Marceline. She bid a whopping 500 magus on it, remarking that she loved the "realism." "What a wonderful piece! Should I put it on public display?" She said as she shook Tku's hand. Dami fuck, Marci. Holy shit. Xiuyang couldn't help but admire and envy the girl's courage. As the auction went on, Marci also bid 100 magus on the 25-hour self-copy. By the gods, I think she has the same plan I was considering before. She's going to kill Juulet, she realized. Xiuyang didn't know much about Marci, other than that any sensible woman would be furious at Juulet for attacking their boyfriend. Should I stop her? She bit her lip for a fraction of a second, then quickly hid behind a poker face, standing ready to prompt Ciro to back her if she had competition. However, she had none.

Now Juulet was bidding on an item: the Girdle of Dominance, which would only make her even more of a menace. "Do we allow this?" she whispered to Ciro urgently. "We let others spend and we watch," he replied simply. It was only then that she reflected: Ciro had driven up the price of a lot of items, but not actually bought anything himself. It seemed he had some grander scheme in mind. She shrugged off her reservations, deciding to trust in his judgment. He hadn't let her down before. In the end, it didn't matter, as Juulet and Tyrel pooled their money, with the latter actually getting the belt, and Juulet seemed... satisfied? When did those two suddenly grow close? This was worrying.

At last, though, Ciro decided to buy something, and when he did, it was an absolute steal, snagging a Great Sandbar Thresher for a measly 200 magus. She certainly didn't envy whoever found themselves on the wrong side of Ciro while riding that beast. Next was a rare variant of Coldfire Wyvern: the Blackfire, starting at a mere 4 magus. If Xiuyang had only known the Trials prizes would start so cheap, she would have held on to her money. She looked on with pity for the silky black beast with fierce violet eyes, regretful that she had no money—until Ciro slapped down 250 for it. "Was I that obvious?" she asked, more than a little embarrassed. No one competed to outbid him, either. It seemed everyone knew what was happening here. "I know how to read people, and we didn't pay too much," he replied. Xiuyang smiled sheepishly. You could have left that last part out, she thought, bemused. Oh. I totally just let him cater to my whims, didn't I? Just like other girls... Sorry, my dear. Please don't be cross with me. She knitted her fingers anxiously, a little ashamed of herself.

What followed was an absolute bloodbath over a piece of Sirrahi technology: a pair of two-way radios. Xiuyang had to pull her scarf up to hide her stupid grin. To think I got a much better item uncontested during prize selection. Thanks for respecting us lovebirds, she thought deviously, even though it did warm her heart slightly. It was real love, after all, wasn't it? "I wish we had popcorn," Ciro remarked as he leaned in, hands in his pockets. "This is the best. I'm so glad I came along," she replied with a chuckle. "Always fireworks here. We've spent barely more than we've made and they haven't even made it to the shoppe yet." He ruffled her hair fondly. It was true: the others had spent basically all of their money, and Ciro's Volta Emporium was about to make a lot more. I almost don't feel stupid for overpaying for those guns anymore, she mused as the radios sold for a whopping 850 magus.

Later that day, word reached Xiuyang that a disaster had taken place at L'emporio di Volta. A certain dragon tamer astride a Blue Water Behemoth had, according to some sources, inadvertently trashed the place while trying to save some customers from some runaway Rettandic goods. Ciro's version of the story understandably made it sound a bit less noble. "I'll help clean this up. Don't worry about it—there are some things I wanted to buy, too."

Having heard through Tyrel of the miraculous healing powers of the cheese Pluurii had acquired during prize selection, Xiuyang thought she'd have a go at trying to find one for herself. She had many things to be thankful for, despite all of the trials she'd been put through lately—but if she could get rid of her scars as well, she'd never ask the gods for anything again. Checking around for any eyes on her, she saw none. It seemed as if the employees knew of her and Ciro's relationship, and trusted her. Very good. She put on her beanie and began to search the contents of the crates without opening them. Sorry, love, but this is for both of us.

No matter how far and wide she searched, however, she could not find any crates with the mana-infused cheese. She did find a few other curiosities, though, and opted to keep the three crates they happened to be in. She could afford another ten crates with her pocket money, and purchased those as well. "Pack these up, please. I wish to donate them," she said to the nearest worker. "Where to, signora?" "The Seagate." "...The Seagate, madam?" he asked wearily. "Well, go around from the Parade Gate, if it offends your sensibilities," she fired back irritably. "Not at all, madam Solari."

As the carriage moved along, Xiuyang wondered if she should even show up in person for this. Was there any merit to it? "Tree-riders" like her were always viewed with suspicion. However, she mustered every ounce of her courage and went along for the ride, Staff of the Burning Monkey King in hand. As the yasoi refugees came into view, they all stared at her. Curious eyes failed to recognize either the woman or the staff in her hand, and their reactions to her generosity were mixed. Several children thanked her as they had clearly been taught, while their parents said nothing, positive or negative. Some pointed at her scarred face and said things she couldn't understand while the adults shushed them. A few nodded in gratitude and thanks. Overall, it was a very mixed bag. It neither met Xiuyang's expectations of negativity, nor subverted them with heartwarming positivity. It just kind of happened—and perhaps that was right and fair.

It was early evening, and Marci had finally tracked down Xiuyang as she walked. "Hey," called Marceline, "I'm glad you're coming." She took a second to catch her breath as she pulled up alongside the Revidian. "Wouldn't be a party without you."

Xiuyang regarded Marci's sudden appearance with surprise, and perhaps a healthy dose of suspicion. Her team "should" have advanced instead of Fait Accompli, if the aberration fiasco hadn't happened, and the two hadn't spoken since then. "You're not wrong," she replied, polite but wary. It was to be expected, perhaps, given what had happened to her dorm, as she was now the subject of much controversy among the Perrench.

She was walking alongside Ciro, and an eagle-eyed Marci would no doubt have noticed the arcane illusions at work, concealing the scars on her arms and legs—and, coincidentally, a pair of flintlock pistols strapped to her thighs, underneath her dress. She wasn't leaving anything to chance, apparently.

"Listen, I know some really messed up stuff happened in that match," Marceline admitted, "But I'm glad it didn't scare you off. You're.... well... good people, Xiuyang, what little I know you." They walked in silence for a few moments longer and Marceline didn't comment on what her counterpart was hiding. "Fuck Juulet, by the way," she offered.

At that, Xiuyang stopped abruptly, letting go of Ciro's arm. "I need to handle this," her eyes seemed to say as she gave him a nod. "I'll catch up," she assured him. Ciro released her with a concerned look and an assurance that he would meet her at the party, but he would likely want to know more at some point. If he wasn't quite nosy, he was every curious about everything, and often totally inconsequential things.

She took Marceline along a slight detour, walking at an idle pace until she supposed that Ciro was, ostensibly, out of earshot. She put up what she could of a sonic bubble, which wasn't much, but as some might say, locks kept honest people honest. "You're doing it tonight, I take it?" she remarked rather straightforwardly. She looked at Marci with an impenetrable expression. "Don't worry, you don't have a rat. I simply had my suspicions. I have a rough idea of what you plan to do, if only because I'd considered it myself upon seeing those same prizes," she admitted. "But if death would leave you with any regrets, I suggest you keep your head down too. If I couldn't hide from her, I doubt anyone can."

The younger girl shrugged. "It has to be done, doesn't it?" She leaned against a wall as her potential partner continued. Her eyes flicked Xiuyang's way and she shrugged. "I figured someone would guess," the tethered allowed. "Long as it's nobody close to Juulet, then I think we're fine, and you're the polar..." "Opposite," Xiuyang finished as Marci trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "But Tyrel. Who'd have ever thought." She shook her head in frustration. "She's not as smart as I thought she was, to be reeled in so easily by a dash of superficial charm." She pushed off from the wall. "As if it undoes numerous murderous escapades." She clenched her jaw and looked away for a moment, arms wrapped around herself. "I'm praying you don't go soft on me, like Tyrel," she entreated - slash - warned. "I'm going to kill her. I don't like killing, but every moment she breathes, she's like... a great sword hanging over the heads of everyone she's harmed: you, me, Fiske, Dory." She shook her head. And how many others, huh? She's evil and she'll keep being evil."

"I'm not so blindly in favor of the Yasoi that you need to fear me protecting a murderous false Avatar for the optics of it." She looked over her shoulder as she said it. "...Aye, I've gone soft as freshly fallen snow—with all its treachery." She offered a sly smile and a wink. "I'll give Tyrel a hard time about that later, but if I've learned anything about the Yasoi, they're much like us. The smartest ones all act like fools."

She paused for a moment, her eyes meeting Marci's as she considered her resolve. It was clear that there was nothing she could say to make her back down and wait for what better time to strike might come. "I don't disagree, but I'm not ready to face her—and neither are you—but maybe you'll stand a chance if we put our preparations together," she pondered. She drew her hidden flintlock pistols, showing them off to Marci. "These are interesting guns. Should you find your spells failing you, for any reason—inadequate strength, attempting a spell beyond your ken, or... just ill fortune, perhaps?" she suggested rather dispassionately. "They re-absorb and store any wasted energy from magic. Quite a useful tool in ambitious hands."

She held them just out of reach of Marci's hands. "Of course, if I just give them to you, I'll be implicated as your accomplice if you fail—so I'll need the appearance of having sold these to you. Give me something as collateral, and we have a deal." She offered an apologetic smile. "No offense, but I've actually gained something to lose since the last time I fucked with Juulet. I can't take any chances." I really shouldn't get involved at all, she thought apprehensively. But she's right. While I wait for my 'perfect' revenge, more innocents will suffer. Her plan is decent. I shouldn't let my hatred rob her of this chance.

Marceline considered. She pressed her lips together. "I've my own plans, but those would be useful as a safety net..." Her eyes darted about for a moment as she reached for a small sack tucked into her belt. "One diamond exploit," she offered, holding out the valuable groove coin she'd plucked from it. "Or did you prefer something that was more obviously mine?"

"That might be a bit too bold. This will do," she assured her, exchanging the items. Since I know you'll want this back, she thought, but didn't say. "Since I planned to use them to defend myself at the Soiree if necessary, they're already loaded. They can only store energy for a limited time, though," she advised. Then, she looked at Marci seriously. "She expected me to die in Yarsoc, despite what she's told anyone else. No matter what she says, don't hesitate."

Marceline hesitated for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, she leaned in. "I know you've already gotten one of these from Penny today - she mentioned it to me - but come here." Marci reached in to embrace her. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't hesitate."

Xiuyang was entirely not ready for the hug. Deep down, she didn't feel that she deserved one. It felt cowardly, relying on Marceline and refusing to involve herself directly—but more than anything, she didn't want to die, not now that she was so close to a new chapter of her life, with everything she wanted and more. She could put the struggles and the failures behind her, if only she could wait a little longer. The hug was brief and awkward, with Xiuyang looking over her shoulder as she gave Marci a pat on the back. "This was a great talk that we never had. Was nice not seeing you," she japed, slipping away with a sheepish smile.

Marceline hadn't been sure if a hug was warranted, but she'd wanted to involve Xiuyang at least symbolically and craved some sense of her blessing. Truthfully speaking, she'd needed it as much for her own fraying nerves as anything else. In theory, the plan was perfect. In practice, it had so many redundancies built into it that there was no way it could end in outright disaster, and now she'd added another. "Until we meet!" Marci chirped. Then they parted ways.

Xiuyang arrived, accompanied by Ciro—or perhaps it was he who arrived, accompanied by Xiuyang? Ever since the controversial quarterfinals match against Penny and Guy, Xiuyang had not been seen alone even once. She was, of course, never easy to find, even at the best of times, but after her dorm room was vandalized, she was even more elusive.

She was, as ever, a centerpiece of rumor. After returning from her disappearance, she no longer hid her scars; only the members of Fait Accompli knew how she got them, leaving everyone else to speculate. She wore the qipao given to her by the Twin Emperors of ReTan once again, like it was her favorite dress. Previously a noted pacifist, some discredited voices among the Perrench whispered suspicions that she had not only summoned an aberration, but had even used blood magic. No one "knew" where she was staying after emptying her dorm of whatever remained of her belongings, but it was pretty easy, many mused, to guess with whom she was staying. After grabbing a particular prize from the Trials that seemed to be a gift for Ciro, she spent her remaining time during prize selection and the following auction acquiring undeniably lethal weapons; others did the same, of course, but some considered it out of character for Xiuyang.

Then, of course, was the news about the Solari trading company. Finally, the long-standing rumor was confirmed: Salome (Xiuyang) Solari would be stepping down from her role, making Maria Solari, her elder sister and firstborn of the family, the new CFO. Many saw this an an improvement, as Maria was less of an idealist and more practical-minded. All was not well, however—a new and terrifying rumor was spreading: one of the company's flagships, a Torragonese man of war named the Forte Impresa, had been captured by pirates. Was it true? How would such a thing have possibly happened?

Xiuyang appeared remarkably unbothered by it all. Perhaps she'd had enough time to get over the loss of her lucrative position. Maybe it was all part of her future plans. Perhaps it was simply no longer "her problem." Whatever the case, she was all smiles as she looked around at her friends and bluntly ignored any stink-eye. "I'm growing quite fond of this," she remarked as she helped herself to some of the Ellermane Bleu. I'd say it brings back memories, but that wasn't that long ago, now was it? she mused.

As Xiuyang mingled with others of the merchant class, catching them up on the news and engaging in some idle gossip, she suddenly caught a glimpse of Penelope, which meant Guy was around somewhere. An uneasy expression took over her face as she pet the puffhound as usual, glancing about for her master. She looked like she didn't want to be noticed.

Penelope accepted the pets and demanded more for a bit. Then she remembered her role. She pulled over the two pups to get their pets as well. They must learn.

Xiuyang was generally not well-liked by animals. At least, that's how it was in the past. Now, however, it was this easy; all she had to do was gently reach out a hand, and she was accepted. It brought a tear to her eye as she ruffled their fur affectionately.

The Dragonhound clumsily fell into the pets, licking aggressively and wanting more love. The albino virangish pointer on the other hand, was shaking and eventually latched on to Xuiyang. She was nervous and that vibe was all the puppy needed. From across the event, Guy did see Xuiyang but he found himself lacking the initiative to approach. Instead he had another glass of wine and let his dogs continue their campaign of stealing pets.

"Goodness," Xiuyang exhaled, spoiling the shy Virangish Pointer. She must have looked like a kid, she realized, knelt down on the floor and surrounded by puppies, letting them climb on her nicest dress without a care. Maybe she was still a child at heart. Maybe that's why all the Yasoi treated her like one.

Eventually, though, she managed to get the dogs to behave, and parted ways with them. Finally, she spotted Guy, but he seemed to be looking away. She wasn't in a hurry to talk to him, either, after what happened. So, instead, she approached Maura, with rather unfortunate timing—thankfully, unbeknownst to her. "Quite an eventful week we've had, haven't we? I'm so tired, I almost had to be dragged here. Me, the party girl," she japed, taking a sip of her wine.

As Xiuyang arrived, she smiled towards her but lifted an eyebrow as if to ask if she was okay, as she detected the comments and their tone as they communicated in subtle body language. “It seems the party girl has caught herself a party boy to join the festivities with.” She nodded her head toward Ciro speaking with Juulet, “Is it true that his tongue is really made out of silver? ...We need to disappear for a moment, to pamper our noses.” She motioned to her nose while using her elbow to nudge Niallus hard in the leg, strongly hinting to him. “You beautiful people keep talking.” She gestured to Xiuyang for them to move away.

Xiuyang nodded with a slight smile, letting Maura know that she was okay. That was until she turned to regard who Maura was gesturing at, only to find Ciro talking to... Juulet? She instinctively took a step forward, and a look of worry came upon her face as she looked on, trying to get a feel for the tone of their conversation. She tried and failed to hide her sigh of relief as Juulet offered only her usual indifference to humans.

She waved at Niallus and Lunara as she and Maura excused themselves. "Powdering my nose, Maura? Really?" she whispered with a soft chuckle. "Imagine me doing something so feminine," she scoffed playfully. Despite saying so, though, she was definitely wearing a subtle layer of makeup to make her scars less noticeable, perhaps out of respect for Zarina as a host.

At first, she dodged Maura's question, but she eventually relented. Unlike Ciro, she was not bold enough to forego a sonic bubble before speaking her mind. "Believe it or not, behind closed doors... his tongue can be sharp, too. He says what needs to be said, even if I don't want to hear it. Maybe that's why I believe the things he says." She sighed fondly. "I really love him, Maura. I really, really do. He was supposed to be just a business partner, and yet... It just worked, and we both saw it. It's all happening so fast I can barely keep up, but I knew I had to seize this chance. He's the one." As she spoke, she didn't take her eyes off of him for more than a second. This was the girl who had cowered in fear during the Melon Derby, hiding away from Juulet. Now, she appeared ready to rush to Ciro's defense if Juulet so much as stood up from her chair in his general direction.

“Even the prettiest of roses have thorns,” she smiled as she moved to hold Xiuyang’s hand for a moment and gave it a squeeze. “We are happy for you, truly. May it work out well for you, as you deserve some good news after what you have been through this last week alone,” she gave a knowing look as she cast her eyes over to Ciro as she watched him discuss with Juulet. “We know what it is like when we met Abdel,” she moved her eyes as she saw him talking with Dorothea, “It was during that aberration incident a year ago, a crazed Tan Zeno attacked the both of us and Penny. As you can imagine, we could barely keep ourselves out of harm's way. But he was there for me, watching my back at every turn and looking out for me. Still got hurt, nothing is ever perfect, but afterwards, he kept dropping in to see me, making sure we were okay. We knew then, we needed to grab him and make him mine.” She grinned at Xiuyang, “Cute looking too, like your man.” She winked and squeezed the hand tightly before she let go, “You deserve to be treated like royalty, nothing less.”

"I have been through a lot," Xiuyang remarked dryly. "So much so that it's almost frightening that I'm still here. This is the kind of luck you only hear about in history books," she added meaningfully, a slight anxiety in her tone. As Maura squeezed her hand, she suddenly realized, awkwardly, that she was still standing, when there was a perfectly good chair right there. So, she sat.

"He was with me through it all—the pain and struggle and failure. Never once did he judge me, or abandon me, when I know others would have. Even when my ideas were just bad, he at least listened. He never lets me feel like I've wasted my efforts." Her grip on Maura's hand tightened as she reminisced. It wasn't that long ago that Xiuyang had been at rock bottom, wondering what she'd been doing with her life up to now, working for her father's company only to have her position usurped by her elder sister in the end. "...I never thought Ipte would bless me. I'd given up, Maura. I was... prepared to die alone." She drew a breath, willing herself not to cry this time.

"...Doesn't hurt that he's good looking, too," she confessed in agreement, snickering. "I know he'd give me the princess treatment if I let him, but I don't need it. We're a team, and we'll make the world better together. That's a dream. It's everything I wanted and more."

Maura rolled her eyes, “We never said princess treatment; we said treat you like royalty. You know the expression, behind every great king is a greater queen.” She mused for a moment, as she cast her eyes about, looking towards Raffie and Ayla, “We have enough princesses as it is.”

Xiuyang's eyes lazily drifted toward Raffaella. "Oh, hells no. If I allowed myself to become that spoiled, he would lose interest," she replied confidently. "I'm sure he's had enough money hungry women try to seduce him. Probably still trying, too, but he's too much of a gentleman to complain about it to me."

Xiuyang had no pockets to speak of, and she wasn't the type to carry a handbag. However, it was only a matter of time until she felt the slightly irritating sensation of parchment against the side of her neck. Pulling the note from her collar and reading it, her eyes flicked back to Ciro as it disintegrated in her hand. If their eyes met, she'd offered only a defeated shrug. "He does have me beat in almost every way," she added, still speaking to Maura. "I'll have to work hard to catch up."

She shot him a smile of admiration. Really, if she thought at all about how she was in the past, she should have been terrified of this man, with skills and means beyond her understanding. Yet, she loved him. Briefly, she wondered what changed—what led her to accept such a deep bond of trust with someone she couldn't control? Not so long ago, it would have been unthinkable. Yet, he'd been nothing but reliable. Why shouldn't she trust him? Because she "knew better?" Perhaps she had matured, if only slightly, in the aftermath of her struggles to grasp the cruelty of Sipenta.

After a bit of milling around and searching, Roslyn caught sight of Xiuyang and Maura. The pair were locked in conversation while glancing over at Ciro near... Juulet?!? Roslyn blinked in shock at the unexpected image and hoped there wasn't going to be trouble. Upon approaching the two girls, she greeted them kindly.

"Hey, I found you two. Xiuyang, where have you disappeared to lately? And Maura, I wanted to thank you for help at the auction. I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise." She made sure not to stare too much at Xiuyang's scars, she didn't want to be rude after all.

As Roslyn approached, she simply smiled sweetly. "We are not interested in money, though. If you want to offer something in return, we would gladly accept your friendship." She moved her hands onto Roslyn's own and squeezed them, "We just wanted to see people smiling at the auction, so take good care of it."

Xiuyang smiled at Roslyn, inviting her into their sonic bubble. At her unusual shyness, though, she smirked, deciding to playfully put on airs. "Messer Volta has arranged safe lodgings for yours truly," she answered with a mocking imitation of a snooty noble lady. "Not that I cannot defend myself, of course—perish the thought—but we would not want any Perrench rabble to get themselves hurt, now would we?" She winked, then dropped the preposterous accent. "Can't say exactly where. You never know who's listening. I'm aware of the rumors floating about that we're under the same roof and all that, though."

Roslyn let out a soft chuckle at Xiuyang's imitation. It felt good to hear her own thoughts now as she weighed the information.

"Well, you know my opinion of rumors. Unless I have confirmation, I don't believe in them." She said, referring to their conversation during the Society Faire. Roslyn reflected on her next words before adding. "But I understand. The less people that know where you are, the safer it is. I will admit, you two are cute together." She let the tease surface in her voice.

"Smart girl," Xiuyang replied simply. "Then, allow me to offer you confirmation: if you see the Forte Impresa... stay away from it," she warned. "The black flag is famous, but not all pyrates show the courtesy of flying it." She looked at Maura and nodded, her face grim and somewhat sad, warning her as well.

Then, just like that, she stood up, dropping the sonic bubble. "I know! My cuteness score goes up just standing next to him," she japed, as if she'd said nothing of importance at all while the bubble covered them. "I should go back to him, but I just have so many people to talk to."

And talk, she did. First, she walked over to Jocasta, thanking her for, well, everything. It almost sounded like a final farewell, and she promptly turned this into a joke, complete with sarcastic boo-hooing. Then, while her guard was down, she congratulated her and Yalen, and scampered off with a silly grin like she'd just committed some grand act of mischief. Yes, I'm sure you're tired of hearing it, her face seemed to suggest teasingly.

"Is there something I'm missing?" Yalen could be heard saying as Xiuyang departed. "You'd think marriage meant we were going to disappear."

"And it's still months away," Jocasta grumbled in reply. That was the last that Xiuyang heard of their conversation before it was overwhelmed by the party's other noise. Yet, it continued.

"I see you're not using my gift yet," Yalen continued. "Familiarity or does it..."

"Suck?" Jocasta found the word for him. She shook her head, though. "It's wonderful, actually: a superior piece of equipment. I just want to save it for the wedding so I can pass it off as your gift then and you don't keep spending our funds, Yalen Castel."

"Sheesh." He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head. "I feel like I'm being chided by a parent right now."

"Ah, so you have that kind of fantasy, do you?" She burst out laughing. After a moment, so did he.

...

Then, after mingling a bit, Xiuyang approached Tyrel, with a polite and unusually graceful bow. "Your radiance. I thank you again for giving me a chance. You saved my life in at least three ways, maybe more. Meeting you was worth the trouble Juulet caused me. My only regret is that my lacking talents held you back. You deserved better." She looked up at Tyrel with a sheepish smile. Her words were sincere, but something about her eyes seemed impish, suggesting that Tyrel should be in on some kind of joke. The joke being, perhaps, that because they were firmly in their social roles at the moment, she couldn't simply brush off her praise. In much the same manner that others might put on a show and fill Tyrel's ears with empty words, Xiuyang plainly spoke her mind.

Tyrel had begun to let herself go at this point. She'd had a good few drinks. She'd arm-wrestled Miret and some other girl, made out with Chad in the garden, and a couple of her fleeting tetsoi were already beginning to rub off. Chad was sweet-talking some yanii girl and was alone momentarily. Tyrel was... perhaps not ready for such an earnest moment and it caught her off-guard. The first hour or so had been reserved for those, with the rest set aside for just... being a yasoi.

