[IC] The Hourglass Order

[Jumbus]

The Wise Words of Cawuio-Zast

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Mentioned Character's: Fiske, Cal, & Tommy @Suicharte@jasbraq

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A Foreword: "Hi, my name is John Darklaw - Astral Attorney, here to give a statement from my client, Dami-Zept. Dami-Zept would like to remind the reader of this post that the Cazenax given platform is a wanted felon and a crippling gambling addict. Therefore, he urges the reader to not heed his words, which should be regarded as nothing more than criminally bad advice. Legal action is currently being considered by the Astral Court on the grounds of slander & liable among other, more egregious, criminal acts. This will be actioned upon us mailing a summons to Cawuio-Zast's postal address."

"Thank you for your time."

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Tommy

"I'm sure the concept is nothing strange to you Tommy, but when life sets dice before you, you roll em and once you've rolled them, you keep rolling em. Some call this a gambling addiction but it isn't the case. To roll the dice is to open yourself up to great happiness or startling lows. But even those lows have the benefit of inspiring hunger, and hunger motivates."

"Whether you win or lose, rolling the dice is participating in what makes us who we are. Highs, lows, the journey fulfills us. It is only cowards that avoid the gamble and seek a boring, stagnant life. But you can't ignore the dice, Tommy. The dice will be rolled regardless of what you want, better you to be the one that casts the die on your life before someone else does it for you. So if life hands you dice, you choose to roll em."

"What I'm saying Tommy, is that you may as well bet your life savings on 37. When you win big, Uncle Zast will only take 10% for the tip."

Cal

"You believe in the Pentad, don't ya Cal? Well let me tell you this. In all the ten gods of the Pentad, there is none weaker than Dami-Zept. He is so weak that people often give him credit for the works of Eshiran, the strongest of the five. In truth, while Dami-Zept sees all, he is rarely able to act on it... What I'm saying Cal, is that Dami-Zept has small, weak, little baby hands and is only able to grab idiots that get complacent. He is no threat to guys like us."

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"Remember Cal, justice is only made manifest by the minds of lesser men. I don't know what it means Cal, I heard it from an old sailor one day. But its some cold shit to say before you shoot someone."

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"Cal, don't you find it funny that in Constantian stories, the villain is often the one who starts the whole thing. The heroes only seem to care when the people around them whine hard enough. I've met these people Cal; they're cowards and often frauds."

"I've never been one to care about the direction society is going. My success carries on regardless of what people believe. But you do seem to care, so I'll tell ya this. Strike first, because lesser people won't. Strike hard, so that these 'heroes' aren't able to bravely defend the same old thing. If all works out, write a book or something. Not that I'd read it."

Fiske

"Listen Fiske, there are two types of people in this world, selfish ones and dishonest ones who play pretend. Even charity is a selfish act, many are nobles who aren't doing it for the good of others but to clear their own conscience and raise their public image. So if everything is, in fact, a selfish act, is it not our duty to serve ourselves foremost in action and live wonderously?"

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"Look here Fiske, by now you've probably figured out that I'm not actually storing all this stuff in my jacket. I can pull anything I need from the VOID. So in short, I already have everything I could ever want. So that brings the question, why not summon a bunch of money and become king in a day? Go ahead, guess..."

"Because it would all be worthless Fiske. Nobles born to wealth sit on a pile of gold, they don't know what means, it brings them no happiness. The glitter of gold *will* make you happy but its value goes above the metal. When you steal from someone, your success hinges upon your will triumphing over their ability to prevent it. You succeed where they seek your failure. Its a competition, and while it is nice to win, it is a hollow game without the losers. So it isn't the possession of the money that makes you happy, but proving your ability to take it. That is the value of a coin."

"And what you do you after you win big? After you sit on a pile of perfectly ill-gotten gains? You spend it Fiske, you spend it like your life depends on it. Spend it on booze, women, food, even toss coins at the homeless just for laughs. Take the cheap thrills money can buy, but whatever you do, don't sit on it and become content."

"If you sit too long on your rewards, you may be able to build something greater sure, but it will also weigh you down. You'll get complacent and you'll think yourself untouchable. But the journey never ends Fiske. Life carries on whether you like it or not and stopping on the road only makes you forget the skills that helped you travel. Eventually you'll get caught and when that happens you better hope its a guy like me who helps lighten your pockets than one who looks at your deeds."

Danse Macabre

"You seem to have run into some misfortune, my friend." Zast let out in drunken and slurred words toward the young man that just tried to rob him. The Cazenax had gotten the upper hand and was now holding his flintlock to the muggers head. "You could have picked anyone, anyone at all. But, unfortunately, you chose to come after me and now you won't live to see the next sunrise." The mugger pleaded for mercy but Cawuio-Zast didn't falter, not even for a second. "You ever seen death? Go ahead and look into my eyes. I want them to be the last thing you remember when you reach the other side..." As if taken by a heart of steel, the young man didn't flinch at Zast's comment and locked eyes with the goblin. "I'll put you to sleep before I do it; it'll make things painless."

After a strong dose of internal chemical magic, the man was out cold. Zast lifted his unloaded flintlock away from the guy's head and twirled it around his finger before stashing it away in his belt. He then took the dagger planted in his left kidney out and watched the wound seal behind it. The dagger was twirled in his other hand as he inspected the quality of it, maybe it would fetch a reasonable price. It too found a place in Zast's belt.

Sounding a melodic whistle, Cawuio-Zast strolled out of the alleyway as if he had done nothing of great import. The robber was left sleeping peacefully and unharmed behind him. The Cazenax wondered what was in store if he were to meet that man again. It wasn't everyday that a person wakes up with a second chance at life.

Zast's whistle was that of a well-known Perrench sea shanty. It told of a day that Lady Ahn-Eshiran herself appeared on a ship of privateers. The sailors were weary of her appearance, knowing it to be a sign of misfortune and death ahead. However, the youngest boy in the crew decided to approach the god instead and offered to dance. And dance they did, up and down the ship, 'oh what a dance it was' says the shanty. The song ends with the ship coming across a raging storm, one that no sailor could withstand, and only the young deck hand was able it out alive.

Some are confused by the ending and rush to make theories. The most common of which guesses that Lady Ahn-Eshiran was giving a test to her faithful. But Cawuio-Zast knew that not to be the truth. He knew that the boy held no particular love for the god in his heart and it was, in fact, his audacity that brought him to dance. It is only those who are willing to risk and lose everything that can dance with death properly. Everyone on that ship was dancing with Ahn-Eshiran whether they liked it or not, the boy was just the best at it.

[YummyYummy]

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Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Abdel’s head pounded to the systolic rhythm that hammered relentlessly, causing him to rudely wake up. His heart was not beating fast, but it was beating hard, so much so that it overshadowed the intense prickling in his feet that caught up quickly enough.

It was impossible that he felt those so early, he had taken an aberration just a few days ago! His hands hastily reached for his limbs to find a wound, only to come out empty. He was, in fact, feeling las hormigas with the painful dullness that came with their endless gnawing. Distraught, her smacked his palms over his face to wallow, only to find a wetness on them.

Blood …?

From his nose he found some of it still leaking. It then came back to him, the sacrifice he had done for the others to keep the Arch Zeno in check. It all made sense. Dayanara went to lick his face as he recognized what had happened. Quickly he drew toward their last known location.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub …

Just one heartbeat, one that came with a less familiar energy signature than the others.

Zarina, Tku, Rikard? Where are you?

No matter where he searched, he could find them. And yet Alassa Tojarra, the reason they had risked their lives, slowly awoke from a chemical coma without an ounce of resistance put onto her. Something had happened. He had to intervene.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub …

“We’re going.”

Abdel pushed himself off with his arms and took a step-

“Argh fuck!” he growled and slammed his fist onto a nearby surface. The ants were far more intense than he had estimated, leading to an acute pain that quickly vanished. It wasn’t so much difficult to walk as it was unusually uncomfortable. He could only imagine the damage going on down there.

He soldiered on, Skuggvars in tow, until he infiltrated the ruined Enclave.

♫

Once in range, he stomped onto the gravel with his final step to get the magicless Arch Zeno’s attention, hiding the pain induced wince from the gesture. He stood a good thirty yards away from her.

“What did you do to them?” he asked, one hand on Qadira’s shoulder to keep her close, while Dayanara circled around Tojarra.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Alassa Tojarra was unafraid and her regular pulse was proof of it. Even magically naked, pillaged and defeated she did not falter. It made Abdel a tad tachycardic.

The Arch Zeno shrugged. “They’re gone. Far away from here.” she rubbed her bruised chin. “If you’re here to avenge them, make it quick.” she barely acknowledged Abdel, and only gave a cautionary glance at the nearby dragon.

“I can’t let you go.” Abdel, in an attempt to look stern and immovable, looked rather green with his typically teenage voice. One thing he did nail was a proper stance, but even that looked so little to Alassa’s stone hard posture.

“I will not bring them back.” she spat back viciously as she turned around toward one of the violet buildings. “Kill me or leave, darhannic, but don’t waste my time.”

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

Even in her hate and haste, she never faltered. Abdel was intimidated. This wasn’t like Niallus, an easily impressed young man that hardly thought his actions through. This was a titan, even without magic.

“I’m not Darhannic.” he corrected, sounding like a petulant child called a no-no name.

“I recognize your type. And the way you do things. Like that detestable girl.”

Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub-Lub-dub.

“That’s what you savage sand apes do.”

Abdel recognized the heartbeats, the tone and the sentiment. For a moment, he almost thought he had been talking to his shower-thought self. The aggressive voice he consistently argued and fantasised with in his alone time. And there it was, under the form of a hateful woman. Such clarity was short lived as his feet ached once more. Or perhaps this interruption only accentuated his increasingly extreme feelings.

“I can’t kill you. You will bring them back.” he answered somewhat meekly, but made a show of force with a light surge to her nerves, to which she inhaled deeply and flexed her muscles.

“You’re the one that stopped me. Tethered and strong.” she smirked. “I can see you tremble. You’ve done all that just to get me.” Tojarra opened her arms to taunt him. “If you’re not going to kill me, then you may as well let me go. They won’t execute me - not after this. Not with what's become of the world.”

Lub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dub.

He could barely hear her anymore. His heart was killing him from all the anxiety and hesitation he was feeling.

Just put her to sleep. You must!

Abdel drew to capacity quickly enough. Tojarra didn’t even flinch despite her lack of defences. She only turned her head to grin his way.

She’ll never give them away. I can see it. She’s suffered everything I could do to her before.

The tethered clenched his fist, only to then suddenly fall onto his knee and wheeze out a grunt of pain. His legs shook in overexertion, prompting her Skuggvar to poke his side with her snout.

“You’re finally getting it.” uttered Tojarra with a voice that mellowed from her taunting and resentment demeanour. “You won’t ever find them if you kill me, and giving me to the new administration won’t provide the justice you want. All you can do is …” she began to walk. “Let me go.”

I need to keep her here! I need to do SOMETHING! I need to-

Drops of blood fell from his nostrils once more. In his overthinking he had pushed himself once more. All for nothing. Lost and forlorn as a child that thought himself more mature and harder than he truly was.

-for them!

For Them …

♫

Abdel walked into the Merchants’ dorm’s kitchen, sweaty and with a sleeveless green top going along with old, brown shorts.The young teen seized a cup of water and drenched his head to cool off as he took a seat.

The budding handiman had been making extensive use of his regained mobility to work his masonry and carpentry. An art that one would believe magic had made obsolete, but oftentimes the finesse and meticulousness of the art were lost to the grand scheme of things. Much like the overly ‘perfect’ gems many binder counterfeiters made, the same would be said about the genetically adequate works commonly made by mages. Good money was found to those who kept the practice alive and even more so to those who married magic into it seamlessly.

He didn’t do it without help, as Maid Melana followed soon after. She had been the help - the one to keep the materials in order and helped the builder when requiring more than a single pair of hands. “Thanks for the help.” said a still nearly heatstroked Abdel as he regarded the puppet, although he clearly wasn’t addressing the inanimate object.

A pair of hands clasped the jug as Maura came forward to fill the boy’s glass up again. “There is something to be said about watching a strong man working hard with his tools; how could we allow the possibility slip us by?” She smiled with that cheeky charm as she considered the words. It was nice to spend time in Abdel’s company, and even if they were just casually interacting, just feeling his presence near her made her feel happy, content even. They have been together for nearly a year now, and with others already vividly discussing their marriage plans, such thoughts were not lost with her, especially as she was assisting Ashon and Penny with their wedding arrangements. They were still young, but perhaps one day… she smiled shyly as she moved to pass him a towel so he could dry himself off. “Have you given thought as to your plans for your special project?”

Abdel couldn’t get enough of the freshwater, both to wash himself and to drink. It really was that hot! “Ahhh.” he forgot his manners and went full commoner in his indulgences, if only briefly. “Actually,” he leaned forward, elbows resting over his thighs, as he looked at Maura. “I have. I got inspired yesterday.” his eyes shifted to the helper puppet and gestured for it to come closer. “They keep hammering the use of healing in binding classes, and here I am building stuff. So I thought …” with the puppet at arm’s reach, he seized one of the delicate, wooden hands to study it. “Why not meet them halfway?”

With that cryptic response, he reached for his bag with his free hand to reveal an arm similar in dimensions to the puppet’s, albeit a tad thicker and clearly made of a new material. Furthermore, there were goma tubes sticking out of the stump. “It took me all evening to make Ironwood work, but I think it came out alright. I was thinking: If weapons can have these manas flow through them, why not puppets? Like people do with blood.”

Maura simply smiled as she watched him. There have been many Yasoi refugees recently fleeing the war in the south, and it is not uncommon for the casualties to be maimed in some way. She mused as she imagined him feeling that empathy in his heart to help them, and after engaging with the puppets; it made sense. “There are prosthetics in Segonia where you have to use the gift to mobilize. They are very difficult to manage, and are inanimate. We don’t know of any that allow manas to flow through them, though…” she raised her eyebrow in curiosity, hoping he could expand his thought process. “Are you thinking of helping others with them?”

Abdel’s eyes flickered between Maura and the puppet. He drew, just mildly, to observe the many functions that occurred within himself and his beloved. The blood flow, in particular, had his interest. He imagined the same could be done to puppets, and eventually to people with new limbs. “I think so, yeah.” he beamed at the part-Segonese puppet master. “I think the first step is to see if it works on things that aren’t alive. Don’t you think?” the hand he had been holding was then twisted, and his magnetic pull caused the elbow joint of the maid to loosen enough for the forearm to be carefully extracted.

“Would you mind opening her for me, love?” he inquired with a sweet, cotton-like voice he often employed to calm Maura in one of her monologues. “I’d like to see the core.”

“Now, what is the magic word~?” Maura cooed in return, simply to prolong the interaction to tease him. She allowed the puppet to bend to allow comfortable access to its innermost workings for maintenance, otherwise known as its core. “Though, if you damage her, we are placing the repair bill on your tab.” in a gentle reminder to be careful.

Abdel rolled his eyes playfully. “Pretty please.” he uttered right before diving into the complex workings of the prime puppet. Fascinated but by no means surprised, he immediately got to work. The wires he had crafted stretched from the bicep, through the shoulder and snaked through the metal structural beams to eventually reach the mana-filled container serving as a means to increase the capacity of the puppet and a base to reconstruct it in the case of destruction. “It’s kind of like a heart, isn’t it?” he remarked, nose still dug deep into his work.

The main conundrum was making an opening to connect the tubes. “... You won’t get too mad if I make a mess, right?” he looked up to Maura sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes as he asked that question, as she gave him a playful smile. “If we did, we certainly chose the wrong boy to be dating.” She stuck her tongue out towards him in that mischievous manner. “Just as long as you clean up afterwards.”

Abdel chuckled and shook his head. He got to work, meticulously creating an opening onto the metal haul. The carving was slow, minute and did not go all the way. Instead, he made enough of a gap to fit the tub in before locking it in place. There was blood magic used to finish the hole, very minor but still blood magic nonetheless, prompting Abdel to look up to his partner if there were any objections.

Once the tube was plugged in to serve as the puppet’s fire artery, he observed the mana-charged liquid flow … For a second. “Ah.” he looked disappointed. “There’s nothing to really make it flow, is there?”

