[b]Sayanastia![/b]

Welcome back! You just got punched in the soul. Metaphorically. The stars slowly wheeling overhead are mocking in their light, like someone else’s perfectly precise and unattainable brushstrokes.

Things are… relatively calm. There was a fight here between the Nagi and the survivalist pack of mostly Serigalamu, but it’s over: the pack’s howling off down-city, the Nagi are following them and trying to slow them down, and the regular people, the people who were just here to celebrate and enjoy themselves and see something once-in-a-lifetime… well, they’re now regathering in places that aren’t here, the epicenter of the whole mess.

(In places that aren’t this plaza, parents are yelling the names of their children who got lost in the crowd; people are being treated for bruises, concussions, overheating, overexcitement, and the lingering emotional effects of being grazed with heartshot and heartblades; cafes and shops are throwing open their doors, and glasses of tea and water are being handed out, and blankets are being thrown over shoulders, and lost children are sitting on chairs eating cookies. Say what you will about people, but they have a tendency to do unforgivably sentimental things like this when disasters happen.)

Here, Civelia has taken a seat pulled over by one of her paladins, hand resting under her chin, staring furiously at nothing in particular, with Rurik and Injimo over there, listening to those Paladins bicker over what to do, since the maid that attacked— pity you missed [i]that[/i]— might have accomplices nearby, and Civelia’s tapped on magic, and there’s a vigorous and violent chase roaring down the streets between here and the city’s exit.

As far as disasters and calamities go, how is this one stacking up against the sorts of things [i]you[/i] used to get up to?

[hr]
[b]Eclair![/b]

The Paladin sweeps like she fights: aggressively, with, well, [i]sweeping[/i] motions. Good for getting a mess to the point where real work can be done to make it presentable.

“If you aren’t in Crevas stalking Sister Tammithyn,” she asks, after a period of abashed and sullen silence, “why are you following her and trying to get information about her? Even going so far as to hunt down the shop where she’s been buying renovation supplies from. When I met her, she was a nervous wreck at the thought of you finding where she was staying. So why are you here asking questions about her, if you’re just an innocent maid like you say, Eclair Espoir?”

Even as she says this, she overextends, gets her broom behind a vat, leaves herself open. Open to explanations. Open to questions. And— that’s a good stretch, isn’t it? Worth admiring. Well-muscled arms. Sticks her foot out behind her just a little bit to counterbalance.

Anesh Vessenmer’s office slats have creaked, the once, and the sound of scribbling has ceased. You’re definitely being watched by the proprietor, even as you attend to the closing chores: sweeping, sorting, and oiling.

[hr]
[b]Yuki![/b]

“Wait, you don’t?” Juniper sounds a [i]little[/i] panicky. “What am I saying, of course you don’t! Suli would know but she’s back there and we can’t double back—“

“There,” Olesya says, nodding. Down there you catch a glimpse of golden antlers bobbing, and less down there the roiling melee of hunters and guards that’s bleeding both. If Hazel ran all the way down and back up, he’d probably lose all but the most dedicated and dangerous hunters— but that would be a mess. And, ah, the golden glow ducks around a corner and is gone.

The Khatun’s not at the head of the pack; she’s at the back, driving her hunters on. At the front are three Serigalamu who are moving together: the comparatively lanky one, the comparatively short one, and the comparatively blonde one. They’re, presumably, the huntresses that Hazel needs to worry the most about. Given that the three of you cumulatively know about as much of the city as the huntresses do, and you’re scrabbling on the roofs to avoid their fighting, you don’t have the best odds of getting to Hazel before they do.

You need some sort of plan, because Juniper’s plan is “whatever Olesya says,” and Olesya’s plan is… well, hard to tell. Want to gamble on it, or propose your own?

[hr]
[b]Hazel![/b]

Two pairs of triangles perk up. The two exchange a Look.

“Oh. You know Yuki?”
“Maybe we should—“
“—yah, if he wants to leave—“
“—Garnet?”
“Yah.”

There is a [i]crash[/i] at one end of the alley, behind you, and all three of you jump, and there are three high-pitched squeaks in unison. The rest of the Nagi guard who slammed his shoulder into the corner is still piling up behind him as he tries to change his direction of momentum. (There is quite a bit of tail, you see.)

“Golden Fawn! Make your way to the Viperiat at once!”

“You’ve [i]really[/i] gone and made her mad, huh?”
“All the more reason to leave, yah?”

“No, don’t—!”

Seli takes your other hand and pulls you along, even as Keli blows the guard a kiss.

“You [i]really[/i] got under her shed, yah?”
“Sounds like she’s got the whole city after you!”
“Trust us, the Garnet Shore is much calmer!”
“We’ll take you to the [i]most[/i] exclusive spa~”

…they really don’t know what they’re getting into, do they? The glowing antlers, the frantically slithering guardsman, the running: they haven’t connected everything. They don’t have [i]context.[/i] But would they act any differently if they did? Are…

Are [i]you[/i] tricking [i]them?[/i] On accident, but still with full moral culpability probably? You [i]trickster.[/i]

No string for you, incidentally, but you do get something they think you want~!