She fell back on her as-manufactured settings responded by deflecting. "The goddess thanks you for your praise and homage and accepts your penance," she responded with mock-formal grandeur. Then, she sighed. "Nobody deserves anything here, pal." She shrugged, taking a couple idle restless steps as yasoi were wont to do and ending up exactly where she'd started. "We get what we earn and what the gods give us. I've had a helluva time here, all said, so I owe you just as much for being a part of it." She paused. "Well, saving your hide is maybe worth a teensy bit more," she admitted with a smirk, "But we'll work out a payment plan for that debt."

Xiuyang offered a ladylike chuckle from behind a dainty hand in response to the faux formalities. If their roles were reversed, she'd have likely done the same or a similar bit. "I'm inclined to agree. In a perfect world, that would be right—but at times, I see the gods offer only opportunities, and what is earned is not always given by the powers that be. Sometimes, you have to take it," she said, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.

She downed yet another drink, in a quite unladylike way. "I owe you a debt, do I?" Her sigh was heavy with sarcasm. "Guess it can't be helped; I suppose you'll just have to accept an unconditional favor from this shady-looking Yanii." A conspiratorial smile graced her lips.

"You speak as if that wasn't my plan all along. Now the shady Grey Army operative on the charm offensive has bound the shady yanii to her in loyalty." She steepled her fingers together most evilly. "Muahahahaaaa.... or something." She downed a half-full glass in a single gulp, swaying a bit. "I find myself very tempted, in fact, to get rip-roaring drunk for some reason." The Avatar of Vyshta furrowed her brow. "I don't quite know why!" she giggled.

"You planned it all? I'm shocked," Xiuyang replied, feigning shock and maybe even a little offense. "Truly, I have been finessed, outfoxed even." She took another drink of the Ellermane Bleu. "I'll say this, though: any debts I owe to the goddess, are owed to you—not the Grey Fleet or its Admiralty."

It would be a gross exaggeration to say that Xiuyang had planned it all exactly the way it happened. Of course, everything had gone horribly wrong in every possible way that it could; in the end, though, "owing Tyrel" a favor or three had been her aim, and fortunately, she'd achieved it. More fortunately still, Tyrel seemed to understand. Yasoi were loathe to accept help from Yanii, lest they exact some price for their services at a later date. The fear was not unfounded, but it made honest generosity difficult. This was Xiuyang's foot successfully in the door, so she believed.

"Some say this wine is good for closing business deals. That's the superstition, anyway. Alcohol's not supposed to work on me, although... I guess it does? Just can't seem to put the stuff down." She smiled slyly.

Tyrel downed some more. "Well, you've gotten me plenty sauced up." She paused and tilted her head to the side. "What do you want, yanii?" she asked, her voice still lighthearted enough, but a note wariness, or perhaps weariness had crept in beneath a surface of good humour.

Xiuyang's face fell slightly as she briefly regarded her drink, rather than Tyrel. "To see the Yasoi thrive. ...Yanii are poor stewards of peoples and land. History teaches what will happen if they grow stronger and more numerous, while the Yasoi remain weakened. They'll do the same to your kind as they do to each other. Do you think it an arrogance on my part to assume that I might play a role in averting that?" She looked at Tyrel seriously. "I'm not some wide-eyed idealist. I don't see a future where Yanii and Yasoi walk hand-in-hand in a unified society. Peace exists only when war and conquest are less profitable than cooperation and trade. It's cynical, but it's true. Few pay attention to history. Fewer learn from it. Fewer still have the power to change its course, and choose to do so, let alone on behalf of others. I'm asking you to be open to giving me a chance to someday be one of those few. ...The chance Juulet refused me," she added, the fear of rejection plain on her face. "If I must get something out of it for you to trust me, call it 'leaving my mark on history,' or something."

Tyrel seemed to consider. She was drunk, but perhaps not as drunk as she seemed. From the direction of Zarina, Miret, and Chad came laughter and loud conversation. Cal was with them, not pushing drugs for once, and even Seviin had been drawn in and she was blushing ferociously. "Well what was I supposed to do!?" she laugh-wailed. "I had to try to win and it was all I could think of, you know!"

Both of their eyes flicked there for a moment before Tyrel's returned. "I trust you, suunei. I trust you to be honest in your intent." She shrugged. "Much as the current situation will allow, I'm open to working together." She poured herself some more wine and, without asking, topped Xiuyang up as well. "Thing is... I have to know that you can keep the peace, and Juulet... distasteful a thing as she can be at times, might be the key to that. I know well your history with her. I shall hold her to account once I've established more of a rapport, but..." Tyrel hesitated, glancing down at her wine.

Xiuyang's eyes narrowed, though not with malice. "She told Jamboi that I'd be fine—but she confessed to me that she didn't expect me to survive. She's a snake—and the tongue of a snake is good for tickling ears. I don't know what she said to 'make up' with you, Tyrel, but I wouldn't trust a word of it. That woman's only out for herself."

She punctuated her accusation by downing her drink in one go. "You were there. You saw what I had to deal with. Those dogs would have roasted me over an open flame after they were done beating me within an inch of my life. I'll have nightmares about it until the day I die, and she thinks it's funny. The only peace that woman will ever make is the peace I've made with death," she spat. "—but no. I'm not stupid enough to try to fight her again. You don't need to worry about that."

Whatever Tyrel might've said next, it died on her tongue. She offered up a noncommittal shrug. "I am under no illusion that she's a good person," she replied. "You needn't worry." She downed the last of her drink as well. "Just as I needn't worry about you going rogue." She set it down and ran a finger along the lip. "We're both reasonable, functional people here, after all."

Cal seemed to have pulled Chad aside and they were speaking in hushed tones. She craned her neck to look their way, half-rising. "Speaking of..." She bit her lower lip and glanced back at Xiuyang. "I may have a boyfriend to go save from a certain conversation." She began reaching for her crutches - the new ones she'd picked from The Trials.

Xiuyang made a slightly dismissive hand gesture, like she were dropping dice on the table, or perhaps dropping the matter at hand. Out of your minds, both of you, she thought privately.

Then, she caught Tyrel reaching for her crutches. "Uh, Tyrel? What are you planning on doing with those?" she japed, laughing nervously.

"Something nefarious," she joked, "and definitely not just walking." She grinned, resting her stump on the table's edge for a moment and fixing her dress. "Come 'ere, suunei. Let's hug. Then I have to go spend time with my boyfriend. Don't you have one somewhere around here too?"

Xiuyang stood up, smiling and hugging the Avatar of Vyshta without a care. "I do, but it's not good to be too clingy. He's a busy bee. For a merchant, a party is never just a party. That goes for both of us, of course." She gave Tyrel a wink and a grin. "I have business with that man, anyway. I believe I owe him feedback on his product. I'll occupy him for you." With that, she "excused" herself, though she was going essentially the same direction as Tyrel. She greeted Cal with a wave.

For a while, Xiuyang mingled with the Yasoi, keeping an eye on Tyrel to ensure she didn't wander off and discover something she didn't need to see. Eventually, though, conversation died down, and she'd run well out of excuses to stay. None would say it openly, of course, but... if the "tree-rider" had no business, she was an eyesore to most of them. Ashon was different, but he was also not present.

So it was that Xiuyang eventually wandered off, herself, wondering if she should excuse herself and check up on Marci. It would be the first time she'd use facemimicry since the incident in Yarsoc, and she couldn't be sure what it would do to her. Still, she couldn't just not use it for the rest of her life out of fear—but that was when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clumsy footsteps in the grass.

"You aren't leaving, are you?!" a sweet voice called out to her urgently.

Xiuyang whirled around to see the girl with the pink hair giving her that same fake smile she always did. "I wanted to meet you! Since you're an illusionist like me." She almost whispered the last two words. "I just have to ask! I'm like, dying of curiosity—why don't you use your magic to hide your scars? Since you don't wanna wear a mask anymore." Her smile was as saccharine as ever.

Xiuyang couldn't help but smirk, just slightly. A few tactless fools had asked her why she didn't just heal them, but this was the first time she'd been asked why she didn't hide them instead. "I suppose the easy answer is that I'm doing it to fu—mess with someone," she replied truthfully, correcting her language in spite of herself due to the girl's innocent appearance. It was true, though Juulet's reaction had been pretty disappointingly underwhelming. Then again, everyone's reaction was underwhelming. No one pointed and laughed at her facial scars. A few people, including Roslyn, refused to gawk out of courtesy. There just wasn't much point in hiding them.

"But don't you think your boyfriend finds them uh, unsightly?" the girl replied, without an ounce of malice in her tone of voice. Yet, it irked Xiuyang a little.

"He's never once said such a thing to me. I doubt he cares about them. He likes me because I'm an intelligent business partner," she replied confidently. Really, a marital union between two Revidian merchants is more or less a glorified business deal, anyway, she considered, laughing to herself.

"Ppfft," Raffaella scoffed, blowing a raspberry. "Boys don't like it when a girl is smarter than them—or stronger, taller, older... The one thing we're allowed is to be better looking than them. The world of girls runs on cuteness!" she proclaimed, somewhat absurdly. "I'm sure he just hasn't said anything because he's a gentleman. Deep down, all guys are the sa—"

Smack.

It was sudden, and ruthless. Raffaella stumbled backwards onto the grass. Her cheek stung, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Why..?! I was just giving you honest advice! Why are you so mean?!" She glared upwards at Xiuyang.

The older girl's hand trembled with barely-withheld rage. "Hurl all the thinly-veiled insults you like at me—but don't you ever compare Ciro to some common scoundrel," Xiuyang growled.

Raffaella sobbed. "I hate you, Shoe-yang! Unlike me, you only have friends because you have money!" she choked out, scrambling to her feet and running away, crying.

A heavy feeling settled in Xiuyang's gut, in spite of herself. The girl was fake and empty inside, but she still felt bad for hitting her. Was she right, too? Were her friendships only as deep as her pockets? A great many of them were business partners, she realized, and it was her own doing; relationships were easier to navigate in terms of favors owed and given, rather than the messy and vague terms often offered by "friendship."

The abrasive words, spoken in puerile teen anger and ignorance, cut at her like a rusted knife—until she, too, wanted to cry—but, she refused. Ducking behind the railing of a nearby pavilion, she grit her teeth, teetering on the edge of tears. Stubbornly, she choked them back, bottling up her anger until it felt like she might vomit. Mercifully, she did not.

"Shallow bitch," she allowed herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

The late afternoon sun shone down upon the jungles of Xolectoxo. Its divine glow graced a small town that few knew the name of and fewer bothered to see. Leon Solaire didn’t need to wonder too long about why that was. He looked out upon a far humbler display of civilisation than what he had become accustomed to in the grand cities all too eagerly on display.

The waterways so common in this region weren’t so beautifully maintained, the grasp of nature came through and cracked the stone. The water still flowed but small cracks resulted in small puddles forming every so often down the trail. This was a town left to time and even if Xolectoxo itself were to rapidly change, this place wouldn’t likely see the effects for years to come. It wasn’t unique to Callanast of course, countries back in Constantia were built upon humble communities like this; there was a lot to love about them. Leon firmly believed that if the buildings were not beautiful, you could often find beauty in the people’s hearts. And yet, for this town, it bothered him. He did the best he could to sweep that thought aside.

Leon had spent months travelling Callanast, staying in some places longer than others. He had learnt the wonderful art of manifestation magic, discovered recipes of tea that could help harness the edges of imagination, and found his sense of direction illuminated by his newfound skills. There was no better example of the performer's improvements than the freshly manifested Sun King mask hung from his left hip.

And yet, caught in the grandiosity of this new culture, Leon had neglected the very reason he had come to Callanast in the first place. A reason that he considered important to him at the time, but had become little more than a pitstop on his way back to Ersand’Enise.

---

The bright glowing yellow visage of a King Coal Toad charged in and out of the jungle’s edge chasing a trio of kids. Well, it was close enough to a King Coal Toad, Leon had taken multiple creative liberties in conjuring the illusion. Firstly, it looked like a toad in comparison to the actual creature's draconic form. Second, its proportions were ridiculous with big bulging eyes, a stubby body, and multiple tongues. Lastly, it quite visibly consisted of nothing but light. An encounter with a real King Coal Toad is quite scary, but this presented little danger aside from what a child's imagination was willing to give it.



The middle child of the trio was a meek boy who squealed with a playful fear whenever the beast drew near him and took to running away. It all seemed in good fun but Leon would flick his wrist and have the illusion stumble over itself comically whenever it got too close. The eldest, who couldn’t have been older than 12, picked up a stick and tried to defend his little brother by bravely taking the beast head-on. Leon would have the toad reel at the boy’s heroic swings. And then, the youngest of them; she didn’t seem to care for pretending and was content to just run at the golden frog while giggling. Leon laughed at the simplicity of it.

The performer relaxed in the home’s inside pool, let the gentle breeze pass over him and out the door into the backyard where the children played. Homes in Xolectoxo, at least the jungle houses anyway, were all about flow. Twice the number of doors to the normal home and movable screens were all designed to create a steady airflow throughout the house. Water irrigation systems flowed through the town providing small streams to each home, one off-stream usually branching off into a small pool which was perfect for getting out of the heat.

Leon loved the idea of inside pools and wondered why they hadn’t been picked up more in Constantia. Did it cross his mind that it would require costly city planning for town-wide irrigation or that the idea of an inside pool of this size is effectively the same as a large bathtub? No, not really.

The passing breeze began to carry the scent of his tea and the lady of the house followed not too long after with a cup for Leon and herself. The performer turned his head away from the backyard to give his full attention to his company and the King Coal Toad disappeared, which drew some disappointed complaints from the kids. Their mother called for them in Xochi to occupy themselves for a while; she asked the eldest to go check on their father and see whether he needed help with harvesting.

After setting the tea to the side, she sat on the opposite edge of the pool, letting only her feet and ankles dip in.

Yaretzi Cuautli was a woman in her late 30s or early 40s. Cuautli wasn’t her maiden name but was the one she had for at least 12 years judging by the age of her first child. She stood on the shorter end and, while she was beautiful, she certainly didn’t hold that to be a priority. Her attire was nice but undeniably cost-efficient and much the same could be said about her make-up and the spare jewels she wore. The woman had been settled for years and one could only imagine she was prepared to spend the rest of her life here in this town.

This woman was Leon’s biological mother and immediately he knew he made the right decision to meet her under false pretence. He did not return to her as a long-lost son seeking answers he already knew; he was simply a travelling performer in need of a place to rest along the road, one who loved to learn the stories of those he met on the path. He only wished to see her, know who she was, and he could leave it at that. She had moved on as he had, she had made a happy life for herself, who was he to disrupt that?

Leon picked up the cup of tea made for him, took a sip, and continued their conversation in Xochi. “I couldn't help but notice that you could understand Avincian when you answered the door early. It had been my mistake, but I was surprised to find you knew it also. Is there any chance we could speak in that?” Leon’s rudimentary knowledge of the language of Xolectoxo left his pronunciation stiff and needlessly formal.

Yaretzi humbly chuckled as she reached for her cup of tea. “It’s been too many years since I’ve needed to speak Avincian. I think at this point your Xochi is better.”

“That does not bode well.” Leon joked. The two shared a laugh.

They proceeded for some time with small talk. Leon talked about animals, cultures, and stories from Constantia while she strived to do the same for Callanast. It was clear that she had not been nearly as well-travelled as Leon was, but that wasn’t to say the conversation was boring. Leon told her that he was something of a big name in Constantia but comically feigned lament over the fact that so few had heard of him this far west. He admitted that he appreciated the time away in obscurity but he yearned to return to it all.

Then Leon realised the conversation had become focused on himself. While Yaretzi seemed perfectly content to listen, it wasn’t the reason he had come here. “Well, that’s enough about me. As I said, I am a wandering performer and what good is a performer if they lack a steady supply of stories to draw inspiration from? I could talk about my story all day; it's a terrible habit. I would like to hear yours Yaretzi.”

The woman looked surprised for a moment then settled back to a normal pleasant expression. Had she not expected him to ask or was it something else? Leon couldn’t be sure.

“I could tell you, but I doubt it would be a story to excite one such as yourself.” She took a sip of her tea and took some time to prepare. “I grew up in Calicoatl as the daughter of a cobbler. I’m sure you’ve been there already, tall building and too many people to count. It makes you feel quite small in the grand scheme of things…”

“There weren’t any high expectations for me, but I did well in school, quite well. When it came time to pursue higher education, it was all a gamble as I was the first in my family to consider it. Finances would be tight for a while, but if I succeeded, I could bring in far more for the family. So I went, I studied, and I failed. At the end of my first year in medical school, my grades didn’t make the cut.” Yaretzi laughed it off. Leon could tell it wasn’t a nice moment in her life, but time had healed such a wound of pride.

“The years following felt like a whirlwind. It seemed in losing that chance, I was being pulled in all directions at once, not really knowing who I should be or where. That was until I met Chimalli. Coming from the city, I scoffed at a place like this at first. There were no grand towers, no temples of gold, nothing more than vegetable farmers to keep the place afloat.” She delivered in a joking fashion before a content smile took her. “But I love it here. I think it may have been the first time I truly felt like someone who mattered to people, no matter how few those people were.” A silence lingered as Leon waited on more. But more didn’t come.

“Well, Leon Solaire? I don’t know if that would make for a good story or even a song. But it's what I have.”

No, that isn’t all you have. “Are you sure that’s everything?” Leon pressed.

What followed was immediate regret on the performers' part. He had pressed too far and his mother looked at him with an expression of confusion, or sadness, maybe it was a mix between the two, but Leon couldn’t quite read it. Had the question brought up painful memories she would rather not recall? Had one of those memories been the circumstances of his birth? If so, why was it painful?

Or had she figured him out? Did she put together that her first son was sitting right in front of her? If she could see through his mask, then why didn’t she drop hers? Could she not accept him as her son?

These were questions that ran through Leon’s mind in an instant and they were ones he may never gain the answers to as the two sat in silence. Their smiles and pleasantries dropped as they both processed information that the other would never be partial to. Like mother, like son…

It was Yaretzi who broke the silence. She looked up and peered over Leon’s shoulder past him, then back to the performer. “Yes, Leon, that was everything.” She gave him a smile of sad acceptance.

Leon looked back over his shoulders to see the two younger children spying in on them from the doorway. He gave them a happy smile to try and ease their worries about the situation. However, they retreated out of sight not too long after, like they had been caught in an ‘adults conversation’ they shouldn’t have been part of. Well, that's exactly what it was when Leon thought it over. Perhaps they would never come to know that Leon Solaire was their half-brother.

It was Leon who broke the tension. He looked back to smile at his mother, it was a cheerful one, if a little forced. “For what it's worth, I think it makes for a good song Yaretzi.” He let that linger for a while. “What I had meant to ask is if you knew any magic. I find that odd people on the road tend to show surprising capabilities. Would you have a hidden talent like that?”

Yaretzi perked up at hearing the conversation topic shift away from her life. “I do.” She said with relief. “Although, it's only some basics I learnt when I was young.”

“That’s wonderful! Please, don’t leave me in anticipation.” Leon let out with increasing excitement.

“No, please, don’t get your hopes up too high.”

She proceeded to raise her palm skyward as Leon could feel a slight chilly breeze pass by him, Yaretzi was drawing from Arcane. When could see the first blinks of luminescence sparking from her palm, Leon went to shield his eyes from the glow with an excited smile. However, when his mother finally began channelling, Leon was quick to drop that shield. There was no need. From her palm radiated a small dim sphere of light no bigger than a housecat. It lasted for about 10 seconds before fading to nothing.

Leon was disappointed. He shouldn’t have been. For a woman of humble origins like her, this was quite an impressive feat. And yet, he was disappointed nonetheless, he couldn’t deny that feeling. His mother couldn’t have been much higher than 5 RAS, if that. His Sunblessed abilities must have come from her, not his Revidian father, so he had expected more. He didn’t let that change his expression though, he kept an excited smile. “It is quite the display.” He lied.

“You would lie to spare my feelings?”

“I wouldn’t. There are too many on the road who lack the ability at all. This is quite impressive by comparison to them.”

“Whatever you say, Leon Solaire.” She said poking fun at his recovery attempts.

Later that night, when the whole family was back, Leon would perform a private showing for them. He sang, danced, told stories, and even gave the kids the chance to slay the mighty King Coal Toad once more. At the end of a fun night of family-friendly antics, the performer took his rest in their house. The conversation from earlier played through his head again and again as he tossed in the bed.

When sleep had finally taken him, he dreamt of a staircase.

---

Leon didn’t linger long in the morning. Soon after the break of dawn, he had already taken to the road. Only his mother and his eldest half-brother were there to see him off.

He left the home feeling let down. Much like the meeting with his biological father, his mother had not lived some grand impressive life. His father was at least somewhat successful as a travelling merchant; his mother seemed to have turned away from any notion of greatness whatsoever, even if her magic capability was the greater of the two.

When Leon thought back to the circumstances of his birth only a year ago, he had imagined something greater. Perhaps he was the descendant of a mighty Sunblessed mage or a king from some faraway land. In the unknown, he had filled the gaps with something that could justify the popularity and fame he had gained. Something that could ease his mind when thinking about the heights he wished to reach.

But it seemed that every stone that paved his past before he could call his memories his own was a testament to the contrary. An entirely mundane origin whose only exception came from not being wanted by either parent. If that were to be the case, then maybe it was best to leave that part of his past behind and let himself try to forget it. Instead, Leon would define himself by his present and the future in which he could do unprecedented good. The sun shone brightly ahead, he need only follow the path he set for himself…

Then he remembered Atzi, a girl from the Sunblessed community he met only months ago, which caused him to turn back for but a moment. Perhaps, like her, his mother had far more to tell and she would want to tell it. Maybe all it took was to turn back and just tell Yaretzi that he was her son. Maybe then they could talk with true intentions and come to an understanding with one another. Did he really want to leave questions unanswered before it was no longer an option to ask them?

Those thoughts were fleeting. He turned on a heel and was back to the road ahead. It was not his place to stay. His mother had created a happy life for herself here; it was not his place to disrupt that.

Even if he were to stay, what good would that do him? Staying in a place forgotten to time while the world passed him by? He could not allow that. As the mask of the Sun King hung on his hip, it was a reminder that he had the power to impact the world and manifest a brighter future. It was not his place to hide away from it; it was his duty to do help improve it.

This place could only ever be a stop in the road. The Ersand’Enise Trials were fast approaching and set the stage for his return. If he were to linger here, even for a moment, he could miss that chance. Then, maybe, the sun that beckoned his future would fade from him. He could never allow that to happen.

Zarina and himself were setting up the Chamber of Time and Space while Pete was off to the side munching on a grotesque VOID ham. It was in a moment of quiet in the Forked Tower basement that Leon caught himself. At what point had he stopped being the Sun King, had he stopped speaking like Leon Solaire, and let the mask slip into just Leon? When he had charged the gates of the Violet Enclave, his heart was set on the staircase before him and yet, for a while now, he had been speaking normally and honestly to this girl as if none of that mattered. It was... nice, for a time, but it couldn't last forever. He had a person to be and a reputation to embody; this often didn't allow for normalcy. It would only be a matter of time before others joined the two and it would demand he return to the mantle.

"Zarina," Leon broke the moment of silence with an uncharacteristically serious tone of voice, "I like you and I would like to think I could trust you. Earlier in that basement, I was drained of RAS. I have the inability to recharge like everyone else and it's a weakness of mine. It is a weakness I have gone through great efforts to hide."

"Could you promise me not to tell anyone about this? And by anyone, I mean not a living soul, on Ipte. I know it is a lot to ask."

The break of silence wasn't as catching as the tone employed by Leon. It required Zarina's immediate response, prompting her to stop any setting up of the orbs for their scheme. “Hmmm?” She twisted to regard him while Nibbler dived back down into her bag with the scent of Pete becoming stronger in the general area.

“Ah.” The Virangish nodded slowly with her lower lip sucked in. The weight of the request took its time to process. “Right, sure. I promise.” she said with a not-so-reassuring casual tone. She raised her hand to indicate she wasn't done. “Sorry, it caught me off guard. I gotta assume you'd probably be in danger if people found out, huh? Since you're Mr. Popular 'n' all.” She shot him a sly smile and crossed her arms. “Or maybe it makes you look less perfect. I gotta admit, many girls, and even boys, still think their idols are beyond human. I can see some freaking out. So-” she lowered her head slightly and took a tone that matched the seriousness of the sunblessed. “I promise. I don't rat. And I'd like to think you're one of the good ones too. People, that is. So, of course.”