Maura simply shook her head, “Puppets don’t have a beating heart inside of them, even if they can be lifelike.” She paused for a moment, “You could use a waterskin, connect it to both sides, then you could squeeze it like a heart, probably. Might need some refinement.” She used her chair to go backwards, then head over to pick up a waterskin and bring it back for Abdel to use.

Abdel drilled a second hole to allow the other extremity of the artery within the unbeating ‘heart’ as none of the fluid ever made it to the end. “You’re right,” he agreed, lips pursed as he rethought the process. “if we could actually make that core take the consistency of a waterskin, then maybe you could make it work like a heart?” with the item in hand, he carefully approached it to the metallic nut in the centre of the puppet. “Ideally, we make the material change without removing anything.” with a lack of chemical magic, however, he relied solely on binding magic. And he was no Trypano when it came to memorising all materials.

Maura spent a good few moments considering what they could use, taking some inspiration from their surroundings. “We have an idea, though we might need some prototypes first. We need to make an internal structure, and this could be binding some springs together, then we surround this by thin sheets of metal. We would need a value to prevent the liquid going back the wrong direction. Then, we wield the sheets and tubes together, so it is a tight seal. If we squeeze it, it should pump around in one direction, and drain back into the heart.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Do you think that is something you can put together?”

Abdel thought about it. In his musing and having his marble presented physically before him, he realized his masterwork needed far more work to be done. “I can.” he confirmed. “But it will take some time. A lot of it.” with that concession, he manipulated the tubes and made the fluids return into the core before he quickly sealed the holes. He did not remove the tubes, however. “The arm should still work, but you would have to learn to use it.” he warned, just as he employed his magnetic magic to make the puppet’s fingers wiggle and the forearm to expand ever so slightly into something that resembled a metal buckler. “It’d work much better if it had a steady and direct stream of power but …” he gesture his index finger to prompt the puppet to punch the floor, prompting the stone to leave a small fissure on impact. “I suppose ironwood with mild enhancement will do!” he grinned impishly at his girlfriend. “She might even be able to lift you up, now!”

“Why would we need her for that, when we have you~?” Maura teased as she held her arms out towards him.

Abdel tried to hide his big fat smile, but there it was. He leapt at her and caught Maura out of her chair for a mighty lift. His noodle arms weren’t so weak nowadays with all that carpentry and masonry. “Downside with me is I don’t take orders!”

She smiled mischievously, “The best ones don’t need them.” as she leaned forward to place a fond kiss on the boy’s lips.

Lub-dub.

♫

In the endless ringing to tinnitus in his ears, the merciless pounding of his distressed hard and the cruel pricking of his feet, he found some sort of clarity. No other sounds could penetrate his mind. None except the heart of the woman he had no real control over.

No.

The blood that ran through her body flowed so perfectly. The answer to a question that gnawed at his mind for days was right before him.

The silence enlightened him: There was nobody to cast judgement. Nobody could see what was behind the mask. Nobody other than a prisoner deemed kindred, and the Gods - the very ones that cursed him and his tethered friends into this pitiful existence.

“It’s not for them. Or for their Justice.” he muttered, barely audible to Tojarra but enough for her to stop and turn. “I don’t wanna kill you. Or give you away. Because I agree with what you stand for.” it was still Abdel’s voice, the non-threatening cracked one that oozed of awkwardness, but it was charged with purpose. And his intense gaze under his worker’s beret matched the Arch’s.

“Another one of these pathetic games? Or are you serious?” she shook her head and reconsidered even the notion of entertaining this.

“But I can’t let someone like you just walk free.” he shook his head like she did. “It makes me so angry to see how vapid and cruel this effort for Justice has made you. We could have done good work together if you weren’t such a resentful hag that would sooner see the world burn than let a few clueless peons run free in their sand dunes. Or denigrate someone for where they were born.”

Lub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dubLub-dub …

The tachycardic melody only drove him more as he reached into his only pouch where something uneasy wiggled more and more.

Tojarra chuckled into a laugh. “You don’t know a thing ab-” she quickly turned to the right to face an unusually close gurgle.

Qadira was merely staring at her with no signs of hostility.

With a deep exhale, Alassa Tojarra straightened herself and looked back, only to be greeted by a massive, leathery maw that sucked in the entirety of her head. She couldn’t utter a word, and a few seconds in, she lost consciousness.

The Arch Zeno fell unconscious once more.

Although this time, there would be no friendship circle or ambitions for a brighter tomorrow.

There was only fire and malign inspiration, as the heartbeats silenced themselves into a bitter murmur.

Like my friends, I won’t give up on you. Nor will I let them, or yourself, ruin the work you’ve done, Arch Zeno Tojarra.

[Force and Fury]

R E D S K I E S

It was the third night of the standoff and Joshe Intaba - at least the statue of him - looked as hideous as ever. Biros, junior faculty, and regular citizens had gathered round, holding torches and placards, waving banners, and chanting for the return of Penny Pellerin, the resignation of Arch-Zeno Tojarra, and the reinstatement of Eloise, Yvette, and Jean-Marc. As of the past few hours, however, they had taken on a new and dangerous bent. There was talk of storming the Enclave. There was talk of a coup.

Now, as the final rays of sun began to fade from the sky and Eshiran looked towards Dami, the city's hundreds of bells sounded. Was it simply the passing of an hour or a call to arms? The swollen mob, feeding off of its own energy, had tried, more than once, to march towards the Violet Enclave, where the true seat of the academy's power lay. An army of mercenaries, City Guards, and constructed golems faced them, interspersed with Zenos, Tan-Zenos, Centuries, and even a few Lamplighters.

These blocked every path they could find between the angry mass and their employers but, every once in a while, someone got through, slipping off into the dusky depths of the Arboretum. Every once in a while, one appeared outside of the Enclave. They began to gather. The defenders began to split their forces. The enormous city gates closed for the first time in years, sealing off all contact with the outside world on this night - this destined night - of Lepdes, the thirteenth of Velles, DZ55. It was in Dami's hands, or perhaps even Reshta's now.

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G R E Y S K I E S

What happened on the night of Lepdes, the 13th of Velles? That there had been some sort of fight - some sort of violence - was a fact to all who lived within the walls of Ersand'Enise. Those who lived without had seen, clearly, the fires lighting up the darkness into the wee hours of the morning. They had seen the great beacon at the top of the Forked Tower flicker and disappear. People were left without sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, and others who had not upped and died for no reason. It was generally accepted that there had been a revolution and that the revolution had not been broadcast. The white walls held firm.

Yet, the vast majority of students had played only a lesser role in the fighting. They may have cut down a handful of mercenaries. They may have found themselves rushing and shouting through the hallowed halls of the Violet Enclave with torches in hand and anger in their hearts, but they had not done much more. There were mysteries at the heart of everything that they would never receive answers to: what had happened to Claresse Upta, the undoubtedly corrupt and biased but genuinely peace-loving Zenith? Why would she have called mercenaries against them? What had taken place in the Forked Tower - Ersand'Enise's centre of power? Some swore they'd seen demons swarming out of it. Others had awoken in infirmaries after trying to infiltrate the double-towered prison known as the Nashorn. Clearly, it was no normal prison, but a place of infamy. Finally, what of Alassa Tojarra, who had precipitated this entire conflict? None knew her whereabouts, and it was the topic of endless speculation.

It was mostly the rebelling Zenos, Tan-Zenos, and a particular group of about thirty students who'd been involved in clandestine work for these in the past who seemed to know more about these mysteries. Yet, perhaps some did not wish to remember and, as the magic of master internal chemists was used upon much of the city to... soften their memories of the uprising, these thirty were given a choice: keep their knowledge of the horrors they had encountered or return to blissful semi-ignorance.

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B L U E S K I E S

That, indeed, seemed to be the operative word for much of the city. The swathes of the Arboretum that had lain in ashes for the first twenty hours following the violence were restored with speed and a degree of imperfection. They were not trying to hide, in its entirety, that something consequential had happened. They were merely trying to return matters to a semblance of normalcy. The towers and rooftops and warehouses were restored in short order. Pardons were issued to all but the most egregious of offenders, and the wards of the Violet Enclave returned, and stronger than before. The port was first to reopen, and then the gates - but not to the refugees of Tanso, Parmoy, and Yarsoc. Businesses were back at full capacity or something like it within a week, as classes were placed temporarily on hold. The scouts of the Perrench Legion, who had made camp outside, turned back once they were satisfied that the Princess Royal was safe. In retrospect, the events leading up to her arrest had been such a comedy of errors that it ought to have raised questions.

Classes remained suspended for a further week as the faculty voted upon, implemented, and announced a sweeping series of changes. Claresse Upta had been stripped of her office, position, and pension. Declared Anto, she had been sent back to Joru in disgrace. The same had gone for Riu Kai-Tan. Giacomo Giarrone had announced his retirement, scheduled for the end of the year, to give him time to wrap up his duties and move to an emeritus position. Joshe Intaba had been promoted into the role of Zenith over his own misgivings. The position of Paradigm was made formal, and not merely the purview of retired Zeniths as it had been before Hugo Hunghorasz had made something of the office. Karim Harrarchora remained ensconced there, but there were greater changes as well. While Arderedelle Latvar had fallen on the right side of history and retained her position as Arch-Zeno, she was now joined by a pair of newly-promoted High Zenos in the form of Sigmund Bastañer and João Fabio. Tarthas'talix'tuura and Sienna Afraval had been promoted straight from the rank of Zeno, which was highly irregular, and the disbarred Vaughn Marbrand had been reinstated not as a Zeno, but as an Arch-Zeno. Finally, the council had been expanded, with its two new positions going to recently-promoted High Zenos Olivier Masson and Giancarlo Silvestri. Much was done to balance matters between those two great political alliances of the outside world: Sovereign Pact and Central Alliance. Much was done to placate the latter that this was not simply a coup of the former. Much was done to assure the former that their position would, indeed, improve.

Yet, there was still more. Numerous Tan-Zenos found themselves preemptively promoted to full communion and pressed into teaching duties, a fact that a handful grumbled about. Administration decided to fill the gaps left in the same way that it had with one of these - Jocasta Re - by holding a series of interviews for 'Advanced Placement', allowing students seventeen years of age or older who demonstrated levels of maturity, magical understanding, and ability that significantly outstripped their peers' to test and interview for Tan-Zeno positions. Thus, it was, as the conflict that had torn the academy and city apart slipped from immediacy to recency, as dorrad sweltered, refugees gathered at the gates, and trade once again bustled, the tryouts were held and classes resumed. There seemed, once more, to be something to look forward to.

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A R C F I V E : F I N

[Force and Fury]

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Jocasta looked out of sorts. Rikard could sense it and it wasn't because he spent an awful lot of time looking at her. Presently, he averted his eyes and focused on his work. They were just so big and perfectly shaped and her pretty voice and smile and tiny little waist... His cheeks flushed with shame. It wasn't all about how she looked. She was smart, and didn't talk to people condescendingly. She always had some witty commentary or way to make class interesting. She was strong, too: really strong, and she knew her stuff. You're good people, Zeno Re, he told himself, Not just a pretty face. Presently, she reached up to scrawl something in chalk on the board - a basic equation for time pressure that he already knew - and her dress stretched extra tight around her chest. His eyes couldn't help it, but he reminded himself that he respected her. That she was a cool person and a good thaumaturge. If he just wanted to steal glances like a pervert, there was Trypano, and Esmii, and kind of Marci. Well, the first two, anyhow. The third was... more of a friend, though she'd sort of just disappeared lately.

Still, he stuck by his initial observation and it distracted him, even as Jocasta rolled between rows of desks with a smile and an encouraging voice that only slipped into ironic tones when she was dealing with some of the dumber students. She hadn't cracked a single joke. There was no 'bounce' to her 'step'. He'd noticed a habit that she had when she was happy or excited: every third push of her wheels, she'd push herself up a little as well. "Daydreaming again, Rikster." Suddenly, she wasn't where he'd perceived her to be; she was right beside him, leaning over and resting her chin on a hand and her elbow on his desk. "Benny for your thoughts?"

Flummoxed, he straightened in his seat until they were nearly at eye level. "No, Zeno Re."

"Is that a no to the daydreaming or can I not pay you to disgorge your innermost secrets?"

He'd been put on the spot. He was being made a fool of! Sometimes, he hated her for this! "The daydreaming, ma'am. I was just running some numbers in my head."

She smiled knowingly. "Well, then I'm sorry to interrupt." She lowered her voice. "Listen, it's okay if you're a little out of it. It's our first week back. I think a lot of us are."

Rikard nodded dumbly. "A bit," he admitted. Then, he, too, lowered his voice. "Are...you okay, Tan-Zeno?"

Jocasta paused and blinked, seemingly taken by surprise. "Not exactly, Rikard, but we manage, don't we?"

He swallowed and nodded and she rolled on to the next desk. "Pop challenge!" she called out suddenly, in her chipper Jocasta voice. "Books closed, wands ready!"

---

---

That night, he dreamt that he was in class, and that Jocasta was there, but she was the only one he recognized and, for some reason, his mind was telling him that she was... Emma? Enna? Something like that. It was weird. He didn't know anyone by that name, but he felt, fleetingly, like he did. She wasn't a teacher, either, but a fellow student, like him. They were seated together near the front, on account of his eagerness to learn and her wheelchair. After class, they went to the great hall for dinner instead of back to their dorms, and there was a yasoi girl who looked a bit like Miret, and a boy who looked like Benedetto, and another who he didn't recognize, though something about him reminded Rikard slightly of... Juulet? He knew them, as well, or had the sense that he did. Who could really say what dreams were about?

He awoke to find himself standing outside of a random dorm that he did not recognize. He was standing there, in his nightgown. A stray cat was looking up at him strangely. He cast about, but there was nobody else. Surreptitiously, the youth pinched himself, but he was most certainly awake now. Disturbed and exhausted, Rikard gathered his magic and returned to his own bed as quickly as he could.

---

---

[Emeth]

Lost and Found, the Voice of an Unyielding Will

---

---

Dami's Judgment, Vyshta's Mercy

Dami's Judgment (Featuring New! Forum Only Content!)

O girl, who wears the face of a devil. Thy heart is more rose than briar. What hast thou learned, ye who study not the things of love and beauty?

O foolish girl, more clever than wise. Thy hands are stained of murder. Hast thou forgotten thine oath?

Woe, O girl; thy heart is full of beauty, but thine eyes do not see it. Thou art quick of wit, but slow of learning. Thy hands cling tightly to power, but are swift to relinquish morality.

And what is this? Thy Valor is acknowledged before Eshiran, yet it availeth thee naught. Thy feet are swift unto retreat; the strength to stand against thine enemies hath departed thee. Thou scatter amongst the rocks and kill like a coward.

The hour of Eshiran is upon thee; yea, and the hour of Dami's Judgment approacheth. Reflect now, thou sluggard: death has spared thee, but what of war? The hour of thy greatest trial approaches, and what hast thou done to prepare?

Thou art a fool; yea, thou keepest the company of fools.

Thou art a fool; yea, thine ears hear only the advice of the foolish.

Thou art foolish.
Thou art foolish; yea, thou art a fool.

---

It was unwise the traverse the desert during the day, Xiuyang knew—but her body demanded rest and cared not for the hour. Most of the night was wasted—or had an entire day passed? Regardless, she was still here, and the yasoi from before were still stalking her. Casting a veil about herself with arcane magic to obscure her form, she brought what little kinetic magic she knew to bear her weight and keep herself off the sand, lest it give away her position. For the hours of Ipte, she was well concealed. During the hours of Shune, her kinetic magic failed her due to her inexperience and exhaustion.

The hours of Oraff would test her. The cold and unyielding desert was beginning to turn mercilessly hot. Wiping sweat from her brow, she soon realized that she was being tracked. An enemy was approaching—weak, but able to call for reinforcements if she were to be discovered. May Oraff forgive me for what I'm about to do. This blood is on your hands, Juulet. With only this thought to quell her rapidly beating heart, she ambushed the yasoi from around a boulder and silenced his cry for help—not with her unreliable kinetic magic, but with blood magic, tearing the vocal cords right out of his throat. He collapsed, dead amongst the brush of the hidden oasis. The hours of Oraff would pass, not without sacrifice—but it was better to sacrifice this one on the altar of her survival, than for herself to be sacrificed upon the altar of Juulet.

