[IC] TSL: The Excess of Flowers

[Thanqol]

It is unfortunate to be a demon against Zhaojun's Demon Binding Umbrella. As she opens the weapon's span the binding circle pattern snaps into focus, crushing down on the maid from all sides. Isn't it wonderful to be wanted? But she could not bind a creature of the Maid's rank and power for long, so she used it to batter and confuse, to throw her opponent off balance with the startling sight of the circle before entangling the crook at the base around a foot and sending her to the floor again...

#impossibly@ this is not her function. As enchanting a match this may be, she has a mistress/an agenda. Amidst all this chaos wouldn't it be wonderful for some disruptive, primordial order?

"You think I am the fairest?" said Zhaojun, swaying aside. "But you have not even seen my Mistress! With but a word and a thought and a bite I was captured, captured so sweetly that I am bound still. How can I fall to another with her eyes watching over me? How can I accept a mistress who has not proven her superiority? All of this stands as a gift to her; but would it not be enchanting if it might stand as a gift to you?"

[I Ship It: 9. Zhaojun gives the Maid a string on Victorious Vixen, the Maid may apply a string in return]

[eldest]

Treachery.

She steps forward, batting aside swords, spears, and whips of coins, focusing on the chain of logic. It wasn't Azazuka, obviously. She's as caught up in this as everyone else, if she's attacking the guards and Piripiri, the guards are attacking her and their own side, and Piripiri isn't affected. Crucially, neither Han or the Red Wolf had been either: even from down here, she'd have heard it if either of them let loose. The barge might not even be intact at that point.

So, something that affected everyone but the daughters of dragons on board, as a running theory. Magic or poison, most likely, and poison didn't fit: she could cleanse herself, but it was an active effort, one that she'd remember. Magic then, and that left a sharply limited pool of suspects. Giriel flew to mind, but she forced herself to go through the full list, not to simply pick the person she most wanted it to be. Giri could do it. She'd done something to their heads already, made them forget the journey out of Hell. She had access. There were two demons, one of which was theoretically powerful enough to do it. There was a second witch, who'd been claimed to bind one of the demons... and had never actually disputed it, only deflected. "Iselsi Shae" easily had the means and access as well. There'd been another witch in Hell, unlikely to have traveled here purely for havoc but a possibility. Ven had no catspaws here, it was unlikely that Naji was willingly working with Ven at this point. Finally, there was a Rakasha about. This sort of madness didn't seem to fit a narrative, but it takes skill and detachment to spot a narrative from within one. She's had about twenty seconds of full brawling.

So. First order of business. Clear the current board.

She steps through the guards, carefully laying each out with a precise blow, an eye on how Azazuka behaves during it all. What's the shape of this madness, hmm?

Figure Out Azazuka 5-2=3
Because swords have cross, I still get to ask what tradition do you most value?

[Tatterdemalion]

Kalaya!

Petony, the Tiger Knight, steps forward and wraps you up in the kind of hug that squeezes the air out of you. "See? That's why you're special, sprout! Never doubted you for a moment! Here we are, busting in to save you from the wiles of that clinging vine, and here you are worrying about my feelings! Well, let me tell you something, little Lily! My heart is indestructible, and nothing is going to get in our way! The three of us are going get off of this boat and see about earning you a story worth the telling!" Relief seeps into you as you realize that-- wait. Three?

There's a shadow at the doorway.

They must have gone down to the brig, first.

"Let's go," Uusha, the Stag Knight, growls. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It's impossible to see the expression inside of that unearthly muzzled helm of hers, but the wood of the lintel creaks where she grips it. Uusha, who knows what you did in Hell. Uusha, who beat you senseless for it. Uusha, whose armor was shaped by forest gods, snaking and whorling about her long limbs. Uusha, perhaps greatest of the knights of the Flower Kingdoms. "We have work to do."

---

Han!

Emli blinks a moment. Her bemused smile is not cruel at all, and her fingers are soft on yours. "I'm your caretaker," she says. "It's my job, and my delight, to ensure that every guest assigned to me is satisfied with their care aboard the Beneficence." Then her voice softens, and for a moment, she's holding onto you, rather than the other way around. "I'm also a girl who was given the chance to see the world, to serve the Dragons, and to meet wonderful, wonderful people like you. So won't you let me be part of your story, Han of the Dragons, if only for this chapter? And for the rest of my days I'll get to remember the day I helped a dragon and a daughter of gods elope." Her laughter isn't magical, like Lotus's; it's just real, and delighted with herself, and so very, very happy to be held.

She guides your lips up to hers, her rosebuds part, and...

---

Giriel!

"You're dangerous."

The Rakshasa holds you by the chin with one finger, and you could not break that hold with all the power that is in you. Part of you is aware of the danger that you are in, but it is locked in the back of your head, hammering on the door, while the Rakshasa leads you on with that one finger resting beneath your jaw.

"Not that you could outsmart me, but even a big, dumb bear like you can be dangerous once you figure out what you're doing, and you're the only one of them, the whole lot of them, that knows how to stop me." (That's not true. The Hymairean, the one who hates you over the blood you shed, she could stop her. But you can't say that, and you shouldn't say that.) "Even the Celestial Lion, the diarch! I led her on and I danced with her and she's got my song coursing through her veins, all that power and it spins about like a child's toy here and there, wherever I lead it!" (She's gloating. She has to gloat. She put on the mask of the shrine maiden and it's still influencing her, her cloyingly sweet voice melting through your head.)

"And as for the witch, well... maybe we just forget about you? It happens. So much is happening tonight! When Kalaya Na rules the Kingdoms, do you think she'll remember you at all?" (The trees are whipping past terrifyingly fast. The wind is a howl and the rain is barely able to keep up, being lashed sideways to spatter against skin. The roar is filling your ears, the bottom dropping out of your stomach. She's hesitating, she's thinking, she hasn't made up her mind, she holds your life in the palm of her hand.) "No, maybe we just--"

Something shrill and small crashes into the Rakshasa, diving into her side, and that finger slips away as the two figures skid on the wet deck, howling in indignation and awkward scrabbling, and you are left staggering, and she had you right up against a gap in the railing and your heel's out over open air, so when you take a step back everything goes out from under you and the world plummets with a sickening lurch and the scream's bubbling out of your throat--

You're dangling from one hand, branches scraping against the barge dangerously close to your face, no purchase on the slick wood, gone from helplessness to helplessness, and there above you is the Rakshasa's lion, long nails digging into your wrist, being pulled inexorably close to falling herself, hair a wild mane, eyes burning a hot lambent pink flecked with shining azure stars.