"You make it sound so juvenile... when you call them boys and girls." Leon replied with a chuckle but didn't shift from his contemplative expression. He turned to check the ground behind him before taking a seat. Then he took off the Sun King mask and tossed it gently aside. If he was to trust Zarina with the secret, he needed to explain his reasons for keeping it. "I want to be a symbol for something, Zarina. Leon Solaire, the Sun King, I could be a figure that people can believe in. Someone who can't be defeated; someone they can trust to see the sunshine on a brighter world. I can't even begin to imagine what I could achieve with that." Even through his dour tone, Zarina would be able to hear the passion filling the performer's lungs at the end of that phrase.

"But people are fickle, as you may know, and I can only imagine that gets worse when a war is knocking on your door. If I am seen defeated or showing weakness, they could lose faith in me in an instant." He clicked his fingers for emphasis. "I would cease to be the person that could achieve their dreams. What change could I hope to inspire like that?"

Leon's mood cheered up with a more humble smile after Zarina had made the promise. "It warms my heart to hear you'll keep it. Telling you couldn't be avoided, after seeing me like that in the basement, but I'm glad it was you. It might be nice to have at least one person to talk about it with." His smile grew. "I trust you."

Zarina chuckled with a twinge of nervousness in her tone. “Well, uhm,” she scratched her cheek, looked to the side, the whole package of tells to give away she was flustered. “thank you. I kinda feel unworthy now that you say it so frankly. I'd say it's an honour, but-” she flashed a cheeky grin at the beloved public figure. “I'd rather be your friend than a fan, so no brown-nosing.”

The task she had been working on was dropped for a brief moment and she joined the young man that had confided in her until they were a few feet apart. She sat by one of the podiums holding an orb and crossed her legs. “And as a friend, I'll give you my genuine thoughts.” she looked at him straight in the eye. “You're not a God. Nor was that old Hugo. Nor the Zenith. Nor Tojarra. Nor the Doge. In fact, the Gods themselves aren't ...” She pursed her lips and instinctively turned her head where Lilith's statue would have been. Obviously, it wasn't there. “They're not as pristine as we believe. Nor did they ever have to be. And neither should you.”

From a more serious and flatter expression, she adopted a more radiant smile. “I was raised with a similar sort of mindset. Save face, project an image of something I'm not. It's basically how my family gained influence.” She peered down and reached out for Leon's hand - warm and gentle palms that sought to give reassuring caresses. “I'd get into so many fist fights as a kid whenever someone tried to make me feel vulnerable or helpless. It made me feel good, and I had respect, but ...” her expression was glum and her eyes didn't leave the floor. “Nobody really liked me. Knew me. I hated what I had to do to keep things as they were. It was ... Unbearable, and the returns were meaningless. There was no betterment to anything other than the superficial, and my soul was hurting.” She squeezed the hand and clenched her jaw.

But then her features softened and she peered up to him. “Then I met the right people. Those that never had me feel naked and vulnerable for just being ... Me? Even when I was a total cunt.” She nodded and chuckled nervously. There was an internal battle to hold back some stronger emotions as she reminisced. “I focused less on what people think of the idea of me, and instead on what I wanted to do. How I was going to do better for both myself and others. It filtered out the many, but I kept the right people. Those that I could truly do something good with.” her eyes dived into his before she stated with a clear sense of pride. “Now I've made the world a better place for Tethered. And I've saved an entire nation from a monster spawning from the very depths of hell, and helped their broken system heal. All because I trusted the right people with who I truly was, as imperfect as I may be.” she brushed a few locks of her hair over her ear.

“What I'm saying is ... You don't have to be a God, loved of feared, to change the world. For better or for worse.” she looked to the side as a stray thought his her. “Besides, the Gods are imperfect basket cases anyway. Mostly.”

Leon didn't interrupt when Zarina was speaking, nor did he try to chime in with a clever comment. He was silent as he listened and he listened well. When she reached for his hand, he gave it willingly. When she squeezed his hand, he could feel the pain she went through. Even if it was a small window into her life, he came to a better understanding of who she was. For a moment, it looked as though he wanted to believe it, that he could follow her words and it would steer him right. But then she finished her speech and a break of silence set in as he processed her words in their entirety. Leon looked away from the girl and down to the floor with a frown.

"I'm happy for you." Leon looked up to Zarina with sympathy and held her hands in his, this time reassuring her. "I really am, Zarina. I couldn't imagine a world where people would look at me in fear. I can't imagine the drain it would have on the soul." He smiled that humble smile he had shown so little before their time in this tower. "I'm glad you could rise above it and find those people who could help you up. You seem to have achieved so much with them at your back..." There was a pause as Leon's smile faded and his tone grew somber. "And maybe to some degree I can understand what you are saying. Maybe I know something about what you are going through. But what I have is different." His gaze and his hands slowly withdrew. He looked out toward the chamber as he hugged his knees.

"Those that look up to me, they don't fear me, Zarina. They love me... and I love them. It doesn't hurt my soul, it warms it to know that I can bring such happiness to so many people." Leon smiled into the distance. There was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice, some evidence of second thoughts that even the performer himself didn't know were there. "When you are up there, above the world, and they are looking up to you in admiration, awe, and expectation, is it anyone's place to deny what the heart wants?” Leon's eyes lit up somewhat to the empty chamber as if gazing upon something conjured by the mind's eye. "If they look to you to fulfil their dreams and wants, could you really crush those so willingly even if it's just the truth? To go out of your way to bring someone happiness, is that not the greatest expression of love?"

Leon turned back to Zarina but kept a reserved posture. "You talk about the Doge, Hugo, the gods themselves like they aren't perfect. The gods could take some convincing, but I can believe you. And yet, people look to them as if they are perfection and they have the ability to inspire that faith. Even if they themselves can't change the world on their own, the people who follow them can." A confidence took the performer as he expressed a far more determined believer. "It's not going to end here. War is on the horizon, Zarina, I'm not blind to it. But I could be like them, as a figure, I could inspire so many people and actually change things for the better. You say I don't have to be a God, but I would say only a God could rise above the tides of war. A God can do so much more to change the world, so if I have the ability, is it not my duty to try?" 'After all, if the fantasy is greater than reality, then what good is the truth' Leon thought the last part but chose not to express the words.

Do they love YOU, though? The man I'm speaking to? Or just an idea they'd gladly see either shine in triumphant radiance or burn bright in martyrdom? Are you not operating out of fear of what they'll do if they know you? How far would you bring this?

There was a desire to debate, lecture and push back to the notions of grandeur Leon had been selling. From his word selection to his body language, an attentive friend couldn't help but wonder if this path was a righteous one. Hugo Hunghorasz died backstabbed, the Doge had always poised himself for war and few knew of the nature of the Gods. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with Leon's creed - there were simply men born to do these things and to change the world. But few ever spoke of those dear to them, that knew them, and how the ordeal affected them. They were a spec to the grand scheme of things, of course, but did they not matter? Especially to the person in question?

All these urges to speak her mind and challenge notions of 'good' over 'truth', ideas that were generally beyond Zarina most of the time, were stifled. A light frown took form at first, one hard to distinguish with her head slumped down and her hair veiling a portion of her face. She put on a convincing smile and looked up to the celebrity she had adopted as a friend. “As your bud, I'd underline how foolish you sound sometimes. But ...” she pushed herself up as Pete began to approach them to demand some attention. She shot the revolting animal an amused glance before resting her hand on Leon's shoulder before giving it a tight squeeze. “I'd be a hypocrite to say you shouldn't follow what the heart tells you. Just don't forget that there's more to life than changing the world and squealing fans.” She winked.

She let go, turned to face the orb she had been tinkering with. But before she returned to work, she raised her pointer finger and turned her head to look back. “Just-” her voice lost its jovial tone for a moment. “Make sure you also do this for you, Leon. Not just for a world that scares you if it ever found out you were human like all of us.”

Leon smiled back at Zarina as she touched his shoulder, accepting the comfort she provided. He didn't rush to speak, instead he just watched her work for a while. In the moment of quiet, he could have been churning through any number of thoughts, but it would be difficult to tell. For a moment, it may have seemed as though he answered her question with silence.

But when he did finally speak, it was wistfully and without much direction. To an outside observer, he could have been talking to Pete just as much as he was Zarina. "Without it... I don't think there would be a Leon Solaire. I would have never had the popularity I have, never have got into Ersand'Enise, and would never have met the people I could truly call friends. I wouldn't have had a dream of seeing Calanast, running in the Trails, or fighting and making a difference as I stand now..."

He sat up a little more and faced Zarina but didn't buy for her attention from the task at hand. "Unlike you Zarina, I am who I am because of that image. It is at once the thing that has brought me to this point and the guiding light to which I can follow into the future with certainty. I can't imagine how lost I would be without it... I'm happy doing this." Leon affirmed confidently, but to Zarina's ear, traces in his tone wouldn't make it entirely convincing.

Leon stood, approached Zarina until he was face to face with her, and placed both of his hands on her arms comfortingly. His visible mood had improved greatly in that short walk and he looked close enough to the Leon from minutes earlier who lacked the dour mood of the conversation. "I understand what you are saying and I thank you for your words. I don't think I could speak that way to a fan so, for what it's worth, I prefer you as a friend as well. Maybe it will do me good to... be myself in front of someone else once in a while. But I hope it's alright if it's just one person for now."

Zarina's expression decomposed into a frown as she turned her back on Leon to pursue her stakeout of the temporal chamber. His words caused some old scars to flare up, and perhaps even put a mirror on what she herself was doing. Like him, she wanted to be a hero and someone seen as reliable - someone who could save everyone, albeit on a far smaller scale than the star she shared the room with.

They were now face-to-face. A friendship she would not reject had been formed. She reached out for his waist with both her arms and embraced the Sun warrior, now out of his radiant armour, for a brief moment. The hold was tight and the smell of lavender that permeated her being - particularly her neck - rubbed onto him as well. “I like that.” she cooed before stepping back, eyes half-lidded and smiling. “Being that one, super special friend.” She winked.

“Hmm.” although a stray throught hit her. “What about your stage partner? Y'know, Kaureerah? I thought you two hit it off as friends, habibi.”

Leon returned the embrace with his arms a little higher on her back in comparison. The look, the moment, the smell of lavender, it was a situation he knew well. But his mind wasn't swept to fantasy and was instead focused and grounded, making the feeling all too foreign. He wasn't blind to the implication of 'super special friend', but he hadn't meant it that way, had he? It was strange; to admit what he had admitted to Zarina was a level of trust he hadn't put in anyone for a long time. While it didn't fit the idea of love as he knew it to be, he couldn't immediately attribute the feeling to something else.

The reoccurring feeling of pressing on his chest did not return. Days earlier in the library, Ingrid had tossed a pebble into the lake of Leon's mind. He was confused by the ripples and sought to understand the cause. Even if there was little time to ponder on theories, all of them he had so far would expect this exchange to be much the same. It wasn't. Not a pebble or even a speck of dust breached the water's surface. And yet, lost for understanding, those waters were sent into turmoil as if a rock five times the size was tossed in. His facade dropped again. The turmoil of it all caused him to be a passive participant in the wordless dance of desire, neither reciprocating nor rejecting her.

There wasn't the time to process it all and it wasn't the place. So he focused on Zarina's latter question instead. "... Kaureerah... I don't know. I wasn't lying when I said I loved her." He did, he did, by all metrics of what he knew love to be, he did... Just like so many before her and who knew how many after. "I'll say this. Kaureerah is beautiful, more beautiful than simple appearances. To see her smile, to see her happy, it sets my heart alight as if she were one hundred people, more." A smile returned to him when speaking, the exact same one when he talked about the Sun King. Then it faded. "I couldn't bear to disappoint her, to see that warmth fade. Her more than anyone. I don't think I could ever tell her what I've told you here."

Zarina patted both of Leon's shoulders and smiled with a head canted slightly, causing some of her rebellious locks to hang. “Yeah, you should definitely become a thing, you two.” she decided with a foxy smirk. “And you should tell her. What's there to lose? Oh!” She shook Leon's figure a little. “Make it a song! You know she loves those. And surely, she'll love you, a kindred spirit. Or, wallah, at the very least give you top service.” She winked.

Pete got antsy and trotted over to them, demanding attention with his tail wagging aggressively. “... We do have a rebellion to complete, don't we?” She raised a brow and shot a complicit look at her celebrity friend. “If we survive this, come over for a drink. You know where I live. In fact, Kaureerah's my tenent so ...” she shrugged as she walked backwards, slowly. “I. Am. Inevitable!” she exclaimed dramatically.

"You know, I might just take you up on that. All of it." Leon replied with a pat on the sides of the arms and a smile. His demeanour lacked the sass of his company and was that a blush? No, it must have been a trick of the light.

Leon returned to the Sun King mask and donned it once again. "You’re quite right, we have a rebellion to win. Talk of love and longing is best held over drinks." He jumped up and down briefly, shaking out his arms and legs for the fight ahead. "Oh, and Zarina. We will survive this. We both have places to be, people to see, and higher to climb. Its only a matter of when those drinks are." Such overwhelming confidence and certainty emanated from the performer’s voice that one could think he had seen the future and knew it to be fact. This was not the case.

Although, on the way out, a stray thought hit him. ’What about your love, Miret? What happened to the one that caught you so only a few days ago?’ Leon thought the questions but didn’t let them out. Even if he didn’t have all the details, he had seen her case before. There was a rule to love and heartbreak: Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to. At least it would give him an opportunity to repay the favour.

Back at the top of the Forked Tower, Leon looked to the skies above and saw the veil of night waning. He had spent many an early morning waiting for the sun to rise, and he knew it could only be a few minutes before dawn broke and the sky would be bathed in the heavenly glow. It brought thoughts back of a time only months earlier in Xolectoxo when he sat atop a spire that pierced the heavens. One so elevated you could think that the sun was closer to you than the earthly worries below.

There had been a thought that had raced through his mind from the moment he stepped into the Violet Enclave and looked up and the titan of a building that was the Forked Tower. Now that the day was won, he could finally act on that idea but he had to do it before the sunrise.

The revolution had ended, and they had won. But even if the dawn arrived, it wouldn't mean the fighting had ended. The sun would rise upon a world of turmoil and confusion, unsure if the bloodshed was to cease. Leon could provide that beacon, he could be the first thing people would see to give them certainty and let them know that justice had been done.

Dragon of the Old Mother, you granted me your strength, I ask you to look at my first act with it.

Leon had been at the front of the parade when the Zenos had dispersed the clouds from the opening ceremony. It didn't escape his notice that they didn't disperse them at the conclusion of these Trials. So if the Zenos weren't going to disperse the clouds, let it be the students that do it, let it be him.

Let them look upon me. Let them look upon me and see the dawn. Let them see the Sun King and know that justice has been done. I am Leon Solaire, I am the Sun King.

The performer raised his hand to the sky and channelled everything he had into luminescence to create a miniature sun above the Forked Tower. With enough power, he hoped to bathe all of Ersand'Enise in the glow but was uncertain. It is not as though he attempted to create light on this scale before. The Sun King tried to look up for a moment, but even he knew better than to look directly at it within such a short distance. Instead, he simply smiled widely and joyfully at the achievement as the golden rays engulfed him. The mask hid the hunger in his eyes.

---

By the time all was said and done, Leon just sat at the top of the forked tower, welcomed the rising sun, and wondered what the future may hold. In the days to come, he would be asked if he wished for his memory to be wiped. He would hold the memories of what happened at this place, but ask not for the memories he lost to be restored. He remembered a successful rebellion, thats all there was to it. He need not gain the rest when he could fill in the blanks himself.

In the days following the revolution, Leon walked through places as he normally did. But there was an interesting thought for him to ponder now. Had the civilians of Ersand’Enise been given the same option as them? Were they given the choice to forget the events of the entire revolution? Had they even been given the choice or had their memories been taken regardless?

It was a scary thought the more he pondered on it, but it also provided a fun game. He considered it rude to outright ask someone whether they had chosen to get their memory erased, they wouldn’t even remember saying yes if they were given the choice. So instead, Leon played the game of trying to guess if they had their memories erased. Did they look at him like just the Sun King who had participated in the Trials or one who had a hand in overthrowing the school as well? He couldn’t tell yet, but that didn’t bother him. Knowing would mean the game had come to an end.

Strolling through Mudville, something small caught the performer’s eye. A small pony, only ankle high, with an absurd mane of royal purple had run into his path. It looked lost and was running around aimlessly. With its small size, even getting from one end of the road to another must have been quite the feat of distance. Not to mention dodging the feet of less observant pedestrians. Leon knelt to pick the small horse up and had a surprisingly easy task doing so. The horse must have recognised him without the mask on. Then he waited with the horse in hand, comforting the miniature animal while scouting the surrounding area.

The performer didn’t have to wait long until the pony’s owner came along. It was that girl from his first day back in Ersand’Enise, the one whose happy smile heralded the entrance of the Sun King. He looked back at her with a beaming smile, happy to see her again.

The girl asked for her pony back and Leon was more than happy to oblige. Afterwards, he waved a hand over his face and illusioned the Sun King mask onto it. The real mask was hanging from his left hip; it would be a simple process to put it on. But it was the apparating mask that evoked more wonder and whimsy, even if it wasn’t real. It was only obvious which option Leon preferred.

“Oh what a terrible day. A small horse; lost and astray. She cries out to the town with fading neighs.” Leon spoke in his Sun King rhymes. “But there’s no need to worry, there’s no need to mope. The Sun King will always be there, so stay well, and have hope.”

Leon looked at the girl and wondered if, in this girl’s eyes, he had become what he desired. Did she look back at him like the storybook heroes he admired as a child? Did he look like the impossible person he wished to be perceived as?

To create such an absurdly impossible creature as the miniature horse, Leon had triumphed over reality itself just to make a little girl happy. If he was someone who could achieve the impossible, what was such a task as achieving peace if not a matter of scale? Did this girl believe him capable of that? Could she look toward the uncertain future with hope and be certain that things will be better, that tomorrow’s sun will shine upon a better world?

Could Leon fulfil the promise of that hope? It was his duty to try.

No, that wasn't it. What was stopping him? It wasn't a matter of if he was capable of succeeding, it was simply that he must.

---

A Foreword: Memories of a Revolution is a section made for archival purposes. While there are some fun sequences in there, none of this is a necessity to read. For convenience, I have provided summaries of each sequence above if anyone want to follow the exact events.

---

- Laska catches Leon and Zarina being friendly and comes over to check about the 'problem' Leon had with his company.
- Leon never had a problem with Zarina and simply lied. He somewhat gets away with this by deflecting it to talks of love.

---

- Leon gives a rousing speech to a group of Revidian students to join the revolution. This is a big success.


- A short time into the tower, Leon and Zarina struggle with ghoulsilk. Leon uses a little too much of his RAS in the fight, needs to admit weakness to Zarina, and the performer's mask slips more in her presence.


- Finding that the tower’s guard scagbiist was coming back to life. Zarina and Leon enact a plan to tame it. Leon thinks its ugly, but the beast has a strange affection toward the performer.


- Leon and Zarina open the Time Chamber and fish out their friends from alternate realities. Pete eats ham. In the chamber, Leon takes notes some of the more interesting alternate realities.
- Pete and Laska make quick friends, Pete and Seviin... not so much.
- With everyone together, the group head out for their final fights.


- Leon and the group climbing the tower find themselves on a gender bending floor and rosebud confusing the senses to their full extent. Under pressure, Leon shows his feeling towards Kaureerah to Yuli.
- Leon and the group make a bond in that room. And despite his misgivings to them from earlier, a four-way date is arranged with Leon, Yuli, Yvain, and Kaureerah.
- This memory has been abandoned.


- Leon, under fire from Quantum Upta's visions of alternate realities, loses his mind and tries to kill everyone. He is mercy killed by Jocasta.
- This memory has been abandoned.


- Leon rides balloons with Ingrid and the rest of the Upta Squad into the realm of the Eleven Nations gods. Given the option to turn Pete into a person, Leon accepts in the believe that Pete remaining a scagbiist could cost lives. The performer thinks its the right choice, but regrets it in his heart. He had cared for the big, ugly, silly, & sweet beast.


- Leon, Zarina, & Ingrid meet the Dragon God of the Eleven Nations. Leon is pleased to find that himself and the dragon see the same way on a lot of things and get along well.
- After attaining the dragon's power, Leon offers for it to look upon his actions thinking that it could prove entertaining for the god.

Roslyn
Time: Shortly after the Revolution
Location: Student Dorms.

Thump, thump...

Roslyn stepped up to her dorm house's door. Her hand took out her iron from her dress pocket and inserted it into the lock, giving it a soft twist. The door opened with a click. Rustic hinges gave a soft squeak as it the door came open. Roslyn gestured her hand outward, sending her bauble of light ahead. The pale, warm glow illuminated shadows before melting into the faint orange cast by the dying fire.

"Uh, I didn't expect someone to still be up this early." She mumbled to herself and closed the door. Her eyes scanned the room until she found the reason why.

Sharen, her roommate. The mousy, young black haired girl laid balled on the rug nearest the fireplace. A long, drawn out sigh escaped Roslyn's lips. She stepped closer and leaned down to check the girl. She noticed the tale-tell signs of red smears on her cheek, but there was no trace of a wound. Likely healed over by magic, the brunette thought.

"Well, at least you didn't get killed. That's something I can thank the Gods for." Roslyn use the sound of her own voice to keep her awake and continued to talk to herself. She noticed the flaking logs crumbling into ashes and the fireplace growing cold. Taking hold of the nearby spade, she snuffed out the remaining embers.

"There, fire is out." She turned away and began to head upstairs.

With each step, exhaustion needled at her and tried to drag her down. Just a little farther, she thought. Her bauble began to flicker and dimmed causing her to side eye it. Roslyn drew from the sounds of her steps causing her bauble to brighten once more. Upon reaching the landing, she proceeded into her room. Once the door tapped shut, she tossed her things to the nearest corner and flopped onto the bed. The bauble died instantly and sleep greedily swallowing her.



"Roslyn, are you in there?"

"Yes, I am. I just woke up." Roslyn pushed herself upright, sitting up in bed. She hadn't bothered to undress since last night. Her hand rubbed against her eyes to clear the grit.

"Good. The letter you gave me should be on your side table. I'm starting on breakfast."

"Okay," Roslyn said as she reached for the letter and held it in her hands. Inside the folds was a will and apology all in one. A grim reminder of yesterday's risk.

The events fired slowly by in order. First she fought alongside Rikard, Johann, and Niallus to enter the Violet Enclave. There also was a green Cazenax that joined. Getting through the first wave was hard. When her call for help went unanswered, one of their group made a 'tactical' retreat. It revived the enemies' morale. Thankfully, it seemed someone was paying attention and boosted their strength. The tables started to turn before the doom golem exploded. She had just spotted Rikard get scalded before the flames cut off her escape. Her eyes shifted down to the letter as she thought she was going to die then. She recalled her skin tingled then the pain began to dull, someone smothered the fire until she got back up on her feet. Whoever it was, Roslyn was grateful for it.

They made it into the Nashorn. The gauntlet proved challenging and confusing as they worked their way through each intersection. She lost a few things along the way and couldn't use binding for a while. Xiuyang seemed be the same level of frustration she was in Vossoriya. Though likely for different reasons. Especially when the woman materializing from shadows and then later with the two Zenos, Domi Durdovin and Van de Waal. Waal sent his goose to finish them off after taking Niallus' offering.

Recalling the Zeno's words about her compass, Roslyn grabbed her bag from the corner. Flopping back onto the bed, she took it out to examine. Everything seemed to be in order now causing her to frown. She didn't understand what happened, but whatever it was... it was gone now. Stuffing it back into her bag, things seemed to become weirder from that point on. After stopping a demon, disguised as Xiuyang's shadow, from strangling her they were sucked into some part of the void. At least, that was her guess. It had the same feeling as when the black orb slammed down on her during Mano e Mano.