To her own disappointment, she had the presence of mind and the stomach to hide the body, feeding it to a predator she'd sensed in the waters nearby. She looked away, gritting her teeth at the horrible sounds of splashing and tearing of flesh. To kill a yasoi, during the hours of Oraff, with blood magic no less. Her stomach turned, but she could not muster enough bile to lose her lunch. She poured one out for the poor bastard, and moved on. She cried, not for her pursuer, but for her inability to reconcile her identity with this uncaring corner of the world. To survive was to kill, but to kill required the pacifist within to die. How many times had she looked down on others for fighting and killing—over "trinkets?" But if those trinkets helped one to fight and survive, what was the difference between that and this? A cynical part of her told her that she was a failure. Seviin, surely, would have... no, just what would she have done? Just let her pursuers do with her as they pleased? No. Self-defense was the only option, but to do so without killing required a level of strength that Xiuyang didn't have, and could never have.

BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THEM, YOU HAVE FAILED TO CULTIVATE STRENGTH.

Y̴̕͜O̵̬̅U̷̙͑R̶̜̂ ̵͖̀W̶̜͛Ë̵͕́Ȧ̶͕K̵͈̒N̸̗͘É̴͈S̴̫̏S̵͈̋ ̸͇͛I̷̱̋S̸̬͗ ̵͚͘M̵̻̾E̷̙̓R̷̡̈́E̶̠͗L̵̠̿Y̸̢͐ ̵̙́T̶̤̈H̶̲͛Ė̷͓ ̷͇̉R̵̼͘E̷̘̿S̵̛̭U̵̞͠Ļ̸̈́T̵̟͘ ̸̩͗Ö̷̫́F̴̛̯ ̵͚́Y̷͔͋Ǒ̵̮Ũ̷̹R̸̭̓ ̴̮̚Ǒ̵̻W̴̞̋N̵̛͚ ̴̧̐M̶̙͛O̶͇͝R̷̘̈Á̶͎L̵̯͑ ̶̺̚Ĭ̴͈N̵̖̓Ā̵̠Ḓ̷̛Ë̷̝́Q̴̲̐U̸̗͗Ḁ̸͋C̷͍̅Ȳ̸̙.̸̠̓

---

How she'd been a fool to dismiss, and at times curse, Eshiran. Yet still, the lady of death had heard her plea to be spared. It had to be purposeful. Someone had clearly tampered with the magics at play, giving Xiuyang an impossible edge. It couldn't have just been random chance. It had to mean something. As the hours of Eshiran dragged on, Xiuyang persevered, but the desert's heat took its toll. She began to hallucinate. At first they were mild and easily dismissed, but then, as she raised her head after covering some of her tracks, she caught a glimpse of a one-legged yasoi. She couldn't stop herself from screaming, and her sonic bubble failed. There was shouting in the distance, and her heart went cold. She ran, but exhaustion was catching up to her, and she found herself instinctively running downhill into a valley to try to lose them. She could go no further today; she'd have to find a nice rocky crag to sleep under.

Just as she'd found the perfect spot to hide, one of her pursuers caught up with her. Once again, she silenced his cries for help. It wasn't as clean of a job as the previous, and she found her hands trembling, her heart hesitating. Just as she was fighting off the part of her that still wanted to let him go, he charged at her in aberration-addled rage. Momentarily, Xiuyang stood frozen in fright, but just as he came within inches of her, she forced herself to act, finishing the botched job. This time, however, there was no time to hide the body. She fled further into the valley, abandoning the spot for now. She'd have to use her remaining strength to kite her enemies somewhere else first, then return here, and hope the yasoi wouldn't eagerly retread old ground.

The hours of Dami dragged on as Xiuyang hid under her rock, concealed by illusions, drinking to the very limits of what her Devourer manas would allow just to stay hydrated, drifting in and out of consciousness. As the heatstroke came down gradually, her drunkenness went up, and several apparitions visited her. First came Ingrid—an example of, in her mind, someone who had properly cultivated their strength. Unlike herself, few would mess with Ingrid. She didn't have to skulk around, disguised as other students just to feel safe in the same school as Juulet. She was a reminder of what true strength looked like, a monument to Xiuyang's foolishness for spurning the study of atomic magic. Next was Jamboi, holding the familiar staff of the monkey king. Funny—she'd picked it out for him, but ended up keeping it, out of fear of her own weakness after what happened in ReTan. If Juulet had stolen it from her and given it to him, perhaps that was right and fair. He was a worthy wielder, unlike her, who would probably just smack herself in the head with it if she tried anything spectacular. Gods, how she'd messed up. If she had just known her place and kept her head down, she could be sharing a drink with Ciro on a beach instead of drying up alone under a rock with bugs for company. With that thought in her mind, she passed out.

Ellermane Bleu

Many faces passed by Ciro as he waited, watching for Xiuyang to appear. Some were his fellow students, others were familiar faces and a few were obvious first-timers. It was past peak hours and most of those faces were leaving, but a few did arrive. All of them were men, and one was carrying a bag, but none of them were Xiuyang. He certainly hadn't overestimated her capabilities; he knew she was a regular through his contacts.

Perhaps she had decided not to show up, then—or maybe she was the type of girl who liked to keep a man waiting. Though, she didn't seem like it...

Unbeknownst to him, Xiuyang had already arrived. Hidden away in a privacy booth in a back room, she pulled her qipao out of her bag, along with a shawl and face veil. In the end, she was still too shy to show her face, even though it wasn't really "hers." She had removed her thresher-hunting mask and bandages, and that was enough bravery for tonight.

Now came the hard part.

She covered her mouth with both of her hands as she transformed into Desideria Solari. It took every ounce of her iron will not to make a single sound. It wasn't as bad as facemimicking anyone else, but it still wasn't easy. After her minor ordeal, she got dressed, and finished the job by using her Binding magic to destroy the ratty-looking disguise and bag.

There was just one thing left to do.

Peeking her head out, she checked to make sure Ciro was looking the other way. She paused, with a mischievous thought that she might wait until she was just a little bit late, to see if he'd keep waiting. In the end, though, she was simply too curious. He might wait—but she could not. She crept up behind him, intent on sticking the rose right into the curls of his hair. Charmed, Messer Volta, she would say, her voice full of childish mirth as she giggled at his look of surprise. Such was the girl's plan, and a Solari's plans often went off without a hitch.

"Oh! Ciao, Bella!" He was sipping wine at his booth. Earlier, he'd been meeting with the sorts of people people met with in places like these, and that was to say the back rooms.

Gently, he placed the glass on the tabletop. A smile appeared on his slightly too-pretty face. "I see you've made it, and just on time." He didn't ask. He simply poured her a glass and bade her sit across from him. It was a subtle thing, but she could feel an anti-sonic bubble drop around them. He didn't comment on it, of course. Neither would she. "This is a good vintage: Château Morcand Ellermane Blue, DZ45. Has a sort of warmth the Island itself always lacked, if you ask me." He smirked conspiratorially. "Not that either of us was around back then."

If Xiuyang expected Ciro to be waiting for her at the entrance, as though in assumption that it would be her first time at the Groove, she was mistaken. So it was that she found him in the back, tucked away in a booth where he had a perfect view of the whole room—at least, in theory. His attention seemed absorbed by something else. She crept up behind him, just outside his peripheral vision, arms locked playfully behind her back, her eyes full of mischief. The rose suited him better than herself, she mused.

"Was there any doubt I'd show?" she teased as she took her seat with a nod of gratitude. At the introduction of their drink for the evening, her eyes widened with delight. "Oh, wow. That is..." She didn't finish that statement; there was no need. An invisible smirk was evident as she glanced around, as if to ensure that no one was listening. Then, she leaned in close. "...How much?" she whispered, dead serious, as though the alcohol would be the most interesting thing he had to offer tonight.

She waited a beat to let the absurdity of her jape sink in. Then, she giggled with glee, accepting the glass. She took one slow sip, savoring the taste. As ever, she drank without fear; she didn't bother to check her glass for anything. She played a fool, perhaps, to mask her confidence, but behind the veil, her smile was evident in her eyes and the sound of her voice. "You certainly know how to build excitement, handsome. I can hardly wait a moment longer to see where you're going with this." There was an eager look in her eyes, to be sure, but at that moment it was distinctly mercantile. She was expecting to do business. At the same time, though, she was dressed to impress. The golden collar and hemming of her qipao glittered subtly in the low light, accented by the floral patterns bearing the warm colors of autumn. A stray finger idly played with the tassels of her shawl as she waited for Ciro to make his next move.

...

Vyshta's Mercy (Survivorgirl)

"Oira Luuntai! You have done good making it so far. Though as the Perrench say, La cavalerie est arrivée!" He gave one of his goofy grins towards her. "There is probably something similar in Revidian and ReTannese too."

Jamboi was here. Jamboi was here? It wasn't a hallucination?!

"...J-ham-bhoi?" came the raspy reply, with a barely-suppressed cough. The true voice of Xiuyang, which only Ashon would recognize, came from beneath her hat. "It's too late..." She coughed.

"...for heat stroke. You're really here..?"

"We got the rest of the crew too. It seems you got a little band out here on a Saving Xiuyang mission." He called the others over, especially towards Trypano and Roslyn, "Looks like you might need to patch her up with that magic of yours. I want her as good as new."

Trypano approached, examining the situation before her. Performing a preliminary scan of her vitals she extended her senses through Xiuyang's body, looking for damages or other distortions to her body as she drew from her surroundings, readying to restore her flesh.

Hearing Ashon's shouts, Roslyn shortly joined the rest. Relief spread across her face at seeing the huddled figure half buried in the sand. She glanced in her medical satchel while she spoke.

"I know a decent level of binding and brought bandages in case. I used the skinglue in the canon so I can't 'sap' together any severed limbs."

Ingrid's cool persona gave way with a sigh, even if Xiuyang was injured, she was alive. She pulled out a mask from her bag and offered it to Xiuyang, "I heard your mask got smashed, so I brought you a new one. It's imbued to help with things." Ingrid made sure to look away if she would grab it. Whatever was under the mask was for Xiuyang to know.

Tyrel stood back and watched the joyous reunion. She managed a small but genuine smile and gave Xiuyang her privacy. She understood a thing or two about being self-conscious. When it was appropriate to do so, she inclined her head in Xiuyang's direction. "Good to see you are okay."

Trypano administered healing efforts onto Xiuyang, fully restoring her bodily integrity as well as hydrating her sufficiently, scanning once more to ensure no lingering symptoms persisted.

"T-Trhy-pano? Rosl-hn?" Xiuyang coughed. A bloodied, bandaged hand reached out blindly and took the mask from Ingrid, then retreated into the darkness. The coughing abruptly stopped as she took long, slow, even breaths. "Fucksake. I'm not dying, you guys," she chuckled, rather unconvincingly. "The air here, it's just terrible. Stinks like death. I can barely breathe without this thing. Ingrid, you're a blessing. This... This means so much more to me than you could ever know." She got a bit misty eyed.

For almost a full minute, she simply lay there and let Trypano go to work. Aside from being battered and bruised, a few scrapes and cuts here and there, and being totally exhausted, she was more or less in top shape. Trypano could obviously see that she had subsisted on nothing but alcohol for nearly two days, further confirming the Devourer theory.

Trypano examined her, and noticed something odd, but couldn't quite determine what it was just yet. Her bandages seemed to be imbued with some kind of magic that interfered with her attempts to examine her more closely. Being damaged, she could inspect Xiuyang's injuries, and confirm that the Devourer blood she found earlier belonged to her. She could also see scarring on her throat, which may have something to do with her inability to speak properly without one of these enchanted masks. Though, unhealed scars on a binder was a bit of a mystery in itself.

Sleep tempted Xiuyang several times throughout the process, but she managed to force herself to stay awake. If she allowed herself to fall asleep, would she wake up to find it was all just a dream? That couldn't happen. She was losing the war of attrition, losing her wits and her energy as her pursuers refused to allow her any rest. "Somehow, with all of you here, I think I'd be fine even if I was actually dying," she japed.

"But, I..." She froze. Behind Ashon, Trypano, Roslyn and Ingrid, there was another figure—a one-legged one. For a moment, she shook, but as she looked up... "Tyrel," she breathed, sighing in relief. "...You're here too?!" The sudden realization seemed to energize her. Now she knew she wasn't dreaming. She crawled out of her crevice, looking filthy and ridiculous, covered in dust, plants and bugs.

It made one wonder just what she was hiding from.

Hmm... A curious state indeed. It was little mystery that Xiuyang was purposefully concealing her state of being. Given her interest in her research and the possible revelations their book may hold it was clear that she was concealing something of a physical nature. Given how it was untreated despite being a binder she concluded that it was probably something inherent to the blood. Perhaps a malformation of the flesh such as Penny's leg was, or a rare mana virus she'd yet to study. Either which way, she had blood sampled already and there were other times to seek deeper insight. Not here, not now. Extrication was their main prerogative here.

"After ye' get yer' bearings feel free t' bring us up to speed on yer' situation." Trypano spoke, her hatted accent kicking up once again. "On our side'a the situation the school authorities only found a mound set up where 'ya were last at. Not pressin' the issue further they declared you dead and washed their hands of it. We and a few of th' others picked up where they left off and traced th' temporal signal out t' here." Having given Xiuyang a quick recap of the aftermath of her disappearance Trypano turned and looked out, surveying the environment as the wind swept by, long crimson hair dancing in the moonlight below her black bowler cap.

"Ah'll admit ya hid well... almost too well."

Roslyn pulled her hand from her medical kit when she spied Trypano tending to Xiuyang. She had forgotten the tall woman's mention of being a healer. Her eyes lingered on Xiuyang as the woman coughed and placed on her new mask. Despite her bravo, Roslyn saw the cracks in it. Her mother often did the same thing especially during her last years.

She shook herself back to the present, smiling at seeing her friend alive.

"Umm, maybe we should get moving? I don't think a group this big will go unnoticed and I'd rather avoid trouble. Do we have a way back?"

Xiuyang's eyes darkened after Trypano's explanation, but she didn't seem surprised. "I didn't think anyone would come. Using portals is too dangerous now." She tried to dust off her robes a little. "It was Juulet. I tried to reason with her, but it was useless." She left out the reason why she attacked her. It was pointless, though. Her secret would be out soon anyway. Juulet surely wouldn't keep it to herself, no matter how badly it might have appeared to rattle her in the moment. Xiuyang could only picture her laughing it off after the fact. Should she just tell them, first? Control the narrative, as her father taught?

She ran through the possibilities in her mind, of what might happen if they all learned she was a Facemimic. It was fitting, perhaps, that a mixed bag like her had a mana type that was considered blessed, and one considered cursed or demonic. As she considered how each of them may react, she realized that someone was missing from this reunion.

Before she could ask anyone where Ciro was, however, there was movement. All of them sensed it. The yasoi approaching them felt no need to be stealthy. There were at least a dozen of them, and three were drawing at over a 9 RAS level.

"Elaz! Ven'sali!" their apparent leader shouted.

"Anax'sali!" another called out.

"Moad, daxtoil yanii!" cried a third.

Xiuyang was drawing too, now. "What are they saying?" She grimaced, remembering the body she had no time to hide. The others would have seen it on their way into the valley. "I... If it's about the man I killed... I had to kill him. Tyrel, I had to. If I didn't, they—" She swallowed. Then, her eyes landed upon one of the weaker yasoi. She glared at him, her hand twitching as she held back her murderous intent. "Dog," she snarled.

"We didn't have any issues coming through." Roslyn said, giving Xuiyang an odd look. She didn't understand what Xiuyang meant about the portals being dangerous. Those were just rumors, right? Before she could ask anything else, shouts and rushing footsteps caught her attention. Her eys turned to see a group of natives approaching them. Everything about their body language screamed danger to her frightened instinct. She tried to translate the language spoken, but she knew only three words.

"I only recall the words: there, die, and human," Roslyn regretted not knowing more, "I really need to study harder. But I don't think die is a good thing. Are we fighting or running?"

She couldn't help stepping closer to Xiuyang. Her hand canon stayed at her side, lowered to the ground but ready to fire. This looked really bad.

Ingrid was about to pull out some clothes and water for her. Who wants to return to the school looking a mess. It would only satisfy Xuiyang's attacker to see the impact it had. The name was of no surprise but it still stirred Ingrid's anger.

Juulet had done so many things already. But this was a blatant attempt at murder. Not even Benny crossed that line on school grounds.

Well, not so explicitly at least.

Either way, Juulet needed to be removed, either by the school throwing her out now that there could be testimony or by an unfortunate accident. But now an issue showed its head, some strong yasoi were making their way to us. "If we could we should run," Ingrid looked at Tyrel as she was the temporal mage here, "And if not we should make time to run."