Stagger, Giriel Bruinstead. But take also a String on the Rakshasa's lion.

---

Zhaojun!

Giriel is heavy and this is very difficult actually.

Your mistress and your would-be suitor are having Romantic Follies on the deck, the kind that involve hot-headed slaps and hissing, and perhaps that will not be a very good match after all. Ah, well. Sometimes it's more important for the experience to happen whether or not there's a permanent connection, no? But that's not what has your head pounding and your muscles screaming and even though in a moment here both of you might tumble off this impractically tall barge into a thicket while traveling at precisely twelve-and-a-half miles an hour, you don't let go.

Why?

Which one of you reached out for her hand, or were you working in tandem at the moment when you saw the step out into empty air, the spell broken, the horror in her eyes?

---

Azazuka!

Yayeh!

You are in love with the Red Wolf. You are going to kill the Red Wolf.

Yayeh!

Lead her on! Make her think she wants you! Be interesting, but not too interesting! Entertain her associate, but don't be indecent with her, either! And then you went out on a boating excursion, and everything from then on has been chaos and adventure and danger and Agata has been ignoring you! Why? Is it because she doesn't find you interesting without your attendants and your gifts? Is it because that daughter of the Sapphire Mother has been all doe-eyed and coquettish about the ship? How dare she? You've been sulking and miserable for days because you want her to want you, even though it's not allowed; you want her to glance at you and have her eyes widen, you want her to actually be clumsy and speechless for once looking at you, you want her to admit that you've learned quite clever things from your teacher and that there's more to you than knockout curves and your family's money!

Yayeh!

And speaking of the teacher, here she is! Enigmatic, exotic, competent, sweeping demons off their bellies and sparing you hardly a glance! How dare she? How dare she ignore you, too? You should teach her a lesson! You will teach her to underestimate you - you, Azazuka, who was never allowed to even dream of being one of the knights! Well, how's this, mother? How do you like this, father? Your cash sword lashes through the space where her neck was, but a moment before, but instead of curling around her and dragging her off her feet, she's ducking to one side, battering you back with her umbrella, as if she's trying to teach you a lesson still, as if she's not taking you seriously!

Yayeh!

"Are you watching, Pipi? What do you think?" Laughter bubbles out of you as you cut off her avenues of escape, forcing her into a smaller and smaller zone, your sword hissing all about. "Is it too much? Too noisy? Do you think darling Agata will like it? I'll ruin her! And then-- the funniest thing, Pipi, is that I don't know what to do next! Mother and Father will be so awfully cross, won't they?" Your familial piety, the very same that kept you from chasing dreams and fancies, still makes frantic attempts to bind you, but... but you can worry about that after you've slain your love! Then everything will explode so very messily, once these fireworks going off inside you have gone silent!

You catch her umbrella's haft with your sword, and you twist, put your shoulder to the work, pin her against a locked door and force all the air out of her. An elbow is deployed viciously. "Well? What do I win, Pipi?" Laughter is bubbling out of you; isn't this grand? Isn't this just wonderful?

---

Piripiri!

Mark a Condition, and do your best to squirm out from under Azazuka's pin; the heiress has got a solid advantage here in the tight, cramped corridors that don't let anyone escape her sword, and she's got you close and fast. Playing on her family's orders and plans for her would be a cruel knife, but perhaps a necessary one; she's let them stand between her and her childish dreams all this time, after all.

[BlasTech]

"That ... we do" replies Kalaya, trying her best to match the older knight's growl - However the effect is somewhat spoiled by the desperate need for air after Petony's hug.

Honestly, who gives hugs that strong? At least that means she's okay ... I think?

"But once we're out of here?" she says, marching right up to that iron visage and poking the brestplate with a finger. "You and I? We need to talk."

Even with a decent prod, the armour and the person behind it don't budge an inch.

[Thanqol]

"Destruction of the Mistress' foe by way of falling to her death is considered to be unacceptably high variance," said Zhaojun. She holds Giriel's hand with one hand - and her other hand holds a firewand. A firewand is a thick-barrelled pistol that acts as a short range flamethrower; a fine trickle of the golden dust that serves as its ammunition trickles down onto Giriel's forehead. "Mistress!" she called to the Vixen, below the ring of battle, "Confirm instructions?"

She is the perfect servant. So considerate. Not letting this opportunity escape her mistress. If the Vixen hears her and replies promptly and clearly, she will take the shot. If she is wielded as a weapon she will kill.

But if she is not? Then she will wait, like a good servant. If that gives Giriel the chance to escape, well, then - it is not the sword's fault if it is not swung.

[The Mask: Secretly performing a loving act reduces Feelings to 0]

[Anarion]

"What in the five maidens?" Nothing about this makes sense. Nothing. A Rakshasa captured a handmaiden of Venus herself. She had captured Giriel too, she had everything in the palm of her hand, and now here she was, being saved by the lion? Or killed in a more permanent way as the dust seemed to be saying. This was madness. The Rakshasa was being tackled by the General who could very well start to regain her powers if she saw enough actual combat, gods forbid circumstances actually allow her to command soldiers!

Everything about this was going mad, and though the boat flying over land ought to be the least of it, the leaves and twigs lashing Giri across the back made it feel like the most pressing. Yes, even over the firewand. It fucking hurt! "This is your fault! You stupid priestess, why did you do all this? Why bring the Rakshasa? Why summon the spirit of Venus? What was the point of it all? Goddamn you, you can lie to everyone else, but if you're going to burn me to death at least offer me something, gods damn something to take with my hungry ghost!"

[Giri staggers and lashes out at Zhaojun. She is spending her string immediately. Zhaojun, if in the middle of all this chaos you tell her something real about your motivation, take an XP.]

[eldest]

Oh no, Azazuka. Please learn this, and learn this well. If you want to be good at what Piripiri's good at? You are a knife in somebody else's hands: you never get what you want.

"Lady Mars, Maiden of Iron, show your favor once more." A grunt as she slips out of the pin, levering herself up and over Azazuka, getting some much needed distance. "Free your devoted from this enchantment and let them face their true enemy, and spread the word of iron!"

A jabbing finger at Azazuka. "Marines! Remember your oaths! Detain her!"

Bury the guilt. One never gets what one wants, in this line of work. But this will end better for everyone for her having been here, and never mind the suffering of the few on the way, or the look on Azazuka's face as the first Marine dogpiled her.

Up to the main deck. There are enemies to face and problems to solve.

Squeak by Defying Disaster with Spirit, with a 7+1. The sacrifice is making Azazuka upset with her.