It took some time to navigate out and they nearly lost Xiuyang, who was the last to hatch. They had transported into some realm of gods. Not any that she was familiar with as they found others. An old woman, the Old Mother, beckoned her and eight others toward her. They rose into the sky before landing in an alpine meadow overlooking a small, beautiful pond. Surrounding the place was a ring of spruce trees. The members began to split as Roslyn headed to the butterfly stirred by Nibbler, She was joined shortly by Penny. Both girls waiting patiently for the insect to draw near for what seemed like hours. Finally one landed on the top of Penny's crutches then another on Roslyn's shoulder, their number growing. Roslyn remembered being left in amazement by the sight of it all. In small little groups, their heads turned and wings beat in a pattern. It was a riddle. Working together, the girls managed to solve it:

Five steps back, you get the magic.

The two didn't waste time trying it out. The butterflies then congratulated them, landing upon their bodies before disappearing. It made Roslyn a bit sad to say goodbye so soon. Penny mentioned she was glowing causing her to notice it too. The scene ended as they slowly began to slip into slumber. Roslyn woke in a tangle with Xiuyang exactly where they left off. After that, she was given a choice to keep or give up her memories. She chose to keep them and returned to her dorm to sleep the nightmares off.

Her fingers traced the name of her family on the letter. How would her family had felt knowing the danger she put herself in?

Roslyn's head bumped back against the wall behind her. Things were so much easier when she was eight years old. It was before her mother died, her brother grew sick, and her life became a mess. She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to recall her years in the meadows. Usually with old memories there was a blurry recollection that let her mind fill in the blank. Not this time. She couldn't even see the meadow in her mind's eye. Just a darkness settled in her mind.

The girl frowned and tried harder.

"Roslyn-" A distorted voice drifted in and out, beckoning to her.

Roslyn didn't recognize the voice as she pushed her head to remember more details. Abruptly, a sharp pain nailed into her forehead. Her breath hitched in her throat and her stomach twisted with a dread. She continued to try and push past the suffering, seeking the missing memories. Something wasn't right.

Ba-bump... ba-bump.

Her heart echoed loud in her ears that it drowned out everything else. It felt like her brain was going to erupt from her skull. She didn't understand why trying to remember hurt so much. It shouldn't be this way. Roslyn felt the needling pain spread from the left side of her head toward the right. Like something was trying to stop her recollection.

"Sholi..." The word broke past the fogginess loud and clear. A blurred out woman, about a foot shorter than her, vanished then reappeared yards from her. A cold, clammy sensation chilled Roslyn's skin as her hand sought for the bucket near her bed. Roslyn couldn't stop now. Gripping the edge, she lifted the bucket up before...

Another voice, this time in Avinican, spoke before fading away. "I'm sorry, Roslyn. We have to do this. It will keep us all safe."

Her head became swallowed by the relentless, rhythmic pounding. The burning surged behind her eyes causing them to water. That sickening sensation within her middle finally rushed to her throat. Stomach acid splattered into the bucket's bottom. As she struggled to catch her breath, another wave came up. Finally, her stomach was empty. Her headache started to wane when she stopped trying to remember. Roslyn leaned back again and used the back of her hand to clean her mouth.

W-what the fuck happened? Wrinkling her nose, she lowered the bucket onto the floor. The liquid sloshed causing her stomach to tense again. Roslyn took several deep breathes before her middle settled again. She'll need to dump that later as she topped it with a wooden cover, hiding the evidence from sight.

One more thing to add to her ever growing list. Roslyn smacked the back of her head lightly against the wall. Trypano and her removal from the THESIS program still lingered at the top of her most stressful things to do. She didn't look forward to visiting her family. She had no doubts that Garith had gotten worse since last year, but she didn't know how bad. Was he still using a cane or was he bed bound now? It was hard to tell since she was too frighten to face the reality and watch him deteriorate.

"I'm a horrible sister... " She grumbled out loud to herself as she sat there.

She didn't know how much time passed when she decided she had enough self-loathing, her mind drifting to the woman. She felt so familiar. Roslyn wondered if she could repeat what she saw. First she needed to find somewhere with more space. Having something to distract her helped ease her mood.

Quickly, Roslyn rushed about to clean up, change her clothes and tidied her hair. Before exiting, she paused when she spotted Esmii's salve. A faint theory formed in her head. She grabbed it alongside the compass then headed out.

---

TLDR Highlights:

Roslyn comes back to her dorm and heads up to her room to sleep. When she wakes the next day, she reflects on yesterday and her role in it all. While trying to recall simpler times, she discovers one memory is abnormally hard to recall. In her attempts, she suffers a headache painful enough she gets sick and is forced to stop. She tacks it onto her ever growing list before heading out, hoping to attempt to replicate something from that memory.

At the precise moment where Jocasta had undone her spell, Zarina joined the trio to greet them like she had done almost every other guest so far. Although this pairing had been one she was hoping to exchange with for a long while now. The signs of temporal tampering were there, but she had long since made it a point of not prying on the sensei's decisions and machinations - she figured some alone time was needed, and there was little she could do if violence happened regardless.

“Well if it isn't our ambitious social climber.” the hostess greeted with some good humour snark, arms open to hug both Yalen and Jocasta. “It's great to see you two, truly. Honestly,” she looked at Jocasta in particular. “I was starting to miss that resting bitch face - with respects of course, sensei.” a devious-Jocasta smirk took form on her visage. “Really, though, I'm glad you're here. Wouldn't be a party without one of my besties.” that smirk quickly turned into something more of a genuine smile. “Ellermane? Or Champagne?”

"It would appear I've already had my fill," Jocasta replied, placing the empty glass down and shaking her head with a rueful smile. "It's good to see you too, Zarina. It's good to see you this... glowing, and in the right kind of way." For a moment, she underwent a tiny crisis. She'd let Taleja have her riposte. Such the better to put her at ease for later. Them having a short but seemingly pleasant engagement during the party would allay suspicions. It might look like unrest, like some attack based on class or nation or whatever else people had decided to kill each other for these days.

Then, Zarina was there, however: a friend, and she thought she might get it off her chest. She thought she might tell a truth and confess a fear. Yet... had they really been friends these past few months? They had no classes together, they had little free time for each other. They were still pleasant enough when they happened to meet, of course, and she would always be grateful for what the Virangishwoman had done for her, alongside Ayla and the others, but it was mostly the business of stopping a Zarina-dragon from rampaging about the city when transformed that brought them together these days.

It all added up to an inescapable feeling that this was her swansong with these people. She moved about a different sphere now, different circles. "Well, enough about me. Ipte knows all people have been doing is congratulating us on the marriage since we've arrived."

Yalen, tossing back another drink, nodded wearily.

"Stop drinking so much, you. I'm not giving you a ride home again, you know." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Anyhow, should I be throwing my bouquet straight to you after the whole thing?" She smirked, eyes catching a glimpse of Miret int he distance. She arched a brow suggestively.

Zarina furrowed her eyebrows at the comment made by Jocasta. It took her a few seconds to connect the dots, and it took her following Jocasta's gaze to realize. When her eyes inevitably met Miret's, she quickly turned back like a pre-teen on a first crush. “I've noooo idea what you're talking about.” there was a perfect mixture of both over-the-top humor and a genuine attempt at denial. There was no hiding from Jocasta, but then again Zarina was one to kid herself more often than naught. “Just just a good friend.” she canted her head to the side. “A very tactile, cuddly and flirty friend.” her voice degraded quickly into a whisper.

She shook her head. “I don't think those Tarlon-types believe in these ceremonies anyway. Even with their more open minds with ...” she pursed her lips, just realizing what she was about to say. This wasn't something she was ready to accent despite everything. It still wasn't entirely right. And so, reality easily settled in. “You know how it is with them. It's ... I'm not fooling myself.”

Jocasta smiled in understanding. "Well, come what may, enjoy the ride, whether it lasts another hundred days or hundred years, right?"

Yalen grimaced. "Darling," he cut in, "since when have you been this sentimental?"

"Since you, ya big teddy bear!" Jocasta twisted about on the spot. "Oh, you have to bring her here, you know!" she told Zarina, "Or I shall go find her myself!"

Zarina took a heart chug of her wine. “Right. That's one way to see it.” she said, lukewarm about the notion, but she flashed her friends a reassuring smile afterwards. She was, overall, happy and they could see it. “Looking handsome, by the way, Yalen.” she flashed him a cheeky wink.

Then, she lowed her head and tapped her forehead to the edge of her glass. “For Eshi's sake, Jo ...” she mumbled, cheeks reddened. “Okay, y'know what? Sure. I want my friends to be friends too.” she uttered with total cope and her features stressed to the point of being quite red. Twisting as well, she called out. “Luuchy! Hey!” she gestured for the Yasoi to come. “I wanna introduce ya'. Tyrel too, if she wants!”

"They all say that now that I'm about to be married," the little blonde man sighed, and his significant other's mouth fell agape in mock horror. "Oh, you little bastard!" she chided.

Then, Zarina was calling the others over. Miret made her way there. "You call me that one more time, I'll..." She trailed off. "Oh, is this your zeno friend? The one who swatted the fly?" she exclaimed suddenly.

“Or you'll what? Hmm?” and suddenly, Zarina felt her hostess ease return. Her shoulder brushed up against Miret's shoulder, and the glimpses she shot at the Yasoi said it all about the level of passion she felt for the girl. “Luuchy.” she said, provocatively.

“Tan-Zeno. But, yes, this is Jocasta. My Sensei and good friend.” she gestured toward the first blonde. “And Yalen, her fiancé and a close friend too.” then, she reached for Miret's shoulder. “And this, my friends, is the biggest Luuchy in the world. Also known as Miret'thilan'dichora.”

"Sensei!" Miret snorted. "So you're Nikanese now?" She punched Zarina in the shoulder.

"Oh, it was my awful idea. I'd just read a whole bunch of Nikanese things around the time."

Nonetheless, they shook hands and seemed to have taken to each other. Yalen was introduced as well. "You know," said Jocasta after a couple more minutes of smalltalk, "we should um... do something sometime, the whole gang, like we used to. Maybe next Victendes assuming this place doesn't tear itself apart before then, huh?"

Jocasta, in agreement, let her go with a fond farewell. "See," Yalen's voice could be heard saying, "I told you this was a good idea."

Marz slowly made his way over to Zarina, he was in some more formal attire, well, what is known to be formal for hegelans. A large shirt of multiple layers of vibrant and gorgeous colors, each layer of different fabrics to give a form of depth and from his own occupations, a had a large leather belt which had multiple golden inlaid rings which each one denoted a form of mastery over a craft. For Marz, he had been recognized as AA quality in over 10 different skills of craft, with a center platinum ring with a ruby inset which denoted his recognition in the creation of his first great work. One that could denote his legacy, a master work

The moment Marz made his way to Zarina he said in a quiet almost sheepish voice, "Great party". Marz couldn't find much else to say, most others here seemed almost so consumed in their own existance and those they are speaking to he feels nothing he could say or do would even register with them.

Zarina had Fiske in her sights, tucked deep within the mass of people she had graciously let in her home. Her amber hues did not leave his lithe form, with Miret in tow if she decided to keep up with her luush'elar. There was, however, a voice so small and sheepish, that it somehow got her attention more than the ceaseless laughters and obnoxiously loud exchanges. Surely she had hallucinated this!

And yet there he was, Marz the gruff and hardened expert smith and supposed ruffian. Looking fabulous and also shy. Taken aback, Zarina had lost track of the rat in her home, and now she had a new object of intrigue. “Oh. Why, thank you!” chiped a jolly Zazzy, confident in keeping her hostess persona going despite her mild worries. “Glad you could make it. I was getting worried we brought the beer keg for nothing.” she remarked with mild snark, arms crossed and a fat grin on her face. “Or, maybe just maybe,” complicit and certainly devious, she bended over a little to approach the bearded man's height with a smirk. “You actually have a soft spot for the more refined and delicate delights, hmm?”

Miret came up from behind and leaned upon Zarina's shoulder. "Hey Marz," she said with a smile. It was an innocent enough greeting on the surface.

Marz was mostly sheepish, just listening, for a moment it seemed he at least found some ground, possibly to even find something to talk about...

"Ahh-" Marz was then taken aback when Zarina started to poke at him. His teeth gritted as he looked to her with a flustered face, "-are you calling me soft!"

Marz was flustered by such accusations, the poutiness that is worn on his face told of Marz' true age. That he too was just a young man, even with his rougher demenor and gruff self, he too was just like those around him, in the peak of his youth.

“Yes.” Zarina said without a moment's hesitation. “Soft and silky from what I see, Dami's damn beard!” her eyes focused on the beard in question, so well kept and matching Ayla's incredible mane. “I can see why so many googly-eyed ladies walk into your workshop.” she snickered, back straightened as she regained her regular height. “But soft doesn't mean weak. You can be a mighty, black dragon with flames that devour all for centuries, and still have the softest of underbellies.” she commented as she swiped a couple of wine glasses from Osman's tray with one offered to the Hegelan. “To good health, women, and soft, lovely bellies, yeah?”

With the jolly moment, Zarina didn't stop with just pointless small talk. There was a rare genius crafter in her gala, and they hardly had the chance to exchange. Perhaps diving into his preferred subjects would be of intrigue. “Beards aside, I also heard you make quite the tale-worthy scythe. Am I to believe I'm talking to a legend in the making akin the stories of Tagemitsu Kenshin?”

Miret leaned in and nodded. "When the war happens, what side are ya gonna join?" she asked Marz. "You know they'll both make you offers."

Marz was taken aback once more Zarina seemed to almost speak in such a way to complement and still make fun of him at the same time, much like the many Skalds he had worked with on projects before.

And even when the drinks were brought all he could do was raise it and say, "Ah...Aye, to soft erm bellies". Marz then took a drink as soon he was asked about his work.

A gleam lot up in Marz eye as he said, "Aye! She was a beauty, a gorgeous scythe which held was a craft I could say was one of my best to date. But in my opinion, it is going to be the worst of my legacy". Marz said with a laugh.

Marz then turned to Miret, a topic which he didn't think much about, "I, ah, I'm unsure. I haven'thad much thoughts on such ideas. As strange as it maybe".

Marz gets lost in thought as he swirls the wine in his glass as he speaks, "A smith makes arms, tools that people use to fight. Simple as is, they arm those to kill others. But I never thoight about which side to choose. My time within thi land has been short, and truthfully I'm unsure where some of the people I even know will go. The strange nature of this lands and it's dealings with each other makes it seem almost impossible for me to even know where they will even go".

Zarina shot a look of disapproval at Miret. “Miret,” she spoke while foregoing the compulsory Luuchy. “I don't think we should be discussing camps to choose in a time where we get to not have to do any of that.” she semi-scolded her luush'elar, only to then convey a contradictory message by tugging her closer by wrapping her arm around the Yasoi's waist.

“You don't have to think about that, Marz. It's fine.” she flashed a less playful smile at the Hegelan. “And, don't worry too much about how good the first one is - I assume it's your first big weapon project anyway. It has a special place as, well,” she looked to Miret, as if addressing her too. “your first. In some way, even if totally inexplicable, it'll be unbeatable.”

Marz gave a light nod, "Aye", clear thought that this was not place to think sides of what is to break this hall apart. Just more simpler talks.

Marz casted his gaze back to the girls, "Aye, the first, even if the worst, is where it all starts".

"No matter where she goes or what hands she lands into, no matter what else I make, what I know is that she was where it all started". An unworried face sat upon Marz as he then perked up.

"Oh! I did wish to come to you as well, I've noticed that you don't wield a weapon. Is there a reason?"

Miret blushed. "Come 'ere, you. I get the double meaning!" She twisted to face Marz. "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bring it up but, like... shucks, everyone's thinking about it." She held up a hand. "I'll stop, luuchy. Don't worry. I will."

Then, Marz addressed Zarina and Miret leapt back. "Ooooh, He's gonna make one for ya!" she teased. "He's gonna do it! He's gonna doggone do it!"

Zarina to keep a stern face toward Miret - not a very good one, she wore her emotions far too easily - but eventually giggled and dropped her forehead onto Miret's shoulder. “I'm Luuchy too, now? Darn it.” and with that came a very quick and inconspicuous smooch on that same shoulder. “I trust you.”

She straightened herself, yet again, and brush her straight, brown hair back over her hairs after all that leaning and moving. “Ah, you've noticed, huh? Well,” she passed her hand through her hair again, letting the strands flow between her fingers as she pondered. “If we discount the times where opportunities were snatched under my nose ... I suppose it never was my priority to, like,” Zarina was never good with words, and keeping things agreeable with others - to not offend them - sometimes made it a hurdle for her. “make weapons to harm people. Hence why I have a shield.” she shrugged.

But then, after a somewhat glum look; she continued. “I'm not some cushy idealist, however. I know I need one. But at that point, I'd only settle for something that could contend with the worst horrors of this world. I've no interest in more efficient ways to butcher fellow men by the hundreds.” Zarina smirked, as her golden hippo poked its head out of her handbag. “Now if you're offering to make such a thing ...”

Marz nodded as he listened to Zarina, taking in her thoughts, ideas, and even feelings. Marz listened with great interest as he finally said, "Yes, I am offering to make you a weapon".

Marz nodded his head as he began to think, "No cushy ideals, yet in the same, less than pragmatic. Something to fight the worst of things".

Marz put his hand to his chin as he seemed to go deeper in thought, "Yet, not anything normal, weapons that are normally just to kill in the normal sense. This needs to be different, yet efficent".

Marz nodded to himself as he continued, "One for battle, not for war.".

Marz then smiled to himself as he continued, "Yes. Yes, I think this is a good one. A real challenge in it's own right".

Marz looked to Zarina and declaired, "Yes. I will make you a weapon like no other. A weapon, that shall do what you wish it to and need of it. To fight what needs to be fought, to spill blood when blood needs to be spilled, and nowhere else".

Zarina started off deadpan, letting the Hegelan dive deep into his musings. But as it went on, she couldn't help but appear amused. “My, keep this up and I'll have to pay an hourly fee.” she chuckled, hand squeezing Miret's side. The tip of her tongue tapped against the back of her teeth, prompting a little popping noise. “Don't lose your mind over the details. I am a person who can choose. Any sword can be brandished or left in the sheath and that will determine whether I will kill with it or not.”

But then, she thought for a moment, and then giggled. “But then again, if you wish to make something extraordinary, who am I to give leeway and shortcuts?” she reached out to the shorter man, digits keen on dragging through the puffed up and glorious chin-mane of his. “So long as you swear it is made with the genuine passion of the next great creator, then I will humbly accept it regardless of its form.”

A moment passed and she shook her head, snickering in light shame. “Gods, I sound so over-the-top. But, fuck it, I'm a bitch for epic things. You'll get to see a big, fucking angry dragon with your masterpiece. And Tku will draw it.” she jested, partially, before leaning closer again, fingers since retreated back. “I appreciate the thoughtfulness. Tuna?” she had a near-perfect timing with the swiping of the dish being carried by Osman who had just bee passing by. It was presented right before the Hegelan.

Marz nodded, his eyes were calm, he didn't react or even flinch to the touching, the once meek man hiding away in his own clothing was no more. Marz stood as he always did, tall and strong, as he nodded, "Aye. I make nothing without putting my everything into it. If I didn't then I wouldn't be Marz Mohfolk".

Marz let out a light laugh, one after being told of the great picture he would see with Zarina holding his weapon, "I think I would love nothing more than to see my weapon held in such a display".

Marz was then almost seemingly cut down a slight bit with Zarina switch back to a host and offering him some morsel to eat, "Oh, uhm, y-yes, I would like some, uh-th...thank you.".

Zarina produced a mild, 'cool' grin with her eyes half-lidded once Marz reverted back to what appeared like a shier demeanour. “As the Perrench say: Bon Appétit.” she bowed her head graciously.

Then her attention went to the rest of the party. Most were receiving their main meals that they could either get delivered, or take from the buffet. “You know,” she spoke up again, despite her words and actions suggestion a finality to their exchange. “we speak of sides but ... Why not simply create for the good folks here? We might fight for our country, but would we brandish our weapons against each other, as individuals, when we bear the same mark of Marz Mohfolk on our weapons?” she mused. “Your creations do not just have to be weapons of war, they could also unite us - a generation that can do better.”

The hostess' eyes landed upon Desmond, first. “This man, for instance, one of the greatest warriors I've known. Great guy too. He can make his own weapons, that I'm certain, but I'm sure even a gunman would need a quality hand-to-hand weapon from time to time.” then, she shifted toward Ingrid. “And here's a girl that rustles the hornet's nest, and earns quite a bit of ire from her impulsion. But ultimately, Ingy's a good woman. She too could be magnificent and bring greatness with such a masterpiece.” then, finally, her eyes landed back onto Marz. “What I'm essentially saying is - don't stop with me. We can continue what this soirée started well beyond its time, even in the worst times of war.” she smiled, warmly, and looked to her Luuchy. “Hells, even this little Luuchy could use something to remind her of her favourite Yanii.”

Marz began to nod as he listened and thought, upon what was being said, "A generation that can do better".

Marz continued to think as a smile came onto his face, "That, sounds like a true craft. Crafting not just with a set of hands that are my own, but through bonds...yeah".

Marz nodded to Zarina, "Aye, I like the sound of it. Something that can be seen by all, not just those who are the receiver of it".

Marz continues to nod, his smile growing as his mind begins to be filled with ideas now in his own mind.

The Hours of Dami ticked over into Ipté: a time when most not engaged in either acts of love or acts unlawful were fast asleep. The hired musicians had since gone home, but there were a handful among the remaining wakeful students who were well-acquainted with music. These remnants and their friends danced slowly, sat around tables in semi-drunken discussion, and helped those who'd had a bit too much to drink settle themselves in for the night. Others staggered home under their own power, careful to go through the Parade Gate and not risk the Seagate and its desperate masses of refugees.

Soft, slow music wafted into the night, accompanied by the odd burst of laughter, the clatter of glasses and plates being gathered up, and the distant backdrop of frogs and crickets in the Border Wood. It all seemed to be winding down: the students' own perfect ending to an imperfect Trials, initiated and carried out by themselves without any help from those older and putatively wiser.

Into this scene of burgeoning serenity grew a new noise, however, threatening its tentative existence: armoured footsteps, marching in file; the orange flicker of torches in the night. Most didn't notice these. They were either busy, lazy, or drunk. Then, came the knocking on the door: three beats, firm and authoritative. Two Centuries stood outside of the door, accompanied by a hooded figure who appeared to be a Zeno and four city guards.

They waited.

Ten seconds had passed. They knocked again, just as firmly.

The Soirée's peaks had been reached after Magnificent Green's display of talent and exaggerated sense of triumph. The guests loved him and the hostess appeared to be in on the joke. Or was it truly an act of improvisation? It almost seemed too good. Zarina had since hopped off the stage, leaving those that wished to play to do so as the late hours settled in quickly.

Many of the animals had since retired in her room - forbidden to all guests - as did many other guests, either finding their ways home or using one of the hostess' unused rooms to 'settle down'. She knew this was inevitable and took it upon herself to stay awake until the party was definitively finished.

The urge to dance was still strong. She knew, despite the avoidance of the subject, that she would not see her lover too often after this. Nor would Miret ever be her's the same way she's been in this honeymoon phase. But maybe she could still bask in the illusion of being special for a little longer. The wine she ingested in very frequent intervals were telling her yes. But just before she could commit to any decision, a set of three loud knocks from the closed entrance door caught her attention.

Uncertain of what to expect given the hours and the lack of noise, she approached at a brisk pace but cautiously extended her hand to open it. It was during this hesitation that the knocks started again, prompting Zarina to jump. “Coming, coming.” she announced.

Deep breaths. She opened the door and regarded the gathering of seven individuals. Surprised but composed, she shot them an expectant look. “Good eve- Errr, hello.” she spoke, calm with her attention on the conspicuously distinct zeno. “Can I help you?”

"Zarina." the Zeno flipped back her hood. She was Sienna Afraval and she appeared nothing if not apologetic. She tried to force a smile, happy to see a favourite student, but it died quickly. "I've been sent on authority of the Wise Council." The two Centuries were recognizable as well. Mareceline padded up softly behind Zarina. "Jurgen?" she asked tentatively. The other was Collette. She received a stiff nod from the first.

"Don't worry. You're not in any trouble, for what it's worth," Zeno Afraval assured them with a sad shake of her head. "We're here to escort one of your guests to the Violet Enclave for questioning on yesterday's.... incident." She appeared distinctly uncomfortable, even as her eyes roved across the inside of the house with a light of curiosity and even amusement. "I don't - I've been told it shouldn't take long." She shook her head. Collette, as well, could be seen glancing inside. Whatever wry comment she might normally have made was held in, however. "It's all..." Her eyes darted towards the floor, avoiding Zarina's. "All procedural."

