Erika Fullbright!

I'm terribly sorry for what happens, and then what happens, and for what happens after that.

What happens first is that the agonistes flings Timtam over a railing. The mendacious maid grabs onto a chandelier made of Kelish crystal and starts it spinning, which adds to the velocity of the fireworks that are tumbling out of her pockets, already lit. Perhaps a detective such as yourself would realize, immediately, that she must have tried to light one to get out of the situation, all smoke and bang and already heading for a window, but that the fuse caught more, and they're tumbling down amongst a bunch of Paladins.

What happens second is that the cafe fills with smoke in Crevassi colors, impossibly rich and vivid, and loud, sharp cracks and bangs and howls. These are the primo fireworks, as they say, and they are turning this place into the sort of chaos that simply destroys detective work.

What happens third is that Mayzie, instinctively, pulls you towards her, pulls you down the stairs, pulls you away from sensory overload until she hits the banister (yes, I'm afraid we're back to banister-based perils, my dear) and starts to tip over based on momentum alone, and she's too surprised to even let out a squeak as her feet leave the ground.

Can you defy disaster here and save the girl, or will you break once more?

---

Handmaidens!

"Best damn eggs ever," the Knight of the Aurora (one Ruthmoreness O'Tara) reads off the burnished bronze tablet that she has been handed. "Tasted of Determination and also Walnuts." She makes the classic Face of Impressedment, all pursed lips and raised eyebrows.

It's raining. Which is to say, of course it's raining. It's always raining here, on the edge between existence and nothing at all, and the wind is warm and damp, and the light is currently green with a tinge of purple. The light's all around, suffusing the air, and the wind's all around, suffusing the light, and the rain comes down like kisses from a cloud-tossed sky.

You're in the first Courtyard, which is on the other side of the first door, despite the lack of any indication that the room beyond would be a large and well-swept courtyard open to the sky, given how clearly the exterior of the Mansion was just a vast but ordinary and definitely roofed house. There are more maid-knights here, skateboards on their backs, hands on their very ordinary weaponry. Dangerous women. Not to be trifled with.

"Well, I'm convinced!" Ruthmoreness says brightly. The two maid-knights behind her give each other a Look which indicates that they may put it to a vote, and Ruthmoreness would likely not get her way if it comes to a vote. Which is very much not the sort of reception that Morning promised you when you put your entire arm in her mouth in order to Provide Eggs.

---

Yuki!

There it is.

The flash of uncertainty, so small that only someone looking very carefully indeed would ever spot it. A flicker of the eyes, a hesitation of the lips. But then she looks down too far, into the gorget as polished as a mirror, and she smiles in self-satisfaction (such familiar self-satisfaction) and plumps her hair with one hand (and you've seen gestures like that before). The doubt slips back under the smugness like a damsel tossed off a ship with weights around her ankles.

One of her guards gets his halberd over your head and pulls it back, pinning you against him with the bright, sparking light of his heartblade threatening to sink into you. To bludgeon your very dreaming heart into submission. Only a grasp on one of his wrists is keeping you from disaster.

"Give up already, you ridiculous creature! Every moment you waste with futile defiance of me, Purnima Karn-Pasha, is a moment that some Serigalamu hussy gets to rub herself all over my Golden Fawn! I had him first, you know! Before the stars anointed him! And now everyone is trying to steal my dear deer boy!"

---

Hazel!

It is very, very easy for Olesya to hold two squirming, lovely girls in her arms. Barely an inconvenience. (Imagine how difficult it would be to escape her grasp, if she decided to hold you fast.) One might even suspect her of deliberately flexing in front of you as Seli rails at, one must guess, all huntresses and all deerboys who refuse to demand the release of two innocent performers, and while Keli pulls out the frantic, helpless fluttering of the lashes. Goodness, they are really quite muffled, aren't they? And very securely constrained. (Imagine if you gave Olesya a reason to catch you.)

"Now, you could keep their gaudy diaphanous street wear," Juniper says, next to you, and then lets out a giddy little titter that suggests she's another flex of those muscles away from chewing on a handkerchief's corner and wagging her tail so furiously as to achieve liftoff. "Or you can pick out something new for them. We've got some tunics and aprons, like mine, perhaps? Or just the aprons? Oh, but there's also some metal bikinis that would be perfect for a moment like this. You could even... perhaps..." she says, lost in the sauce, "unveil them~"

The twins look at her in horror, then back to you. Seli would like you to know that she will get you and make you regret every single choice you've ever made about sluzhanka fashion, and Keli is clearly, from the way her ears flick, thinking about being undressed in front of you, and worse, unveiled, and I promise you, her revenge will be even worse.

But you have the power. It has been thrust upon you. And Olesya is very big and very strong and watching you to see what you choose.

Tsane!

In Yukisworld, they have a concept called 'evolution'. Under 'evolution', species branch and adapt in order to extract every spare molecule of nutrients from their environment; transformation directed by hunger. In Thellamie, it is quite the reverse: the dragons of the world hunger, and they generate the environment to satiate that hunger. Put it another way, the creation of the world is but the nesting instinct of dragons. The branch upon which the nest rests are the laws of magic and physics, the outer layer of sticks are the forests and the plains, the inner layer of feathers and downing are the animals and people.