[TheAmishPirate]

…and Han cannot resist.

A chance to give Emli, precious Emli, a gift she would treasure forever. The song in her heart crying ‘thank you, thank you, thank you.’ The first, shared kiss of her life that didn’t feel like a fight. Gentle. Quiet. The kind that other girls got to have.

Han of the Dragons, the Vermillion Beast of Lanterns, Guardian of Lands High and Low, she who struck down Hell’s General, pulls the slave girl Emli down to her, and kisses her as the butterfly kisses the petal. As the soft breeze brushes a face. Though the wind may move far more than she. It’s the only way she can keep from being clumsy. To sit, lips pressed faintly against hers, heart thundering, and if she stays like this forever she won’t ruin everything. Nobody will have to know how miserably inexperienced she really is.

“My sweet, dear Han.”

Every word brushes her lips across her face. Breathes life across her skin.

“I have so much more to give you.”

The embers in her voice set her blood alight.

“You can take, as much you want.~”

She doesn’t let her ask how.

Her hands glide across Han’s face. Tilts her chin up, up. Lifts her mouth just so. Where she can carefully, slowly, worship her. One lip at a time. One bare inch at a time. Savoring and cupping and caressing until all is warmth and light. Her lips are full, wet, and so, so soft against her mouth. And she’s kissing her back, because she can’t not, because she has to feel more of her, more of this, more, more! She can’t imagine the way Emli feels her move before she thinks to try. Nor the way she adjusts, just so, to catch her every brave step. All she hears is a soft, happy moan, and knows…she! It’s hers! She did that!! She!!!

She feels Emli’s tongue dart out, testing her mouth, and a shudder passes through her. It’s, no, it’s not something she’s really thought about, more that, it happens to her, sometimes, and, and now, here, she. She freezes. Jaw clamped shut. Heart racing-

“We don’t have to.”

No hesitation. Already showing her the joy between mouth and chin. No shame can linger here.

“Just relax. And let me know what you like.”

And this time she doesn’t probe. Doesn’t push. Gently, slowly, brushes her tongue across her lips, between meetings. A light taste, of her favorite dragon. Warmth, gladly shared. And Han’s fingers squeeze in delight.

For this is right. This is proper. The honored one of Heaven, worshiped by the ministrations of a dutiful servant. And the dragon is pleased with her service. Her hands flow to her back, where they can lose themselves in luxuriant, nut-brown curls. She draws her in closer, presses her ever tighter, to feel the heat of her body flush against her, the rush of her exalting heartbeat. More. More! A dragon is a hungry creature!

And yet. It is Emli who seizes Han’s lips. Emli’s hand, directing her head. She pushes. She teases. She works so achingly slowly, and only moves on when she hears the dragon’s helpless joy. She lets her breathe. She steals her breath away. Move and countermove. Flowing like wine. Slowing, stilling, when her heart forgets to beat and suns burst behind her eyes. Pushing, exploring, when she slows, and thoughts try to settle on long-worn perches. Invitation, when she grows bold enough to try, yet always with a push, to keep her stumbling forward.

There is no Han. There is no Emli. No fighting. No worrying. No thinking.

There are only the motions she’s secretly led through. There are only the motions she could perform in her sleep.

There is only a girl, worshiped and melting. There is only a girl, honored and obedient. Sharing a chapter. A moment. A kiss.

And all

is

Right

How long does it last? When does it end? None can say. Even their parting lingers. Han awakes to a daring peck at her ear, and a giggling, breathy whisper,

”Just kiss her like that!~”

And. And. Han stumbles over to the bed and her legs stop being needed so they go away. She nods, since something probably needed nodding at, and so she nods. She makes a motion, to Lotus, that she’s certain communicates that, she should go ahead and take her turn, if she likes, they do have places to be this evening, and they really can’t afford to dawdle, so, yeah! Go ahead!!

All this, her body does on its own. Her heart is still wrapped, glowing, in the arms of Emli, conscious only of the great wealth of treasure it now sits upon. Memories that she will visit tonight, when the sky is dark, and the air cold, as she takes yet another lonely watch.

And she will remember that a slave girl loves Han of the Dragons.

[Tatterdemalion]

Maid Confined in Yearning!

Being bad at something you love is very frustrating. You were once definitionally good at swordplay. You must have been. You were War. That red hussy thinks she’s all that, but she can’t hold a candle up to you. So you were, of course, the best at swordplay, and spear drills, and shooting firewands, and thus had no need to stoop so low as to actually perform. You knew you were skilled, and they were arts of war, and therefore you claimed them and loved them. That’s how owning concepts works. You occupy them, exploit them, and leverage them.

So it is embarrassing that you are this bad at actually fighting. It’s not your fault! It really isn’t! If you were as strong as you’re supposed to be, you could destroy entire armies of the Rakshasa, wither them beneath iron and fire, see their strategies unravel and turn to dust, and claim their territories as your own, anchor them, claim them for the world you helped make! But she made you clumsy and flushed and turned this body to cross-purposes! It’s her fault, that smug, superior, scheming spirit that didn’t even have the good grace to not fall to a common garden goblin when she bested you!

You are not pathetic! You are not below the likes of this parasite! You are Maid Confined in Yearning, and you will prevail, no matter how you are sweating, and panting, and bouncing, and even if this body is a liability, your will is adamant!

You fling yourself at the parasite before it can insult you further by ordering your conqueror about; you go tumbling, and you yank, pull, tear, using your fumbling fingers and your blunt teeth and your kicking legs to explain to the Rakshasa that you are not going to lose again!

Then she grabs your wrists and pins you to the deck.

The look in her eyes is wild and dangerous and it’s your body’s fault, this weak and mortal thing, that makes your face heat up and your heart race in panic and a pathetic, helpless squeak escape your blubbering lips and your hips are rocking from side to side, your toes not finding any purchase on the rain-slick deck, and she’s going to eat you and you can’t make her let go of you and nobody’s coming to help you, why is she so cruel as to ignore you like this when she put you in here, why won’t she come over and tear the vicious hungry thing off of you and stroke your hair until you stop shaking it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair!

“S-someone, save meeeeeeeee! Pleaaaaaaaaaase!!” And right there, right then, you mean it. You want someone to come and save you, because you’re a useless little thing and you want to be held, you don’t want to die, you just want to be safe—

A white sword lifts the Rakshasa’s chin, and she does her best to look small and pitiable, even though her fingers are digging into your soft skin. The person holding it is one of the children of the upstart dragons, but right now, you don’t care, do you? You’re sobbing in relief, stupid little buttoned top heaving as you take snot-choked breaths, your body swamped by gratitude.