It was abundantly clear that the people they had sent were handpicked for the task. Zarina crossed her arms the moment she realized what this was about and kept her frame in the center of the door frame, only leaning slightly to the side when Marceline joined in. “Lady Afraval,” she began, still calm but her voice stammering just a little bit. The tactics used were effective, even when the subject was aware of them. “I'm sorry but why at this hour? They're either sleeping or having a good, quiet time. If they're even still here.” although it only occurred to her now that something was missing. She kept her voice down. “Who are we talking about?”

Sienna's eyes went to Collette's briefly, and then to Jurgen's. "It's Penny, Zarina - Penny Pellerin."

"And why now?" Marci challenged. "Why after she's already been released? Why in the middle of the night?" She repeated Zarina's unanswered question.

"So we could get her quickly and quietly into custody and back out of it for classes tomorrow," the Zeno offered. "We assumed she'd be at her place and were surprised to find she'd gone here." Jurgen shot her an unreadable look. "Listen, Zazzy, I had my misgivings about this, but it's what I was told and, whatever's happened recently, I trust them enough to believe they wouldn't outright lie." She paused and gathered her breath. "May we enter and speak with her?" While it did not come from Sienna, there was a subtle, cautionary, drawing of energy from the party outside.

Zarina made it clear by the growing frown on her face that she didn't like any of this. She chewed at nothing to pacify herself, but the fact that so many powerful individuals were at her door quickly put her on edge. “You do know it's a bit weird they send you, Ms. Afraval, to get a Perrench suspect. Arch Zeno Tojarra already made the situation very awkward.”

However, Zarina's maintained composure was challenged when the faintest hint of active drawing caught her attention. She shot a warning glare at the concerned parties, although she couldn't quite tell those who were concerned. “You may. But only you.” her attention remained on the martial flock behind the Zeno. “I presume she isn't being arrested? If so, nobody else's stepping in unless she wants to go with you.”

"What she wants doesn't matter in this," Jurgen warned, though it was distinctly not a threat. "The school has declared this a 'disciplinary matter'." Collette shot him a pointed look and he fell silent, eyes briefly finding his younger sister. "I shall wait with our visitors at the door," Marceline promised, preempting any rejection of Zarina's terms.

Sienna offered up an apologetic face. "Thank you," she replied once the others were quite finished. "I do realize how this looks and they have assured me this is not an arrest, else I'd not have agreed to come." With those words, she stepped past the threshold. A couple of the guards - the Zenith's Guards - Zarina and Marceline noted, scowled, but they were the minnows here and they did not press.

Zarina forced herself to not reply with appropriate sass to Marci's brother. Still, she did add something. “My home is outside of the city's walls. Disciplinary measures or not, you'll need more to compel me to relent.” she then nodded to Marci before showing Sienna in.

“She was definitely here, and I didn't see her leave.” Zarina informed her previously appointed zeno, voice lowered to something more discreet. “If I were to make an educated guess ...” the teen's intuition would bring them to the upper floor, and eventually to the trap door that led to the attic. “Fair warning, the boyfriend's here. Good guy, but different.” before they progressed any further, she reached for Afraval's forearm to get her attention. “I'm trusting you, teach. I really don't want this night to end up in violence, pain and division. It's been so ... I almost wanna say perfect.”

---

Ayla was occupied with still tidying up for the evening, especially as people seemed to have confused plant pots for disposal areas, namely leftovers of that muffin. Her interest perked at the commotion as she moved toward the door to investigate, finding Zarina and Marci in talks with whoever was there. When she spotted Zeno Afraval, she was about to smile and welcome her cousin warmly, though when she noticed the facial expression being held, she quickly picked up that this is more than a social call. “Is there anything we can do to help?” She approached with an eyebrow raised as she communicated silently towards Zarina and Sienna but relented as they moved on elsewhere in the house. She turned to look toward Collette and Jurgen, “Would you like bread and salt? We have plenty left over.” She indicated toward far more appealing food items than simple provisions in her statement.

Marceline did a double take at Zarina's response. Had she misinterpreted Jurgen's words or had the older girl? To her mind, that had not been a threat but, rather, a warning of the school's intentions and his barely-suppressed misgivings about them. For a moment, she second-guessed herself, and that was enough that it passed. Jurgen all-but rolled his eyes and returned to being stoic and professional.

Then, his eyes found Ayla, even before she'd reached the door. He smiled in her direction as she spoke. "I would very much welcome your hospitality," he replied gratefully, stepping through the threshold, even as Collette shot him a warning look. "I thought this was Zarina's home," she replied to Ayla. "Is it... not?"

Zarina, meanwhile, had spoken her entreaty and Sienna furrowed her brow. "I can't promise anything," she replied quickly and quietly, "except that I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't escalate and that I will hold my higher ups to their word." The stairs creaked as they walked. "You're doing Ipté's work, Zarina. I'm so sorry to have thrown a wet blanket on it."

Then, they were at the top of the stairs. There was a hallway leading to three rooms and the privy. The trapdoor to the attic was not so very far away.

Ayla paused for a moment as it seemed she had stumbled into an awkward situation, though she is unclear why there are hostilities, and even if there were, it would be best to make things as cooperative as possible if it involved the Academy and the Centuries. “Zarina does own the house, though we pay rent to live here,” she shot a look toward Marci as if to say ‘what gives?’ As she shook her head side-to-side. Peering at the weather, she looked bemused. “My apologies, then you must wait by the entrance as you enter. It would be improper to have two centuries waiting outside in this weather, and we must extend our hospitality to you.” She moved to pick up a chair as she brought it over by the entrance and fetched another. She encouraged Marci to bring some food and drink, while she did likewise, offering some delicacies. “What would you both prefer, meat? Scotch Eggs? Macarons…” She looked at the basket still sat at the table, “Best to avoid those muffins, though.” She moved the basket out of the way discreetly.

he guards waited outside, having not been invited in, while their nominal superiors stepped through. "Ah, yes, the erm... 'muffins'," Marceline acknowledged, still trying to get the last remnants of their taste out of her mouth. "Do not be so adventurous, Jurgen." She shook her head. "And neither you, my lady. I shall fetch the finest of cuisines for my dear brother and his friend." Marceline twirled on the spot and rushed off to fetch what was left, returning with Zenobucks coffee, scotch eggs, macaroons, and 'pigs in a blanket' from McBoller's. In the meantime, Jurgen looked at the basket and smirked as if to say, 'should I?'

---

Zarina clenched her jaw. “If she refuses, what happens then?” she inquired, showing glimpses of her naiveté to a teacher who knew her all too well. “I'll side with my guest and friend, Sienna.” they were nearing the end of the hallway with the trapdoor's cord hanging conspicuously before a large cat tree. “Nobody should hear us.” she said just as she conjured a quick and cramped sonic bubble. “What are they going to do to her? Is it just some interrogation?”

Sienna shrugged, eyes darting about as the bubble dropped. "Far as they've told me, it's just some questioning. They're all at a loss for where that attack came from and that, in itself, is pretty worrying." She shook her head. "Then, I imagine they'll give her a slap on the wrist and send her on her way." She eemed about to let up, but her face darkened. "There's... a chance they'll do more. I don't know if you've heard, but there's been vandalism on the statues of the Zenith and Arch-Zeno Tojarra." She bit her lower lip. "The wise thing to do is to let Penny go and I firmly believe that wisdom will prevail here. Still..." She let herself fall silent for a moment. "That doesn't always hold true these days."

Then, they could hear footsteps from below - awkward and distinct ones, coming up the stairs.

“So they've got nothing. That doesn't look too good.” remarked Zarina. She reached out for the cord, but was interrupted by a notion that brought her to think. “And no, I didn't hear. Fuck.” she took a deep breath before looking at the cord again. “I'm trusting you, Sienna. Same way you trusted me after ... Last year, despite the mess I caused.”

“Hmm.” footsteps were drawing near just as she prepared to open the hatch again and the hostess couldn't help but recognize how distinct they were. She raised her hand for Sienna to stop any ascent or if she wanted to speak. “Wait, someone's coming.”

"Not just anyone," the Zeno whispered, popping the sonic bubble as she finished. "That's her."

"Babe?" came Penny's voice, traveling up the stairs. It ran into the remnants of their sound dampening and didn't travel particularly far. Then, there was a pause and her head appeared in the stairwell. "Oh, Zarina!" she exclaimed, before noticing who was accompanying her. "And Zeno Afraval." She quickly bowed her head in respect. "You grace us with your presence." Her eyes found Zarina, though, and seemed to send a quick and alarmed message: 'What is going on? Am I in trouble? Is there any getting out of it?'

Despite the warnings, Penny's arrival caught Zarina off guard. Unsure of how this would go down, she greeted the Perrench with a look of uncertainty that could only feel the worry Penny inevitably manifested. She gestured for her to come closer before looking over shoulders.

“Zeno Afraval, a couple of Century and some city guards are here for you -” she peered toward Sienna briefly. “for questioning. It's your choice if you wanna do any of that.” she crossed her arms and set herself in a good spot to step between the two if something ever went wrong. “If you don't want to go, they can't compel me to give you away, for what it's worth.” she shot a confident smile to Penny, one identical to the one she kept during the whole Soirée as she basked in the unity she had created. “But, I think you should hear what Sienna has to say.”

Before Penny could speak, Sienna Afraval raised a hand. "I should stop you right there." She tried to address both Zarina and Penny. "Technically, by the letter of the law, I can legally compel her to the Violet Enclave because of the ridiculous charge leveled against her." The Zeno shook her head immediately. "Now, you can rest assured that I never would. Not for a moment would I force you to do anything against your will." Her gaze took them both in. "That said, I think you should come with me, Penny, and you will almost certainly be either acquitted without a big showy public trial that they don't want or else given the lightest slap on the wrist imaginable and dumped right back in class for tomorrow."

Penelope's face tightened. "And the people actually responsible for this mess," she inquired in a voice that walked the line between wary and too-sweet. "Have they been caught?" She tilted her head. "Found?" She continued. "Are there any leads at all?"

Sienna's face looked pained. "Penny..." she sighed.

"Zeno Afraval," the girl replied.

"Penny, please don't. I know they've treated you badly. Its'... quite frankly abhorrent, and you've every right to be angry and distrustful, but I'm trying to set it right. Others like Zenos Masson and Silvestri, Fabio, Luna, and Sunny: we're all trying to set it right. This is the best compromise we can get. They know their situation isn't amazing, but - "

"But a cornered animal lashes out," the Perrenchwoman interrupted. She narrowed her eyes. "And wouldn't I be a great person to hold ransom in a pinch?"

"They'd be digging their own graves if they tried."

"Oh, they won't do it formally," Penny decided. "No, they'll have some justification, but anyone with half a brain for politics will be able to see the truth."

"The truth?" Zeno Afraval replied. She shook her head, and quite aggressively. "The truth is that statues of Arch-Zeno Tojarra and Zenith Upta have been vandalized by Perrench and Perrench-aligned students, but the news hasn't traveled yet." She took a deep breath, trying to reel them both in with her eyes again. "But it will and they may feel compelled to act and then the scenario you mention becomes a possibility." She held up a hand to forestall further comment until she was finished. "A remote one, I firmly believe, but still a possibility. We go now, however, and this can all blow over." She cleared her throat. "They give you the punishment of penning a letter on the danger of aberrations or something stupid like that, everyone sees that they've let you go as they should've in the first place, they find some Revidian or Torragonese to slap with the same penalty, and then we go back to... well, hopefully not all hating each other." Her voice was almost desperate, almost pleading. "Please, Penny," she entreated. "You're a good person. You always have been, and I'm sorry this has happened. It's unjust and even cruel, but I'm asking you to help me here. You can help me put an end to the worst of it, but our time is short. We have to act now while cooler heads may yet prevail."

Penny's face and bearing burned with anxiety. Her eyes flicked Zarina's way before returning to the Zeno. She swallowed. "And if they don't?" she asked simply.

Zarina looked back at Penny with equal amounts of concern, but she forced herself to regain her composure. With confidence, she spoke. “Then we'll push back against the school. Us, the students.” she stated without blinking or a hint of hesitation. “It's not a threat, this is how it's gonna be. And not just those of one side.” at first her eyes flickered to Penny, and then they reached Afraval's. “And all those who'd stand against corruption, not just the students.”

The hostess of the abode and festivities reached out to Penny's hand in a show of solidarity. “Just know, no matter your choice, I stand with my friend. As I'm sure Ashon would too.” a grin that radiated youthful and reckless confidence reigned on her expression, one that sent the message: 'I meant it, they can't make me, legal or not.'

“But I trust Sienna. Of all the staff ... I trust her the most, along with Jo'. She didn't let me down at my very worst.” she turned her head to regard the Torragonese royal with softened features. “I don't think she'll let you down either.”

Penny nodded. She seemed ready to reach a conclusion, to go with this plan or not, but then she paused. "I hear what both of you are saying," she acknowledged. "I understand it, even." She took a step to the side, however. "But it's not only about me," she declared, running her hands tenderly across her midsection. "Not anymore." She smiled faintly and nervously. "I need to speak with Ashon. He must be part of a decision of this import." Eyes darting between the other two, Penny reached up for the rope to pull it.

As the attic opened, a Yasoi male flopped upside down before the trio of ladies that had gathered before them. He took a glance at each of them, then sagely nodded his head, “It is true, whatever I have been accused of is correct.” He released himself as he flipped onto the landing, his arms spread out in a welcoming manner. “It was when I was a wee lad, about this high you see,” he mimed the height that he was, “There was Kerreman Knight, just like that one down there, moustache and all, and he held the village ransom as he demanded a shrubbery. As you know, a shrubbery is very important to us Yasoi…” he could feel the eyes glaring towards him, as he cleared his throat, “Well, long story short, the Grey fleet made me do it, and I am down a shrubbery.” He shook his head in disappointment as he turned to Penny, “I promised that I would use that shrubbery to feed you and our future family. I have failed you, my love.”

He held his hands together as he presented them to the Zeno Afraval. “Please don’t inform Zeno Tarthas’talix’tuura, the sting of his cane continues to plague me to this day.” He gestured to the gathered crowd of guards outside the building, “You didn’t have to bring all of them with you, though. I am pretty harmless. Only need a wink and a smile, though…” He held his finger up as a warning, “I am a very happily taken man, so I would have to politely refuse…”

He looked toward the three of them, one after the other. “This is only a copy; I was just buying the real me a good head start over that way,” he thumbed towards a random direction, gesturing with a slowly repeated tug of his thumb.

His hands came to a stop. "It is not me you want," He expressed a frown as he looked toward Penny, ceasing his little distraction he attempted to buy her time.

At first, Penny's heart raced when she saw Jamboi. Then... her eyes widened as he proceeded to make light of the situation. She laughed, despite herself and, finally, she understood. She took a couple of steps forward and reached for his hands. In the span of a minute, he had made her feel excitement, alarm, mirth, and fondness. That was, simply put, why she loved him. Nobody else could do that.

"Jammy," she said softly, "You're right that it's me. They only like my little hat, though, the one I never wear, and are desperate to have it. I've determined that it doesn't look much good on them anyhow." She reached up to stroke his face, a forearm crutch dangling from its cuff and sliding back down her arm. "Dare I say I might even have a chance to look for your shrubbery and all of the things quite a few of us have misplaced or had stolen. All I need to do is let them hold one old hat that I don't very much like and, the longer that they hold it, the more likely I think it is that others might have a chance to look as well." She willed it not to be too convoluted. She willed him to understand. She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Ashon understood her words as he leaned in close and embraced her, planting a loving kiss on her lips. "Penny, when the roof tile fell." His eyes met hers, perhaps saying far more non-verbally as he held her within his arms. He released her, his hand caressed her stomach lightly as his fingers clawed upon it. "No more Vossiriya, bad weather, worse food."

Zarina watched them both with compounding interest. She first believed Jamboi to be making a fool of himself, or far too much light of the situation. But as it went on, and she acknowledged Penny's reactions to the Yasoi's drivel, she began to understand. Skepticism turned into intrigue, and that too eventually became mild envy. The chemistry these two shared was palpable and the love for one-another manifested in simple looks brought Zarina to reflect on things she wouldn't have on this pressing situation. To be this special to another person was something she had yet to know. Something she desperately wanted to know. She remained a romantic and a dreamer, even at the face of futility.

Her arms crossed under her chest as she sought to keep in any budding emotions during this heartfelt exchange. “How long can they reasonably keep her without any proof or a confession?” she had twisted to address Afraval and made an effort to not disturb the two lovers.

Penny embraced him back, leaning into his warmth and strength. "No more Vossoriya," she murmured into his chest. "I promise." She released him. He released her. "I've brought my own food anyhow." She smiled up at him.

Meanwhile, Zarina had addressed Sienna Afraval, and the Zeno did her best to answer a hypothetical for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "They'll want to get her in and out as quickly as they can," she assured the youth, "unless the world goes crazy again." She shook her head. "In that case, honestly... all bets are off, I'd say. In that case, you act, and -" She lowered her voice. "I support you."

With that, Penny was finished, and she turned on the spot, holding her hands out. "I suppose you'll need to cuff me," she remarked, tilting her head to the side challengingly.

Sienna looked her up and down. "No, Penny. That won't be necessary."

"Never know," the teen replied with a wink. "Girl with one leg might just run off on you." She let her hands fall to her sides and exchanged a small supportive look with Ashon. "Thank you, Jammy." She turned to Zarina. "Thank you, Zazzy." She took hold of her crutches again. "I'm ready, Zeno Afraval."

What a night. The Soirée was, by all accounts, a success. Zarina was working with three hours of sleep following the event, but there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in her - well, almost. The fresh memories of unity and joy kept her going just before an act she had premeditated with her business partner that reminded her all too much of the state of the world. Freshened up, caffeinated and looking fabulously green like Perrench pastures to match the colours of Zeno Bucks, Zazzy was ready to tackle this arduous day.

She waited inside the main patio bordering the Godsroad. The yard was still a mess and the inside, while cleaned, still smelled of party and of the few guests that were too intoxicated to leave. A little bit of people - and consequently steeds - watching was what she needed to accompany her bambalouni with coffee as she waited for Marceline to be ready.

“Mornin’.” she chirped, upbeat and with a cup prepared for her sister.

Marceline slid into the seat across from her. "Mornin!" the girl chirped, raising her cup in acknowledgement and thanks. She seemed, already, quite awake, though there were bags under her eyes. She crossed her legs and took a sip. An easy silence built between them. "You know, I barely slept a wink," the younger one admitted after a bit. "And it wasn't because of Penny either. I imagine she made the right choice and we'll all come out of it alright. 'Least... I hope so." Her voice grew solemn for a flicker before she covered the lower half of her face with her cup, taking a second sip. "Really, it was all that thumping and moaning last night," she remarked, not letting her drink down just yet. "The Tarlonese, I imagine." She shot Zarina a dim look.

“I zoned it after an hour. The thumping.” Zarina answered with a wry look returned to Marci. “Probably.” with that one word went the positive energy she had been emanating since she had woken up. It wasn't a regret but an insecurity that gnawed at her. The older girl blew on her coffee and took her sip as her eyes drifted back to the diverse group of peoples heading to work in the city.

“Ayla's got the cleaning. We,” a second wind hit her with a strong 'we' coming with an even strongest announcement. “have some acorns to hoard before the storm hits. And I've got a few friends -” her tone fluctuated to emphasize the fair weather nature of the term. “who can broker deals fast. Question is how many funds we can secure with the good will we've garnered with a year of good business.” the uncertainty prompted her to flex her facial features for a second before she took another sip from her now cooler coffee. “And then there's the question of what happens if we've gotta take a leave of absence ...”

Marceline leeched a bit of the heat from her drink and downed it. "Ugh," she teased, "Imagine being a twitching coffee fiend." She rolled her eyes and placed her cup back on its saucer. "I've got a couple leads as well. One might require a brief trip across the bay into Méatu." She shrugged. "So I'll probably be 'sick' for a couple days. This semester's classes are all easy anyway. I'll see if Jojo can grab my assignments for me."

Restless, perhaps, Marceline stood and stretched. "Come on, suunei, we have a crisis to go head off." She rolled her neck. "And if we have to take a leave of absence? Well, isn't that what twenty-five hour copies are for?" Marceline arched an eyebrow and winked. "Besides, there are two of us and, if worse comes to worst, I'll just make myself less valuable by playing crippled for a bit." She began walking towards the door. "Ip-damned warmongers. How many businesses." She paused. "And people are they gonna kill? Gods know they could never offer me enough to risk my neck for the fatherland or bloody Sancho."

Zarina lazily ascended from her seat and mimicked Marceline's efforts to stretch, ending with an unrestrained yawn. “That's a lot of twenty-five hour copies there, suunei. I didn't know you were that loaded.” she joked, mug still in hand as she finished up before leaving the porcelain item at the patio and stepped onto the Godsroad. “It's more for me anyway, you'd want at least an assistant. I can't exactly pull a fast one on my country. Nor do I really want to.”

They walked into the city, as cutting through the fields lacked the opportunities of buying foods they did not need at the market. There was no hurry to reach their contacts just yet. “... How's it going with Fiske?” Zarina brought up out of the blue, and it sounded as awkward as a parent taking interest in a child's niche hobby. “I didn't see much of him last night.”

"Oh!" Marci chirped, seeming in something of a hurry to reach the gate, "He was with my copy. They went and had a little fun together." She winked. "Now come on, Zazzy! We've got spratz to gather, and coffee!"

Zarina furrowed her brows. “Your copy? Oh, wait,” she snapped her fingers twice. “that prize of yours?” then she regarded Marci like she had something on her face. “... Any particular reason you'd do that? Other than 'fun'?”

They soon arrived at the pier where a Virangish man with a thick and white moustache awaited them. From there, Zarina worked her magic. He was the first of a decently long line of hands to shake if they were going to exact their plan swiftly.

Marceline twirled some hair around a finger. "Oh, just stuff n' things," she replied sweetly. "Also a test. I'm going to take out a couple more so we can cover more ground over the next few days." She shrugged. "If I'm a bit scarce, that's why."

Then, they reached the first of their contacts. Zarina took lead on this one. Marceline knew how to support a narrative. It was the first of many.

The day was progressing as smoothly as it could. Negotiations were nothing new, but the initial rejections from different transport groups were bigger than normal given the unusual nature of their orders. Still, their successes were enough to put the duo on track to exact their plans.

“Eighty tons already.” remarked Zarina during the luncheon break, and puffchicken eggs were on the menu. “Not nearly enough, but I've got some favors I can pull still.” she stated confidently. “You think they'll actually keep Penny?” she asked, a tad glum.

"I'd like to reach two-hundred, and I think I have a shot with my guy in Méatu, but I think we can make do with one-fifty in a pinch." Marceline shrugged. "It's just... so many variables and there's no way we can like... anticipate them all." She pursed her lips, starting to feel the bug to talk business strategies, but she tamped down on it and picked at her food, waiting for Zarina to speak again. When she did, Marci nibbled at her lower lip and glanced downwards. "I dunno." She shrugged. "But Jurgen seemed to think so and I'm learning that he really knows his shit when it comes to this kind of thing. He can read people."

Marci took a sip of her drink. "They're idiots. They're basically trying to hold Penny hostage and hoping we don't call their bluff, but it's an open secret among us students that she's the daughter of someone very important in Perrence." She shook her head. "It's like they're trying to start a war." She scowled. "I swear: half the people we know would do a better job in charge."

Her fingers drummed nervously and her analytic bravado seemed to fade. "I mean, I think so...?" Her eyes met Zarina's for a moment and she finally seemed a bit more her age. "You think so too...right?" She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed and face worried. "Like, we're playing chicken with someone's life here, and it's... goddamned Penny." She took a moment to breathe and paired it with a shrug that tried to be nonchalant. "We're not like, best friends or anything, but - Ipté - she was in my apprentice group last year." Marci swallowed. "We were fuckin' roommates. We used to cook together and we both sucked at it." The fifteen-year-old choked out a small laugh, took another breath, and wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.

"These people are fucked," she mewed, not quite finding the vigor that she'd been looking for. She shook her head. "I've just been putting it out of sight and out of mind and..." A third breath. "Why does the world have to so full of bad people?" Marci swallowed. "Why am I becoming one of them?" Her eyes were beseeching for just a moment before she twisted and looked away. A hand reached up, as if fixing her hair, but it ran itself across her cheek. "It's fuckin' Penny. I should be there instead of in Méatu."