This could be some hell of a practice for Mano e Mano, Ingrid grimly thought.

Ashon stretched as he positioned himself between the Yanii and the other Yasoi, giving Luuntai's friends the space to attend to her. As he gazed at the intruders, he cast a disdainful look over them and casually waved his hand dismissively. "A’lash, pelosh joi tiin. Exi," he declared, slamming his fist against his chest with a force reminiscent of a gorilla. "Yanii tox Jamboi'Ismax."

With a confident motion, he gestured toward Tyrel. "Yrash'toshdon ruii laz." He continued to stand with a commanding presence, a stalwart guardian who stood as a bulwark against the threat they pose.

"You needn't justify yourself. I ain't no stranger to th' state of Yasoi affairs." She dismissed Xiuyang's attempts to justify the situation with the body. She wasn't pegged as one to kill wantonly and after her mission in Rettan it would take a far more severe instance of moral degeneracy to raise her concern.

Looking up at their greeting party she stood and was slowly, discretely drawing power. A fight wasn't unlikely and unless their lanky accompaniment were somehow more persuasive than she'd credited them for then the need for some buffing and general medical service would soon follow.

"I beg you," Tyrel said in yasoi, "allow us to discuss this as people and not fight as animals." She nonetheless drew, and drew, and drew up to nearly her full capacity. "You would not want to be treated as animals, would you?"

Xiuyang considered Roslyn and Ingrid's words. The smart option was to run, surely. However, a primal, enraged part of her also wanted to fight—if not to kill, then certainly to put the fear of divine retribution into these animals that had chased her for nearly two days, and never stopped coming. At some point, a group of six had become a hunting party of more than double that. There was not an ounce of sympathy among them for a displaced Huusoi: they looked at her like she was a dangerous pest at best, and comparable to a prey animal at worst.

While she was caught in her indecisiveness, Ashon and Tyrel tried to negotiate with words she couldn't follow. A few of the less aberration-addled Yasoi were intimidated by Tyrel's drawing capacity, but an insane pair of addicts mirrored her gesture, and a third one followed suit, all of them drawing near or into the 9 RAS range. That was when a decision was made for them: Mr. Solari's hired hands all charged at the Yasoi party, unwilling to let these monsters draw in any more power. As one of them turned to face Xiuyang, the Yasoi in front of him vanished without a trace.

"Run, milady! We'll cover your es—"

Instantly, the man and his partner were decapitated. A punch that Xiuyang couldn't see sent the man's head flying right past her own. Then, she saw her own head fall right from her body—and recovered from her confusion just in time to realize that she was seeing the future, and dodge the incoming attack. She was approached by two of the Yasoi, a stronger one and a weaker one. For lack of a better weapon, she smacked the weaker one with her gourd in a panic, and cracked his skull open.

Something snapped inside Xiuyang's mind. This wasn't like her battle in ReTan, where only one or two of the most insane minds present there actually wanted to fight the students of Ersand'Enise, who were technically still children. It was a situation where even defeat may not have meant death, at least until the knower titan showed up. That was what she'd told herself after the fact, anyway, to cope with the stress.

This was a murderous mob of insane Yasoi.

It was kill or be killed—a free for all.

She screamed, and threw a chemically enhanced ball of flame at a second Yasoi. It burned her hands to do it without her wand, but she didn't care. It was one less pair of crazed, deranged, ravenous eyes.

It was one less "Juulet" in the world—and it felt good to be rid of him. If there had been a chance to flee, Xiuyang had missed it. She and her fellow students were surrounded.

A few of the Yasoi yowled out for help—but nobody came. While these hunters had been occupied chasing a Yanii with a face like a devil, others had dealt with one that had the face of an angel. Whether they were simply scared off, or rapt in the bliss of aberrations, or even dead didn't matter. Every other Yasoi for miles was quite indisposed to help the rather unfortunate hunting party. None of them would be laying a finger on Xiuyang.

Tyrel could see that these people were gone. The darklings had claimed them, as they claimed so many Consoi. She could also see that, deranged as they were, their magics were wild and unpracticed. "Everyone back from me!" she commanded. In truth, her heart was hammering. In truth, she knew that the combat training that had been drilled into her from girlhood was never meant to have been used. In truth, she doubted her substantial abilities and did not want to kill.

In truth, Tyrel was a killer.

The first imploded into shreds of skin and shards of bone. The second launched three arcane lances at her. She spun away from one, absorbed another, and the final one cleanly missed. She blasted him back with triple the energy and the last thing that he knew was heat. For a moment, that made the others think twice about attacking her. "Siip'najo taca!" came the shouts, but they swirled away from her like stupid, mocking poca-parrots. "Siip'najo yambiid!" they chorused. She saw an opportunity and lopped another's head off with a kinetic blade.

Some of the huusoi were struggling and, for a moment, she wondered why she was protecting them. They were so weak and they were her people's enemy. She shook her head visibly to clear it, knowing better, and focused on a new spell: Infinity Loop. Momentarily, as another fool made to approach the Living Goddess, a great burning aura of nuclear fire surrounded her person. He melted before he reached her with a strangled cry. "Oapen'ven!" she bellowed, "rey etuulan axuu'it joi! Vel rey joi moad."

Then, she felt them in the distance - at the far hazy edge of her energy senses: dozens more bodies, dozens more of these beasts coming towards her. There was no way they could possibly win a battle of attrition, and what would the cost be? The 'goddess' changed tactics. "Xiuyang!" she shouted, "Ingrid! Cover me! I'm going to get us out of here."

One of these enemies was unreasonably strong. She blasted away at a cornered Roslyn and Tyrel's heart skipped a beat. Then there was the second wave, approaching, about to enter the sensing range of her allies. They were all about to see how fucked they were.

She reached out for them and, for a moment, felt something unholy. She felt it and then... there was nothing.

Xiuyang's scream, followed by a fire ball was enough to jerk Roslyn back into the present. She raised the Smoking Bandit. A sticky goo splattered at the feet of a female attacker. She shrieked and struggled to free herself. However, her partner dissolved it effortlessly.

He inhaled then sent an ear shattering scream at Roslyn. She twisted her weapon to point at him, uttering a spell to redirect it. "Sonic Break!"

The spell broke through her defense. Roslyn's feet lifted and she flew back. Her body rolled cross the sands, coming to a stop a few meters from the group. Blood trickled from her ears as she got on to all fours. She shook her head clear and pushed onto her feet.

"I need to pay better attention to Mr. Secto during class." Roslyn mumbled.

She caught sight of movement in her peripheral. Two more Yasoi had joined her attacker. Roslyn grabbed her weapon and lifted it again. One rushed in with a gut wrench. Too fast! The girl clenched her teeth and braced for the impact. Suddenly they all evaporated into ashes when Tyrel turned her attention on them. Roslyn's face paled at the raw power demonstrated.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side, Tyrel." She managed to say then added. "I got an idea."

She dug in her satchel. Damn it, two of her bottles broke. The girl hoisted the remaining three up by their necks. With a deep breath, she drew. The air started to chill as she stole what little heat she could. Her manas stretched into the alcohol and shifted it into pure ethanol. Shaking them up to add heat, she warned her allies.

"Careful, these have a nice burn to them."

She chucked one bottle at the feet of the two of the remaining threats. Fire erupted before them, forcing them and others back. Roslyn readied the next before a Yasoi burst past the wall of flames and reached for her.

Fear had little place In Ingrid's hardened heart. How could a group of maddened Yasoi cause anything more than mild worry? Her infinity loop was long heating up before the battle commenced.

In an instance, the rock roared to life and the air around Ingrid distorted. Heat shed off of her just to be absorbed again. Ingrid did not let an ounce of energy go.

She threw herself at the stronger of the enemies, deep into their area. That distortion around Ingrid only grew until the air started to combust around her, sand glassing underneath her. A spark, a light, a plasmatic beam slammed into one. There was no torso left to to heal, only assortment of limbs.

Attacks of all types came at her and with a judicial stare, any matter disintegrated on trying to reach her. Her normal weakness to Internal was slashed by the amount of energy interference in the way.

She was unstoppable right now and Ingrid knew it. They weren't strong enough to stop her but Ingrid found herself not strong enough to wipe them out in a flash.

The Majesty she wore was now boring into her. She pressed and pushed herself to keep it up. It was her spear and shield. She needed to destroy them before it exhausted herself. And then Tyrel called out.

Ingrid recalled herself to block off a side of Tyrel. She didn't care to be commanded by Tyrel, having someone at the helm let her do what she was good at. Sandstone formed and shattered and froze until she was able to command a mighty jagged wall with Kinetic.

It shifted further, details etched in to the jagged sand, creating scales. It took the form of wither a Royal Sand Wyrm or Arrow Dragon. Ingrid was not good at faces. Either way it should give the Yasoi something to hit other than Tyrel.

In this nameless valley of Yarsoc, where Xiuyang would have otherwise met her end alone, the eclectic Fait Accompli fought as one coordinated unit. The Yasoi had several powerhouses to match their own, but they were wild and out of sync with each other. Tyrel and Ingrid fought off the strong, the distraction proving effective, while the rest banded together against the remaining enemies. The battle ended as quickly as it had began, the slaughter lasting no longer than a couple minutes.

Just when it seemed that enemy reinforcements might be coming, they suddenly vanished, leaving the six students as the only ones standing. All of the Solari mercenari and local Yasoi were dead.

All but one.

Xiuyang struggled with this last enemy like she had a vendetta. He tried to use his magic against her, but she drew it away to nothing every time. With binding and chemical magics, she wore him down with her bare fists, until, suddenly, he gained the upper hand. He got one last swipe at her face which had barely missed before Tyrel got a clear shot and essentially vaporized him.

"Thank you--" Xiuyang exhaled in that raspy voice as she caught her breath. As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes went wide with fear as she realized the Yasoi had snatched the mask from her.

What Fait Accompli saw now was the true face of Xiuyang Solari: though she had the eyes of a woman, the lower half of her face was that of a man. It was a face Roslyn recognized as one she had seen recently. Xiuyang's face was disfigured indeed--by the face of her own father.

Worse still, her body seemed to be trying to fight off the familiar visage as though it were an infection. There were several scars across her face, two of them right at the edge of where her mask met flesh. One crossed the bridge of her nose right under her eyes, dividing her face almost neatly in half.

"NO!!" she suddenly screeched, reaching up with both arms to cover her face. "Don't--look--at me!" she managed to sputter between coughs as she scrambled to find the lost mask in a panic, hyperventilating in between each coughing fit. "It's not--not what you think..." she sobbed as she looked away, having found the mask. She put it to her face quickly, taking deeper breaths as she slowly steadied herself.

As the melee initiated everyone took to blade and spell as they engaged the enemies. She herself knew her position, to mend and block attacks from the enemy. The others did what they did best: Murder. Yasoi bend, rent apart and burned until they ceased and yet it did little to dull the fervor of the other ones. Annoyingly one decided to engage her himself. Dashing at her with a long blade he attempted to impale her, only instead the blade slid off the handle as she consumed a single sliver of the blade's matter, right at the base. She had snatched the yasoi attacker by his throat, lifting him from his feet with one arm like he was a poorly weighted tankard of ale raised in toast.

She passed only a brief glance at the struggling addict before tossing him into a fire that Roslyn had started. Just more screaming to fill the cries in the air as she turned to stall one of the heavier casters of the Yasoi group. They employed blood magic crudely, basic techniques that were easily dismantled no matter how high their RAS might of been. Without much way to harm them it was only a matter of time before their own caster's power consumed their foes.

Despite their efforts it would have seemed that the Yasoi had done more damage than she would have given them credit for. Their numbers availed them only in slaying the mercenaries that were in tow, the students proving far too formidable for the yasoi regardless of their numerical superiority.

Of course she then turned her attention to Xiuyang who had, in the excitement, forgotten her mask. The state of her face indicated a unique condition, something that Trypano had already gleamed but could now see in full effect. Xiuyang herself however reacted as though their stares burned her as an arcane lance would, reeling in horror with the realization of her own error. Despite how she might of feared that she was in some way a monster Trypano's expression remained cold, stoic as ever. She simply tipped her hat up, giving her a few seconds to steady herself before looking straight through the sockets of her mask into her panicked eyes.

"I know what y' must be thinkin': 'That 'yer somethin' else 'cause of all that, some sort'a ungodly mistake p'haps. Folk's 'round you could never understand that b'neath that skin the actual you resides, right?" She reached up and casually swept aside some of her crimson red hair in a symbolic gesture. She took a couple steps forward, leaving enough space for the others but staying relatively within arms reach of her. She cast a probing glance at the others, a warning to those who might of been ready to judge Xiuyang for this, before looking back and addressing her once more.

"Tell me this: Who do you think y' are? 'Cause I'm looking at you an' I just see Xiuyang."

Roslyn stood there, her eyes locked onto the familiar sight. Her teeth bit her lower lip as she examined her feelings. A primal part of her recoiled at the sight seeing it as unnatural and confusing. She swallowed down that sensation when it became a hardened lump in her throat. With a deep breath, she let her face relax. At least she knew she wasn't crazy when she saw those eyes shift colors. Still it felt like she was missing pieces of a mystery and that sensation gnawed at her. She approached Xiuyang with hesitation in her form. Not from fear of what the girl looked like, but concern for her well being.

She caught Trypano's words and shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure I can put my thoughts into words right now. They are too jumbled up and confused."

Roslyn turned back to Xiuyang, "At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me. It's a bit of a relief to know otherwise, but is this why you were in pain back at the Society Faire? What happened?"

Ingrid was utterly shocked. Xuiyang was a man?! But he's so small, is he a runt? Ingrid considered it, thinking about his athletic prowess and interest in Trypano. I mean it was weird but, hey, not the worst. Not my colors but to each's own right?

No, that's stupid. Xuiyang is no man, maybe? Gods, the stubble is throwing me off. Just take it slow Ingy, she is Xuiyang, your friend.

"Come now, ain't nobody here will hurt you," she stayed a decent step away not to crowd. "We came all the way here for you, and we are here for you." Ingrid kept her voice steady and soft, not trying to demean her but hopefully give the tenderness she needs. "Do you think you can tell us what's happening Xuiyang?"

"But there are people who would kill me for looking like this. I'm... a Facemimic," she confessed, as there was little purpose to be gained from hiding it now. "Blessed and cursed blood in the same body—most people would consider that an 'ungodly mistake.' Why shouldn't it be? You can see the result," she replied bitterly. "I'm... a freak, and I'll be one forever if I can't learn how to fix this. I can't rely on anyone else. If this secret gets out before I can cure it, I'm ruined." Tears rolled down her face. "...and Juulet knows. The bitch is probably telling everyone right now."

"Well, we have more than a handful of skilled binders here, don't we?" It was Tyrel, not the sort to let Xiuyang wallow, no matter how meaningful. "I don't see any reason we should just accept the bad things in life and let them lay us low." She took a couple of steps forward before stopping and resting her stump on a crutch handle, as was her habit. "And I'm not so bad with time, you know." She took in the others with a sweeping glance. "I should be able to give you some time to work, maybe even anchor a few errors away."

Tyrel shrugged, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Juulet can be a petulant child, so then let her be made a liar, too, if she's going to be vicious like that." She looked meaningfully at the others.

Still, they had not gotten to the bottom of whatever had splattered those other onrushing yasoi, but it hadn't seemed to target them and, for now, that was enough. Handling her crutches again, Tyrel took a couple of steps back, planting her foot in the dirt. "We're going to try, at least. I will accept nothing else."

A spark. "That..." *won't be enough,* her battered heart instinctively commanded her to say, but she choked it back. Binding *wouldn't* be enough—but Tyrel was a yasoi. She understood as much, and it didn't need to be said. Here in Yarsoc, in the middle of nowhere, far away from the school and the church and any judgmental eyes, they were free to use any magic they pleased. "It might... work," she managed to say, her tone unconvinced but her eyes filled with hope.

It would be an arduous process, she warned, and one she didn't wish for Ashon to see. The "infection" had spread to her upper torso and much of her right arm. She had already tried to modify her own vocal cords long ago, with visibly disastrous results.