And, of course, the flecks of decorative tinsel and glass, shining beautiful in order to attract mates, are the maids.

Tsane has heard some challenges to her theory in the past. People insist that some god or gods built the world instead as a gift for them, or claim that there are higher purposes to life than acting as warming insulation for a dragon against the forces of unreality. These she dismisses as misplaced pride and insecurity. Others argue that there are reality bubbles without dragons at all - yes, certainly, not that you can see. Perhaps their lair has not been found, or perhaps they are out hunting and courting. Some people take objection to the idea that there is an objective standard of beauty, and that it is the maid. Tsane assumes that these people are blind and navigate with some sort of echolocation.

The point is, to research the many and varied ecosystems of Thellamie it is not enough to collect a taxonomy of ants and lizards (no matter how cool lizards are). One needs an understanding of the greater ecosystem at work, how the dreams of the Outside are filtered into material reality, the anchor points and how the world forms around them. There is no place for pride or ideology in science. If it is simple truth that the highest thing that you can accomplish in life is as a beautiful ornament for a dragon's nest, then the only question left is how to best realize that.

So it is that she is here at the gates to the Manor.

She has arrived before Injimo, having performed no particularly heroic feats along the way. She has with her Kalentia, who - good girl that she is - is determined to follow the Civil's instruction of infiltration and investigation. Tsane is barely interested in that part of things - she's here to do Dragon Science. She wants to take measurements, analyze elemental compositions, type affinities, weaknesses, take anatomy sketches, perform chemical sampling of scales and measure the crushing strength of jaws. Sayanastia is, for a variety of reasons[1], not a particularly useful subject. This place, this dragon, though... she can hardly wait!

[1] The full list of reasons:
- Weakened modern incarnation
- Fundamental hostility towards the idea of reality itself
- Ate my tape measure
- Vomited a nightmare gorilla on me

"Oh, well um, thank you," said Kalentia. She was always pretty weak with the Heron disguise, even when she could follow along with what was happening. "Do - do you want me to cook some eggs for you now?"
Tsane wasn't following either, but didn't interject. She had a long standing policy of always pairing up with Kalentia specifically because she was the only good cook amongst the Handmaidens, and that decision seemed to be turning out mission critical this time as well. It must be her lucky day!

Before the heartblade can strike: "Indeed, I surrender!" Yuki shouts. Stopping partway through the elbow strike that would have resulted in the guard holding Yuki doubling over just in time for the incoming heartblade to hit his head instead of Yuki's breast.

The action freezes, the guards uncertain. Yuki relaxes in the grip of her new captor. "I surrender to you, Purnima Karn-Pasha." She says the name with emphasis. "I am the prisoner of Purnima Karn-Pasha" again, she emphasizes the name. Purnima, not anyone else. Only Purnima. "Through willing surrender in a duel of heartblades. I will provide my service as the prisoner of Purnima Karn-Pasha as agreed upon in battles of heartblades, until I complete the service demanded, until I am rescued by my allies, or until sufficient time has passed that I may fairly escape. This I swear to Purnima Karn-Pasha"

A knight's oath, and a maiden's, and oh Yuki is staring at Purnima and the guards, and she is this close to kicking that piece of shiny armor under the table if need be. But she will not need to because they will, of course, accept her terms.

Juniper looks at the twins. The twins look at Hazel. Hazel looks thoughtful.

“Hrm. Hrmm. Hrmmmmmmmmm.”

You can tell, because of the thoughtful noises he’s making behind his hand, the thoughtful way his finger tap-tap-taps his cheek, and how slowly he has to nod because his head’s weighed down by all the thoughts he’s thinking.

(There are several options in that list that he will set off to the side with the longest set of mental tongs he’s got, and he’ll wash his hands afterwards for good measure. While hiding his blushing face. And looking intently at the patterns in a fur rug so there’s no room to think of said options again. But not for too long. Not too long.)

“Hrm. That’s an awfully big decision for this time of the morning.”

No, no, it’s no good. He’s got to search farther afield. This is a conundrum that needs a good pacing about. “This is a very generous gift, Bagyum-” he’s pronouncing that right, right? Right. “-Olesya. Two sluzhankas, infamous sluzhankas at that. I wouldn’t want to mistreat them.” He turns as he paces, and for a moment the twins can’t see his face, but Juniper can see how super extra serious of a face he’s making. “So, I think I ought to make sure of my options. They sounded excited about unveiling, but just to be sure, what else do you have?”

(Cutie weathered countless lunch shifts, bouncing from table to table, chatting with guests anywhere from half-drunk to half-asleep. There simply wasn’t time to let a little discomfort stop him, and he would not dare spoil the guest’s mood.

Always, the bit must flow.)

[Rolling to Figure Out A Person: 6 + 5 + 0 = 11. Asking:
What do Keli & Seli hope to get from Hazel choosing their outfits?

Banking one question for later.]

The annoying thing about a crisis is how little room it leaves for planning.

How is she meant to press an advantage, now that Timtam's game is broken? How is she meant to follow up on this rare blunder in execution, or detect if it even is one? What opportunity is there in the middle of this storm of noisy color to answer a question, firmly push the case further open, or plant a seed that might grow into larger evidence? She can't. She can't guarantee any path forward, because she doesn't even have time to settle on what role she's meant to play here between the detective and the knight?