“Wait.” Zarina raised her hand to interrupt Marceline. “She is?” it wouldn't have been the first time she pulled a sarcastic joke, but the cheeky smile or giggles didn't come. It seemed Zarina did not pry too much into Penny's business. “I thought she was just really loaded.” she shrugged. “In that case, yeah fuck. They're messing up. Maybe you should apply for Zenith.” she playfully nudged Marci with her elbow.

The jokes and generic remarks ceased once the subject was explored more seriously by Marci. Zarina decided it was a time to listen. No words, only considerate looks and nods. Once her sister figure had finished with her thoughts and worries, she reached out to wrap her arm around the younger teen's shoulders and pulled her closer. “For starters, you're not bad. And,” she looked out toward the pier. It was full with daily arrivals, although the unloading had since been done. “I don't think most of them are bad. It ain't a rule of nature that you suddenly become bad with power. I gotta assume it's more complicated than just doing a good or bad thing. But ... They did cross a line when they took our friend. I agree.”

Zarina leaned her head to the side, resting it over the shorter girl's. “We're gonna do something.” she whispered, eyes still locked on the busy scenery. “Sienna and I spoke of this. And if there is no change by tonight, we're gathering as many of our friends and their friends to ours. After the soirée, they should find it to be a comfortable place to talk and prepare.” calm, collected and resolute, Zarina squeezed her sister's shoulder. “Méatu can wait a day or two. If you want.”

Marci seemed lost in thought, her young face pensive. "Yeah," she decided. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea." She nodded slowly. "Gods. I worked so hard for that contact..." She shook her head as if to clear it. "They're not gonna touch a hair on Penny's head, so help me." She took a quick bite of her food, swallowed, and then took another. It seemed to settle and recenter her.

"You know," she remarked after a bit, "I've been thinking a bit about how the war will affect our business." She had a bit of water and glanced out over the piers. "Conventional wisdom's that we're kind of a luxury and luxuries don't do well in war." She shook her head and, when her eyes returned to Zarina, she was wearing that predatory grin she usually did when she got an idea. "So, riddle me this, oh sister of mine," she teased, "Living through a war is a stressful business, is it not?"

Zarina raised a brow and took a moment to muse on the subject. “I suppose it is, dear sister.”

Marceline steepled her fingers together. "So then tell me, dear sister, what is one thing that people do to escape stress that could benefit us?"

Zarina's narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “They fuck?” she proposed before giggling. “They take substances, reasonably priced too. You want our stuff to be that thing they can enjoy to escape the sorry state of the world?”

She pointed finger guns at Zarina. "Bingo!" she exclaimed. "Bring on the spratz! Bring on the sugar and honey and coffee and candied apples!" She patted her tummy. "Bring on the muffins and cookies and cakes!" She grinned mercilessly. "Bring on the fountains of chocolate and those sweet sweet baybeh brandæble turnovers!" She leaned back and clasped her hands behind her head. "We all just need us some sugar, so screw conventional wisdom." Restlessly, eagerly, she leaned forward. "We're in an open marketplace. We have no direct competitors yet." She shook her head. "While every other merchant of luxuries slashes their prices in the hope of retaining business, we don't cut even a bit." She paused and pondered. "Maybe we even raise 'em a little because, ya know, the war effort is making things more expensive and people will understand." She took another sip of her drink and arched an eyebrow conspiratorially.

Zarina laughed the whole way, but never once in a mocking manner. Marci's tirade on their next moves was both amusing and inspiring, and goodness did the older of the duo need to hoard all these feel good moments with the war looming over her head. “Hey, hold down there, fireball. Little pepper you.” she poked her pointer finger against Marceline's shoulder with a cheeky look to her. “Let's not gouge the livelihood out of our customers. We START with premium prices, because Virang is suffering, and THEN we lower them. A little bit, just BARELY below our standard. Progressively. Then, we become champions of a better tomorrow, and for all.”

Marceline pursed her lips. "We raise them," she countered, "gradually, as the war effort grinds on and supplies become scarce." She leaned in, "But not really. Technically, we raise them, but we offer nearly constant discounts. Regular price: eight owls. Special price: five owls!" She shrugged. "You're right. We shouldn't gouge people when they're struggling." She shook her head. "So we don't effectively jack up prices for the most part. We just make like we've had to out of necessity but are trying to keep things affordable." She chewed and swallowed the last of her meal. "Makes 'em think they're getting a deal: Patriot Pandes, Oraff's Orredes, Lucky Lepdes. They'll come out in droves when they smell a discount and we look like a good corporate actor."

Marceline paused. "I'm being horrible again, aren't I?" She offered a roguish grin, but there was uncertainty in her eyes.

Zarina laughed devilishly. “You are. But it's a good idea.” things calmed as she finished her meal as well and downed it all with her ice coffee. “It's actually very similar to the first talks we had, y'know? Deals to make people wanna buy, we talked and talked about the best ways to move money from vulnerable purses into ours. It's already been a fucking year.” she shook her head before peering toward her business partner. “With you around, I think we'll manage no matter what the war tosses at us.” she reached out to give Marci a typical big sister head pat that came with a free hair-ruining rub. “Of course, I'm here to keep you honest.”

Marci bore it stoically until her eyes glance up from her unmoving face to shoo Zarina's lingering hand away. "It's crazy, isn't it?" She smiled. "Gods, I dunno what I'd do without you." She shook her head. "You always know how to talk to people. You know so many people, and you manage to do it all while being honest and decent." She lingered a moment before standing. "I'm in awe of you, Zarina." A mischievous grin followed. "When I'm all grown up, I wanna be just like you!" She plunked an incantor down onto the table and stretched, glancing up at the distant clocktower on the far side of the Harbour Gate. "Ready to scarf away some more acorns?"

“Not so sure about decent.” Zarina joked with her head lowered to cast a light shadow on a look that suddenly became hawkish. “Just like I'm about to be not-so-decent at this promotion to mom I'm getting here.” she raised her voice to "scold" Marci. “Become just like me. Hahahaha.” it was all in jolly good fun, in the end.

As they both stood to do their next bit of their work, Zarina stepped forward to embrace Marceline. “No matter how shit turns out, you know you'll always be my precious sister. Alright?” she squeezed before releasing. “Okay, dramatic-romatic-me aside, we do be needing some hoarding. I think Patrick should arrive in ten ...”

Marceline had her game face on by the time that he arrived just slightly ahead of schedule. "Right," she said, with a businesslike nod and a smile. It wasn't like her to get so emotional. She always made poor decisions when she did. "Let's do this."

And 'do this', they did. After Patrick, who was good for fourteen tons, there was Bilal and his forty-seven, and then Consuela with thirty, Marco, who'd haggled for every benny on eighteen, and Kofi, who'd managed to scrounge up eleven. Petronela, who Marci was supposed to have gone to see the next day, was unexpectedly relegated to backup. As Oraff gave way to Eshiran, the pair had - miraculously - secured exactly their stretch goal of two hundred tons, but it was tentative, pending funds and securing their carriers and storage. Marceline didn't want to think about how stretched they were. In between potential suppliers, they'd gone to almost every bank imaginable.

They'd barely even bothered with the Somnians, however, who'd refused them outright, and Garibaldi's Pawn was always going to be a last resort. MBC and the Zenith's Bank had declined them for the riskiness of their venture, as had Bluebell's and the Seafarer's Exchange for the scale of it. Marceline had tried to play up the Kerreman angle with Green Dragon, but they hadn't bought it. Leaving the bank, she'd shaken her head. "Never have looked properly Kerreman, you know." She'd let out an annoyed huff and waved the notion away.

Matters had looked grim until they'd hit pay dirt at the Banque Royale. The vice-chair of the branch had merely steepled his fingers and smiled. "Ah, mademoiselle Nader, mademoiselle Hohenfelter," he'd purred, "I drink your café near every morning." Indeed, there'd been one of their ubiquitous ceramic mugs on his table. Those had become a common sight throughout the city in the year since Zenobucks had commenced operations. "I say you have a winning formula and, if you can navigate this coming Revidien agression, then investing in your venture is... a winning idea for us, n'est-ce pas?" Of course, he'd gone on to speak of the risks. No bank was going to give them too low interest a loan, or too large a loan in this uncertain political climate, but they'd managed to secure two-thirds of what they needed from the Perrench.

That left them slightly short on funds as the sun hung heavy and golden, and Bilal and Consuela were not the sorts to take 'IOUs'. "Well," Marci remarked, "We still have Sealy's and..." She grimaced. "Garibaldi's, though we could try the other branch of MBC!" Both were dressed like proper young businesswomen, but they were, quite frankly, worn out, both physically and mentally, as the size of their gamble began to catch up with them. "Sealy's first?" She did not have high hopes. They usually offered only small and midsized loans, but they were in shipping, which was another problem, and perhaps the amount remaining might just fall within their loaning model? It was that or Garibaldi's, who would almost certainly give them the money, but would append onerous terms to it and, as many whispered, would enforce repayment... vigorously. They could try to return to MBC with their beggar's bowls out, but that was a bad look and being backed by both the Perrench and the Revidians was... risky.

Decisions, decisions. They were very close to completing their blitzkrieg maneuver to secure their future, especially with palpable discontent within the city and a bubble of anger just ready to burst in the coming days. There was no place for half-measures.

“They're going to be firm on a fat rate. And we don't have time to negotiate at this point.” Zarina bit the nail on her thumb. “But I saw we take what they offer.” a loud 'click' came with a pierce of hernail being downright cracked. She was clearly anxious. “I've got a fail-safe. Kinda. My mom. If we really need it.” her idle arm clenched the folders they had accumulated containing quotations, contracts and bills

As the sun began to approach the horizon, they had arrived to their final decision: Sealy's. If there was an establishment they would prefer owing a large interest to, it'd be them. Zarina was far too familiar with the more unsavoury loan shark types. She had absolutely no desire of having them as a first choice.

Sealy's was nearly ready to close for the day, and it was no exaggeration to say that the pair... jogged part of the distance there, employing magic both to boost their speed and keep themselves from looking disheveled. If this entire whirlwind venture had proven immensely stressful, moments like this, oddly, were not. Marceline simply ran, feeling the wind in her hair, the air in lungs, and the folders tucked under her arm wanting to break free and squirt out onto the flagstones. There was so much risk and uncertainty but, for these bare few moments, it felt like an adventure. It felt like she was living the life she'd always hoped for but never thought she might have - a life that could last indefinitely once she ate the apple on her eighteenth birthday - a life that could be free of the tethering. A weird sense of certainty came over the girl and she shot Zarina a big smile as they slowed down and took a moment to clean themselves up before entering the bank. "We got this, habibi." She flicked some hair over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Don't worry."

---

---

At first, the clerks had been less than pleased with their late arrival, but when they'd recognized Zarina and been satisfied that the pair represented a serious business venture, they'd been ushered upstairs, where the manager, Maryanne, had decided to entertain them. She'd even gone so far as to remain after hours on their behalf.

She, too, was in possession of one of those ubiquitous mugs, using it as a makeshift flowerpot on her desktop. Behind her hung a portrait of Isidore Sealy, the famous Enthish shipping magnate and owner of the bank. After initial pleasantries and some discussion of their business plan, the trio got down to the meat of the issue. "You have to understand our hesitancy," the Enthishwoman was saying. "Your venture is promising, but times are uncertain and this falls somewhat outside of our business model." She furrowed her brow, dipping her quill in some ink as she continued to take notes. "You say you've secured your supply, at least in theory?"

Zarina nodded. "They're reliable people. We have written agreements." She was already prepared to produce them.

The manager nodded and raised a hand to forestall the actual handover. "I am going to need to see those and look into their financials." She paused. "as well as yours, out of due diligence, but we'll send your papers off to a printer and you'll retain your originals." She tapped her quill twice on the paper and leaned back in her chair, considering, her expression very much like Mr. Sealy's behind her. "And transport?" she inquired after a moment.

Marci and her partner glanced at each other, the former deciding to take this one. "The majority is accounted for," she assured Maryanne. "Pending a few more discussions with our logistical partners, we expect the rest to come together over the next few days, especially once they see we've secured supply and capital."

Maryanne scowled, unconvinced, and drummed the desktop with her fingers. She paused to consider and the pair knew that things like this were usually not good. Zarina opened her mouth to offer assurances, but she was preempted by the manager. "You will politely inform those you are still waiting for word back from that you have chosen to ship with the Sealy Consortium instead." She tapped her quill twice on her paper, as if rendering it final. "Our fleet arm will be your majority logistical partner for the duration of a five-year fully-binding contract, exact details to be finalized by appointment with my superior in..." She trailed off, consulting a very busy-looking calendar on the wall. "Two months' - No, two and a half months' time." She stood and marked something on her calendar. "On the 25th of Ardanes, to give Pa- Mr. Sealy some lead time."

Marceline's eyes widened and she turned to Zarina wordlessly. This was more than they could've hoped for, but they'd be putting the future of their venture squarely in the hands of a rather predatory Enthish shipping magnate and... the quickly retracted 'Pa' had not gone unnoticed. Maryanne was his... daughter!? "Y-you'll have to understand our need to discuss matters," Marceline replied after a moment of stunned silence. "Of course, Zenobucks will remain wholly owned by its current shareholders." She worked hard to keep the note of uncertainty from her voice.

Maryanne nodded and seated herself again and leaned forward, knitting her fingers together. "Naturally," she agreed. "We're not interested in selling coffee, Miss Hohenfelter." She nodded in Zarina's direction. "Miss al-Nader. Only shipping it, in bulk, to a reliable retail partner with significant potential for expansion." She smiled, and it was neither pleasant nor particularly unpleasant. "Are you such a partner?"

Zarina nodded and so did her partner. "I would imagine we both agree on that," the former replied, "Though, naturally, we will have to conduct our own checks."

"For due diligence," Marceline added.

"You are, of course, welcome and even encouraged to do so," Maryanne assured them. "You will find our financials in order, our carriers are neutral-flagged, and our terms suitably generous." She clasped her hands together. "Our assurances are honest and made in good faith. I do warn you, however," she concluded, "that this is not a negotiation." She pushed the paper she'd been writing on towards them on the desk, and it was all fairly mundane matters, similar to what they'd discussed. "You may accept our terms as written or you can try Garibaldi's" Her smile was pleasant enough, but she was a wolf through and throiugh. Maryanne held her hand out for them to shake on the tentative deal.

Zarina stared at the hand presented to her. She instinctively reached for a shisha pipe to her right, a typical behaviour she had when discussing business in a more relaxed setting. It was her tell - a sign that she was about to make an offer of her own. “One month and a half.” she stated, firmly. “Time is too valuable of a commodity to waste, especially now. If we're going to have such a tight venture, then we expect you to be fully on-board with the aggressive strategy we've proposed.”

Zarina looked to her business partner with a slight smile. “If we can agree on that, then I don't foresee any issues. And you've seen our expansion plans for countries such as Enth in the very near future. Less-than-a-year near if we're all in on this with alacrity.”

Maryanne scowled. "I'm not certain you understand, so I'm going to make matters clearer: that is Mr. Sealy's earliest availability, and he will want final say on this deal." She started to draw her hand back. "While we understand the urgent nature of your venture, we have to work within the constraints we're given." She looked disappointed.

Then, Marceline darted in and took the hand before it fell away. "We accept, of course," she replied. "As my partner has already made clear." They shook, tentatively, as Marci shot Zarina an apologetic look. "But perhaps we could pen a short-term agreement - a sort of test run - to cover the time until your senior is able to attend?"

The manager pursed her lips. "In theory, I'm open to it." She sat back down and reached into the desk cabinet to pull out a boilerplate agreement. "I will need both of your written consent, of course, and that will be binding."

The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm.

Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”

The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm. Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”

Ten minutes had passed and Marceline was skipping, springing high up into the air with each step. "We did it!" she proclaimed boldly, landing nimbly and spinning a half-pirouette. Her dress flared out around her like a daffodil. "You and me, suunei! We fucking did it!" She waved the paper about and held it out towards Zarina. "It should probably go in the folder now," she self-corrected, straightening out a battered corner. "Before it goes 'poof!' just like all our money!"

Zarina was a little more composed than her younger equal. Still, her bright and wide smile said it all. She was quick to swipe the paper from Marceline and shove it into the plethora of paperwork they had accumulated. “That we did, suunei. Now we just gotta actually enforce this shit. Chances are we'll need to grease up some more wheels.” she remarked with healthy pessimism but a whole lot of optimism sprinkled in as well. “'Our' money?” she snorted. “I've got an old Varennes we can pop open tonight, before we get our guests to talk about the whole Penny thing. Figured we treat ourselves for once.”

"Okay, okay!" Marceline relented, "Poof like their money!" She returned to skipping, hair bouncing merrily as she went. "And poof like our entire futures if we lose their money!" She half-spun and smiled. "Livin' on the edge," she exclaimed, "but we've got this." She shook her head. "I dunno why, but I just think we really do." She took a deep breath and rushed back to grab hold of Zarina's hands. "This is the start of it all," she promised, not yet having come down from her high. The sun was vast and golden now, headed for the jagged horizon of rooftops and spires that was Ersand'Enise.

"And as for your wine," she replied, "You bring Ayla - because it just isn't a party without her." Marci winked mischievously. "I just might be coaxed to wait before heading to Méatu and not -"

POOF!

Just like that, Marceline was gone.

It had been a long and arduous day. Business deals were made, slimes nearly killed her friend and friendships were forged. And yet Zarina’s journey was over. The hours of Dami blindsided Zarina with her Zenobucks outlet closing right as she was inclined to get another drink.

Time flew. And the imminent departure of the person she thought she had formed a special connection with hit her like a sack of bricks. Deep down, she hoped this chaotic day would never end.

She brought home leftover pastries and quickly made tuna pizza from the dough she had prepared in the early morning. It wasn't great pizza, but it was edible. The dough was a tad overcooked. Zarina, on the other hand, was undercooked. Little effort was put into looking fabulous. It was beyond her ability to look as fresh as a first date to someone she knew top to bottom quite thoroughly already. Except for the hair, always silky smooth and brushed beforehand with a bow to keep some more rebellious locks together.

Alone, in her room with the animals penned in Ayla’s room, she waited to have a final moment with Miret without any interruption. The pizza was on a towel draped over her bed, like a picnic but indoors.

Everything was just right to make a pleasant final date, but how was she actually going to say goodbye? How could she truly articulate what she felt? Was it wrong that she wanted more than just being another lover in the harem? The overthinking and stress caused Zarina to bite through the left thumb’s nail until she reached the corner.

"Hey luuchy," came a soft voice, and Miret appeared, hanging upside-down through her open window. "Trying to stoke my appetite, are you?" She hopped through the window, landing in a crouch, and took two steps toward Zarina, already reaching out to heal the damage.

Zarina deep dive in her thoughts left her vulnerable to a quick startle. “Luuchy yourself, Luuchy.” she extended her hand that needed healing, and then reached for Miret's once the deed was done. “I figured my lure would work. You underestimated me, Daring-one.” she winked as she seized a slice of pizza with her idle hand, folded it and hovered it close to the Yasoi's mouth. “Bet they don't make pizza with my special ingredient back in Tarlon.”

"I wouldn't be so sure," Miret replied, before taking a bite. "Cal can find just about anything, you know." She chewed a bit, positively unladylike as she continued. "So, what is it?" She smiled coyly. "Love?"

Zarina tried to stifle her grin and failed pretty handily. “Nooooooo ...” her legs swung restlessly as the answer took its time to come. “It's ...” after a brief staring contest she giggled. “Okay, yeah, it's love. Screw you for making it suck now.” she took a hearty bite herself.

“What's up with that Cal guy anyway?” Zarina inquired, barely concealing her distaste over the mention of another individual in Tarlon. “Isn't he, like, the guy that was selling drugs during the fights?”

Miret sighed. "Yeah, he's one of those Luuntese 'providers'." She shrugged. "He has his place, I guess." She took a few more bites, eagerly. "But he can't make a buudvuud like you can." The statement came with a smile and a giggle. "Luuchy, this is fuckin' delicious. Can you just like... cook for me forever?" The smile went from mirthful to appreciative, and then it fell away. "I love you." She glanced down at the food, or maybe just her lap, and then up at Zarina with an uncharacteristic shyness.

Zarina perked up, her heart skipping a beat. “Really? I thought I overcooked it and ...” her nervous ticks flared along with her muttering that spoke over Miret's words, or rather given how quiet she had gotten, were more so in the background.

“I-I ...” it felt unreal. The butterflies in her stomach were poised to make her cough out her pizza with how intense they were. Needless to say, she was flushed. “I love you too. Fuck.” she reached for both of Miret's hands and possessively clenched. “I love you. So. Much.”

It was her turn to look up to her lover with watery and pleading eyes. “Don't go.” she begged with a mousy voice, but one that didn't stutter or show any hesitation. “Please.”

A tear rolled, unbidden, down Miret's cheek. "Godsdammit, Luuchy." It dripped onto the pizza, wet and salty and soaking in. "I'm trying to eat here." Her voice was small, though, lacking most of its usual puckishness. She forced herself to swallow, put the pizza down, and leaned in wordlessly to simply embrace Zarina. That was all that she wanted to do. She didn't know why, but it was all that she could think of, even if it wasn't enough.

Zarina held for dear life, perhaps a bit too hard at some point, with her face dug into Miret's shoulder. She let the whimpers come out first before saying anything else. “Stay.” she pleaded again. “Don't go-” another invited sob nearly had her swallow her word. “-back.” the less experienced of the two swallowed in an attempt to compose herself. “I'll love you forever. And never let you get hurt.” she whispered by Miret's long ear she loved to nibble. “So you won't live this long life alone.”

Miret managed to separate to arms' length. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Quietly, one of her hands slid from Zarina's shoulder and pressed itself to her heart. "I never will," she said with all the gravity and solemness that befit an unshakeable promise. "I'll always be in there and you'll always be in here." Her other hand pressed itself to her heart. "But that's..." She shrugged weakly. "Shitty, empty stuff and it fades over time and distance." She regarded Zarina, eyes wide open, even if they were puffy and red-rimmed. "I won't always be here, but I'll always be in your life and, if you'll have me, you'll always be in mine."

Miret sniffed and gathered herself a bit. "This stupid war won't kill me. I know it and, if it does, Tyrel will move heavens and earth to bring me back. That's how she is." There was a deep breath, as if she had decided on a path. "You're good and honest and smart and beautiful and I would never hurt you so help me Ypti, cross my heart." She made the gesture with her free hand. "But I want you to live. I know you don't like our Tarlonese way, but here I am: Tarlonese. Don't pine for me. Don't set things or people aside. I'll always be yours even if I'm not there at the moment. I'll be yours for as long as both of us last, okay?"

Zarina shivered. Miret's words did little to pacify the tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked away, unwilling to accepted the vague notions of the heart and memories bound to fade. Until Miret echoed exactly what was ringing in her head. Zarina was blurry, but knew her crying lover was there. She reached out to cup the Yasoi's wet cheek, lovingly stroking it with her thumb. “Gods, I love you.” she uttered with a near muted voice.

“I-” Zarina chuckled nervously, sniffling intensely. “I dunno about smart, I did fall for a Tarlonese.” she jested and nodded at her lover's proposition. “I want you in my life, Miret.” she spoke with great clarity as the tears dried on her face and the sobs died down. “But I'm a greedy, greedy girl. An avaricious little dragon.” her hand reached for Miret's nape to tug her a little closer. “I wanna be that one person ...” she whispered as if she was confessing a secret. “That one only person that makes you heart skip a beat like you do mine. Me,” she leaned in closer, lips so closer to the other's. “and me alone.”

She stopped right before their lips met. “But I know I can't. I-I know.” she began to tear up again. “I'll be sad. For a bit. But I'll survive, just like you.” she forced a smile, one that tried to radiate some confidence. “And I'll see you again, and we can try this again. No War. No fucking Tarlon. No fucking hating myself over loving. Just us.”

There it was: the forbidden bit at the end: No fucking Tarlon. Miret swallowed. She often felt the same way. While Chad had always been a believer in the cause - or was it ironic in his sometimes infuriating manner - and Tyrel's grievances were kept mostly private and released only in little bursts of annoyance, Miret had often found herself questioning and straying.