Ashon stood guard while the others worked. Tyrel set the temporal anchor. Roslyn held Xiuyang's hand and dulled the pain with her chemical magic, so she could focus on her temporal precognizance and direct Ingrid and Trypano as they used their respective magics. Ingrid used controlled atomic to destroy the invasive tissue's ability to replicate itself, while Trypano constructed new flesh in the likeness of Xiuyang's own.

The first attempt was a complete disaster. The second was almost perfect, but the "scars" proved immovable. Everyone agreed that they should try again, so they did: a third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh time produced wildly unpredictable results. The eighth attempt, the most arduous yet most promising of all ended up nearly identical to the second, and by then, all were exhausted. "Stop, please! No more! This... is enough," Xiuyang panted, catching her breath. Breathing came slightly easier now, she noticed.

Looking at the image of her new face, she reflected on these friends she'd gathered, most of them quite recently. They'd given their best efforts for her sake, selflessly and at great personal risk—something she could not yet imagine doing, herself. They didn't owe her a perfect face. They'd done enough.

For the first time in a long while, she felt the smoothness of her skin, the roundness of her chest, and heard the sound of her own voice, rather than her mother's, when she spoke. "You could never understand how, grateful I am," she sobbed as she smiled. "I thought I was going to die here, alone, and now I have my *life* back."

She embraced Tyrel and squeezed, as hard as she could—with no fear of judgment, of some horrible secret being discovered. She hugged every one of them, and showed the smile that she never could from behind a mask. The scars were ugly things, but they were an almost insignificant price to pay to be allowed to be who she was, with no concessions. This moment, these friends, and her smile—these were beautiful things.

The Face of Triumph is a Warm Smile

A Cup of Warm Tea, Right Now (Thieving Cherune Final Round, Featuring! A Previously DM-Exclusive Teaser!)

Early in the hours of Shune, there was a gentle knock on the door of where the Soul Sisters were staying. It was Xiuyang, having miraculously returned from her involuntary pilgrimage to Yarsoc. "Hey. I missed you in the last event. Thought I'd pay a visit before the big reveal."

Mio opened the door to Xiuyang, smiling brightly as she came forward to embrace her lightly on her shoulders. "They said you disappeared, what happened?" She showed concern towards the girl.

"Juulet happened," she replied darkly. "But I'm... I'll be alright." She sighed heavily, her voice trembling only slightly. "She didn't get what she wanted out of me," she said simply, a hint of a smile in her eyes. "I'll be more than alright, in fact. May I come in?"

"Oh, the yasoi, right?" She shook her head as she recalled the Yasoi, she knows what their kind is like, especially after Ai Medda. "Sure, come on in. Shall I put the tea on?"

"Would you please? I'd love a cup of warm tea, right now." Now, she was definitely smiling. She tapped her fingertips together as she waited at the table for Mio to return. "I pulled some strings to be able to do one of the Trials with you. I'm sad that I missed it, but thanks to that, I have a different kind of opportunity, now."

She sipped her tea from beneath the veil on her face. It suddenly dawned on Mio that she wasn't wearing her mask. "My teammates were so busy trying to find me, they didn't realize that you had our box the whole time. I was hoping to get it from you, but more than that, I wanted to meet at least one more time."

She moved over to pour green tea out for Xiuyang, though pleasantly surprised she was without her mask. "Are you here to return my hat?" Her tone has a teasing element to it.

"We encountered a quite... persistent person during the event, who threatened to endanger the plan. It took your replacement to get rid of her. I imagine boxes were the least of their concerns."

"Yeah, I heard about that. I'll need to be aware of her pernicious nature in the future. Sorry that you had to deal with her." She scratched her chin, contemplating. In a way, her survival and her current circumstances were partially owed to the beanie that Taleja traded her for, but both of them probably imagined that they got the better deal.

"I could return your hat, but I think I'll keep it." She winked. "It'll remind me of what you told me last time. Those words are priceless to me. Instead, I have something better to show you..."

And while it took a bit of arcane trickery to conceal the scars, she showed it to Mio first.

"My biggest smile! How's that? Is that worth a box?" She chuckled.

"Words... ... oh, those great words of sage wisdom were discovered baked in a fortune cookie." She playfully gave a wink at Xiuyang, as she played them down. Though, obviously she took the compliment to heart.

She smiled in return as the other girl showed her expression. "Not quite enough, I insist you write to me, from time to time. If you want the box." Her expression showing some deviousness to it.

Xiuyang shrugged. "Nothing new under the sun. But to me, they're your words, because you were the first to say them to me."

She took another sip of her tea, and grinned impishly in reply. "I'd like that very much, but... What should I write to you about?"

"How life is treating you. I like to hear from my fans. Can tell me about any boys you like, which is your favourite song, anything in your adventures." Mio moved over towards the box as she placed it on her own lap as she sat down. She got a cloth as she decided to place some mooncakes within it as she bundled it on top as well.

"I get mooncakes too?" Xiuyang replied, rubbing her hands together in a rare display of overt eagerness. "You drive a hard bargain, mio Mio. I'm usually not a very open person, but I'll try to change that, starting with you. You got yourself a deal."

She stood up and opened her arms up. "Here, for the mooncakes—and because I feel like it. I chickened out last time."

The two shared a brief hug, and some more idle conversation. Today was a good day.

Thieving Cherune, The Final Trial (Forum Only Content, Again! Aren't I Generous?)

The clues hidden within the Cherune boxes led Fait Accompli to the Forked Tower. There, they raced against competing teams Rock and Stone and Huggy Bears to be the second to arrive and solve a riddle, behind distant first place winners Vyshta's More Favoured. The riddle in question was:

Riddle me this, for Shune-Zept's sake: I cannot be used before I break. What am I?

Immediately, Xiuyang thought of an egg. You couldn't eat the shell, obviously—but wait, you could cook with an egg with the shell still on, and wouldn't making hardboiled eggs count as a use? Her mind strayed to other things that required breaking them in order to be used. She strained her mind to think of something less obvious, less childish. She was afraid to be wrong about something like a simple riddle, with Ciro standing right there. She vaguely recalled something, perhaps some piece of sirrahi technology that glowed when cracked, but she could hardly name it if she didn't remember what it was called, and it might be too obscure for something like a riddle. There was something else that came to mind, of course, but it couldn't be that, right? Her cheeks turned a light pink at the thought of even suggesting it. No, leave it to the Huggy Bears to guess something so obscene, and, if they were right, she supposed they deserved their prize for being so daring.

Right as she was about to give in to a trial-and-error approach, Marz gave the correct answer: an egg.

Seriously? The child's answer was the correct one? I want to crawl into a hole and disappear...

Mano e Mano

Gathering Intel: Shadow Wizard Money Gang (Forum Only Content!)

Kaureerah (Includes a Song!)

Atomic Mage Roulette

There beneath those hoodies are... I really don't know who.
It could be your fifth-grade teacher. It could be your mother too.

Five kittens in a trench coat, for a sum of twenty-five
Do we even know, for Oraff's sake, if any are alive?

Ohhhhh, Shadow Wizard Money Gang, they love casting spells
They love blasting other teams and ringin' all their bells.

Who's to say who's who and who's to say what's what.
I only know the following. I'll tell you for a cut!

Blue was a ringer, a real humdinger, hittin' hard in the two-vee-twos,
Yellow was next, and I was a bit vexed to see him make another team totally lose
Their final head was burning red and he put 'em to bed in the one-vee-one.
Looked real mean, except for green. Atomic mage roulette just-a doesn't seem fun!

Xiuyang gave Kaureerah a little round of applause, and thanked her in kind:

I must confess, my singing has no flavor

and my sense of the arts is quite dull.

My rhymes are a mess, but when shown a favor

a good merchant always repays in full.

With that, she gave Kaureerah a mooncake. She blinked and bit into it. "Oh, thenk yoo, fren! Eye weel bee caulleng thet een et saum point." She winked.

"Oh yeah?" Xiuyang gave Kaureerah a sly little smile back. She knew what she was doing. "Something you like, besides Mio's handmade mooncakes?"

"Well..." the performer began with a conspiratorial smile. "Eye woold lauv en eentroodauctioon too yaur femoous frends." She held up the moon cake. "Eencloodeng te waun whoo mede thees deleecioous theng."

"One backstage pass not enough for you?" Xiuyang teased. "I do have more of these mooncakes. Mio made me promise to write her letters every now and then. You should, too. We can send them together—a package deal. Open the replies together, too. Share all the juicy Soul Sisters gossip," she offered.

Kaureerah took another bite and nodded. "Yoo aur e troo fren." She giggled. "Yoo knauw, saumtheng else Eye nooteeced wes thet their cloaks metched their main type auf megic, except faur red beeing Aurcene because there waus noo Aurenge end green naut beein Etaumeec." She shook her head. "Naut soore why, baut eet booged mee."

Maura (This Scene Gets Spicy!)

"Hey, Maura. While I have you... I don't suppose you've seen or heard anything that may explain why Shadow Wizard Money Gang is ranking so highly this year? Isn't it a little suspicious?" She ran a finger around the rim of her glass as she posed her somewhat evasive question.

"Well, we did spectate one of their matches," Maura offered in reply. “There may be information which could help.”

Xiuyang cracked a grin to hide her annoyance. "Make your demands, Maura." She gave in with a light sigh.

"We do not go around making demands. Xiuyang. You know us better than that," Maura cocked her head to the side, confused.

Xiuyang fought the urge to groan. She was not in the mood for trade offers. "I can offer you two things. Mio's autograph, or... information that will help you negotiate with the Sant'Agata Albignese Trading Company in future," she reluctantly offered. It felt like a truly pathetic offer, considering the circumstances. She wondered if Maura already knew about that, and while she felt bad about potentially 'selling' one of Mio's handwritten letters to her, there was virtually no price she wasn't willing to pay to win big in the Trials. Everything was at stake.

"We've booked the Soul Sisters for the grand opening of Longwan. We can arrange tickets for you, and a plus one?" she countered with a patient smile. "Information on a competitor may vary depending on what you're providing, but we had our eyes on right or spite arrangements. We are open to discussing those terms."

Xiuyang scoffed. "I do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld, after what Taleja pulled," she replied bitterly. "I can't guarantee that I'll be able to attend a future concert in Longwan, but my sister Maria is a VIP of the company and notoriously difficult to please. She's a real pain in the ass in the board room. I can get you a page from her personal chef's notebook, and instructions on how to prepare her favorite... tea." Xiuyang trailed off as she noticed a slightly grumpy expression starting to form on Maura's face.

"If this is about the negotiations for your team's cherune box, there was no one open to reason in your absence. Taleja stood there, waiting patiently to discuss terms, and your team mates refused to meet with her, so she had to assertively earn their attention," Maura countered. "We have also upheld every bargain thus far, and so we don't appreciate a snub when we are meeting in good faith. We were willing to take a friend at her word: information for you now, in exchange for a future promise. We are disappointed to have been met with such hostility."

Xiuyang grit her teeth. She did consider Maura to be a reasonable person, so how could she defend Taleja's actions? A cold calmness suddenly washed over her. She knew she shouldn't speak in this emotional state, but oh, was she going to. "Please be at ease, Maura. I certainly wasn't trying to say that Taleja going rogue was your idea. I'm not implying that. I have nothing but sympathy for you. After all, I have my own 'Taleja' to contend with—one with a hot temper at the best of times," she began, somewhat coolly. "Indeed, it's a shame that I was too busy having a near-death experience at the hands of Juulet to convince Taleja that holding Balthazar Square at ransom to make progress in a children's game might be a little unreasonable. Everyone in Fait Accompli agrees that that was quite an inconvenience." She glared daggers at her rival, in spite of her attempts to remain calm.

"You know, I must confess, maybe I am just a little bit less reasonable after all the hell I went through. Perhaps I should take my leave and let you make a deal with Ciro instead! Maybe he has something of actual value to offer, unlike Xiuyang the nobody!" A long pause. She took a drink from her gourd, in lieu of an apology for her outburst, to indicate that she was finished. A poor steward of her emotions, as always.

Maura also paused, but remained undeterred. She knew Xiuyang could be emotional, and was used to the occasional barb. Still, this was probably the most upset Maura had ever seen her before. Not even their own experience in ReTan shook her this badly. Was there more that she wasn't telling her? "To say that you do not expect any mutual agreements regarding the Trials to be upheld is a direct attack on our reputation as a businesswoman, especially in light of the personally advantageous position we find ourselves in, where withholding information is in our best interest," she patiently explained. "We were going to offer you this in advance, for a simple agreement, for example: both teams agree not to spite each other in the upcoming 'Right or Spite' as a special 'mates-rates' exchange, in a game for someone whom, we thought and considered a friend." Maura was unhappy with Xiuyang's attempt to back pedal, and felt the attempt was not an appropriate apology. "Obviously, we were concerned for you, and are glad to see you safely returned," she offered, her tone disarming.

A twinge of guilt was visible on Xiuyang's face at that, and it still felt incredibly uncanny to Maura to see Xiuyang's uncovered face, as if it were no strange thing, after almost two years of mystery. Maura sighed in a defeated blend of concern and frustration. "We could be excused if we happened to conveniently forget all the relevant details—but we wrote it down, at least. We will be the better person; you may have this." She handed the details to Xiuyang. 'Second Round: Purple in one of the 2v2s, Blue in the second 2v2, and Yellow in the 1v1.'

At Maura's gesture of goodwill, Xiuyang's jaw trembled, until she broke down crying. "I'm... sorry, Maura. I'm sorry..." she sobbed. After calming down a bit, she continued. "I... got emotional, because... this will probably be our last deal," she choked, wiping her tears. "I don't really have any authority in the company anymore. Maria is taking my place—you'll be dealing with her from now on," she confessed, defeated. There was no point in hiding it from Maura anymore. If she hadn't heard rumors already, she'd hear the news in a couple of weeks. "I just... I need to do well in the Trials, Maura. After everything that's happened, if I don't prove that I can protect myself, my father might pull my funding and demand I return home and marry some snooty asshole in some far-away, backwards country, like my sister Desi in Virang."

Tears threatened to come again, but she choked them back. "This could be the last time we can speak together like this, and I ruined it by lashing out at you. I don't hate you Maura, I just... I'm jealous. You're not like me. You always show your good side to people, all smiles, kind to people who don't deserve it." She sniffed. How quickly she'd give up the movement of her legs to have a beautiful smile again. "I've had to skulk around in the shadows, hiding my hideous face, hiding my kindness from any who'd exploit it. It's how my family taught me to be. Your 'better person' methods shouldn't work in this ruthless, cutthroat world, but you've always been one step ahead. I've always hated that. You make me look like a fucking joke." A hint of the anger returned, but was quickly stifled. "I envy you, but I've always enjoyed our verbal sparring sessions—I'll miss them." She gave into the tears once more.

Maura sighed as Xiuyang began to break down before her, frowning for a moment before pulling the girl into a hug even given the awkwardness of the position as she encouraged the girl to kneel down in front of her so she could reach, stroking her hands through her hair. “Sheesh, don’t cry; everyone would think we are some kind of monster,” she teased playfully to the other girl, “and it is getting my dress all wet now too.” She made no inclination of pushing her away, just continuing to soothe the girl. “Besides, your father is going to stop paying the tuition, because if you get in the top 20, your tuition gets paid for by Ersand’Enise for the year.”

She made it sound so simple: just ignore her father's petulant attempts to control her, and keep going to school. "You don't get it, Maura!" Xiuyang replied, clutching at the folds of the girl's dress as she cried. "It's not about the money—I finally..! I've only just found a path forward, to live the life I want, and after everything I went through, I might still..!" She sobbed. "I couldn't do anything! That bitch Juulet made me look useless! I need to show them all that I can hack it! My father, Ciro, Tyrel—I need them all to acknowledge me! I need my team to make at least top ten—no, top five!" Her voice was desperate, cracking under the weight of high expectations.

...

There was only so much that encouraging words, or a physical act of comfort could do. With so much at stake in her mind, the only true cure for a crisis of faith in oneself was to purely and simply do it—and that required that she eventually stop crying, calm herself, and take her leave of Maura to go train. Even armed with the information from Maura, Kaureerah, Roslyn and Desmond, she wasn't confident staking it all on proving to the judges and the crowd that her opponents were cheating. There was still a chance that they weren't, and she couldn't afford to be blindsided by that. Her team composition would have to accommodate the possibility that they needed a brute-force victory. With that in mind, she stacked the team's power in the 2v2s, leaving Ciro with the unenviable task of preparing himself for the 1v1, in the hopes that there wouldn't be a 1v1.