In the end there's barely even enough time to register the frustration. Mayzie is in trouble, in a way she would not be if Erika wasn't around. How could she live with herself if she prioritized schemes and plotting over the health of the sweetest person anywhere across all the compass of reality? Neither Erika nor Eclair are capable: all she does is all that she can ever do.

Thus, the first move is to summon a heartblade. Tumbling through the air still wrapped in the arms of Mayzie Sighs there is no good time or space to observe the proper forms, but ask any master of the martial arts and they'll tell you that strict adherence is a liability. Anyone with keen eyes (or who just happened to be looking in their direction) will see a curved sword appear, but quickly its shape changes into an elongated pole with a scythe blade on the end. Crackles of purple energy do a bit to disguise the pearly color of the weapon, but how successful that is doesn't really matter. Erika takes her weapon in hand and swings it in a great circle around Mayzie, and around the pair of them the air falls away like a bubble. Already her weapon dissolves into insubstantial nothing, but its job is finished. The thing that she was trying to cut was sound.

Thus, the second move is to reach inside her little bag, and take some appropriate tools from its depths in the moment she has bought to act without succumbing to this stupid, awful, terrible, clumsy assault on her poor senses. The first thing she finds is a pair of starglasses, stolen from an idiot. She slips them on in the same motion she seizes a length of rope and winds it up to wrap around a ceiling beam. A skateboard would, of course, have been a much simpler and more flexible tool than any of this, but with Eclair Espoir nowhere to be seen these more amateurish attempts are all that's left. Forgive her, won't you? She really didn't expect to wind up in this situation.

Thus, the third move is to take hold of Mayzie with her legs. She wraps those strong limbs around the other girl's waist and pulls as tight and close as she dares so that she can hold onto her rope with both hands. As a pair they swing wide around and above the chaos; all the fighting and smoking and exploding doesn't touch them even though it envelopes them both as they twirl around the length of the main teahouse floor once, twice, three times. Not quite enough to make it to a window, blast it all. Erika has to settle for a landing on the floor.

It's Mayzie's feet that touch the floor, softer than feathers. Erika merely uncoils and flops into this woman's arms, nestling her head into the crook between this pretty girl's neck and shoulders. All this shouting and smoke and the bang bang BANG BANG color are giving her a headache. And really isn't giving into that her last, best weapon in this duel? The game might have changed shape but she still needs to play it until the end. Maybe she'll catch something before the end, if she keeps her eyes open and doesn't take herself out stupidly.

She nuzzles Mayzie's neck.

"We've gotta go," she mumbles, "Not safe here. Can you? Outside? Please~"

[Defy Disaster with Wit is an 8]

Handmaidens!

"Yes!" Ruthmoreness says, at the same time that one of her flankers smoothly interjects with "That will hardly be necessary."

Ruthmoreness gives the interrupting maid a devastated cutie look, but this Nagi maid raises herself higher, her tail swaying.

"Now is not a pleasant time to be visiting," the Nagi says, moving her hands as if playing with an Avel's cradle. "We're very sorry. Perhaps next season. The mess we are cleaning is... sssssshameful."

"Butlookither," Ruthmoreness says, wrapping one arm around Tsane's shoulders, and inadvertently Tsane's neck in the process. "Wouldn't she look absolutely darling in an apron? Absolutely? Entirely? Don't leave me hanging like this, Bethanie!"

Bethanie's eyes are deep; the noise she makes in her throat is a relaxing subvocalization. There is iron sternness underneath the need to be courteous and accommodating.

---

Yuki!

Welcome to the DEN OF EVIL.

The Den of Evil is a hotel room that Purnima has commandeered for herself, the owners having fled during the evacuation. She has the key, somehow, and so she has exploded her belongings all over the walls.

Busts for storing jewelry and wraps on. Mirrors safely covered by curtains. A lounging couch (interior). Tapestries depicting the glories and good taste of the Karn-Pana family. Gold. Everywhere gold. Gold chains, gold dresses, gold teacups. There is no such thing as being too gaudy, not for this intimidating scion of the Karn-Panas.

And around you, coils tighten, if you were wondering why I called her intimidating.

"Firstly: what can I lure him with? Do I need to win him over financially, or with seduction~? Or do I dangle you in front of him and offer to let you go? I mean, not that I would, you're such a lovely bargaining chip against Sulochana, but do tell me if that would be an effective first step to taming him."

She's too imperious, too focused on Hazel, to Get you properly (as Hazel would say), but you do notice it, right? The fact that she's wearing that rich perfume? It's like "pumpkin spice" turned elegant. Between you and me, and you do have to answer this question, does Hazel like pumpkin spice more than you do?

---

Hazel!

PUMPKIN SPICE OPINIONS: GO.

Oh, you want to know about my daughters first? Fine. But you do have to answer about "pumpkin spice" or you will be in big trouble, mister. You will never see the light of day.

My daughters wish to walk the line between dignity and seduction. They're well aware that whatever outfit you put them in will be humiliating, certainly, but they can use that to their advantage with their Feminine Wiles. Olesya is playing a dangerous game putting you in charge of these two irrepressible beauties.