That was... until Solcuura. Until Sairax'Solcuun and what she had seen at the palace: the casual decadence and cruelty of the royals, how most of the ruling class had simply used their money and power to flee and become parasites elsewhere, how the Queen, herself, had threatened to blow the towers and wipe out half of the city unless she was allowed to walk free. She had heard Chad's recollection of how the death ray had been modified to turn on the city if need be. She had walked the streets and witnessed for herself the dark dens and the rot, the slavery, the exploitation, the blinding of timewalkers and their use as mules for others' addiction. She had seen it all and her certainty that her people were wrong had wavered. Tarlon did not keep slaves. Tarlon did not blind timewalkers. Tarlon did not allow the consumption of aberrations except by express permission of the people's councils.

She said nothing of that, though. She didn't want any conflict now. She still didn't trust her leaders. Likely, they were doing this for their own reasons. Life was not the luminous, wonderful thing she'd thought it was as a child, venturing through forests and ruins with Tyrel, Chad, Velani, and Ashon. People in power exploited. People in power lied. Then, she caught herself. "Hey, bucko," she griped, after a long moment had passed. "I happen to live there, ya know." She wiped some tears away, and did the same for Zarina's. "But this pizza recipe, I want it. I'll cook it for myself and Chad and Tyrel and it'll remind me of you, okay?" She nodded encouragingly, partly to convince herself. "It'll remind me of you until all this bullshit blows over and we can be us, again: just us." She lifted it to her mouth, stained with tears and all, and took another bite. "Cold and extra salty," she laughed. "Mmm mmm!"

But would you still love what I'd become after so much time and distance? Zarina thought just as she expressed her wishes. She was convinced this had gone beyond a honeymoon phase, that it was genuine. And yet, by the nature of what they both were and the state of their worlds, she could only begin to doubt. Would I love you?

“Okay, I didn't mean it like that.” Zarina conceded with a hint of a more genuine smile one her. “Fuck our countries for keeping us apart. Fuck 'em for making love so complicated ...” she snuggled up to the pizza-enjoying Miret, seeking her warmth one last time. “Mmm. Look up mozzarella and marinate some tuna in veggie oil. That's it. Oh and overcook it. And love, don't forget loads o' love.” she looked up and stole a bite from the Yasoi's slice. “Now I need something to remember you by. And I'm almost out of sex-lettuce.” she grinned like a fox before going for another bite, but this time on her lover's jawline.

“I meant it, though,” she looked up with wide, adoring eyes and a slightly deeper voice than her normal - a result from all the sobbing. “if we wanna try this again later ... I wanna be the one. Not just another one.” she clammed up, hesitating to ad one final bit. “See me like Tyrel sees that beautiful boy. Chad, right?”

It was all going well. It was painful, but it was right. Miret could feel it. "I shall commit the recipe to heart, even the extra crispiness from my crispy lil' fucker here."

She smiled softly, but then came the part at the end, and her heart tightened. She looked down, not trusting herself to meet Zarina's eyes. "Luuchy, no," she squeaked. "Please no. Don't ask that of me." She swallowed, threading her fingers nervously together. "It is the giving and receiving of Ypti's pleasure, freely and joyously among the community, that keeps us together, and people want me. They... need me." Abruptly, she hugged her knees together. "You are my luush'elar. You are the one my heart beats for, but I cannot deny the simple and necessary pleasures of Ypti to others when they are mine to give." She brought her brows together, concerned, the taste of burnt pizza still sooty in her mouth.

This was not what Zarina wanted to hear. But it was also what she expected. She wondered why she even bothered, and her heart knew why. She hoped to be the exception of a cardinal rule Miret's people lived by. There would be nothing more special. She was genuinely selfish in this very moment, beyond the perspective of a Tarlonese, by putting this on her lover. She knew this, but she also needed it.

With a clenched jaw, Zarina kept her piece. She wanted to be mad and call out this supposed "necessity". Had she fucked anyone else in her soirée? Did unity and friendship require the most intimate and raw pleasures? Passion and sadness were melding with a growing frustration she couldn't air out and it was asphyxiating.

“I need you ...” she muttered under her breath.

She shook her head, resolved to not make this more painful than it already was. She reached out for Miret's hand to tug it off her knee and squeezed. “It's okay.” she leaned in to press her lips upon the Yasoi's forehead. “I'm sorry. Being your luush'elar ... Is enough.” It was enough, for now, but she wasn't cruel enough to add that final bit. She shot a reassuring smile. “I suppose your one special girl being a Huusoi is already a pretty big thing, huh?”

A thought just hit Zarina as she wordlessly hopped off her bed and dug an ornate, five-inch high wooden box from a closet. Inside was a black egg with scale-like patterns on the shell. Cupping it with both hands, she offered it to Miret. “Keep it with you, it's kinda hard to break.” she nodded to ensure it was okay to take. “I'll be with you, in a way. And when danger finds you alone, eat it.” her hands slid over Miret's once she'd taken it and closer them around the Primordial Egg, for her to keep.

Miret hadn't expected any lashing out, but she'd prepared for it anyhow. It was moments like this one that reminded her of how different they were: of how doomed this all was. She swallowed, painfully, about to speak and fill the silence, but then Zarina did, and she listened. "You are a pretty big thing," She admitted in return, managing a teasing smirk.

But then it had come time for gifts. She cradled the strange egg, knowing what it was. "So this is what dragons..." She trailed off and grinned. "You are just the best thing ever." She held it to her heart. "I will always treasure it," she promised. "I will never lose it," she swore. "And when I'm totally up shit creek at some point and about to die and not be bailed out by Tyrel again, I might even use it." She leaned in close. "And I won't be as far away as you think, you know." She winked. "Trust me. Okay?"

"My best friend's fiance is with child, Ciro. I can't stay idle and let this injustice go on any longer; I'm going to rescue her. Don't worry about me and protect our assets from these criminals, okay?" She caressed his cheek and gave him a peck on the lips, daring not to linger a moment longer, lest he convince her to stay. "I don't plan on fighting the Zenith. Besides, a goddess couldn't kill me. What chance does she have?" She flashed a cheeky grin.

Outside, students were preparing to storm the Violet Enclave. Xiuyang was relieved to see Tku, the artist who'd painted her new favorite work of all time, safe and sound and handing out mana-enhancing drinks. A particularly potent one caught her keen eyes, and with that, she was drawing energy in the 9 RAS range. She had equipped all of her gear for this mission, and between her three weapons, she chose the concealable flintlock pistols rather than either of the standout polearms. She expected to be absorbed into some kind of stealth unit as usual, but to her surprise, Edyta Laska pulled her aside and asked her to join the Longsword group, a second unit of heavy hitters. This caught her by surprise, both to have her strength acknowledged, and to have Laska of all people be the one to recognize it. Without thinking too hard about the consequences, she agreed.

As some students had taken to calling it—once the mercenaries were called upon to attack the students—was their target. Wave upon wave of them came, but the Longsword group, consisting of Edyta Laska, Xiuyang, Ashon, Ingrid and Tommy broke through them with ease. While Xiuyang froze her enemies in place or knocked them out with chemical magic, Laska cut them down without mercy. It felt strange, fighting alongside her in a sort of anti-establishment revolution, with neither one judging the other. Perhaps Ahn-Eshiran had brought the two closer on some spiritual level. She briefly wondered if Laska felt the same.

Again and again, Xiuyang cast spells on the razor's edge of her knowledge as a mage. She failed more often than she succeeded, but Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers absorbed her energies and ensured that nothing was wasted on these lesser opponents. This would prove critical as the golems came into view, along with the leader of the mercenaries, Aras'thazan'in'tiimithal, the Burning Star of Yarsoc—not that the silent elder introduced himself as such. While he and Ingrid were locked in combat, Xiuyang was consistently harassed by the golems. Again, it seemed as if she had been identified as some weak link. The whole ordeal was beginning to piss her off, but she was holding her own.

She attempted to heal Laska, but her hands trembled uncontrollably as she felt the immense power of the mercenary leader blow Tommy away. "Cazzo," she cursed under her breath, shaking as she repeated the attempt while the chaos unfolded around her. Laska said nothing, and patiently waited for Xiuyang to finish her work. Then, she assessed the situation: Ashon needed healing now. It was all Xiuyang could do—to defend herself against attacks and move fluidly from one healing target to the next. Her strength, for whatever it was worth, was only buying her opportunities to keep her allies in fighting shape.

Then, the Doom golem suddenly approached her, and she was caught unprepared—her guns, empty. She stood no chance of defending against its attack without them. She took off, running for her life—and well she did, for next was the end: a magic that shouldn't be touched... a magic that should be considered a forbidden school by all rights and accounts—yet it wasn't. The privilege of nobility was to wield this mighty weapon, reserved for the chosen few blessed by the gods to reach the heights of 8 RAS and above. And even then, few would wield the power that came with advancement in this school.

The company leader was one of these people—and he had shown his unruly strength on the field of battle, halting the advances of the sword party; but Ingrid was another. A scepter of the gods in her hand and a wish on her lips—for destruction upon her enemies, for [CATACLYSM] to befall them—and so, the mushroom fell upon Ersand'Enise. A cloud of death and destruction that consumed these mercenaries, strong by all accounts but in the face of a trained mage of the academy, a high noble from Eskand, ashes in the wind.

What had started as a partisan conflict now brought the students together. The decadence, corruption, and incompetence of the academy's and the city's administrators was simply unconscionable at this point.

The Arboretum was on fire. The geese honked and took flight, flapping frantically to flee the growing conflagration. Townhomes were rubble. The roads and canals were strewn with debris and bodies. That the Arch-Zenos had called in mercenaries against their own charges as opposed to listening to them was the final straw. While some displayed the green and gold of Perrence, others wore all black or waved black banners. Some had taken to calling it the 'Hourglass Revolution', for the time of those greyhairs who had ruled so incompetently was said to be reaching its end.

They called the lead group 'Spearpoint', and they reached the edge of the enclave's powerful warding magics. Within minutes, they were joined by over a dozen others - Longsword, Dagger, Hammer, Red Cross, and Longbow: the elite of the student body and some, perhaps, future arch-zenos themselves. Yet, for all of their considerable power, there was nothing that they could do. More than once, they were repelled: thrown back, burnt to a crisp, electrocuted, or poisoned. The Enclave was impregnable.

Enter the Hourglass Order: ten dissenting faculty members who had sided with their students over their superiors. They all wore matching pins on their lapels. "If you are here," Olivier Masson warned the two dozen youths solemnly, "then you know the risks." His eyes found each of theirs in turn. Sienna Afraval was at work casting a spell with the help of Joao Fabio and a tall man in a black hooded cloak who only a few might've had an inkling about. "I need it from you explicitly," the Zeno prodded. The night air was warm and electric, the sense of something final in the air: either great or disastrous. "Do you understand?" he asked. "Are you prepared, if need be, to die for this task we have set before ourselves?"

Xiuyang regarded the "Hourglass Order" with an odd mixture of admiration and distrust, stopping just shy of contempt. It was a stroke of optical genius, and one she was far too cynical to accept at face value. She had long accepted that the only one who truly cared for her own future was herself. Though these Zenos aligned with her at the current moment, she knew that revolutions rarely spared the revolutionaries. The puppet masters and their commands may change, but the strings would remain, and none could resist their siren's call.

"I'm always prepared to die," she replied to her superior, somewhat blankly. This time, the words felt hollow. As a pacifist without a cause, serving Oraff with all her heart, she had felt secure in her moral superiority and in her final destiny. The only future that mattered to her had been certain. She had set her heart on heavenly things, not because she was enlightened, but because she had nothing worth fighting for in this mortal life. Now, for once, she had to think about her future, and not just in vague terms of stockpiling money; what kind of world would her future children be born into?

It's the first time you've had to think at all, came a venomous whisper in her mind. Your whole life has been a series of easy decisions. Work for your father's company, go to the prestigious magic school, set yourself up to marry a rich Revidian merchant, it taunted further. Now look at you. You're paralyzed, unable to think and act for yourself, in your own best interests.

WHY NOT SIDE WITH THE ESTABLISHMENT, LIKE YOU DID IN RETAN?

Because this time, it's the more difficult choice.

That's why.

Xiuyang glared up at the tower, at the source of the intrusive thoughts. No... they were her own thoughts, but someone had magnified them, and they did so from their ivory tower, secure in the belief that they tormented her "for her own good."

She fought back against the chemical magic, her spite for these societal parasites growing every second. Oh, how tempting it was indeed to choose the side of power, she thought, glancing idly with swiftly concealed envy at the prize Ingrid had just claimed. Unlike her gilded peers, she was an impostor, a poser who fell just short of whatever invisible line she needed to cross to be strong enough to choose her own future. That, at least, seemed certain: that the powerful would only become stronger, while she would continue to stagnate, or grow at a pace so slow that it wouldn't matter in the end.

She could put a stop to that now, by looting the Forked Tower just as she'd always fantasized of doing, but she told herself that they would come for her. These Zenos would be just the same as the ones currently in power, and she would be stripped of her ill-gotten gains. If she wasn't going to be eventually expelled simply for having a Revidian flag next to her name once Perrench interests took over the school, she would certainly be expelled then. Was she simply telling herself this to cope for her lack of courage?

Once again, she made the easy choice.

She was here to save Penny. No, she was here to ensure a happy future for Ashon.

Nothing else mattered. Her doubts, her fears, her lacking convictions were all worthless garbage.

Once again, she would make an easy choice that future generations might look upon with confused, misguided admiration. Historians would praise her for her courage, perhaps.

Only she would know that her actions were ultimately born of cowardice. She could not stand up for herself while those she cared about suffered at the hands of the unjust. Their futures couldn't wait. Hers could.

No one would know how pathetic she felt in this historic moment.

She would not understand the courage others plainly saw in her eyes and her actions, for her own mind denied it.

She was not a hero. She'd never be one. She was simply a merchant who, in troubled times, must deal in life and death.

A labyrinth awaited them in the tower which held Penny hostage, a labyrinth which threatened to separate the group of friends and wear them down. Trap after trap came, cutting and burning and exploding and poisoning, draining their energy and their will to go on, stealing their items and their very magic itself. It swallowed them, chewed them up and spit them out. It was not like the games they endured during the Trials—there were no Zenos on their side to save them if something went wrong. It was life or death. Xiuyang struggled to understand how her friends knew where to go, when the direction they were going made no logical or architectural sense—but the trained binder dutifully stuck with the group, and together they made it to the end, without being separated once.

They had found Penny, but before them stood several members of the school's establishment faculty, and a mysterious figure. It was a woman, one in her thirties, wearing a cloak with her hood lowered. She had grey streaks on hair and dark bags under her eyes. "Kids don't respect anything these days, not even their own lives." she muttered as she stood stoic before the group. "You'd make an old woman cry."

The shadow extended her hand out expectantly. "I care little for the politics, however. And this girl is clearly no criminal." she peered behind her to indicate Penny was the subject of her comment. "But I do care of the sanctity of this establishment. You will return what you have stolen and your trespass will be forgiven." she announced solemnly. "Failure to comply will force us to act."

"Give us our friend back, and maybe I'll consider returning the thing you tried to kill us with."

"You're a trespasser. What did you expect?"

"Funnily enough, I expected lethal resistance from a corrupt 'establishment.' I owe you nothing."

Her allies, however, had other plans. They seemed eager to part with the treasures they'd salvaged from the deadly traps, passing the woman as if she were a toll booth, assuming that they were trading these items for Penny's life. Xiuyang didn't pass the self-proclaimed 'old woman.' She remained on the other side, eyeing her with clear distrust, prepared to attack her from behind if she tried to betray the trust of her friends. "Don't just stand there being creepy. Answer his question, properly, and you can have this back. I'll take you at your word against my better judgment."

"I will not 'fetch' anything other than the property of this establishment," the shadow stated with a scowl. "Return what is ours and you will meet no resistance from us."

Ashon headed towards Penny, using his hand to do monkey ears behind the shadow's head. "Come on Beautiful, Ciro can buy you trinkets later," he assured her. "Xiuyang, if they are just trying to retrieve the items before battle doesn't matter. It is a chance to get Penny with no further bloodshed," Guy tried to reason with her. Xiuyang stood her ground, however—it wasn't about the trinkets, it was about trust, and she had none for this so-called 'establishment.'

"I don't suppose prisoners are considered property of 'this' establishment?" Xiuyang replied with annoyance. "Stop talking in circles like a bureaucrat and speak human. You're giving us Penny. I'll make it easy for you: yes, or no?" She pulled the hydrostone from inside her robes.

"No," the shadow answered. "My only offer is to not kill you as you retrieve your friend. That is all."

Xiuyang's allies were beginning to get as annoyed as she was—but theirs was directed at her. The pressure was mounting, and this woman was not budging, but Xiuyang had one more trick up her sleeve. "Whatever. Good enough, I guess," Xiuyang replied, stepping forward with the intent to give the stone to the woman. She watched herself, ten seconds ahead of her, return it. If she didn't keep her word... but the woman vanished, as she promised, leaving the two Zenos as the only obstacles left.

One of them was short—like, Marz short. In fact, as they stepped out of the shadows, they could recognize this person as none other than Zeno Domi Durdovin. "Y'kids should've let it all settle." He shook his head in mild disappointment. "I personally respect yer grit. Destroyin' those golems I spent so long to make kaboom-proof is really somethin.'" still, he smiled wickedly.

"Don't forget yourself, Zeno Durdovin." a second, slightly accented but refined voice spoke up. "We have a very important job to do." Out from the shadows came the taller figure. One plump and gay in his expression. "Although, then again, we might find ourselves without a job tomorrow. Perhaps we should consider work security over menial tasks? The message has been sent regarding this girl, after all." A sudden, high-pitched quack came from the right of his leg. It was a goose! One with a customized backpack.

It was there that some recognized who they were dealing with. The air became charged with a rich energy, but none of the students were allowed to indulge. "Hello, dear students! I hope we can settle this in a civil manner." Zeno Van de Waal grinned warmly under his big witch's hat. "Enough have been hurt today, don't you agree?" He continued to speak to the students, several of them trying to negotiate deals with him or to convince him to stand down. However, all of their offers were summarily rejected. Truthfully, Xiuyang had tuned the conversation out as she considered their options, and any dirty tricks the others might be overlooking. In particular, she was worried about the goose, which made all manner of unnatural sounds, and reminded her of the primordial Chicken in ReTan. "I've been outside, and yet I hedge my bets on the school. I encourage you to reconsider what you are doing." Mathijs shot a look at the whole troupe. One more grim that contrasted heavily with the jolly demeanour he had been keeping. "For your sake, I really hope you walk away."

"As riveting as this all is, I think the only real purpose of this conversation is to stall for time," Xiuyang interrupted, eyeing the goose with suspicion, to which it replied with a woof. "Ashon." Mathijs reached around the Yasoi's shoulders. "I really like my job. I can't tell you how much I do with mere words." He nodded with wide eyes. "And my job demands that I keep her safe from any harm. If anything, my dear student, she's safer here in a world that wants to use her as a pawn!" "No one is safe in Sipenta," Xiuyang cynically muttered back under her breath.

Domi cut the top of a cigar and began to puff up. "Safer with some than others, girly." he stared at her with a flat expression. "If ya truly think she's better off with y'lot, then prove et."

"Safe from who? To whose benefit? This is a farce," Xiuyang shrugs. "Are we really gonna give him all our things, just so he can turn around and use them on us?"

Domi scoffed. "If only y'knew the whole story." he shook his head and flicked the ashes from his cigar. Mathijs had been offered all manner of treasures, and he was currently inspecting the compass that was now in his hand. However, he noticed a certain quirk. "Oh dear. I'm afraid it doesn't work." He frowned.

Xiuyang scowled. "I may not know the whole story, but I know this: you're wasting time, because this fight could go either way as it is. If you're that much stronger than us that you don't need a handicap, or reinforcements, then you don't need to kill us to take us down, do you? Why don't you prove that," she spat.

Domi's lips split open into a toothy grin. "I like this one! FULLY AGREED!" The goose honked loudly in approval. Mathijs sighed. "She was right, you'd make an old man cry." He backed up to join Domi. Both drew, and they drew a lot from the rich energies the dark mage had conjured. Many minions were summoned from the VOID.

As Xiuyang predicted, a back-and-forth battle ensued, until Ashon scored a decisive hit against Domi. He was quickly healed, however, and the battle continued, even as some of the students wasted time continuing to negotiate with Mathijs, the true terror in the room. Domi wasn't an issue, certainly not on his own—and Xiuyang was about to prove it. Reaching into her very soul to call upon the power of the divine fruit, she took Domi down several pegs, disabling all of his magical items and brews. He appeared ready to vomit when he was suddenly struck by Niallus, supported from afar by Maura. "If you give us Penny and let us go. You can have this," he offered to Mathijs, before smacking Domi with the Wailing Leviathan.

"Hmmm." the dark mage pondered as he saw the Wailing Leviathan in action. He extended his hands. "Colour me intrigued!" he extended his hand out to Niallus. "Release Penny first." Putting his sword back in its sheath, before handing it over. "Then it's yours." Mathijs looked to Domi, bruised and battered. "I can be convinced to see the virtues of neutrality with such a fine piece of craftsmanship." he smiled toward Niallus. Seeing that he is willing to stand down. Niallus handed Mathijs his trusty Sword. "Here."

Mathijs grinned as he took the sword with great care. Her raised it like a genuine connoisseur and studied it deeply, much to Domi's frustration. "Not as valuable as I initially thought..." he confessed with a nasally voice. "But what's within is something to behold!" he chirped, turning to the group. "I suppose a temporary vacation to study this is warranted! And nothing say laid back like neutrality!" he nodded energetically. "For fuck's sake, don't disarm yourself! I'm telling you we can take them! Why are you trusting these snakes?! Penny isn't even freed yet!" Xiuyang shouted—and finally, Mathijs regarded her. "Funny!" he exclaimed, as her very shadow attempted to strangle her.

Mathijs then moved to a corner as he went to work on discovering the secrets of the sword, back turned to the conflict. Domi was left alone and in the dust. He scowled at first, but then chuckled. A new cigar was pulled and lit up before he took a seat on a nearby piece of rubble. "Ey've had enough." he raised his hand in surrender. "Yer exam's considered passed. Now get outta 'ere before the shadows getcha."

Xiuyang's own shadow rose up from the ground to attack her, lifting her off the ground and strangling her. As she struggled to break free, drawing upon every ounce of her strength, she looked around at the others as they handed over their items to this behemoth of a man. Why was nobody helping her? Could they not see what was happening? Tears ran down her cheeks. Once again, the strong took everything while the "weak" were forced to watch. Eventually, Roslyn, Guy and Niallus seemed to notice what was happening, and Guy's loyal hound Penelope was able to make the shadow vulnerable. Xiuyang collapsed in a heap on the floor, gasping for air. She pounded the floor with her fist. "We fought for our fucking lives to get this far! What the fuck was the point of it all?!" she yelled out hoarsely, teeth grit in rage.

Roslyn lowered next to her friend as she tried to heal her. Her eyes widened when she realized... her binding wasn't working. "Hey, hey. It's okay."

"Oh dear, Salome, no need to get so worked up." Mathijs smiled smarmily. "I was never going to kill you." Then, the goose emerged. "He is." The goose had nothing but violence and hatred in its eyes. Again, it let out a woof. Mathijs gave a twinkle fingered wave. "Ta-tah!"

"We're a fucking joke to you, is that it?! The hell you love this job, you love power and exerting it over others! Penny did nothing wrong and you're all complicit!" she cried out, enraged. Mathijs poked his head out of a portal. "Funny," he repeated, right into her ear, with markedly less humor than before.

Roslyn swallowed the hard lump in her throat as she watched Xiuyang's anger. "Xiuyang, this isn't helping. Let's go get Penny and get out—"

And suddenly, there was nothing but the endless VOID.

"You're hoping that if I sell you our company's ships, it will encourage others to do the same, en masse? Unfortunately, selling the company's assets is... no longer under my purview. Well... I can't sell you a ship, but—I can... give you a piece of very official-looking paper... put you on one of our most famous flagships, with all her splendor... shake your hand... send you off with a misty-eyed farewell, handkerchief in hand... It's certainly not our fault if there's a... misunderstanding, is it?" Xiuyang reached across the Groove table, taking Ciro Volta's hand gently into hers, eyes narrowed with mercantile glee. "And if that's not enough to get the big boys talking, they don't call me the rumor mill for nothing, do they?" She smiled sweetly. "I'll think seriously about your job offer, too, messer Volta. I'm confident this will be a very lucrative relationship, for both of us." A toast, a pause, a flirtatious wink; a carefully crafted and smooth exit, as her heart raced unbearably fast.