“What have you done to my soldiers?” The Red Wolf’s voice is caustic, searing. She’s barely holding back her fangs, and a silly little thing like you can’t remember if that’s literal or not.

“I didn’t do anything,” the Rakshasa simpers. The Red Wolf opens her eyes again and the air chars. You whimper and shut your eyes but she can see through you, all of you, and what does she see? Frills and lace and needy rubbing? Blushing cheeks and mincing steps and you will never go home? “I didn’t,” the Rakshasa growls, defiant. “Whatever is on them is her work.”

The Red Wolf half-turns to look at your conqueror, and the Rakshasa lets go of you, is snaking upwards, fangs open and nails sharp—

And the mean dragon opens an umbrella sharply in her face, and the Rakshasa stumbles back, trips over you, hits the railing with a scream and tumbles over, and the force of it sends you bashing against the railings and you hear them creak and you just keep screaming, and you don’t know whether or not you’d survive because you’re not thinking about it, you just don’t want to fall, please don’t just let you fall, do something, the railing’s creaking harder with every pitch and thump of the ship, and nobody cares enough to save you.

---

Piripiri!

You snap your umbrella shut. The demon maid, one arm dangling through the railing, one heel wedged beneath it, is screaming her head off. The Red Wolf gives you a nod of gratitude, shifting her grip on her sword.

“Jaws,” she says. She means for you to help her flank the blue-robed thing that’s dangling Giriel over the side of the barge, threatening her with a firewand to the forehead. No time for saving sobbing, useless demons. (She must be feeling more terror right now than in her entire existence.)

And then—

On the other side of the deck, three Flower Knights burst through a door. Kalaya Na, Petony the Tiger Knight, and…

Uusha.

The Tiger Knight is saying something, but Uusha is staring at the Red Wolf, and, uncharacteristically, the Red Wolf is staring right back, not moving forward, not leaving her flank open. Her eyes flick once to Giriel, and then back to Uusha; her hand is, for a moment, unsteady on her sword.

“…save her,” Cathak Agata asks you. Begs you. And then she turns to face Uusha, both hands on her sword’s hilt, and the anger roiling off her is causing the rain to hiss and steam away all around.

---

Kalaya!

“We need to go,” Petony half-snarls at Uusha. “Victorious Vixen of Violets has already given us all the distraction we can afford!”

What a distraction. The barge is careening deeper and deeper into the tangled forests of the Flower Kingdoms, and even beginning to tilt upwards; it’s cutting a path back northwards. Away from Chrysanth, back towards N’yari country. It’s unclear how Petony thinks that she can get all of you off safely, or how she thinks that priestess managed to do this at all.

The air’s cut apart by shrill, desperate, helpless screaming from a maid, frantically kicking and scrabbling over by a railing, unable to get to her feet for some reason. Piripiri is on the other side, too, and—

Cathak Agata, standing opposite Uusha, holding her sword like it’s a dragon’s thunderbolt.

“She’s not going to let us leave,” Uusha says, the words slamming into place with the weight of lead. Her armor creaks as she shifts her weight. “But there’s three of us. Two of them. And she’s scared.”

“We need to leave, you glory-seeking bitch!”

“Everything I have done, I have done for us! Now if you value your oaths to our land, our people, and our gods, fall in line!”

Petony looks like she’s either going to piss herself or take a furious swing at Uusha, and it’s hard to blame her. Those last three words were delivered like a furious mother losing the last of her patience— but there was something of a monster’s roar in them, too. If Uusha’s still in pain from being shot, she doesn’t show it as she draws herself up to her full height and lets the cloth wrapping fall from her spear.

Her gauntlets close around its shaft.

And with a guttural roar, Uusha suddenly charges across the deck at Cathak Agata.

---

Lotus of Tranquil Waters!

You have a lot of pent-up makeouts inside of you and they come exploding out like a geyser. Look, Han! Are you watching? This is what you can do!

You guide her hands up to cup and squeeze and a happy shiver runs through you. Your mouth is wet and scented like flowers, and you give its gift to Emli, who has visited you, who still smells like Han. And since Han probably thinks you’re terrible anyway, a selfish heartbreaker who takes kisses and doesn’t care about her feelings, well…

Maybe it’s okay to intermingle the kisses she gave Emli, the kisses you wish she wanted to give you, and the way you’re smacking your hungry, inexperienced mouth all over hers. She holds you, she has you, she’s appreciating you, she’s touching your body and she wants to, and a terrible awful part of you really does hope that Han might be watching. Maybe…

No. She’ll just know that she was right about you. Spoiled princess. Liar, pervert and worse. Should have tossed you to the N’yari. Shouldn’t have bothered to save you as a strong, beautiful, incredible dragon. Shouldn’t be saving you, even now.

But it feels too good, and you’re too weak, and if Han won’t hold you, at least Emli will, right here, right now. And maybe you can dream about Han tugging both of you by leashes, pulling you into bed, and the three of you sharing kisses until you can’t figure out where one of you ends and another begins, but later. In between thinking about Han kissing you like she kissed Emli, pressing you up against that wall, but being so gentle, exploring, being such a sweetheart with all of her strength, and—

“Good girl,” Emli gasps, and your thinkies capsize.

You’re glowing when she finally leads you back to the bed, helps you readjust your veil, folds your hands neatly in your lap, and leaves you to burn inside. You can’t look Han in the eyes. You want to turn and stare and see what she thinks. You aren’t brave enough.

“So, Han… are you ready to tie me up?”

Oh wow you’re braver than you thought actually hi Han yes would you like to tie up the girl who you both just kissed? Do you need help maybe? Does she remind you of anybody?

You are hopelessly gay. There is no cure.

[BlasTech]

"Wait!" replied Kalaya, but she's too late.

She grabs Petony by the arm, hoping to stop the other knight before she can run off.

"She doesn't know! There's a prophecy going on here - a War Fate - those two fighting: it's only going to doom the Kingdoms!"

No time to explain further. There's never enough time.

Kalaya runs after them. Sword out, but shouting more than threatening. Throwing herself, once again, into the mix in the hopes of avoiding disaster.

"Stop it! Both of you! For the love of Flowers stop fighting!!"

[Roll to defy disaster. 2 + 2 + 2 = 6 ... uh oh]

[Thanqol]

That radiant blue glow blinks, out of sync with the eye behind it.

"I am doing this because I want..."

What?