That being said, the veils are... well, there's a reason they're so popular in Aestival. Not a reason that you get to know yet, but I'm sure that you have theories. They're important to my little dears, and while they can handle teasing (perhaps even better than you can), they will smother you (sexily) if you treat that gauzy silk casually.

Seli will do it vindictively, incidentally, and Keli will do it while pouting and acting as if you drove her to this (which, honestly, you would have).

But also don't you dare do some boring dress with an apron and headscarves. That's weak, Hazel. And you and I both know that you can handle a little bit of... daring.

---

Eclair Espoir!

"I need a full explanation," Mayzie complains as the two of you scamper, as best as possible, away from the burning cafe.

She was swooning! She was at total swoon! She fumbled the doorhandle and a paladin had to get it for her and guide her out! Her brain had stopped braining!

And then she noticed your wig askew and, well, we both know that Mayzie is a very smart girl.

She stomps through the snow. Stomp stomp stomp! Crunch crunch crunch! Huff huff huff!

Behind the two of you, a particularly ambitious firework soars into heaven, reaching for the stars themselves.

"Because you knew I was there, didn't you? Why else would you pick that place?"

Let the chill run down your spine as you remember that you didn't pick.

Wouldn't Tsane look absolutely darling in an apron?

Consider her for a moment. First and foremost, she is a wizard. She has the hat[1], has the robe[2], has the staff[3], has the attitude[4].

[1] A wizard's hat is distinct from a witch's predominately due to the colour and the accessories. Tsane's hat is dark violet with jagged hot pink flourescent stripes. It is attached to the top of her head with some sort of Contraption that allows it to rotate without friction. Gives it a mildly hypnotic effect.
[2] Tsane's robe looks like she's wrapped in a particularly abstract random-splash painting. The base chassis is something like an oversized white lab coat, but she's wrapped it in overlapping paint glyphs, all of them 99% complete with their broken circuits running down along her side. With the stroke of one of her arcane markers she can complete the glyph and activate one of her coat's pre-prepared spells. More of these glyph patterns run around her arms and body, magic marker tattoos ready to go off with the flick of a pen.
[3] Staves are complicated pieces of arcane technology. All magic is an imperfect manifestation of a heartblade, so a pseudo-heartblade is essential to strengthening the diluted effects. Tsane's is a large violet lantern made of heavy glass and white gold, lit with a pink fire - matching her hat if not her coat - dangling on a chain from a large crooked shepherd's staff. Like the hat, it gently rotates without end.
[4] Attitude is essential to wizarding. Any fool can cast magic missile, it takes a true practitioner of the arcane arts to feel like you have the right to sink your arms into the quintessence of reality up to the elbows because you think you saw a fish in there and are sure that eating it would enhance your sorcerous abilities. There is a fundamental hubris to thinking your brain can build a better sword than your heart can, and Tsane is standing like she thinks she has learned every lesson there is to learn from her previous encounter with Maid-Knights and that the women before her are no threat at all to her new, enlightened, stratagems of combat.

To extract her from these things would be a perilous challenge indeed. But once you, once you have mentally disarmed and disrobed her, you can notice less well advertised features. Silky straight black hair. Sharp edges of teeth whenever she speaks. Soft arms that would be unable to escape this shoulder grab no matter how hard she struggled. A reflexively defiant attitude giving enormous opportunity for punishment. And, of course, the combination of fox and wizard creates a sublime air of total moral justification. Both of those things desperately need to be taken down a peg as a matter of course, but getting to humiliate someone who combines the two?

Why yes. She would look good in an apron.

[Entice! Four!]

"Not a pleasant time?" said Tsane. "Pleasant for whom? Because the Hero of Ages has business here, and will not be stopped simply because you are too incompetent to keep your house in order."
"Um," said Kalentia.

Perhaps an apron and a gag.

"I! Might ask you the same question!!"

Heart in throat. Blood running cold. Select metaphor for feeling of unease later. Is it possible this is not a coincidence? If so, then my fault. Ought not to have crowed so loud. If she is a target then- easier to express anger in the moment than deal with it.

Adjust wig, center correctly again. Act may be over, but appearance essential in case of witnesses. No visible signs of Eclair Espoir on the streets, no half-combinations to help them draw the line. Align face into stern frown.

"Think you that I would so casually break an oath made to a beautiful maiden?! I said that you should never have to look at my face again! Why then should I seek you out? And so immediately at that?? Am I that cruel and faithless to your mind, or simply that stupid?! But you!"

Finger thrust in accusation. Planting feet in authority, with angry stomp. Casual toss of wig's pigtails for effect, not sure which kind. Eyes set hard, mouth open, combination consternation and concern. Surely this is how to thread a needle?

"Are you even aware of how much I paid you at the end, last time? The capability to travel anywhere! To do anything you like, even taking control of some modest premises somewhere in the wider world! In what subset of reality should I expect to find you working as a waitress, and here of all places?! You cannot, surely you cannot have spent it all already! Have I stumbled across your own secret fetish?"

...Regret. Obviously flush of cheeks, can feel stance breaking. Turn head to one side and cough.

