[b]Eclair![/b]

They still have the mural. Children, frozen in play: laughing, running, pouncing. Ribbons suspended in a still moment. The grass is green and yellow, and there are no trees. Unidentifiable smears and handprints exist all along the edges, the accumulation of generations.

They still have the long table, too. That's where you sit, surrounded by memories, and yet alone. A moment to catch your breath, a moment to breathe in an old air, a moment to feel small somewhere. A moment to check your messages, where your quarry has once again contacted you.

>[.tmtwo]
>I *knew* it was a gamble sending you to enjoy yourself somewhere.
>A fool's hope that you'd bend an inch.
>But you burned it down? What, did they use the wrong forks at dinner?
>Still, can't blame you too much~

Tablets struggle with taking pictures of things in motion. They fade into soft impressionism, the magic's best effort at capturing the quality of movement. So the picture that Timtam sends you is of herself(?), masked and wearing a nun's habit, making an impudent little Yukisearth V sign, framed by a tall cathedral (but not the sort you'd recognize, hard to say where it is).

And the cathedral is lit from within by those soft yellows and oranges shading into red, and about it shines that ruddy halo. Figures mill about in the background, silhouettes.

The figure of, supposedly, Timtam in that picture: she is not holding the tablet.

[hr]
[b]Handmaidens![/b]

Rurik is not devoured! He is not squashed! He is not flung aside, or dashed against the floor, or swarmed by enemies!

And this is because Aria Thendragon hesitates, for a moment, and [i]considers[/i] what he has said. Hate roils in her heart, but more than hate, too. If she continues, she will be destroyed at the hands of the Hero she despises. If she continues, she may yet shatter the weapon that has been made of herself. If she destroys all you gathered here, if she ensures that Heron arrives to the site of a bitter and sorrowful battle, then the Rot Star will be denied a weapon.

And their hate is concordant, but for a moment, the call of the void wars with the bitter spite in her heart.

And in that moment, a yell from up on the stairs: "Let her come, then! Take the Faun! [i]Just pick him up and take him![/i]"

The would-be conqueror, the doom of chivalry, the husk of a past life: she turns away from you as she would a game that she no longer delights in. She turns her damp bulk towards the Golden Faun, jaw opening to snap him up in a bite.

This is a mistake, to turn away from you. You cannot defeat her, but you can buy time, buy an opening for a miracle. Give it your everything, o you lingering bits of stardust. For Cair is, if I have this right, about to change the world.

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

You're not going to make it.

The Handmaidens who you met on the Road? They're doing their best. Olesnya? (Ugh, now you've got [i]me[/i] doing it.) She's getting ready to jump onto a dragon's face to try and buy you just a little more time. Suli? She's cornered and doing her good girl best to protect Hazel, but she can't head towards you. And that dragon is still [i]coming[/i].

In the moment when you're sure that you won't be able to make it in time, when you miss a step and come crashing down on one knee, when you're sure that you [i]won't[/i] be able to save Hazel and Suli and everyone who needs you- what do you cry out? What bursts out of you? These are, after all, sad cat hours. Do step up to the occasion.

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

The [i]Khanum[/i] fights like she's button mashing, and it's [i]working[/i]. The Nagi princess repeatedly intervenes, putting herself between you and her, but she can't protect you [i]and[/i] herself. Each cut with that heartblade makes her cry out and sob through gritted teeth, and each one makes her just a little bit slower. She's graceful and elegant and she could force this brat to fight at her own tempo, could control the fight, if she didn't have to protect [i]you[/i].

"He even [i]lights up![/i]" Her blade of light cuts through Suli's arm at a shallow angle; not enough to disarm the princess, but enough for her to contract, to fail to push the advantage. "[i]Give it to me![/i] It's the [i]perfect[/i] accessory! He'll be my favoritest favorite and I'll have a light-up [i]boy[/i] to show off at conclave!" She keeps trying to flank around Sulochana, but the reach of that long spear and the way that Sulochana doubles back on herself, pushing back to buy you room and time, keeps her away for a moment longer each time. "Olly can have the dumb stinking dragon: [i]I want that boy![/i]"

(And the way she says it, it almost sounds like [i]toy[/i].)

The dragon is, I must remind you, almost upon you. And if that wasn't bad enough, Walking Elm is striding [i]very purposefully[/i] down the stairs, cutting off your exit. And Yuki's stumbled on the stairs and is calling out to you, too far to sweep you up in her arms and growl at everyone to back off.

This is it. You're doomed. Surely nothing can save you now.