[b]Handmaidens![/b]

With a crash like a falling tower, Aria Thendragon plunges down into the Chrysanthemum once more. Rurik had successfully handled the Rootwalkers, Eclair Espoir had managed to seal their way in, the Architect-Knight was soundly defeated: everything handled except for this titan of sodden wood and hate.

Even so, alone and still growing more roots to seal the empty spaces that Saynastia had gouged into her, she is more than a match for you. Any one of you. All of you together. The light in her eyes is what we in the business call [i]fell[/i].

[b]"Broken puppets. Do you still dance to her tune?"[/b]

With a sweep of her tail, she clears space for herself. With a beat of her wings, a tempest roars through the building (but does not tear it down, not with the attention of a maid-knight of the Order of the Aurora still lingering here). She raises one paw to crush Injimo completely (who is, we must assume, stancing and getting ready to try and block).

And she [i]howls[/i] as arrows strike her from both sides. From one, the great golden arrows of Yaz, the proprietress; from another, a veritable hail from Olesya, the [i]Baygum[/i]. A brief reprieve from her multi-hit unblockable attacks. But she shall keep coming until her mistress calls her off; and Walking Elm has no reason to do any such thing. Not while she still has the Golden Fawn within reach.

[hr]
[b]Cutie![/b]

It's raining indoors. All the water down at the roots of the Chrysanthemum has gone up, and is now spattering back down in a short, intense, bangs-in-your-eyes deluge. Somewhere down below, there is the roar of something great and awful and terrible.

The Princess of Crevas puts her fingertips to your lips, once she has pulled you back up onto your feet and into her embrace. "Hush," she says, and her fear and relief are shivering through her coils. "There will be enough time to, to talk, once we have you in safety, [i]Hazel.[/i] Because, you see, then we will be abele--"

She blushes and puts her hand to her own mouth. The great speaker, a leader of serpents, stumbling over her own words as she looks at you. At [i]you.[/i] Gold star for Cutie.

"Abel. Able. Yes, that's, I apologize, we're having a moment here and..."

The moment is ruined by Walking Elm pulling herself up to her full height. Sulochana, flustered and awkward, half-raises her spear, but we both know there's no way she's going to be able to protect you properly in time.

The water becomes ice. It becomes a solid sheet between you and Walking Elm, and though it spiderwebs with cracks when she punches it, you've gained a moment. A moment that Sulochana takes eagerly, desperately, slithering down along with you towards her cousin Magasha, who is calling up more water to support the wall with each sinuous flick of her tail and intricate gesture. But there's not enough water to do more than delay the Rot Star's emissary.

A Serigalamu huntress in starglasses is waiting down the stairs, and she flourishes a heartsaber gaudily. "Well, looks like you have my prize there, [i]slithers.[/i] Mind handing him over?"

And you get, oh delight of delights, the experience of having one of the Nagi bodily put herself between you and danger. I mean, yet more danger. This place has become nothing but danger after danger, and all because [i]you[/i] are here. Danger that this princess and her team are doing their best to get you out of, but danger nonetheless.

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

"Oh, [i]goddess...[/i]"

A friend's hands lift you up, and you're pulled into a trembling hug by Sister Juniper of the Civil Church. It's probably the biggest hug she's ever given you, and she's a hugger already. Like she's trying to center both of you in this moment, as the world breaks apart on all sides.

"Olesya's buying us time." The words tumble out of her mouth. "Are you okay? Did that... [i]charming[/i] young woman," she says, obviously correcting herself from other, more unfavorable words, "hurt you? She's... like that! A lot! Here, let me..."

And before you can say a word otherwise, she presses one hand against your chest. Warmth flows through you, and a certainty that things [i]will be all right,[/i] if we can just get organized and work together. The bonds of the Civil Church. You can heal one of your Conditions here, as long as you give Civelia a String in turn.

Unrelatedly, there is very definitely a dragon down there.

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

All that? You're well out of it. Door's sealed and you are grinding down the streets of Vespergift, which are... well, a lot is happening out here. An evacuation, as coordinated by the Serigalamu huntresses and employees of the Chrysanthemum, some of the latter wearing borrowed coats to make impractical outfits more appropriate for the snow swirling down. This is worse than what happened in Crevas; back there, there wasn't this mad civilian dash for the Roads.

Back in Crevas, there weren't towers leaning at crazy angles from having dragons smash into them. There weren't people gingerly clambering down from broken walkways, or clambering [i]up[/i] to fetch children and pets and prized possessions. And there wasn't a despair fallen on the entire city, a certainty that their worst nightmares had finally arrived.

Half of Vespergift will be flooding hotels in Kel by dinner. But your efforts have ensured that it won't be so bad that they can't come back and prepare to fight as hard as they can against the encroaching wood. I mean, assuming that Heron's Handmaidens don't fumble dealing with that dragon.

The worst thing that could happen right now is for someone to cause an awful panic. Someone like, say, the maid-knight who attacked Civelia (or so they say). You need to take a moment to hole up somewhere. Take stock of yourself. Check your messages. That sort of thing. Do you have a place in mind?