"I... I thought you safe. I thought you safe and well and free. I have pursued my case to the place it has led me, and you may believe me or not but come! Along! The trail is burned out and smoked, and we are not the slightest bit safe here like this. You least of all! Oath or not, while you are in my sight I refuse to let you come to harm do you understand me?"

My face, close to hers. My fear, tangible in my breath. My hands, trembling. My hands, seizing hers. My body, turning, pulling, begging. Come.

"Please."

Yuki is taken into the DEN OF EVIL (did she get the lilt right, she doesn't think she got the lilt right). Gold was pretty, and so were tapestries. It wasn't even that Purnima had a bad eye for beauty, she was just very very self-centered. Yuki clicks her tongue once, sighs softly at herself, frowns because she signed, and finally offers Purnima a large bow with the upper half of her body nearly sinking into the coils around her. "My apologies, I fear I have already offended your hospitality" she says formally.

She lets herself remain down because it's easier. Head resting on one soft arm resting on strong but pleasantly springy coils all around her. Purnima indulges in her size in a way that Sulochana doesn't. That's good, Suli's self-conscious because she worries about how she impacts others. But Purnima is proud of herself and Yuki can quite literally feel that strength pressing into her. And while Purnima may have taken that pride to an extreme, that core wasn't a bad thing. No, there was a lot to think about. And she did have the mirrors covered at least. There was that.

"mmm" she says as Purnima runs through the options. "Mmm, neither. Everybody keeps asking me like I know the answer to this question. But you're framing it wrong for Hazel. Maybe this is why the giant weird crow picked him? Like, he's just really not someone who can be bought or...uh...seduced that way." She does not say it out loud, but neither can she entirely keep out the raised eyebrows that say and even if he could, you wouldn't be up to the job. Not just because that would be rude to her captor, but Yuki's legit mad at herself for jumping to that conclusion. But jump she did, for better or worse.

"Like, look, you...the perfume you're wearing is the best thing I've ever seen you do for Hazel. It's not perfect. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger are good, he likes pumpkin spice, but I'd suggest you add a little scent of vanilla and maybe tone down the nutmeg a little. I think Hazel is...well I don't know if he's ever told me his favorite coffee, but if I had to guess it wouldn't be pumpkin spice, it would be a small latte with oat milk and vanilla. Small because he wouldn't want too much caffeine. Oat milk to go easy on his digestion and because it's a little sweeter and mellower to balance out the acidity, which I think is a bit much for him. And then vanilla because it's simple and sweet and just a little elegant."

Yuki flicks her ears, twists herself a bit to pick herself back up without the help of her lower body. "If you have no idea how much I just helped you, I'm sorry, but I think that's actually more insight to tame your faun than anything I gave Suli or the Serigalamu if you understand it."

"Hazel's not like me. I'm a lot easier to tame than he is actually. He likes pumpkin spice more than me, but he likes simple sweet flavors even more. Me, I like pumpkin spice just fine, but I like a little more on top, maybe a little chili with my pumpkin spice. Do you follow me?"

Yuki looks right at Purnima. Right at that face, right into those Nagi eyes and dares Purnima to take her up on her offer for something spicy. [Entice: 2+6+2=10. One string and one option please.]

Pumpkin spice is pretty good! It's not his favorite flavor, but still, pretty good! It helps a lot that there's really only one season for it, so you don't have many chances to get tired of it. It's a special treat for autumn times, a good companion to chillier days.

That said, there are a lot of situations where pumpkin spice is a bit unnecessary? It works sometimes! Pumpkin spice Oreos are incredible, and make for an amazing cheesecake crust. But curiosities driven him to try a couple of cereals with limited edition pumpkin spice flavors, and every time he has visions of tasty spiced goodness, and every time he only tastes disappointment. It's like they were more concerned with having the seasonal flavor rather than actually doing a good, respectable cereal flavor. So, that's put him a little on guard over the stuff. It's intriguing whenever he sees it, but ohhhhhhh he's been burned before. Curiosity can only overcome so many scars.

*************************

Hazel opens a chest full of bras.

Hazel closes a chest full of bras.

Where is Juniper right now? Somewhere past a line of hanging dresses. She said she was going to try and find some jewelry, if it hadn't been given to another sluzhanka already. The delicate clink of metal jostling around mingles with the rain patterning against the tent. Juniper is not here. Juniper is not getting closer.

Hazel silently rises, takes two steps back from the chest, and freezes mid-stride. His weight rests forward. He can walk to the chest again at a moment's notice, and anyone who finds him here will think he hasn't opened the chest yet. Hopefully.

Hazel closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath in. Exhales, slowly.

Bras.

He forgot that bras were clothing too.

Didn't even occur to him. There were about 15 bajillion styles of dresses, shirts, skirts, shorts, pants, blouses, petticoats, and he's not sure if he's used all those terms correctly, but he's definitely seen most of them. At no point had he considered anything other than outerwear. Unless socks counted, but these were very outer-y socks they were talking about.

So. Bras.

Letting the two of them decide was out of the question. Completely against the spirit of this big game of Make Believe. Olesya would never approve. Also, letting Keli and Seli pick their own bras would end up with them picking something they could stash a rope, smoke bomb, and/or a spare handkerchief into. That would not end well. For anybody. (Probably mostly him.) So he has to pick something for them. Hazel Valentine Fletcher needs to tell two foxgirls which bras he would like them to wear. Information that will certainly convey no additional intent or meaning whatsoever. Cool cool cool cool cool cool awesome and cool.