This was it—her ticket back in business. She was going to take her life back, better than before, and if all went well... she dared not think of it, dared not to get her hopes up just yet. A life with Ciro—she couldn't help herself—meant business ventures, perfecting the art of the deal, traveling around the world, philanthropy. Moving the world with money—a mutual goal between them both—rising beyond the highest heights to the very peak of an even better society. Luxury and recognition—truly, these things didn't matter so much to her, but they were a nice bonus, and if Ciro wanted them, she would eagerly do her part to deliver. His plans for Mudville—to feed the poor and hungry on a scale the church neither did nor could ever dream of—oh sure, she had fed him her bit about how skeptical she was of that claim, how every politician would likely make the same promises—but he had said them with so much conviction. A smile like that just couldn't be faked. Fuck, I'm falling for him. Oh gods, I think I might love him. Oh shit. Is this really happening? Glee upon glee became a mixed bag of hope and fear—dread of having this new promise of the future she wanted taken away from her, like everything else.

This new promise was all she had at the moment. This man, and this relationship—she had to protect them at any cost.

...

"What do you mean, I shouldn't have gotten involved?! She did exactly what I planned to do, and she might have succeeded if I'd been there for her!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt the weight of the guilt. She told herself she'd tried to stop her, but that was a lie. She allowed this to happen, even encouraged it. Any who saw the guns found at the scene and knew where they came from would know she was involved. Of course, she had planned her cover story by "selling" Marci the guns, to throw any witnesses off the scent—but she had never expected Jocasta to be the witness. Now, she knew. Jocasta had to know that Xiuyang was aware of what Marci planned and had stood aside and let her do it.

YOU WERE HER VICTIM. YOU KNEW WHAT SHE WAS UP AGAINST AND LET HER FACE IT ALONE. YOU'RE A DISGRACE.

Ciro was speaking, softly questioning her, but Xiuyang could hardly hear him over the ringing in her ears.

"I... I worry about you, too, Ciro! Every moment that monster lives is another moment she might take you from me! Just to spite me, just because she can..!"

Ciro embraced Xiuyang, gently shushing her.

But this time, the voices continued, even as he held her close.

YOU'RE A HIDEOUS, STUPID, DEFECTIVE, COWARDLY AND VILE WOMAN.

YOU DON'T DESERVE A MAN THIS PERFECT.

"...You're right. I'm sorry. Ciro, I love you. I love you so much..."

Ḁ̷́ ̸͈̀W̶̝̒Ö̵͜M̶͎̚A̶͑ͅN̷̄͜ ̷̬̒Ĺ̴͇I̵̬͑K̸̦͘E̵͉̊ ̶̰͒Y̵̱̏Ô̷̪Ṵ̶̾ ̷̺͝Ò̸̺N̴̥͛L̶̨͂Ỵ̵́ ̴͈̕H̸̖͂A̵̜̐S̶̼̍ ̸̡̍O̵̳͌N̷̝̓E̴̤͊ ̶̳̓T̵͈͗H̵͈͘I̴̥͘N̵̠͝G̸̢͊ ̶̱̅Ĺ̴̟E̷̥̚F̸͕̚T̷͎̐ ̴̱͂T̵̜̏Ŏ̵̹ ̶͔͐G̸͕̃I̵͈̓V̴̗̀Ë̴̡.̷̢̐

...

---

Blackness. Endless black nothingness. The yawning and dreadful VOID.

None could see Xiuyang's face of utter despair. This. This again. She shrieked.

"I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY!! PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THIS!! I'D RATHER DIE!!"

There was no reply. Even her own voice sounded muffled, as there was no echo.

Floating through the endless space, she curled up into a ball and cried into her hands. It was over.

Finally, the gods had had enough of her rebelliousness and incompetence.

She'd finally gotten what she deserved.

Then, however, something changed. Instead of an endless nothing, there appeared a bar above her head, in brought white. It glowed faintly in the dimness. For a moment, it displayed a number: 13. Xiuyang's moment of panic was interrupted when she sensed a source of light and heat appear nearby. Somehow, this was different from before. It had to be. There had to be some small hope. He was toying with her, again, but if he didn't kill her before, he wouldn't do so now, would he? Unless the number 13 stood as a sort of condemnation. She forced herself to steady her breathing, pulled the beanie of Weggosi relaxation over her eyes, and reached out with all her senses. There was a tiny beacon of light and warmth above her head, but a dreadful nothing else.

Xiuyang was horrified. How could there be nothing?! There had to be something!! She did the only thing she could do, and attempted to draw energy from the only source available to her. If she focused, she could use Blessing of Flight to give herself some momentum. Xiuyang ascended—at least she thought it was an ascension—into a world of pure darkness and deadness. There was nothing... except for the slight shrinkage of the bar above her head. Xiuyang continued in the same direction, desperately sensing for something, someone, anyone or anything at all.

Suddenly, Xiuyang conked her head on something firm and springy. This seemed to be the edge of whatever realm she found herself in and it was blessed external stimulus, finally! Finally, Xiuyang had some form of hope that this wasn't just an endless void. Once again, she attempted to use her beanie to pierce the veil of whatever she was being confined in. Sadly, she found... something like a great soft eggshell and it appeared to be endless: for as far as she could sense. It was nothing if not springy. Xiuyang wisely decided to give up on trying to pierce the veil, and sprung off, moving in the opposite direction. It was a pathetic attempt.

Somehow, she felt herself in danger. Was the air getting thinner? Was she drowning? She was running out of energy. The space she moved through began to feel like a kind of liquid. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly cold and tired. She backtracked to the wall and banged on it, but nothing happened. Springing off of it again, with more success this time, she desperately swam through the strange-feeling liquid. At some point, she would realize that she was naked. Her beanie was gone. Was this liquid acidic?! Was she going to die?! What in all the hells was happening?! She couldn't even reach into the future to know for certain. Suddenly, the endless black surrounding her became a warm grey. Even her body felt warm. She continued past that point, and the grey became white... but the white was cold, too. She returned to the greyness, and suddenly, she felt herself growing... smaller? The space was solid now, and closing in around her, forcing her into a fetal position.

She was going to die. She was certain of it now—but, somehow, this death was a comfort.

Warm...

A sudden but gradual clarity, like waking up from a dream. The VOID was but a distant memory, or perhaps it was a nightmare that had simply never happened at all. Xiuyang was in a cramped space, unable to breathe, but she could hear voices nearby, filled with concern. She reached out, feeling the barrier around her, and this time there was some give. Within a few moments, Xiuyang had hatched from an egg, coughing and wheezing as she desperately filled herself with the breath of life once more.

"Welcome to... wherever this is," Penny declared, holding her hand out and grinning. Guy backed up, letting Penny help her up. "It got pretty dicey there," Guy sighed in relief. "It's good that you made it in one piece." "You okay?" Roslyn asked her. It appeared that they'd all hatched from eggs, and she'd been the last one, worrying everyone. It took a moment before she realized that she was just as naked as the rest of them. She attempted to cover herself, measurably more ashamed than everyone else on account of the scars that covered her body—all of it.

"Well, looks like Ahn-Oraff took a little extra care in sewing you together," Penny joked. "'Least she didn't forget a part." She winked. Xiuyang coughed as a bit of the tension left her body. Screw you, Penny, she thought playfully, but didn't say. Penny didn't know half of the story behind those scars—unless Ashon had told her, but she trusted him more than that. "I'm... sorry. This was my fault."

Roslyn didn't say anything at first than head bobbed to what Penny said. "It's all right. Niallus jinxed it when he mentioned the longer I hang out with you all, the weirder things get..." Penny nodded in agreement. "It was my fault, by that logic, for going with the zenos in the first place." She shrugged. "You couldn't have done anything, Penny. Those freaks are too strong," she replied morosely. "I could've just... shut my mouth." Roslyn flipped back to Xiuyang, her eyes still keeping an eye on 'Pebble?'. "To be honest, I understand your frustration. I just know anger doesn't do much... At least from my experience." "Yeah, maybe," Penny admitted, "but my point is that we've all screwed the pooch, pardon my Enthish, and..." She trailed off, her attention bring pulled elsewhere. "Holy... What the..."

While the girls talked amongst themselves, Guy was occupied by something far stranger than Xiuyang's scars: Pebble had eaten some of the remains of Xiuyang's egg, and had turned into a person—an eeaiko, to be precise. Somehow, she found herself not questioning this too much. Instead, she strangely found herself preoccupied with another thought: nothing happened. She, Xiuyang, the girl who showed no skin, and her face only recently, had been naked as the day she was born, and... nobody cared. How her mother had fretted over every little injury she'd received as a child, as if any nick or scrape could make her unmarriageable. How she'd wept for her daughter when she saw her true face for the first time after being recovered from Yarsoc.

Nobody else cared. Was her mother wrong? Had the times changed? Were her friends all saints? She knew what it looked like when others silently judged. She knew that feeling well, and this wasn't that. Just what exactly had she been worried about all this time? Is this a life-changing revelation, or am I just stupid? she pondered as she realized, once again, that she was naked. "I'm a fucking binder," she scolded herself, binding herself a simple blue tunic. It wasn't long before the others were asking for clothes or making some themselves. "Yep, get in line. Sorry, ladies first," she apologized flippantly, going about the task as if it were perfectly normal. She'd seen a lot of bodies... been a lot of bodies. She sighed. Someday, she'd have to tell Ciro about it. He might even contract it from her someday, if they continued to grow closer together. A part of her pondered how he'd react—the other wondered if he already knew. Somehow, he had a way of acting like he knew all her secrets already, but maybe that was just that invincible confidence she loved so much.

While Guy wrestled with the mixed emotions of Pebble becoming a sapient being, and Ashon and Penny went back to being all over each other as usual, Roslyn and others began to wonder just where they were, and how they could get back to Ersand'Enise. It was as if the heavens themselves then provided an answer. The endless blanket of stars began to shift and change. They formed into a constellation, ever more complex as the seconds passed. It was... an old woman with a shawl. Soon, it was not a constellation, but a vivid image in the sky. As the deity gazed down upon them, Xiuyang and the others marveled upwards. It was the second time she'd been dumped in the middle of sandy nowhere, completely lost and vulnerable—but at least she wasn't alone. Others were arriving as well, from the groups that aimed to overthrow the Zenith or Pentad knew what. All of them had stories to tell, but Xiuyang, weary and worn down by the incomprehensible, kept herself busy just making sure everyone was well.

Xiuyang sighed as she gazed up at the woman in the sky. There was so much to take stock of. She hadn't even fully processed that Penny was with them until just a moment ago, and now she was being told that Joshe Intaba was apparently alive and well. Two animals had become humanoids, at least temporarily in this... dreamlike space? That was how she was coping, at least. Of course the scagbiist-turned-cazenax could speak perfect Avincian, and knew exactly what was going on: they were all going to meet with some gods now. Sure, why not?

"I feel like I'm on drugs," she remarked, getting an eyeful of Ingrid wearing a potato sack for some unholy reason. "Alright, Leon, I'll help you out. I'd better hear some gratitude, though, or I'm gonna start charging for these," she japed, and set about making simple cotton robes in basic colors for everyone. She handed them out to the ladies first, starting with Ingrid and Trypano. "It's not something a noble would wear, but it's at least not abrasive," she said as she gave Ingrid a green one. "If we're really going to meet with gods, please wear something," she reasoned with Trypano, giving her a red one.

"...Is that all of us?" she asked, upon completing the first half of her task. Her face fell as she realized that it was not. "Sister Laska is not with us," she observed as she started handing out robes to the men. Who else was missing? Surely there had been at least one or two more...

The eighteen young people who had given so much and saved so much stood on a sandy shore by a smooth dark sea, unknown stars twinkling above them and a glow burgeoning on the horizon. Then, the waves began to lap a little higher on the shore. The stars began to shift in the sky. The ground itself began to tremble.

Dawn happened all at once. The stars came to life and formed the image of an old woman in the sky. She lifted her great shawl and her face became the sun: radiant, warming, promising. The waves parted and it was a fish large enough to be a vast island that emerged, its great mouth yawning open in the growing light. Finally, as the sun began to brighten the place in which they stood, the mountains in the distance crumbled and fell away in a blaze of smoke, fire, and dust. The head of a gargantuan tortoise rose from the rubble. There were no voices but, suddenly, they each understood that which they gazed upon.

"I AM THE OLD MOTHER OF THE SKY WHOSE GOLDEN SHAWL LIFTS THE NIGHT." It was soft lest it be overwhelming in its sheer magnitude. The other two gods "spoke" as well, but Xiuyang could not hear them.

The arms of the Old Mother beckoned to the nine who had been summoned by her and they began to rise into the sky. Light turned to darkness, lit by an endless blanket of stars, and the air grew cooler. They warded off the cold with the magics at their disposal. The journey was not short, however, and soon the land below was but a speck and the vast apparition before them was everything. Each arrived at around the same time and the immense arms of the Mother swept in to gather her children. They found themselves in an alpine meadow overlooking a small, crystal clear pond ringed by spruce trees. Within this setting, there lay five sacred animals: A bat nestled beneath a crag in the mountain, sleepily opening one eye and gazing tiredly upon the newcomers; a clever raven perched upon a tree branch momentarily before taking flight. She glided overhead of the two land-bound humans. Atop the mountain, some hundred yards distant, nestled a great and powerful dragon, its scales shimmering in the morning light. It raised its mighty head and regarded the group for a moment. Nibbler began sniffing about and, before long, he disturbed a fabulous butterfly. With a beat of its wings, it took off and sailed up and away. They watched it for a moment as it flew over the pond and this was just on time to see a graceful loon land upon the clear waters. It paid them no heed.

The loon let out a haunting call that Guy and Xiuyang could feel inside their very bones, and dived beneath the water's surface. It seemed that the two humans would have to either follow it or wait. Guy removed his shirt. "It's going to be cold Xuiyang, try to keep up." Guy dove into the water with no hesitation. Xiuyang did not understand this place. She didn't know why she felt comforted by the enormous arms of this strange deity, why she felt so safe in this space, nor why she felt compelled to pursue this bird underwater. A shirtless Guy was a familiar sight to Xiuyang; she shrugged, binding away some of her clothing and tightening the rest. Then, she pursued them both.

They searched for the loon underwater but, then, it had popped up above, greedily choking down a fish. "Nobody here?" it squawked mischievously, clearing its throat. "Back under we go!" Xiuyang cast a light about, illuminating the water, but she only saw Guy. Then she looked up, and perhaps she caught a glimpse of something moving downward, or maybe it was just her imagination. Chill shocked him awake, Guy was alone again. Away from all the others. Except Xuiyang of course. He turned to her and spoke, water conveying his voice with ease, "Seen the duck?" The loon, just about to dive, paused. It flapped its wings, rather cross. "A Guy of your stature using such fowl language with me!?" it exclaimed. "Unthinkable!" With that slip, it gave itself away!

Xiuyang gave Guy a signal, indicating that he should chase the loon while she would wait close to the surface to catch it when it came up for air. They may have done this a few times before. Guy accepted his role as the fastest swimmer. "Knew that would rile you, you loon!" Guy started to swim after him as fast as his magic could take him. The plan worked a trick! The loon was cornered and caught. "Unhand me!" it called forlornly. "Oh, I am undone! How you have ruffled my feathers now!" It let out a long call before slipping away. "You cheeky buggers. You are good. quite good! Enjoy your gift!"

Guy popped back to the surface and changed the water to stand, "Great plan Xuiyang," Guy was feeling as refreshed as ever chasing it in the water. Xiuyang seized her chance to cuddle the creature, grinning like an idiot, without a care in the world for what brought her here or what happened before. "Your call sounded lonely, my fellow comedian," she teased as she let him go.

At his last remark, she was just a little confused. "What gift?" she replied, but then she noticed that she felt different—uplifted, like her heart was buoyant. She looked to Guy, as if for confirmation that he also felt the same. He did feel different, though he had a hard time placing it. It wasn't his specialty after all. They had a moment alone, truly disconnected from the outside world, his position in life not mattering here. In a moment of honesty, he spoke. "Sorry I treated you so coldly in that fight," he looked off to the side, not fully sure how to express himself. "I hope you can forgive your old swim buddy."

Xiuyang blinked with slight surprise at Guy's apology. Then, she shook her head. "No, you were right. I should have thrown in the towel," she replied sheepishly, averting her eyes. "I just... need to impress my father. I can't let him underestimate me. I can't let him marry me off to some snooty noble he chooses for me. I'll never get to live my life that way. Just expanding his influence and popping out grandkids. I won't be happy unless I accomplish much more than that." Unwilling to dampen the mood, she threw an arm over his shoulder and grinned. "Who said you could be my 'old' swim buddy? You won't get rid of me."

Xiuyang awoke at the site of their "battle" with Mathijs, a reminder of all the negative emotions she'd left behind in that strange realm—the buoyant feeling in her soul hadn't left her, however. Whether the Loon's Call was responsible for it could not be certain. What was certain, however, was that she was currently buried under a pile of the bodies of her friends. This time, it was Roslyn's rear that greeted her. It took a moment for them to untangle their limbs.

Then, outside, there was the aftermath of the chaos and the destruction. Dead and burnt bodies lay under piles of charred debris. Confused and scared students wandered aimlessly among the wreckage, looking for familiar faces and hoping not to see them on the ground, while the Zenos sought to restore some semblance of order. Other Zenos and students alike were regaining consciousness.

Then, out of the blue, a group of Perrench students approached Xiuyang. They jeered and scoffed—some of them demanded outright that the filthy Revidian get lost. She clenched her fists. "You think I don't know what I've done here today?!" she snarled. "I know why you're here—for the glory and fame and wealth you might earn!" she accused cynically. "Tell me, you rats, how a filthy Revidian stands to benefit! Please, enlighten me! I'd love to be rewarded for my efforts for once in my fucking life!"

Though the Perrench outnumbered her, she found herself filled with unnatural courage. Mercifully, however, she would not need it this day, as a Zeno who happened to be near spotted the imminent powder keg and intervened on her behalf, on account of her being outnumbered. She did not, however, escape a mild scolding for egging them on.

Where her friends and allies found and felt triumph, Xiuyang left further embittered. She had ascended to the heights of power in Ersand'Enise only to be toyed with and tossed aside like garbage. They had been allowed some form of victory, perhaps to appease the rampaging youths, or perhaps because it benefitted the new, rising powers to do so. It didn't matter. This victory didn't belong to the students, in her reckoning.

Did she regret her participation in this? Surely she didn't. How could she regret rescuing Penny? But if it wasn't regret, then what was this new and awful feeling that was slowly consuming her sense of reason? And, who could help her make sense of it all?

Guy would probably be angry. Ashon wouldn't want to hear it and wouldn't understand. Ingrid couldn't; she was among the "truly strong." Roslyn wouldn't want to hear her complaints about being weak. Trypano wouldn't care. Maura would just try to sell her something, probably.

Perhaps Ciro would understand her turmoil. There was always Ciro.

While she, led by misguided feelings had stuck her neck out for the princess of an enemy country, Ciro, who always seemed to keep a more level head than hers, had been protecting their assets—their future. Perhaps she ought to have done the same.

The battle had run late into the night, and a new day promised—or threatened, perhaps, to dawn.

It was not too late, however, to join him.

Time: Third Hour of Oraff to Eshiran. Some time after the Revolution aftermath.

---

Mahal took a deep breath. She lowered her arms and braced herself against the sand, stretching her right leg out behind her. When the mental countdown ended, she took off running. Instinctively, she drew in the mana around her. Upon reaching the edge, she slowed for a slip second. Her feet kicked up and released the kinetic energy. It sent her flying as her limbs curled in, sending her cannon balling into the water.

SPLASH!

It surrounded her suddenly. The subtle pop of shifting pressure settled in her head. Mahal drifted there. Her legs and arms began to loosen until they floated beside her. She blinked. Water blurred her vision while she observed her surroundings. Nothing at first. Suddenly, a low swish darted past. Her arms jerked to the side, swinging her about. She caught the fleeting glimpse of something dark disappear deeper.

Mahal smiled. She pushed her legs over her head and dove after it. Like a dream, the dark shape continued to stay just ahead of her. When she thought she could reach it, Mahal reached out to touch it. A sharp pain echoed in her chest. She stopped and clenched her chest. A few bubbles escaped her lips and floated upward. She cursed then shot up toward the surface.

Air rushed into Mahal's lung when she reached it, the sting across her chest fading. She continued to drift in place. Before she began her swim to shore, something brushed her feet. Mahal squeaked as she slipped off. Bobbing back up, she witnessed a dark carapace surface.

Apoy gave a low rumble that vibrated in the water. His hard shell lingered close allowing her arms to rest on him. She gently traced a jagged, yellow orange line down his craggy carapace side. It mimicked lava almost perfectly before it would fade into an ashy grey as he got older.

"Since you're eager to help. Apoy, shore." She commanded. The volcanic thresher just floated there.

"Apoy, shore!" Mahal repeated louder and gave his back a sharp tap. He still didn't go. She didn't understand. A moment passed before she realized the issue. With a soft sigh, she reached into her water tight pouch and pulled out a small fish.

"Apoy, shore." This time Mahal pushed off his form and lead him toward the beach. The volcanic thresher rumbled again and his legs began to move. She stepped up on shore before tossing him the fish. Apoy's large claw snapped up and seized it, retreating back into the habitat's depths.

"We'll work on that.." She had forgotten how food motivated he was until now. Speaking of treat addicts, her eyes shifted toward two forms bounding up to her.

Puno promptly lowered to her belly. She let out a strong, attention seeking woof. Sand stuck to her rich grey and black pelt as she wagged her rounded tail eagerly. Mahal reached to pet her only to have her dart away and repeat it. Mahal shook her head, "Puno, I'm too tired to chase you."

Mahal lowered herself into a cross legged position while she reached into her bag. She pulled out a few seasoned wood chips and a jerky treat. Catching the sight of food, Puno went for it.

"No!" Mahal raised her arm to block the greedy pup. Puno whined in protest trying to climb up her. Before she could reach it , Supok trotted up. The runty firehound leaned in for a sloppy kiss and pushed the updog off. Puno growled a warning. She lowered her form and followed up with glottal barks from her throat. Supok jerked and twisted about.

Mahal considered getting involved, but she stopped herself. They needed to resolve this before it became an issue. She watched the exchange until finally Supok rolled onto her side and went submissive. The brindle hound side eyed Mahal for help.

"Don't look at me like that. You shoved her first." Mahal then held out the jerky, telling them to sit and stay. Making them remain in place for a few seconds, she then let them have their treats. Supok and Puno settled in beside her while chewing them.

Casually, she laid back into the sand of Apoy's enclosure. Her eyes shifted to the skies and watched the clouds drift by while she reflected on the past events. It was difficult to know how she should feel about it. What was a small spark of protest spiraled into a fire of destruction and hope for permanent change. A part of her doubted it was that easy.

She found herself a part of the student body that dealt with the fall out from the conflict. Acid rain, fire, and more rain down on the city. Shortly after the chaos started to fade, she went looking for Lunara and they stumbled upon the staff. A large fight seemed to have broken out as they healed who they could and shortly was sucked into a strange place. Mahal's knuckled tightened, recalling the lack of senses and direction in that place. A small tremble broke across her flesh. She was weak in that moment. Frozen in place by panic, her lung struggling to contain air and her heart trying to break her ribs. If it wasn't for Diyablos and Puno, she might've been stuck there forever.

Mahal closed her eyes against the thought as she took a deep, cleansing breath. Something thin and rubbery touched her hand. She opened her eyes and spotted Diyablo sitting there. Giving him a gentle smile, she pulled him onto her belly. It seemed he had been playing in the ruins of a small barrel. It was one of her failed toy attempts for Apoy.

"It is too bad that Ciro only sells to reputable buyers now. Ironwood would've been a better choice." Mahal said to her small octopus, referring to the rumors of students destroying the shop.

Puno whined causing her to sigh and ruffle the dog's ears. It reminded her that she still had crates she needed to open. A part of her worried over the Rettandic ones.

Again, Diyablo tugged at her attention. She glanced down at him. "I saw you liked the barrel. I wonder why?"

Diyablos just blinked and seemed to smile with his odd eyes. It felt like he prefer to keep his secrets then reveal them, making the girl chuckle. She let him idly play with her hands and fingers.

Recently things, to some degree, started to become normal again. Sadly the scars of the conflict lingered underneath. Either the staff didn't do a good job or they wanted reminders of what happened here. It didn't matter in the end because Mahal had chosen to keep those memories. She thought about her tattoos. Not all scars were best forgotten.

For now, she would enjoy the peace while it lasted.