"I am the shift of desire. I am the flash of craving. I am the storm of yearning," she said. "I am change. I am creation. I am a heart filled with want. I want the thrones of the Incarnae. I want the thrones of the Yozi. I want the love of every maiden, every fox, every princess. I want everything. I want everyone to want me. I want to know how it feels to crave something. I want to know how it feels to want something so badly that you'll take action to get it. I want to have desire strong enough to drag me out of bed in the morning, I want to be able to enjoy food, I want to be able to make a plan and execute it, I want to be able to feel something when I look at pretty girls, I want to be able to touch myself and not feel empty, I want to have the ferocity to protect my family, I want to have the romance to make a family, I want to have a life that is more alive than 'I guess the fexin leaf is strong enough that I won't kill myself today'."

She hissed, divine strength increasing, stone-strong, pushing the barrel of the firewand against your forehead so hard it leaves a mark. The gun might not even fire with its barrel sealed like this; it might burst backwards, she doesn't care.

"When Venus was handing out motivations she overlooked me," she hissed. "And so I stole some. Now I'm finally alive."

[TheAmishPirate]

Melody! Lotus!

She’s so sorry.

This was supposed to be your moment. Private. Special. Something between you, and Emli, and nobody else. You ought to feel twice…no, you should’ve felt three times as good as Han just did, because. Because. You just should, alright?!

And she tried. Please, believe her. She tried so hard. She found this incredible bit of engraving on the wall paneling, and, did you know that the same pattern repeats over the entire room? You can’t see it real easy, because it’s sorta offset from row to row, but she’s pretty sure the basic pattern is this slanty diamond thing, three hands to a side, though maybe a bit longer side-to-side than up and down, she keeps changing her mind based on the lighting, and the angles. Each squiggly S in the pattern is made up of four t-looking things, and she was going to count how many were in the whole room. It was a lot. It was gonna be so many. But. But.

She heard. A sound. Escape from your lips. And before she could think she

looked

for a second.

Maybe longer than a second.

Maybe she couldn’t look away.

Maybe it took a long, long time, to feel ashamed enough to look away.

You were melting. Arms wrapped around Emli, clinging uselessly. Knees trembling, about to give way at any moment. Falling. Falling. Were it not for Emli. Holding you by the neck. The mouth. You kissed her for dear life, and she kissed you back. And with every touch you told the world you were so, so happy. She didn’t know you could sound like that. She didn’t know you could tell just how happy, how utterly, hopelessly lost in joy you were, with such a small sound.

(What must it be like. To make you feel that way. To feel you melt in her arms, at her touch, and all she can hear of you is that you want this, you want her, you want her…)

So when you put the question to her, and feel brave enough to look yourself?

Her cheeks are flushed bright red. She’s still, still out of breath from Emli’s kisses. Her chest heaves with great, big dragon breaths. Her hair’s all a tangle, her robe’s off-kilter, and she’s not bothering to fix a bit of it. A bit of it! She’s not even stopping to answer you back! Up she goes! Let’s do this!!

As it so happens, Emli recalls that all guest rooms come with a length of silken rope tucked away in the depths of their closet “for emergencies.” What luck! Properly equipped, Han wraps the rope around her, and then she keeps wrapping the rope around her, and then she wraps the rope around her some more and. Um. Then she wraps the rope around her again, and…

“Han?” Emli asks, the very picture of diplomatic delicacy. “Have you ever tied someone up before?”

“Uhhh, yeah? Obviously?”

Emli does not laugh. Emli is much, much too busy biting her lip to have any time for laughing.

“What? What?! You’re tied up, aren’t you?”

“Lady Lotus?” And now she’s turning those impish eyes on you. “Would you like to assist Han of the Dragons in securing her prisoner?~”

“You are so secured! Look me in the damn eyes and tell me you’re not secured! You can’t, because that’s how secured you are!”

(And yet. If you ask for that rope, she’ll give it up, at once, with only a minimum of indignant pouting.)

[eldest]

Piripiri stares out over the congealing fight with a cold gaze from behind her mask. She's got the umbrella in a neutral guard, and she takes a step forward and to the right as the pincer order comes out.

"…save her."

For just a moment, that glare is turned on her boss. This is a mistake. She is turning her back, on a Rakasha, for Cathak's playtoy. Fine.

She walks away from the fight, with a look aimed towards Kalaya. She was vouched for. This was the repayment. It will be remembered. She does not look at Uusha. She doesn't want to see.

First. The maid. Two knives embed into the deck, pinning her in place by her clothes. Not elegant in the slightest, a pain to fix later, but right now she's not going anywhere and Piripiri has enough complications in her life.

She makes her approach from the side, moving parallel to the railing at a swift lope, feet silent on the wood deck, net trailing in her spare hand. A feint here, to get the firewand wielder to recoil, grab Giriel, turn and throw her, bodily, across the deck, away from "Iselsi Shae", away from where Uusha and Cathak are facing down. The net afterwards is overkill, really, but she needs control of the situation, too many things are happening, and leaving an opening now is worth the order later.

Rolled an 8 on fight with grace: securing an ally's positioning (the Maid) and taking something from Zhaojun (my hostage now). Zhaojun gets to choose one as well.

[Anarion]

She's not dead.

Giriel blinks. Looks around her. The teahouse waitress. She might never stop thinking of Piripiri that way. She was there first, the obviously too well-informed waitress. She carries herself like one too, even when she's demonstrating her full dragon-blooded strength, still moves like a waitress. Always serving. Giriel will hold onto that, might even bring it up someday, but there's little enough left of her to talk now. She's just grateful she's not dead. Not even on fire! Like she didn't owe Piri enough as it was. Some debts simply can't be repaid, you can only try to be someone worthy of what you received.

She shakes her head, trying to clear it. The tinkling of Agata's collar drowned out by the sound of the barge still plowing through land. Three demons to counsel now. One of Venus. Never had she imagined that a spirit of the goddess of love could know such despair.

"I want to have a life that is more alive than 'I guess the fexin leaf is strong enough that I won't kill myself today'" the words rang in Giriel Bruinsteads head over and over. Was that the first true thing she'd ever heard from the little masked priestess? She'd overthrown the General for that. Ha! Madness. The highest sort of madness, the kind unmoored from any miscreation. No cosmic grudge this, nor ordained mistake of nature, nor antagonist from beyond the realms. No, this was the sort of madness that existed entirely for itself, for its own sake.

So she had three demons to counsel now.

The Rakshasa was gone. Well, the Rakshasa wasn't on the boat visibly, that was basically the same as gone in her case. Heavens willing, she'd actually fallen.