Unless? Unless! Unless he let them keep whatever they were wearing right now! Yes! He wouldn't even have to raise the topic. If he hands them new clothes without handing them new bras, they might not realize that he even had the option to pick some out for them! There we go, problem solved, easy game, easy life.

Hazel turns about and walks away.

Hazel slows to a stop.

…were they wearing bras?

That. Hrm. That, is a very good question. Was there a way to tell? You know, without them directly telling you, while winking and waggling their eyebrows. Nevermind whether or not this sort of thing happens often; this is about Keli and Seli, who have gone bra-less at least once in their lives, because they are Keli and Seli. The possibility is there. Or, maybe, did it depend on the outfit? Were there outfits where certain structural properties of a top made a bra unnecessary? Like, swimsuits. This definitely isn't a swimsuit situation, but the point stands. Unless those dancer outfits were close enough to swimsuits to count.

It's tough going, contemplating complicated clothing concepts in a world without Wikipedia. (Or the concept of a browser history.) Suppose there is a way to tell. Suppose it's a way that everyone knows, except him. Suppose he gives them a set of clothes, and they all look at him funny, and Juniper says how daring It is of him to forgo the bras. While Keli and Seli wink/waggle at him. It's bad enough, thinking of the message you're sending with a choice. But is it worse than the message you could send without realizing it?

The rain falls. Jewelry jingles lightly.

A chest’s hinge creaks.

“Juniper?”

She finds him standing far, far away from The Chest. He hands her a selection of chaste, functional bras in a variety of colors. “Could you pick one out for each of them? Please?”

Because of course he can't pick them himself. Of course he would never pick anything remotely risque. He should get a gold star for achieving this much on his own. What, did you think he would emerge from the Seigalamu’s pile of plunder with lingerie? Or nothing at all?

Really. Imagine Hazel Valentine Fletcher knowing that a missing bra could be scandalous.

Where would he even have learned such a thing?

Juniper takes the multicolored bundle from him with ease. “Of course, oh honored guest. Were you having trouble deciding?~”

“Yes! Because I don't know their sizes! And also! I don't know how color coordination works!”

“Do you need help picking their panties too?~”

“Whatever they're wearing is fine!!!”

*************************

The final outfits are a clever little idea. If these two like their performance outfits so much, why not carry on with the theme?

Seigalamu dancers favor sweeping dresses, with sharp lines, bright colors, and dangling sleeves. And tassels. Many, many tassels. The sort of thing that does not fight the wind, but flows with it. The dresses with the diaphanous sleeves, those were a good find.

“Now, I know how excited they were to be unveiled,” and he is understanding, but firm, in his scolding. “But those veils are their signature. Anyone who hears the names Keli and Seli sees a pair of veils. How is anybody going to know who they are if they can see their faces?” (He's proud of that bit of goofball logic. It's hard not to smile and ruin the delivery.) “It would be terribly rude to squander the infamy of the sluzhanka you've given me, Bagyum Olesya.” And he bows, at just the correct level of respect, just like Juniper showed him.

Handmaidens!

The ambush is in the tea parlor.

Perhaps the way that Ruthmoreness drooped when she heard that you were from the Hero of Ages should have been a clue. As, perhaps, the way that the Nagi maid smoothly led you into the tea parlor to await an audience with the High Table themselves should also have been.

The rain is gentle on the windows, which look out on several different possible landscapes (pick-your-own-vista). The hazelnut tea is poisoned: not lethally, but soporifically. This is meant to ensure that the dozen maid-knights hitting the room from three different doors will have ease in subduing you. The grooves on the wall? Meant for skateboarding tricks.

This is not so much a killzone as a capture zone. At what point do you realize this, and how do you try to hold out?

---

Eclair Espoir!

The answer is mumbled, but in the droop of the ears, the flush of the cheeks, the way she won't look you in the eye: in all these things, the answer is obvious. She didn't keep the money, and she doesn't want you to know that she didn't keep the money. Figuring out where it went? That will require digging. But as far as raising her own personal circumstances, your generous gift might have well have been tossed into a very big and very deep hole. (There are plenty of gorges in Kel here that would suffice.)

"Perhaps I didn't want to rely on charity," she lies, with a petulant toss of her head. "I worked my way through life, Eclair, and didn't need dragon mommies to treat me with sugar!"

It is a slight against the honor of your mistresses to let that one lie where it lands. Not even pretending that the words were caught in the bracing wind and tossed up into the sky will suffice in this moment, not when she is being like this.

---

Yuki!

She goes for your throat.

Her teeth are possessive; it will be a phenomenal bruise later. Maybe you'll have to greet Hazel at the ball (where, naturally, surely you will be going, if only to make sure that no one takes advantage of the poor innocent boy) wearing a very fancy turtleneck. Her muscles are strong, strong, strong, all around you, but she does not crush you. She is on the very edge of her self-control, but she still has it. Still has you.