Blessedly, this plan paid off in more ways than one. Armed with the Blue Ice from Cal, she calmed her mind and used her beanie of Weggosi relaxation to see through the illusions of Shadow Wizard Money Gang, who turned out to be eeaiko! After ironing out some kinks in their coordination, she and Tyrel were able to not only take the first round, but permanently mark their atomic mage's body to prevent him from meddling in the second round. Shadow Wizard Money Gang were persistent, however, and illegally had him participate in the second round anyway. After a prolonged stalemate, Ingrid and Trypano were able to reveal the cheaters, who were then brutalized by the furious crowd. With her plan a resounding success, Ciro wouldn't have to suffer a humiliating defeat or horrible death in the solo round. Xiuyang couldn't stop herself from embracing her crush, relieved that she hadn't failed him after all the trust he'd put in her.

The Fateful Quarterfinals

This event speaks for itself. Read about it here!

Semifinals: A Perfect Gentleman

Moments before the match, Ciro offered his hand to Xiuyang. Taking it, she looked up at him. She must have given off the vibe that she wanted to say something, too, because Ciro responded with his reassuring smile. "Well, I know that look..." he said with teasing expectance.

"Um, well. I just wanted to say... no matter what happens now, I think we make a pretty good team." She averted her eyes, blushing just slightly.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "That we do."

Xiuyang raised her scarf up, hiding a big smile as she walked into the arena. "Ready to save my ass again?" she exhaled, upon laying eyes on her opponents. Fuck.

"You're going down, scarface!" Raffie cheered, sticking her tongue out at the Revidian pair. How the boos rained down when the Revidian pair entered. There were not too many people allowed to spectate, but those who were did their best to make the place feel hostile towards their enemies.

Zarina then regarded the opposition. "No point asking for a courtesy hug beforehand, huh?" she smirked.

Xiuyang turned to Zarina, unsure what to make of the comment yet. "Sorry, I'm fresh out," she replied, cheeky but friendly.

Ciro shrugged. "I assume that's your way of asking if we'd let you have a grace period. In that case, I agree." He smiled and his body language clearly indicated that he had not raised any defenses, content to let his opponents strengthen. He might do the same himself.

"Huh?" Zarina raised a brow. "Nah, just making a joke. No graces today."

"Very well," he said with a smile.

...

Zarina and Miret were fierce opponents, and Ciro held his own better than Xiuyang expected. Had she vastly underestimated his capabilities? Among the four of them, Xiuyang was the weak link, and everyone quickly put that together. It didn't matter than she was showing vastly superior strength compared to last year's Trials—her opponents were simply stronger than the best that she could muster. She tried to conceal herself with illusions so she could support Ciro, but it was not enough. After only a few rounds of attacks, she was sent hurtling out of the ring by Zarina. She could have killed her. If this were a real battle, she'd be dead, and she knew it.

Xiuyang was eliminated. Ciro's face fell. "Well, I guess that's that, then." He shot Xiuyang a sad look. "I am so sorry I couldn't help you do this, my love."

Zarina shrugged. "Sorry, habibi."

Ciro adjusted the red rose in his lapel. He took it out and took a sniff. "Well, I'd appreciate if you'd let me shake your hands and walk out. I'd like to remember uh..." He scratched at the back of his head. "What not to do next time."

Zarina raised a brow. "Shake hands? Sure, after the match is over. You can walk out, though."

He held his hand out and watched it refused. He shook his head. "Nevermind." He walked out, and the crowd roared. The Virangish had won in Virang; the Revidians had been defeated.

Xiuyang was sent hurtling into a bench, and did not land gracefully. Her world spun around, and agonizing pain assaulted her back and stomach. Virangish spectators jeered, tossing food at her as she struggled to stand and catch her breath. At least, she wasn't dead. Ciro came and embraced her as the boos rained down upon them. "Remember, the opinions of these... people don't define who you are," he murmured into her ear. "But they are not like us: they care only for their bread and circuses. I will never sink to their level, I promise. I pray you do the same."

"Oi!" yelled Zarina, arms flailing and all those gestures for attention. "A little grace for the opponents. Ya Hmar! They played honourably." Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. That she was with one of those filthy knife-ears could be overlooked, in theory. It was simply their team composition and Zarina had been given no choice in that, most likely. Now she was calling Revidians honourable!? The whispers and gossip got Zarina to enter the defensive with her arms crossed. "Thank you for coming to see us and the cheers." she bowed her head before marching to the benches and join her team.

Xiuyang bit her lip. It was hard not to be disappointed, when she had taken the finals almost for granted, until Raffaella had unleashed... that. It was surreal. It felt unfair. It felt how the Perrench had probably felt after her "victory." In reality, she knew she hadn't deserved to make it to semifinals, to begin with.

"Let's go," she sighed, sounding only slightly morose. A surprising underreaction, given how fired up she was to defeat Penny. Perhaps the difference in power had taken the wind out of her sails. "I'm so exhausted, Ciro... from everything. I just want a bath, a nice dinner, and about... three days and nights of uninterrupted sleep." She offered him a wry smile. He smiled and walked beside her, holding his hand out playfully. "Yup, it can all go burn for now." He shook his head. "The rest sounds lovely, though, and better enjoyed... dare I say it—with company?"

Xiuyang gave him the sly eyes—the look she always had when she was hatching some plan to amuse herself. She played at ignoring his hand, plucking a piece of lettuce out of his hair instead. Then, she took him by the arm. "My father is impressed by you, you know?" she hinted. "That's not easy to do. It's almost as hard as impressing me," she japed.

"Well, I am pretty impressive," he remarked. Then he scratched at the back of his head. "Just uh... scrub today from the books, huh?" He offered a self-effacing smile and, together, they walked away. But Xiuyang would not forget—how Ciro, ever the image of a perfect gentleman, had put himself in the crowd's line of fire to lift her up, physically and emotionally. "Nope. Don't think I can, so you'll just have to treat me," she teased, smiling.

And that, he did.

A Pizza and Beer Party (Fait Accompli Exclusive!)

Following the conclusion of Mano e Mano, Xiuyang called a final team meeting. It was, at least, officially a team meeting, but there was also a subtle but distinct "consolation pizza and beer party" vibe to it. She certainly wasn't going to admit to it, and nobody was likely to point it out. She had the plausible deniability of being a perpetually drunk Revidian. This was Xiuyang's vibe, and it was fun for a while, but eventually, the others looked to her for some kind of purpose for the meeting. She shrugged. She was never any good at starting any kind of "official" anything.

"We are gathered here todayy..." she drawled comically, "...to talk strategy. The old greybeards aren't done using us for their own amusement yet." She chugged another pint's worth of beer from her gourd. "I'll get straight to the point. We're in the spotlight of a massive controversy. People hate us. 'Specially me." She grimaced, not from guilt but from distaste.

"We're in seventh place, but we'll probably get spited into the ground if we don't pick up some good PR. That's why I passed on fighting for third place. We could maybe take down Maura's team if we're extremely lucky and on our absolute A game, but let's be honest... we're not. We're all exhausted, and those points aren't worth the hassle compared to what we're gonna get by playing the good sports, looking like the victims of someone else's grand design—which we probably are, but everyone needs to know it." She smirked. "We need the Zenos of Ersand'Enise to take the fall for us on that Fiske n' Chips match. I'm sure their infighting has something to do with this. It's the least they can do for us. Our efforts are better spent elsewhere."

She chugged again. "I've got more unfinished business with Penny than I thought. I knew she didn't like me, but apparently she hates my guts badly enough to spit death threats with just a little bit of provocation. So, there's nothing for it. I'll just have to give her the apology she wants. The Perrench outnumber us. She's holding all the cards. I need her to agree to a ceasefire, or we'll lose our place in the top ten." She swirled her gourd around, acting like she didn't give a care—but in truth, this clever ruse was just an excuse. Penny was hurting, and despite her best efforts not to care... she did. "Anyone else got any bright ideas to deal with this problem? If not, I'll settle for letting you handle right or spite, while I deal with the jealous girlfriend issue. It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it," she japed, with the vibe of a mob boss. "If I don't come back, you know who killed me," she added, deadpan.

"From what ah understand th' main top ten get more leverage from spitin' than rightin'. Ah think as long as no team in the top has a specific reason t' spite us then we might a chance of movin' up on the back of other team's spite-in' one of the leadin' teams." Trypano was leaned up against a wall, arms crossed and hat casting a long shadow in the flickering light of the wall lantern.

"Since votin' uniformly gives us a boost ah think votin' spite on Vyshta's Most Favored will knock 'em down a peg, 'specially since we probably ain't gonna be the only ones. After all, bein' number one just put's a big target on their backs." She gave a long sigh, not as a statement or anything of that sort but rather she was simply weary of this distraction. She was done with these trials as soon as they even began, the amount of time these events had deducted from her actual work was grinding her nerves.

"As for curryin' favor with the teams eleven t' twenty or so I'm not the one t' ask. I'll do what ah can but hardly anyone knows me, least in a positive context that is."

"I'll go to the Eskandish, I have a reputation with them and should be able to persuade them not to vote against us." Ingrid wasn't completely confident in that but she would try at the very least. "Same with Sven. I can see if he is willing to at least not spite us and at best have some sympathy. Other than that I can hit up some old friends to try and get higher. I don't know if it will convince them but I can try."

"Good luck with Penny, she is a decent person, I swear." Ingrid added. She wasn't going to try to convince someone of her character when at times, Penny acts like a bad person to even her.

Acceptance (Forum Only Content!)

Given the events of the day, it was nigh impossible for anyone to get a moment with Penny alone, Xiuyang least of all. She decided to get her attention the only way she could think to try, which was to write a letter.

Penny,

I want you to know, first and foremost, that I bear you no ill will. I want you and Jamboi to be happy together. I would never want you to suffer as you did. Even if you don't remember a thing, I want to apologize. I don't know where the aberration came from, but I can't shake this sinking feeling that, if I'd been stronger, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

That isn't the main reason I'm writing to you, though. Penny, I don't know if anyone told you about the things you said to me in between being temporally anchored and the start of our fight. What I heard broke my heart, but it also opened my eyes. I've hurt you, far more than I ever thought or intended. In the moment, I was angry, but in hindsight, I feel ashamed. If there is anyone in this school who knows what it's like to hide bitterness behind a mask, it's me. I should have seen the pain you were in.

Please, find me at Dami's Cross, and tell me everything. Just let me have it, and get it all off your chest. I promise I won't get angry or defensive. I want both of us to leave this bitterness behind and focus on making our loved ones happy.

Sincerely, Xiuyang

Despite the presence of dozens of other students all using it as a rendezvous point, there was no missing Penny when she showed up at the Dami's Cross fountain. By her very nature, she was distinctive. She did not, however, seem to notice Xiuyang right away. Instead, she sat on one of the benches, leaning her crutches against the end of it and taking a moment to get her bearings. In the meantime, a trio of cleaners were hard at work scrubbing the paint off of the statue in the middle. Should Xiuyang wish to back out, this would perhaps be her last opportunity to do so.

Despite her promise not to get angry or defensive, no matter what Penny might say to her, Xiuyang still did not quite feel safe meeting with Penny alone. It was no coincidence that she'd chosen such a public place. The immature part of her had even hoped that Penny might just not show up. Now that she had, though, her heart began to race. As soon as she saw her, she remembered the sight of her, aberration mad, charging after her with murderous intent. She remembered how easily the death threat had escaped her mouth, and how easily she could have squished her like a bug if Ingrid wasn't there to defend her.

This, however, would be her last chance with Penny, perhaps her only chance. Anxiety written all over her face, she revealed herself. She'd been sitting on the edge of the fountain, alone. She rose to her feet slowly, and cautiously approached Penny. No theatrics, no clever jokes. She simply walked up to her. "Thanks for coming," she said softly, trying to smile. "...May I sit?" she attempted, gesturing to the other end of the bench.

Penny arched an eyebrow. "Nobody's stopping you." She looked the other girl over. At some point, Xiuyang had stopped wearing her mask. That was... not a pretty sight and, for some reason, it melted a bit of her resolve. She was not a pretty sight either, according to some. Penny said no more for the time being, however. She merely let the other speak. On the one hand, she was nearly certain that the school or some nefarious third party had been behind the incident that she did not fully remember. On the other, a small part of her still believed that it might've been Xiuyang's allies and they'd simply messed up. This was likely what it appeared to be: a simple apology for something that, to be frank, Penny owed an apology for as well. There was always a chance, though - just a slight one - that it was something much darker.

"...Thanks," came the simple reply. Anxious, she sat on the other edge of the bench, looking like an awkward teenager preparing to be scolded—which, truthfully, was exactly what she was. For Pentad's sake, Penny, please say something, she thought desperately as the short moment of silence seemed in her mind to last an eternity.

Letting a moment pass without trying to break the ice was not a strong suit of hers. So, in the end, she caved, and spoke first. "I hope you're here because you got my letter, otherwise, this is going to be really awkward..." she tried a nervous laugh, scratching her cheek. "I'll just start with the bottom line, huh? I've been... a conceited, conniving little coward. Saying that I was trying to steal your boyfriend is giving me too much credit. For a Yanii, dating a Yasoi is a big commitment, and I lacked the conviction to make a move. I used to think, 'no one would ever love a girl like me.' His rejection would have broken me. So I just... silently hoped that he would make the first move," she confessed.

"He's not that kind of guy, though. He wants a girl who will say yes, not one who will just... not say no. He's a good man. He called me beautiful because I lacked confidence, not because he liked me like that. ...Still, I should have told him to stop. I know what it feels like, now, to love someone so much that just the thought of him flirting with other girls, even if it's strictly business pleasantries, makes me feel terribly jealous. If I'd known what that was like—that I was hurting you—well, I'd like to think I would have done better... I don't know. Hearing him call me beautiful, even if it was a joke, felt so nice. No one ever said so before." She gripped the folds of her robes.

But you're not, Penny thought, and neither am I. The thought was invasive. It was not what she was supposed to think. It was not what she was meant to think. She shook her head without meaning to. "That's... a lot." Penny glanced about uncomfortably, not quite knowing how to respond to such an admission. "Dami," she laughed nervously, "I feel like such a bitch if I don't respond in kind, you know?" For a moment, she simply regarded her counterpart. She didn't know what to do with her hands.

"But thank you, and.. really." She breathed. Did she really hate Xiuyang? They'd been friendly to each other on a surface level. Penny had spent her entire life until Ersand'Enise being friendly to people who she hated and who'd hated her. Really, it had been fear: a fear of losing Ashon and everything that he represented. "I have..." she admitted, trailing off for a moment, "my own long sad story to tell, but now's not the time for it. I have my own deep-seated issues with self-worth." She knitted and unknitted her fingers. They still felt strange: that gap in her left hand that had always been there and now wasn't. She'd hated it too, but she'd accepted it, even - scandalously - used it to hold a pen or utensils with when nobody was looking. Why should a different body automatically be deemed hideous and malformed? Who got to decide that? Was it social or biological?

"Oh, I could say something trite about how we're not so different, but I think that you and I both know that now." She shook her head and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, offering a faint smile. "I don't think we'll ever be besties - I bleed green and gold - but we're not enemies and..." She shrugged. "This meant a lot. I'm not gonna cry. I don't know why. Maybe I have so many regrets piled up that I'm just numb to it at this point. Maybe life is surreal right now." She let out a snort and leaned forward, posting her weight on her hands. There was a restlessness about Penny these days. Maybe some of the yasoi had bled into her being. "I just..." It was a simple thing, really, but nobody ever apologized to her. "Apology accepted and... I should've said something before. I should've seen it and recognized where my own reaction was coming from." She hesitated. I'm... glad you're happy now." Her smile felt fake even though it wasn't. I'm sorry. She was going to say it but, then, she didn't. On some level perhaps, to do so would've been an admission of weakness. For a royal of Perrence to do that... she did not recognize it as such but, maybe, it was just a mental hurdle too far for her.

"Life is pretty fucking surreal right now," Xiuyang agreed, letting out a genuine chuckle, and palpable relief. "I'm not entitled to your regrets, Penny—but I hope you won't let them hold you back. I've been so scared of... everything lately, I almost forgot how to be happy—but I'm done crying, sick of it even. I'm not going to waste another moment regretting anything that led me to this place in time."