What then? What was Giriel's duty now? She stood slowly, her muscles straining. The net was heavy, but she was a strong woman, and she had something to do as she took in the deck. She picked it up with her and gazed at Uusha and the Red Wolf. Ah, there was her prophecy, the combat between the Red Wolf and Uusha, all the doom she had seen. And Kalaya throwing herself into it. Will they hear her, perhaps?

Giriel steps forward. Into the combat, into the heart of it, placing a hand over Kalaya. "Stop!" she says, for what good it will do. Her body will do more. "No more fighting. No more chaos. Not here, not now. Peace, above all, whatever it may take." Her glare is for Uusha and the Red Wolf in turn. And it is on Cathak Agata that she lingers. Let them go, stop the boat, focus on what must be done, and let Kalaya and Petony drag Uusha away.

[Giri will spend her string on the Red Wolf to influence her and ask what it will take to make her abandon the fight and let the knights go free, dragging away Uusha if they must. She may simply do it given that Giri is cashing a string on it.]

[Tatterdemalion]

Kalaya!

The mistake was drawing your sword. But how could you know? How could you know that the chaos of the ship was because of the gleeful, dancing heart of the swords? How could you have known that Zhaojun has cursed you all?

Your sword strikes the haft of Uusha's spear as the Stag Knight spins around and stops you from striking her down, from behind, because it's the right thing to do, because she's a danger to Ven, but really because the sword wants this, and it's got you under enchantment, girl, as everything seems so reasonable in the moment.

And so you find yourself next to Cathak Agata, the Red Wolf, the two of you hemming Uusha in, and she's fending you both off, that double-headed spear spinning and swift, and the sound coming out of her is like the monster in the big black woods that you were scared of when you were barely more than a baby, the one that would gobble you up whole. She's a wound in the side of the Flower Kingdoms. She's old and cruel and bitter. You have to do it. For the good of the Kingdoms. For the good of your love. The Red Wolf is burning and she's got Uusha's spearhead locked against the crossguard of her sword and she leverages it up, and it's a fool's move if she's fighting alone, but she's got you on her side, and you drive your sword into her wounded side, where her armor's still damaged, and it comes back wet--

And Petony tackles you onto the deck and punches you. Above the two of you, Cathak Agata and Uusha fight like furious gods, but Uusha's blood intermingles with the rain running down her armor. Petony yells something and punches you, hard, and the sword slips frustrated and thirsty out of your fingers, and the veil of enchantment slips.

"--doing, bud??"

And everything you just did felt right, even if it was the wrong thing, and the savage joy when your blow hit home! Knowing that, this time, you'd gotten in a hit! But how do you balance that with the stinging of your cheek, and the inexplicable thing you just did, and Petony looking distraught and betrayed and furious at the whole mess?

And listen to the witch, for it's her moment now. She'll get you out of this, likely as not, but you're still in what is commonly known as the deep fertilizer.

---

Giriel!

The Stag Knight is bleeding again.

She is too proud to collapse, but she's stiff. The wound, reopened. The work of the Dominion, a wound to be avenged. The only concession she makes is that when you interpose herself is that she shifts to a defensive stance, rather than trying to stab through you to get to Agata. When you make your request, she makes a mocking, broken noise in her throat.

But Agata looks at you, then at Uusha, then at you again, and she shifts into a casual stance, leaning on her sword, its tip sizzling on the deck. There's a calculation to her stance, even now, as she tries to seem as if she's not ready to shift her grip on it and bring it back up. "Of course. I'm sure this was all a... misunderstanding. Fairies, sorcery, and a ship that moves on its own over land." The barge rattles and groans as it runs over some rough ground; you'll all be in the depths of the forest with a long and treacherous trail to follow back. It's possible that the barge will have to be abandoned, if you and Agata can't figure out a way to bring it back to water. "Tensions running high. But I have always and ever been a friend to the Kingdoms. Isn't that right, Lady Bruinstead?"

"By vine, by leaf; by blood, by teeth." Uusha forces out, and there's power in the words. "Find no solace and have no home, not from our wood and not from our bone." She's laying down as serious of a curse as she can, student of the wild gods, and it's very indiscriminate. Agata's grip shifts on that hilt.

If you want peace? You turn that curse aside, you make it clear that you are siding with Cathak Agata, and you stand between the Red Wolf and the Stag Knight until the latter turns aside and leaves, but you will have made an enemy of her from now until the end of days. She could forgive the dead, she could forgive playing at being Agata's pet, but she is speaking from her marrow and her pain and you would deny her this?

---

Zhaojun!

It's knife-work against a firewand, and if you can line it up, then the Hymairean will be in trouble. But that's not all you have to line up, is it? You've talked with her, you've read her like a book, you can see how she's all tangled up in her responsibilities. All those wants, smothered underneath what her honor and her family and her self-regard demand. She's the least free person on this entire deck, and you're counting the maid in that, too.

Of course, there's also the matter of your mistress. Looked at one way, she was defeated by this Hymairean right in front of you. Looked at another way, she was defeated by the maid who tripped her up, quite on accident. Do you pick one? Do you even bother to choose? Doubtful you mean to go back for her; the likes of her wouldn't be stopped that easily. Never dead unless you find the body, and not even then.

(be we and be free!)

Uusha's spitting her hate and her blood, Cathak Agata's so horny for her Flower toy that she's all knotted up inside, the Tiger Knight's horrified that she fucked everything up somehow, and here you are dancing with one of the most repressed girls on this whole ship. Do what you like, do what you will, keep pushing. Only good can come of this, by definition. Go ahead! Laugh! You're making things happen! Out of everyone on this giant gaudy oversized boat, you've got the most agency!

Well, other than Giriel Bruinstead over there. She's the kind of fulcrum on which everything's turning right now. Co-fulcrum, perhaps. But you've got both thumbs on the levers and the lovers.

---

Lotus!

Emli gives you one more lesson, doesn't she?

Because you, oh little princess, oh blushing in your makeshift veil, oh trying not to rub your shoulder up against Han because she doesn't want you like that, you do not know how to tie someone up either.

But it quickly becomes apparent that you at least know the theory better than Han does, which is weird, because hasn't she tangled with N'yari a lot? You'd think that she'd... but maybe she always wins? Oh, that would make sense. Han wouldn't lose, she'd send them packing and untie all their captives and never get caught and trussed up and be straining and struggling against the ropes as Machi tilts her chin up and HEY KNOTS. WOW. YES. THE DRAGON GOES OUT OF THE CAVE, AROUND THE TREE, AND BACK INTO THE CAVE. WE'RE ALL LEARNING SO MUCH TODAY.