When she leans back, ignoring her red-faced bodyguards trying to look anywhere that's not at the two of you, she's got the most self-assuredly smug look on her face. She thinks she's got you wrapped around her little finger, and you've just figured out the way to get her to provide you with what you need.

What do you need, incidentally? She's got resources, and can easily be tricked into deploying them, as long as she thinks she's seducing you rather than the other way around. (The fact that you are Sulochana's friend adds a dash of salaciousness to this that she is eating up, and also if Sulochana ever finds out about this she will hit the roof, as they say.)

"Good girl," she purrs at a tone that would almost assuredly destroy a deerboy. "See? Cooperation has its perks. Jomes!" ("Gemes, ma'am...") "Go and fetch us some coff-eh. And make sure one has some... chili to it." ("Yes, ma'am," he sighs, aware that he is going to break into a boarded-up restaurant to make coffee by hand.)

"Now," she says, still thinking that she's in perfect control of the situation, absolutely unaware that you can play her like a harp, "let's talk about outfits. Where will he be staring when I arrive to claim him? Up here, or down here?"

---

Hazel!

Olesya is distracted. It's obvious the whole time that Juniper is helping out Keli and Seli with their outfit change behind a screen in what is, I assure you, a very salacious affair. Chests are being pressed up against each other. Ear scritchies are being deployed mercilessly. Seduction and counter-seduction are being deployed furiously. There is a chorus of squeaks and gasps and muffled exclamations.

But Olesya isn't paying attention. She's staring into the coals, and your initial attempt to speak with her fizzles out into awkward silence. When she stands up, it is slow and careful and wow she's a lot taller than you huh? Could easily pick you up. Tuck you under one arm. Toss you over a shoulder. All sorts of ways she could carry you.

"My mother expects us," she says. That's all. She doesn't pick you up and walk you out the door immediately - you've got to wait for your sluzhankas, after all - but there's no hiding here. No trying to stay low and away from the Khatun.

You will be presented.

Tsane! does the smirk. That little wizard smirk that they do when they're about to draw two units of oceanic mana from nearby nautical features.

The worst thing about wizards is that sometimes they are, in fact, smarter[1] than you.

[1] 'Smarter', of course, is a smokescreen that wizards like to use as shorthand for expressing better than. Nobody needs to be 'smart' to hide a card up their sleeve. What they do need is enough bloody-minded devotion to practicing a trick over and over and over until they get it right, along with the kind of personality that makes them read relevant books and a swan's impulse to shoving as much hard work out of line of sight as possible.

Tsane spent a great many hours analyzing the waters of Vespergift - and the cleaning soaps that Eclair Espoir had used to purify them. And it had mattered exactly how she had performed this act, and so Tsane had spared no effort in searching. She paid visits to four dozen homes and seven different businesses, taking meticulous analysis of their inventories and missing supplies. She had performed a chrono-analysis ritual to unpick the magic of her dress and broom. She had sacrificed a black rooster at midnight so that she might commune with the ghost of the man who's fat she had rendered down to lye. She considered herself quite clever and undeniably correct, and she was about to demonstrate why that mattered.

The pink fire in her lantern erupted, the glass rattling as it tried to hold in the explosion of aetheric heat and light.

"Entropic Principle:" she declared, "Unfamiliar Kitchen!"

And things got messy.

The skateboard grooves all shifted and bent; rehearsed tricks to link onto them instead sent maids wiping out against walls. The wooden floorboards splattered and sucked in feet like mud. The windows all flew open to let arctic winter winds in, despite the continued presence of the heating. All of the furniture shifted, nothing was where it was meant to be, nothing was where it made sense for it to be - for anyone except Tsane. This was now her room, and everything was set out exactly according to her preferences. So what if she kept her pots and pans in what you'd expect to be the silverware drawer? If she used her under-sink cabinet for the storage of cups rather than cleaning supplies, how could you - a mere houseguest - say she was wrong?

And if she decided to sit down in her big comfortable chair and use you as a footstool, well - every house had different purposes for their maids, didn't they?

"What is this awful leaf juice?" she said, making a face and flicking the contents of the tea contemptuously onto the floor. "Make yourselves useful and find me some peach schnapps."

[Defy Disaster: 12]

Yuki breathes in as Purnima's teeth press into her neck. A shudder passes through her, and her legs press against against the strength of those coils hard enough for Purnima to feel it and strain in turn. The flush spreads through Yuki's whole body and she makes no effort to hide it when Purnima finally lets go.

Oh yes, that was good. Will Yuki wear a turtleneck, or is she going to show up at the ball in a shoulderless gown? You'll just have to wait and find out later. In the meantime, she offers a smile that there's no need to fake and runs her hand along Purnima's scales gently, back and forth.

"Poor thing" she says, watching Gemes march out with a long-suffering look. "I hope getting us coffee won't be too hard on him, the city's mostly deserted, so there aren't many places to go for it." She's not judging this time, just observing, and her hand doesn't stop gently massaging those scales while she does it.

Yuki grins at Purnima's question. "Oh, he'll look at whatever you make the flashiest, then blush and look at quite literally anything else. The clouds maybe? You'll need to take his chin and point him at where you want to look. Which I think is up here," she says as Purnima bends closer. Yuki runs her hand up from the coils and along Purnima's side up the chest and all the way to the cheek, where she rests it for a breath to show what she means and then slides gently back down.