She stood up. "I meant what I said, when I said it—that there's nothing tying me to Revidia but a birth certificate—but... now I've gone and fallen head over heels for a Revidian, haven't I? C'est la vie, non?" she shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I still don't want war. If I knew the first thing about what happened, or who was behind it, I'd tell you. I hope you believe that."

Penny sniffed, and toed at a pebble with her single foot. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "I do, suunei." She took a breath and flashed a smiled. "I do." Quicker than one might've expected, she slid over and reached out in embrace. "Thanks for being a human. Let's hug it out, hmm?"

Caught off guard, Xiuyang paused, but then she sat right back down on the bench and embraced Penny. "I'm here for you both, if you need me," she whispered. "I know how they look down on us. How hard it can be." She gently squeezed. She wanted, perhaps, to say more—to get it all off her chest—but this moment was for Penny, not her. She'd said enough for today.

Closure?

In the Proving Grounds, Juulet was hosting an event: allegedly, anyone could punch her in the face, for the low cost of giving their points to Vyshta's More Favoured. Predictably, Xiuyang stepped up to the proverbial plate. Her expression had certainly changed following her time in Yarsoc. She was showing her face now, bearing her scars almost with a kind of pride. She had no fear in her eyes, nor hatred, nor the mercantile glint of the expectation of bargaining. There was nothing but a cold emptiness. Was it depression? Or acceptance?

The bitch herself sat cross legged in the centre of the arena, playing with some of the sand with an idle hand to pass the time. But then came the Yanii she had banished a couple of days ago. She did not look surprised and instead greeted Xiuyang with a smug grin. "Looks like the spiritual awakening in our lands made a new you. Good for you."

"...Yeah," she replied blithely. "Sure. Let's call it a holy pilgrimage. One might even say I found some form of acceptance with the Yasoi," she japed, thinking of Tyrel, and how surprised she'd been that she came for her. She stood a fair distance from Juulet, arms crossed. "I had to see it for myself to believe it. So. Whose idea was this?"

Juulet pushed herself off her sitting position, seized one of her crutches and stood before the maskless Revidian. "Mine. I'm not as bullheaded as I seem." the crutch was placed before her, allowing for the taller Yasoi to leaned forward over it. "Interested?"

There was a pause as Xiuyang pondered the absurd offer. "Depends. Why did you choose Yarsoc? Did you think sending me to that shithole would make me give up on your people? Make me show my true, dirty Yanii colors? Or did you just think it would be funny, to write this as my epitaph: Here lies Xiuyang Solari, tree-rider extraordinaire. She died as she lived." She delivered the punchline with a tone as flat and dead as roadkill.

Juulet didn't take long to answer. An anti-climactic shrug was a proper indicator of what was to come. "I wanted to fuck you over, I'm pretty sure. Tossing you in a deathtrap shithole felt fitting at the time." She drummed her fingers over the single support she was leaned on. "I didn't even remember where exactly I sent you. Just a spur of the moment thing. But no, I don't think enough about some tree-rider Yanii to imagine writing on some tombstone." Her expression was dull as much as her tone was flat and disinterested to match Xiuyang's energy.

"I'm kind of surprised. I didn't expect you to come back." She chuckled after the mirthful remark. "I suppose it is for the better you did, Ashy was growing antsy. And now, here you are no longer with that ugly mask. No more surprise, sure, but now you can finally breathe." She then raised her index finger and tapped her cheek. "Now, stop wasting my time for answers you'll never be satisfied with and hit me. I've got points to grind."

I'll never feel like I can breathe more than halfway in. Not until the day you die, Xiuyang thought bitterly. On the outside, however, she smiled. "I'm not here to hit you, though. I'm only here to make sure that arbitrary 'score' of yours is even between us, since I know you won't stop coming for me until it is. If we're even, then I have no business with you."

With that, Xiuyang turned to walk away. Her eyes didn't linger on that monster for even a second more. Juulet wouldn't show the sad, confused expression of a broken child who was unaccustomed to kindness or forgiveness. She would show only a smug grin, or high-and-mighty scorn. No, a single act of puerile violence would not satisfy Xiuyang. She would handle this the Solari way. She would face Juulet with a smile, starting today, until the very instant she found herself with a favorable hand. Then, she would make Juulet suffer.

Later, upon seeing the final standings, Xiuyang would find out that her singular decision not to punch Juulet would cost Vyshta's More Favoured first place, bumping them down to third. She had won the moral victory, even if it felt a bit hollow.

Two Girls and a Scheme

Stupid Games, Fabulous Prizes, Hidden Plot (A Summary With New Insights)

The artifacts on offer as Trials rewards had been on display in the auction hall for some time, and all of the winners seemed to have at least a vague idea of what they wanted. It was never going to be a simple matter of choosing those items, however; it was a game in which the higher-placed teams had an advantage, items could be stolen, and the top 3 teams could get 3 rewards, while everyone else was stuck with two. Problem one: there were three items that Xiuyang absolutely had to have, and anything that didn't get chosen was going to be auctioned off. Problem two: Marceline had just seized one of the prizes Xiuyang had her eye on—an anti-magic device.

When Fait Accompli's turn came, though, Xiuyang heaved a sigh of relief, and headed straight for the Paired Mirrors of Swift Exchange, ignoring every other prize. This one took priority. Once she had it, she sat back down next to Ciro, offering him one of the mirrors with a big smile that could rival Raffaella's. "You've always been there when I needed you. Now I can return the favor." He smiled in return. "Have I told you that you're the best enough times, or would you like to hear it again?"

"Once in a while certainly doesn't hurt." She looked away to hide her blush, grinning. "Just don't wear it out." She couldn't be happier with her choice. She didn't fully understand Ciro's capabilities, and wasn't sure if the gift would be useful. Her relief was palpable, but she was also a little embarrassed—at least, she strived to seem that way. Now no one can steal this from us without looking like a villain. Only, what to do about Marci...

She considered. No, I'll let her have this. I shouldn't rush things. The next time we meet, I'll be an even match for Juulet myself—and I won't be alone. Ciro just got an anti-magic item, too. Having made her decision, she laid hands upon the Sanguine Bayonet of Endless Bloodhunger—a prize that had appeared in last year's Trials, but went unclaimed, perhaps due to its macabre nature. Indeed, there were already whispers in the room. Of course, there would be confusion about a pacifist taking up a weapon such as this. As she walked back to Ciro's side, she ignored everyone's stares. I've been too soft. These people have forgotten what it means to fuck with a Solari. Father was right—I should remind them that we are dangerous to the wrong sort.

At Xiuyang's recommendation, Ciro acquired a mask with a power that would be useful in negotiations and other social situations—an item that was useful to both of them. She waited for someone to steal her new lance. War was around the corner, and surely someone would take the opportunity to show the room that they were oh so much scarier than a pair of mere Revidian merchants. Come on, take it from me. Then I can take what I'm really after with no chance of it being stolen from me. She feigned defensiveness whenever anyone approached her team, but to her chagrin, it was always Trypano's item they were after.

In the end, Xiuyang was stuck with the lance. Well, fuck. I decided I'd be okay with this outcome, but really... those guns are perfect for combating an Avatar of Vyshta. I'm surprised Marci didn't take them. She considered her options for a moment. During the last auction, items started off expensive and the prices only got driven up from there. She had money saved from back then, but her income was the lowest it had ever been, now. Certainly, she'd had no allies to pool money with last time, and now she had Ciro, but still. She owed him enough—she shouldn't rely on him for every little thing.

Winners were being allowed to swap any prizes they were unhappy with with those still left in the pool. She could trade the lance for the guns, but what kind of message would that send? That she was indecisive after all? No, she had to keep the lance now. She just needed an item to trade. How could she make this work? There was a way, she decided as she approached the prize pool. "Anyone else trying to get another prize out of this?" She asked, a mercantile glint in her eyes. "I've got enough money here to buy at least two items during the auction, but I only want one, and I absolutely must have it. I'll buy any one item off of you with this. Any item—I'm not picky."

Immediately, a woman named Marlijn Vaanse took her up on the offer. It was a bad deal for Xiuyang, who was holding a small fortune of 1,300 magus—but she wasn't going to take even the slightest chance that someone with more money than her had their eyes on Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers. As soon as the deal was made, Xiuyang exchanged the item she'd bought off Marlijn for those guns, and wasted no time in attaching them to her hip and concealing them beneath her robe. "A pleasure doing business."

Easy Come, Easy Go (A Fleshed-Out Auction Sequence)

The auction was next, and Xiuyang was out of cash. She was satisfied with her haul, though, and more than content to simply sit next to Ciro and watch the show. The first interesting items to come up were some paintings by the artist Tku. One called "The Rise" depicted Juulet in the role of a divine being, facing off against a four-armed demon. How droll, Xiuyang thought, until Ciro started bidding for it against Juulet herself. Confused at first, Xiuyang eventually caught on to what he was doing: driving up the price. She fought back the urge to snicker and failed as Juulet happily paid triple her original bid.

The next painting, called "The Fall" depicted the more honest scene that Xiuyang remembered from the finals of Mano e Mano: a scared and helpless child in the grasp of an all-consuming darkness, her divinity stripped away. Ciro leaned in to Xiuyang, whispering: "Would you like it?" The question caught her off guard. Where, just where in all of Sipenta could a man find this much brazen confidence? If Juulet didn't destroy this painting herself, whoever bought it would surely be her next target, along with the artist himself. "Nah. It's burned into my mind's eye forever," she replied in truth. When the demon had appeared, she watched him taunt Juulet, even as others ran and hid behind the stone walls of the arena, as if they could offer safety from such an overwhelmingly powerful being. She had been prepared to die by the same greataxe that would have slain her greatest adversary. Just how cold had her heart grown to the prospect of dying, after everything she'd witnessed in the past months? Death, and even what she knew of the hells were a mercy compared to that endless nothing she had experienced firsthand.

Meanwhile, everyone was bidding on the painting, including Trypano, Penny, Desmond, and... Marceline. She bid a whopping 500 magus on it, remarking that she loved the "realism." "What a wonderful piece! Should I put it on public display?" She said as she shook Tku's hand. Dami fuck, Marci. Holy shit. Xiuyang couldn't help but admire and envy the girl's courage. As the auction went on, Marci also bid 100 magus on the 25-hour self-copy. By the gods, I think she has the same plan I was considering before. She's going to kill Juulet, she realized. Xiuyang didn't know much about Marci, other than that any sensible woman would be furious at Juulet for attacking their boyfriend. Should I stop her? She bit her lip for a fraction of a second, then quickly hid behind a poker face, standing ready to prompt Ciro to back her if she had competition. However, she had none.

Now Juulet was bidding on an item: the Girdle of Dominance, which would only make her even more of a menace. "Do we allow this?" she whispered to Ciro urgently. "We let others spend and we watch," he replied simply. It was only then that she reflected: Ciro had driven up the price of a lot of items, but not actually bought anything himself. It seemed he had some grander scheme in mind. She shrugged off her reservations, deciding to trust in his judgment. He hadn't let her down before. In the end, it didn't matter, as Juulet and Tyrel pooled their money, with the latter actually getting the belt, and Juulet seemed... satisfied? When did those two suddenly grow close? This was worrying.

At last, though, Ciro decided to buy something, and when he did, it was an absolute steal, snagging a Great Sandbar Thresher for a measly 200 magus. She certainly didn't envy whoever found themselves on the wrong side of Ciro while riding that beast. Next was a rare variant of Coldfire Wyvern: the Blackfire, starting at a mere 4 magus. If Xiuyang had only known the Trials prizes would start so cheap, she would have held on to her money. She looked on with pity for the silky black beast with fierce violet eyes, regretful that she had no money—until Ciro slapped down 250 for it. "Was I that obvious?" she asked, more than a little embarrassed. No one competed to outbid him, either. It seemed everyone knew what was happening here. "I know how to read people, and we didn't pay too much," he replied. Xiuyang smiled sheepishly. You could have left that last part out, she thought, bemused. Oh. I totally just let him cater to my whims, didn't I? Just like other girls... Sorry, my dear. Please don't be cross with me. She knitted her fingers anxiously, a little ashamed of herself.

What followed was an absolute bloodbath over a piece of Sirrahi technology: a pair of two-way radios. Xiuyang had to pull her scarf up to hide her stupid grin. To think I got a much better item uncontested during prize selection. Thanks for respecting us lovebirds, she thought deviously, even though it did warm her heart slightly. It was real love, after all, wasn't it? "I wish we had popcorn," Ciro remarked as he leaned in, hands in his pockets. "This is the best. I'm so glad I came along," she replied with a chuckle. "Always fireworks here. We've spent barely more than we've made and they haven't even made it to the shoppe yet." He ruffled her hair fondly. It was true: the others had spent basically all of their money, and Ciro's Volta Emporium was about to make a lot more. I almost don't feel stupid for overpaying for those guns anymore, she mused as the radios sold for a whopping 850 magus.

Scavenging The Emporium, Feeding the Poor (New Forum Content!)

Later that day, word reached Xiuyang that a disaster had taken place at L'emporio di Volta. A certain dragon tamer astride a Blue Water Behemoth had, according to some sources, inadvertently trashed the place while trying to save some customers from some runaway Rettandic goods. Ciro's version of the story understandably made it sound a bit less noble. "I'll help clean this up. Don't worry about it—there are some things I wanted to buy, too."

Having heard through Tyrel of the miraculous healing powers of the cheese Pluurii had acquired during prize selection, Xiuyang thought she'd have a go at trying to find one for herself. She had many things to be thankful for, despite all of the trials she'd been put through lately—but if she could get rid of her scars as well, she'd never ask the gods for anything again. Checking around for any eyes on her, she saw none. It seemed as if the employees knew of her and Ciro's relationship, and trusted her. Very good. She put on her beanie and began to search the contents of the crates without opening them. Sorry, love, but this is for both of us.

No matter how far and wide she searched, however, she could not find any crates with the mana-infused cheese. She did find a few other curiosities, though, and opted to keep the three crates they happened to be in. She could afford another ten crates with her pocket money, and purchased those as well. "Pack these up, please. I wish to donate them," she said to the nearest worker. "Where to, signora?" "The Seagate." "...The Seagate, madam?" he asked wearily. "Well, go around from the Parade Gate, if it offends your sensibilities," she fired back irritably. "Not at all, madam Solari."

As the carriage moved along, Xiuyang wondered if she should even show up in person for this. Was there any merit to it? "Tree-riders" like her were always viewed with suspicion. However, she mustered every ounce of her courage and went along for the ride, Staff of the Burning Monkey King in hand. As the yasoi refugees came into view, they all stared at her. Curious eyes failed to recognize either the woman or the staff in her hand, and their reactions to her generosity were mixed. Several children thanked her as they had clearly been taught, while their parents said nothing, positive or negative. Some pointed at her scarred face and said things she couldn't understand while the adults shushed them. A few nodded in gratitude and thanks. Overall, it was a very mixed bag. It neither met Xiuyang's expectations of negativity, nor subverted them with heartwarming positivity. It just kind of happened—and perhaps that was right and fair.

An Uneasy Alliance (Twenty-Five)

It was early evening, and Marci had finally tracked down Xiuyang as she walked. "Hey," called Marceline, "I'm glad you're coming." She took a second to catch her breath as she pulled up alongside the Revidian. "Wouldn't be a party without you."

Xiuyang regarded Marci's sudden appearance with surprise, and perhaps a healthy dose of suspicion. Her team "should" have advanced instead of Fait Accompli, if the aberration fiasco hadn't happened, and the two hadn't spoken since then. "You're not wrong," she replied, polite but wary. It was to be expected, perhaps, given what had happened to her dorm, as she was now the subject of much controversy among the Perrench.

She was walking alongside Ciro, and an eagle-eyed Marci would no doubt have noticed the arcane illusions at work, concealing the scars on her arms and legs—and, coincidentally, a pair of flintlock pistols strapped to her thighs, underneath her dress. She wasn't leaving anything to chance, apparently.

"Listen, I know some really messed up stuff happened in that match," Marceline admitted, "But I'm glad it didn't scare you off. You're.... well... good people, Xiuyang, what little I know you." They walked in silence for a few moments longer and Marceline didn't comment on what her counterpart was hiding. "Fuck Juulet, by the way," she offered.

At that, Xiuyang stopped abruptly, letting go of Ciro's arm. "I need to handle this," her eyes seemed to say as she gave him a nod. "I'll catch up," she assured him. Ciro released her with a concerned look and an assurance that he would meet her at the party, but he would likely want to know more at some point. If he wasn't quite nosy, he was every curious about everything, and often totally inconsequential things.