Eventually, you (and let's be honest, it's still mostly you, Han's being adorably sulky about it) manage to get Emli tied up appropriately: hands behind her back, ankles together and tied to a bedpost, rope under her chest and around her arms to keep her from squirming her wrists out from behind her. You can't help but sneak one more thank-you kiss before she opens wide and offers that (wonderful, wow) mouth for stuffing, and then you pull a sash snug between her lips and then another over those lips and then, hey, she's got more right here, why don't we keep just adding a layer or two using those knots we learned and-- OH RIGHT, YES. SORRY. YES, HAN, SHE'S. YES. DEFINITELY NOT TALKING. NOW. UHHUH. But she looks happy, and makes a show of squirming and trying vainly to call out for help, and something in your chest jumps sideways and starts flailing around while watching her, and you reach out for Han's hand without even really thinking about it.

You're going to have to be very quiet (but not like Emli's quiet) (but just imagine if you were) (Han carrying you and warning you in that gruff toe-curling voice not to make a sound) (and you're wearing something very indecent) (but you're safer than you could possibly be anywhere else) (and she's going to kiss you senseless once she's got you right where she wants you) (and you're not the daughter of a goddess but just a girl helpless in the face of her adoration) (and you need to stop because you're just going to hurt yourself worse thinking about this) (she doesn't want you, Lotus) to escape the barge. Luckily, Han's got a plan, and it's going to be weirdly dead quiet as you make your way out, and slip into the river, and swim for shore, which in your case means running over to shore while carrying the bags in your arms and desperately trying not to drop anything and then waiting for Han to finish swimming over.

And it's then, as you help her up out of the water, as your fingers interlace with hers, as you open your mouth to try and say something stupid in thanks, that the barge will suddenly shudder and turn and run aground, only it's not running aground, it's sailing on dry land and picking up speed as it turns right around on the far shore, heading back the way you came, only deeper into the woods, and the two of you will sit there dumbfounded and wondering what in all of creation just happened.

[Anarion]

"Have I told you about curses yet?" Giri's mother was stirring the pot. For dinner, not magic, it was a lovely stew flavored with spring leaks and a hint of cinnamon. The evening was sunny, the sun was still out and wouldn't set for another hour yet, and it was warm without having yet reached the summer heat. Giri had finished sweeping and was sitting with a book as her mother spoke. She had been studying magic for a few years at this point, knew some sigils, a basic calling for the most minor sort of demon, but still her breath quickened.

"It's a good night for talking about curses. The farmers tell their stories of such things on cold fall nights and in the dark of winter because it produces fear, but you don't want that when learning. It can make them go awry. Curses aren't just magic. Oh, you can give someone boils or rot a few crops with the right spell if you really want, but that's brief, no different than putting conjured fire to poor use. A real curse worthy of the name comes with emotion. It comes with hate in it, with spite." Her mom looked nervous even in the spring light. Stirred the stew a little more, tasted him, sighed with contentment. "Real hate, you've got to feel that in your heart and your soul. It's got to be strong enough that the speaker will ruin themselves for it, will offer anything, desecrate anything. When a person feels that way, even one without any magic, they can bring doom upon the source of their hate. Someone with magic like us, or someone with an ancient right or a high station, they can bring down something lasting, something hard to break. That's a curse, a real honest to the gods curse. That's why we talk about it on a night like this, when things are good and we can stop and enjoy this stew. Because when a curse sets in, things can get bad and stay bad. They'll follow a person or a place they're cast on, and they'll ruin and ruin and ruin. Sometimes they follow their children, their friends, even bounce to the people who try to help them if they're strong enough."

She sighed, sipped the stew again, and offered it to Giri with a smile. "It's good, try it." Only after they had eaten and drunk, wine as Giri was already in her teens, did her mother continue. "You may be called on to break a curse someday. Tread carefully. A curse may not be yours to break. Ask first. Understand if those afflicted are innocent or guilty and why the affliction is with them. Most curses are best broken with symbolism appropriate to the wrong they stem from. Forgiveness, even belated will often do best. Children are more easily forgiven by magic for the sins of their parents, grandchildren even moreso, but those who have learned nothing may find the curse never broken and you will only harm yourself intervening for them. Being a wise woman requires that you be wise. It can be a heavy burden on these matters. For most people, a curse is like a storm. It comes, it passes, it is beyond them. But if you have the learning of it, then a curse is more akin to a rabid beast: dangerous and powerful, but you can hunt it, fight it, trap it. And therefore just as a hunter will be called on take responsibility for the problem of such a beast, a witch may be called on to be responsible for a curse. Be wise, Giri."

***

Damn it mom, what the hell was wisdom in all this? Uusha had a Right, gods be damned. She was many things, but stabbed, wounded, holding the role of the stag and following the ancient ways, she had a Right to this. A deeper one than Giri's promise to the Red Wolf or any penance for her blood magic on unwilling subjects. And here was this curse spewing forth like a flood, a darkness that would wash over everyone here.

Giri had a debt with almost everyone on this deck (and was sorely lacking a certain Rakshasa at whom she'd gladly have directed the whole thing with glee). Even the fool priestess and her spirit of Venus, that had become a tragedy and she could not inflict this on them, they were not the target of Uusha's ire. To the Red Wolf, a debt of service, to Piripiri two debts of life now, to the maid a debt of service. To Uusha herself, a debt of protection.

Only the knight she did not know, who had done no wrong, and her friendship with Kalaya, who had. Kalaya. Why? Did you so disagree with Uusha's methods that you would do this? Was it the prophecy, did you hope in this madness to protect Ven? You don't deserve this, but you've done a great wrong. A wrong not only of harm but of the special sharp sting of betrayal to her own order, her land, her people. That drew the curse, called to it like the blood-crazed hound it was.

Giriel looks at Kalaya, eyes pained. She prays to every one of the planets that you can forgive her someday.

Then she raises her arms outstretched, palms out, the oldest gesture of warding there is. She chants in the old tongue, the tongue of magic, and what she says is "not here, not them. Seek thou the heart of thy betrayal and them alone." And then she points, and her finger is upon Kalaya, alone upon the deck, and the great shadow that ushers forth from Uusha has its direction.

[Thanqol]

"It is the nature of the Dragon's blood to desire control," said Zhaojun dreamily, raising up to her full height amidst a storm of sapphire wind. "They order the world according to their patterns, driving chaos to the periphery, bringing princesses under their Dominion, and their nations with them. And just like them, here you come noble warrior! Just as the Dominion seeks to yoke the Flower Kingdoms so you take from me my mistress, my slave and my prey."