"I think the bigger problem is how skittish he is, especially with so many girls vying for him. You'll want to get rid of the mirrors, I've told him the stories of my first visit to Thellamie a lot and I think they'll make him nervous. Mm, and we should really try to figure out what the rot star and its minions are up to, huh? Out of everybody that's supposed to go to this ball, I think they're the mostly likely to cheat, like how they tried to drug Hazel at the cafe."

She gives Purnima a serious look when she says that because she's still not feeling good about what she saw happen to Hazel. And after all, it served everyone's interests if Purnima's household staff helped gather intelligence on Aria Thendragon and Walking Elm, right? Yuki still thought of them as the problem. For everyone else, well, she trusted that anyone close to her friends winning wouldn't be the end of the world, at the least.

So she goes back to massaging Purnima's scales and lets the smile come back to her face.

"You absolute cretin."

Whispered venom and undisguised hurt. Take her by the hand. Squeeze the wrist and palm: tight enough to prevent the attempt at slipping free but well enough to not cause pain. Priority remains civilian safety and mission integrity, in that order.

"Come. Now. I will knock you out and drag you if I must."

Walk. Imperative to clear the danger zone. In her flustered defiance, Mayzie will yelp and complain but forget to fight physically. Intended disguise for this moment is a pair of arguing lovers dealing with stress from whatever accident just happened at that cafe. Easy to be convincing, should allay suspicions enough to pry witness eyes away and toward more interesting subjects until they are clear enough to speak openly.

Destination: personal lodgings. Enter room and note armor, uniform, and personal gear. Close door with foot. Pivot, turn hip, slam Mayzie against near wall. Follow through and SLAM open palm next to her head. Lean close, nose to nose. Show the light burning in own eyes.

"I will say it again: you cretin. There is a point where pride turns to poison inside your body, and you have long crossed it."

Reach up, tear off wig. Natural hair will tumble messily down to shoulders, bangs drifting haphazardly across face. Allow it. Unimportant. Things only need be said as myself.

"Charity? Sugar?! Idiot! Ass! I gave you that money because you earned it! It! Was! Payment! For services I deemed invaluable! Do you even understand what it was you accomplished that night? Do you have any concept of your own true worth? You may mock me. Denigrate me. Belittle me all you like. I will not speak a word of complaint to lashes I have earned."

Frustrated growl. Feel own ears bending low in misery. Flash of teeth and press of forehead against forehead.

"...I will have you put that armor on. I will dress you in my colors and see how well you are able to stand it. And I will have you lead me to where you disposed of that money, because it was neither frivolous nor improper and even if you hate me so much that you cannot accept fair payment from me I would still see it do more good than rotting in some ditch to soothe your feelings. You will do this, or it is to be heartblades at dawn.

"Not even you, Mayzie. My love for you cannot protect you from this. So I will have you feel the weight of that dress and apron, and we will see if you can continue deluding yourself about the Aurorae after that."

Feel tear welling in left eye. Allow to roll unimpeded down cheek, fall to floor. Resist urge to clean it. This is... all that I can do to protect her from the wrath of the Order. Which will descend upon her like a storm. Turn away, walk free. Lean/collapse against the door.

"You moron."

(A boy cannot escape a thorough education on all the exciting aspects of a girl, and the sorts of clothes one might wear to make them even more exciting. He will be raised by his family, surrounded by his friends, and bombarded by advertising. One of them is bound to do the job eventually. Thus warned, he will be fully equipped to avoid the sight of them at all costs, lest he become. You know. One of Those Guys. Everybody hates Those Guys. Ask anyone. All for the rest of his days he will perfect the skills necessary to survive in this world. The delicate art of never looking another soul in the eyes while walking through the mall. The lightning reflexes to outdraw the annoyingly risque commercial and change the channel.

Sound, though.

Ears can neither be averted nor directed. Sounds just. Happen. You can hear them. Even if you aren’t listening for them. You’ll keep hearing them, like it or not, until you or the sound goes away.

How is a boy supposed to deal with sounds?)

“Right.”

(Right. Shoot. She’s not one for big goofs. Dial it back, Hazel. Dial it back.)

“Juniper told me…” Blink. Stare. Up. “That is, Juniper, and Yuki both told me-” A foxgirl makes. A noise. There is a groan low, low in a girl’s throat. “Um. They told me about the Khatun. A lot. Stories, and things.” Muffled. And then, laughter. Delighted. Savoring. “Which is to say, I had thought it would be…neat, to get the chance to see her, sometime. While I’m here. You know.” Someone is losing. Someone is clutching to their senses for all they are worth. And they are losing. “Which is really, to say, that I never,” Losing. “Would have,” Falling. “Like this, expected. I mean.” Bit. By. Bit.

Hazel grips his short shorts. Hazel’s burning ears flop uselessly. Hazel looks up, and is met by a solid wall of wolfish muscle, and he remembers he stil needs to look Up.

“...you wouldn’t happen to have any spare clothes I could wear, would you?”

His voice cracks at the worst possible moment.

[Rolling to Entice Olesya: 1 + 4 + 1 = 6! Uh oh!]