She twirls the firewand in her fingers. A one shot weapon; it would take over a minute to reload. The mask is blank as ever yet its eyes contain a furnace. And with a flick, she opens her outer robe, revealing the secrets tucked inside her concealing garments.

Firewands.

Dozens of them.

She laughs as she fires, a massive and spectacular gout of fire blasting out across the deck of the ship, catching fast into the timber. The powder ignites matter and magic both, filling the sky with billowing bluegreen sparks. As soon as the weapon runs dry she tosses it aside, and in the same gesture snatches the next one from its pocket. Even dragons must pause to inhale; not her! With this arsenal she can burn brighter than even they!

Aiming is a distant secondary concern. Everything is to be fire. The ship, the mast, the forest, her foes. This is what she wants. This is what she wants, deep down. To burn hotter and brighter than this shipload of false dragons and insufficiently impressed princesses might ever dare.

"Once, there was a maiden," Zhaojun trilled.
"Who walked amongst lords and ladies.
Gods and demons.
Spies and sorceresses.
Dragons and princesses.
None of them could see her, even as she lit the match.
"Love blinds," she said."

[Inflicting a condition on Piripiri in return.]

[TheAmishPirate]

Danger!

She grabs Lotus’ hand, and in one smooth motion pulls her tight against her side and wraps her arm around her protectively. Her feet hop into a ready fighting stance, no time to pull out a sword. Her fist’s enough. Her kick’s enough. Essence is enough. She ignites, a blazing beacon of defiance to her foes. Stay back! All of you! She is hers! Hers! You will not take her, you! You!!!

Barge?

“What in all of the hells…?” Han stares, dumbfounded, as the Red Wolf’s barge decides to take a sudden detour, to the mountains. Over land. Without stopping, no, wait, is it getting faster?! “Uhhhhhh. I guess they’re not gonna be coming after us anytime soon?” And it is, at this moment, that she glances down, and notices she has buried Lotus’ entire face into her body. (She notices Lotus trembling. She does not notice her lack of complaint.)

Wordlessly, she picks up Lotus. Sets her down, a respectful distance away. Brushes her hands awkwardly on her robe. Shoulders the bags Lotus set on the ground. Stands. Blinks. And. With many totally composed clenching and unclenching of her fists, holds out a hand. Stiffly. If. Well. She could use the support, while they march.

“You. Uh. Ready to get out of here, bud?”

[Han rolls to Entice! 4 + 3 - 1! XP! XP for dragon!]

[BlasTech]

Kalaya

"wha- what? I ... I don't. I didn't." you sputter, blinking water out of eyes that struggle to focus.

But you did.

It hurts, doesn't it Kalaya? And I don't mean just the stinging in your face from Petony's gauntlet. This hurts deeper down, beneath your armour, beneath skin and bone. Peel away the layers and follow the hurt down to your very soul. You know that feeling don't you? That oily sickness. The bitter taint. It's betrayal. And this time, the first betrayal is yours ...

"I-I didn't mean to! It ... It ... it wasn't me!" you cry and some small part of you calls out the lie.

You did mean it. You were the one who struck home and you can't deny how right it felt. To take direct action against the very thing that is poisoning the Kingdoms - to strike down that hatred. To protect your home. Your love. This is the second betrayal - You know your body, your heart. Some small part of you wanted this, otherwise you wouldn't have done it at all - whatever affected your senses just now, it can't create that want from nothing. It had to have a seed to work with.

"I-it was some kind of ... spell."

Your eyes fall on your sword. You don't know what it was exactly but you're not completely inexperienced in the ways of magic. You recognise some kind of charm struck you the moment your hand grasped its hilt. Something ensnared your senses, tangled you inside, fogged things up. Where or who from you can't know. You might never know. All you do know is that, right now? That sword is poison.

What does a sword mean to its knight? You know what it's meant to be - it's meant to be your loyal companion. The one thing that will always be at your side; come rain, snow or drought. Against beast, monster or man, it's meant to be the one thing you can count on when all others around you fail. 'As long as you have your sword and hope in your heart, you can do anything.' Who was it who said that? Malee of the Golden Hills? Those words ring bitter now, don't they?

Reflexively, you kick it away from you - sending the old jian spinning across the rain-slicked deck, spraying water. Did a scream escape your lips as you did it? Or a whimper? You can't tell. You don't care. Just get it away, get it away, far away, not. here.

As if simple distance can make this third betrayal any less real.

Your eyes track its path across the ground as you cling to the Tiger Knight like one whose legs have stopped working. Truth told, they have - you couldn't run if you wanted to.

Your eyes track up from your sword, a pair of feet, robes and a familiar face.

Giriel. You spot the witch and your breath catches. She's upset and ... pointing? Did she do this? What is she doing now? Something boiling and black is coming from Ushua and she's ... sending it at you?

Why, Giriel. Why?

I thought we were friends. I thought we had trust?

I'm sorry Kalaya, in the end - whatever the two of you had - it wasn't enough to stop this.

I'm also sorry, because you won't have time to properly process this fourth betrayal. You have to focus on the curse now bearing down on you. You can't know this either, but this may well be the fifth betrayal for you tonight.

The curse is old, it draws deep on the magic of the kingdoms. A time before people, a time before Knights. It is as primal a piece of the land as life itself. It's your home, Kalaya. One of only two things you hold closest to your heart. And its anger, its wrath, is now bearing down on you in a nightmare tide.

Will the land reject you too?

Will you be truly alone?

I'm sure it will be okay, little Knight. You've been alone before - for almost all your life. It's always been just you against the world. The people. The Gods. Why should things be any different now?

[eldest]

Fire! Fire everywhere! The deck is aflame, the air burns, the spirit cackles and draws yet another firewand and there's nowhere to dodge to.

She lets out a furious hiss as the blast lands home, skidding to a halt behind the crackling remains of the garden she'd shown Lotus earlier in the evening. There's a charred hole in her clothing, showing reddened, blistered skin and possibly worse, but she'd paid it no more mind than that: it wouldn't kill her before this is over, and anything beyond that is not worth thinking about. A glance confirms that Giriel is safe and has gone straight into a new, different mess.

Carefully, slowly, she inclines her head towards Zhaojun, and turns to watch the confrontation, one wary eye out for any more firewand shots. She's gotten what she wanted from interceding, she's absolutely losing any further rounds without the element of surprise, and she's hurt badly enough to be a liability if Uusha and Agata come to blows. Watch for your moment, at this point, and wait for it. Try not to ruminate on how much your side hurts, or how little anybody seems to care.

Marking Hopeless.