She took Marceline along a slight detour, walking at an idle pace until she supposed that Ciro was, ostensibly, out of earshot. She put up what she could of a sonic bubble, which wasn't much, but as some might say, locks kept honest people honest. "You're doing it tonight, I take it?" she remarked rather straightforwardly. She looked at Marci with an impenetrable expression. "Don't worry, you don't have a rat. I simply had my suspicions. I have a rough idea of what you plan to do, if only because I'd considered it myself upon seeing those same prizes," she admitted. "But if death would leave you with any regrets, I suggest you keep your head down too. If I couldn't hide from her, I doubt anyone can."

The younger girl shrugged. "It has to be done, doesn't it?" She leaned against a wall as her potential partner continued. Her eyes flicked Xiuyang's way and she shrugged. "I figured someone would guess," the tethered allowed. "Long as it's nobody close to Juulet, then I think we're fine, and you're the polar..." "Opposite," Xiuyang finished as Marci trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "But Tyrel. Who'd have ever thought." She shook her head in frustration. "She's not as smart as I thought she was, to be reeled in so easily by a dash of superficial charm." She pushed off from the wall. "As if it undoes numerous murderous escapades." She clenched her jaw and looked away for a moment, arms wrapped around herself. "I'm praying you don't go soft on me, like Tyrel," she entreated - slash - warned. "I'm going to kill her. I don't like killing, but every moment she breathes, she's like... a great sword hanging over the heads of everyone she's harmed: you, me, Fiske, Dory." She shook her head. And how many others, huh? She's evil and she'll keep being evil."

"I'm not so blindly in favor of the Yasoi that you need to fear me protecting a murderous false Avatar for the optics of it." She looked over her shoulder as she said it. "...Aye, I've gone soft as freshly fallen snow—with all its treachery." She offered a sly smile and a wink. "I'll give Tyrel a hard time about that later, but if I've learned anything about the Yasoi, they're much like us. The smartest ones all act like fools."

She paused for a moment, her eyes meeting Marci's as she considered her resolve. It was clear that there was nothing she could say to make her back down and wait for what better time to strike might come. "I don't disagree, but I'm not ready to face her—and neither are you—but maybe you'll stand a chance if we put our preparations together," she pondered. She drew her hidden flintlock pistols, showing them off to Marci. "These are interesting guns. Should you find your spells failing you, for any reason—inadequate strength, attempting a spell beyond your ken, or... just ill fortune, perhaps?" she suggested rather dispassionately. "They re-absorb and store any wasted energy from magic. Quite a useful tool in ambitious hands."

She held them just out of reach of Marci's hands. "Of course, if I just give them to you, I'll be implicated as your accomplice if you fail—so I'll need the appearance of having sold these to you. Give me something as collateral, and we have a deal." She offered an apologetic smile. "No offense, but I've actually gained something to lose since the last time I fucked with Juulet. I can't take any chances." I really shouldn't get involved at all, she thought apprehensively. But she's right. While I wait for my 'perfect' revenge, more innocents will suffer. Her plan is decent. I shouldn't let my hatred rob her of this chance.

Marceline considered. She pressed her lips together. "I've my own plans, but those would be useful as a safety net..." Her eyes darted about for a moment as she reached for a small sack tucked into her belt. "One diamond exploit," she offered, holding out the valuable groove coin she'd plucked from it. "Or did you prefer something that was more obviously mine?"

"That might be a bit too bold. This will do," she assured her, exchanging the items. Since I know you'll want this back, she thought, but didn't say. "Since I planned to use them to defend myself at the Soiree if necessary, they're already loaded. They can only store energy for a limited time, though," she advised. Then, she looked at Marci seriously. "She expected me to die in Yarsoc, despite what she's told anyone else. No matter what she says, don't hesitate."

Marceline hesitated for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, she leaned in. "I know you've already gotten one of these from Penny today - she mentioned it to me - but come here." Marci reached in to embrace her. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't hesitate."

Xiuyang was entirely not ready for the hug. Deep down, she didn't feel that she deserved one. It felt cowardly, relying on Marceline and refusing to involve herself directly—but more than anything, she didn't want to die, not now that she was so close to a new chapter of her life, with everything she wanted and more. She could put the struggles and the failures behind her, if only she could wait a little longer. The hug was brief and awkward, with Xiuyang looking over her shoulder as she gave Marci a pat on the back. "This was a great talk that we never had. Was nice not seeing you," she japed, slipping away with a sheepish smile.

Marceline hadn't been sure if a hug was warranted, but she'd wanted to involve Xiuyang at least symbolically and craved some sense of her blessing. Truthfully speaking, she'd needed it as much for her own fraying nerves as anything else. In theory, the plan was perfect. In practice, it had so many redundancies built into it that there was no way it could end in outright disaster, and now she'd added another. "Until we meet!" Marci chirped. Then they parted ways.

A Party is Never Just a Party

Soiree Arrival

Xiuyang arrived, accompanied by Ciro—or perhaps it was he who arrived, accompanied by Xiuyang? Ever since the controversial quarterfinals match against Penny and Guy, Xiuyang had not been seen alone even once. She was, of course, never easy to find, even at the best of times, but after her dorm room was vandalized, she was even more elusive.

She was, as ever, a centerpiece of rumor. After returning from her disappearance, she no longer hid her scars; only the members of Fait Accompli knew how she got them, leaving everyone else to speculate. She wore the qipao given to her by the Twin Emperors of ReTan once again, like it was her favorite dress. Previously a noted pacifist, some discredited voices among the Perrench whispered suspicions that she had not only summoned an aberration, but had even used blood magic. No one "knew" where she was staying after emptying her dorm of whatever remained of her belongings, but it was pretty easy, many mused, to guess with whom she was staying. After grabbing a particular prize from the Trials that seemed to be a gift for Ciro, she spent her remaining time during prize selection and the following auction acquiring undeniably lethal weapons; others did the same, of course, but some considered it out of character for Xiuyang.

Then, of course, was the news about the Solari trading company. Finally, the long-standing rumor was confirmed: Salome (Xiuyang) Solari would be stepping down from her role, making Maria Solari, her elder sister and firstborn of the family, the new CFO. Many saw this an an improvement, as Maria was less of an idealist and more practical-minded. All was not well, however—a new and terrifying rumor was spreading: one of the company's flagships, a Torragonese man of war named the Forte Impresa, had been captured by pirates. Was it true? How would such a thing have possibly happened?

Xiuyang appeared remarkably unbothered by it all. Perhaps she'd had enough time to get over the loss of her lucrative position. Maybe it was all part of her future plans. Perhaps it was simply no longer "her problem." Whatever the case, she was all smiles as she looked around at her friends and bluntly ignored any stink-eye. "I'm growing quite fond of this," she remarked as she helped herself to some of the Ellermane Bleu. I'd say it brings back memories, but that wasn't that long ago, now was it? she mused.

Another Type of Acceptance

As Xiuyang mingled with others of the merchant class, catching them up on the news and engaging in some idle gossip, she suddenly caught a glimpse of Penelope, which meant Guy was around somewhere. An uneasy expression took over her face as she pet the puffhound as usual, glancing about for her master. She looked like she didn't want to be noticed.

Penelope accepted the pets and demanded more for a bit. Then she remembered her role. She pulled over the two pups to get their pets as well. They must learn.

Xiuyang was generally not well-liked by animals. At least, that's how it was in the past. Now, however, it was this easy; all she had to do was gently reach out a hand, and she was accepted. It brought a tear to her eye as she ruffled their fur affectionately.

The Dragonhound clumsily fell into the pets, licking aggressively and wanting more love. The albino virangish pointer on the other hand, was shaking and eventually latched on to Xuiyang. She was nervous and that vibe was all the puppy needed. From across the event, Guy did see Xuiyang but he found himself lacking the initiative to approach. Instead he had another glass of wine and let his dogs continue their campaign of stealing pets.

"Goodness," Xiuyang exhaled, spoiling the shy Virangish Pointer. She must have looked like a kid, she realized, knelt down on the floor and surrounded by puppies, letting them climb on her nicest dress without a care. Maybe she was still a child at heart. Maybe that's why all the Yasoi treated her like one.

Maura and Roslyn

Eventually, though, she managed to get the dogs to behave, and parted ways with them. Finally, she spotted Guy, but he seemed to be looking away. She wasn't in a hurry to talk to him, either, after what happened. So, instead, she approached Maura, with rather unfortunate timing—thankfully, unbeknownst to her. "Quite an eventful week we've had, haven't we? I'm so tired, I almost had to be dragged here. Me, the party girl," she japed, taking a sip of her wine.

As Xiuyang arrived, she smiled towards her but lifted an eyebrow as if to ask if she was okay, as she detected the comments and their tone as they communicated in subtle body language. “It seems the party girl has caught herself a party boy to join the festivities with.” She nodded her head toward Ciro speaking with Juulet, “Is it true that his tongue is really made out of silver? ...We need to disappear for a moment, to pamper our noses.” She motioned to her nose while using her elbow to nudge Niallus hard in the leg, strongly hinting to him. “You beautiful people keep talking.” She gestured to Xiuyang for them to move away.

Xiuyang nodded with a slight smile, letting Maura know that she was okay. That was until she turned to regard who Maura was gesturing at, only to find Ciro talking to... Juulet? She instinctively took a step forward, and a look of worry came upon her face as she looked on, trying to get a feel for the tone of their conversation. She tried and failed to hide her sigh of relief as Juulet offered only her usual indifference to humans.

She waved at Niallus and Lunara as she and Maura excused themselves. "Powdering my nose, Maura? Really?" she whispered with a soft chuckle. "Imagine me doing something so feminine," she scoffed playfully. Despite saying so, though, she was definitely wearing a subtle layer of makeup to make her scars less noticeable, perhaps out of respect for Zarina as a host.

At first, she dodged Maura's question, but she eventually relented. Unlike Ciro, she was not bold enough to forego a sonic bubble before speaking her mind. "Believe it or not, behind closed doors... his tongue can be sharp, too. He says what needs to be said, even if I don't want to hear it. Maybe that's why I believe the things he says." She sighed fondly. "I really love him, Maura. I really, really do. He was supposed to be just a business partner, and yet... It just worked, and we both saw it. It's all happening so fast I can barely keep up, but I knew I had to seize this chance. He's the one." As she spoke, she didn't take her eyes off of him for more than a second. This was the girl who had cowered in fear during the Melon Derby, hiding away from Juulet. Now, she appeared ready to rush to Ciro's defense if Juulet so much as stood up from her chair in his general direction.

“Even the prettiest of roses have thorns,” she smiled as she moved to hold Xiuyang’s hand for a moment and gave it a squeeze. “We are happy for you, truly. May it work out well for you, as you deserve some good news after what you have been through this last week alone,” she gave a knowing look as she cast her eyes over to Ciro as she watched him discuss with Juulet. “We know what it is like when we met Abdel,” she moved her eyes as she saw him talking with Dorothea, “It was during that aberration incident a year ago, a crazed Tan Zeno attacked the both of us and Penny. As you can imagine, we could barely keep ourselves out of harm's way. But he was there for me, watching my back at every turn and looking out for me. Still got hurt, nothing is ever perfect, but afterwards, he kept dropping in to see me, making sure we were okay. We knew then, we needed to grab him and make him mine.” She grinned at Xiuyang, “Cute looking too, like your man.” She winked and squeezed the hand tightly before she let go, “You deserve to be treated like royalty, nothing less.”

"I have been through a lot," Xiuyang remarked dryly. "So much so that it's almost frightening that I'm still here. This is the kind of luck you only hear about in history books," she added meaningfully, a slight anxiety in her tone. As Maura squeezed her hand, she suddenly realized, awkwardly, that she was still standing, when there was a perfectly good chair right there. So, she sat.

"He was with me through it all—the pain and struggle and failure. Never once did he judge me, or abandon me, when I know others would have. Even when my ideas were just bad, he at least listened. He never lets me feel like I've wasted my efforts." Her grip on Maura's hand tightened as she reminisced. It wasn't that long ago that Xiuyang had been at rock bottom, wondering what she'd been doing with her life up to now, working for her father's company only to have her position usurped by her elder sister in the end. "...I never thought Ipte would bless me. I'd given up, Maura. I was... prepared to die alone." She drew a breath, willing herself not to cry this time.

"...Doesn't hurt that he's good looking, too," she confessed in agreement, snickering. "I know he'd give me the princess treatment if I let him, but I don't need it. We're a team, and we'll make the world better together. That's a dream. It's everything I wanted and more."

Maura rolled her eyes, “We never said princess treatment; we said treat you like royalty. You know the expression, behind every great king is a greater queen.” She mused for a moment, as she cast her eyes about, looking towards Raffie and Ayla, “We have enough princesses as it is.”

Xiuyang's eyes lazily drifted toward Raffaella. "Oh, hells no. If I allowed myself to become that spoiled, he would lose interest," she replied confidently. "I'm sure he's had enough money hungry women try to seduce him. Probably still trying, too, but he's too much of a gentleman to complain about it to me."

Xiuyang had no pockets to speak of, and she wasn't the type to carry a handbag. However, it was only a matter of time until she felt the slightly irritating sensation of parchment against the side of her neck. Pulling the note from her collar and reading it, her eyes flicked back to Ciro as it disintegrated in her hand. If their eyes met, she'd offered only a defeated shrug. "He does have me beat in almost every way," she added, still speaking to Maura. "I'll have to work hard to catch up."

She shot him a smile of admiration. Really, if she thought at all about how she was in the past, she should have been terrified of this man, with skills and means beyond her understanding. Yet, she loved him. Briefly, she wondered what changed—what led her to accept such a deep bond of trust with someone she couldn't control? Not so long ago, it would have been unthinkable. Yet, he'd been nothing but reliable. Why shouldn't she trust him? Because she "knew better?" Perhaps she had matured, if only slightly, in the aftermath of her struggles to grasp the cruelty of Sipenta.

After a bit of milling around and searching, Roslyn caught sight of Xiuyang and Maura. The pair were locked in conversation while glancing over at Ciro near... Juulet?!? Roslyn blinked in shock at the unexpected image and hoped there wasn't going to be trouble. Upon approaching the two girls, she greeted them kindly.

"Hey, I found you two. Xiuyang, where have you disappeared to lately? And Maura, I wanted to thank you for help at the auction. I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise." She made sure not to stare too much at Xiuyang's scars, she didn't want to be rude after all.

As Roslyn approached, she simply smiled sweetly. "We are not interested in money, though. If you want to offer something in return, we would gladly accept your friendship." She moved her hands onto Roslyn's own and squeezed them, "We just wanted to see people smiling at the auction, so take good care of it."

Xiuyang smiled at Roslyn, inviting her into their sonic bubble. At her unusual shyness, though, she smirked, deciding to playfully put on airs. "Messer Volta has arranged safe lodgings for yours truly," she answered with a mocking imitation of a snooty noble lady. "Not that I cannot defend myself, of course—perish the thought—but we would not want any Perrench rabble to get themselves hurt, now would we?" She winked, then dropped the preposterous accent. "Can't say exactly where. You never know who's listening. I'm aware of the rumors floating about that we're under the same roof and all that, though."

Roslyn let out a soft chuckle at Xiuyang's imitation. It felt good to hear her own thoughts now as she weighed the information.

"Well, you know my opinion of rumors. Unless I have confirmation, I don't believe in them." She said, referring to their conversation during the Society Faire. Roslyn reflected on her next words before adding. "But I understand. The less people that know where you are, the safer it is. I will admit, you two are cute together." She let the tease surface in her voice.

"Smart girl," Xiuyang replied simply. "Then, allow me to offer you confirmation: if you see the Forte Impresa... stay away from it," she warned. "The black flag is famous, but not all pyrates show the courtesy of flying it." She looked at Maura and nodded, her face grim and somewhat sad, warning her as well.

Then, just like that, she stood up, dropping the sonic bubble. "I know! My cuteness score goes up just standing next to him," she japed, as if she'd said nothing of importance at all while the bubble covered them. "I should go back to him, but I just have so many people to talk to."

Jocasta and Tyrel

And talk, she did. First, she walked over to Jocasta, thanking her for, well, everything. It almost sounded like a final farewell, and she promptly turned this into a joke, complete with sarcastic boo-hooing. Then, while her guard was down, she congratulated her and Yalen, and scampered off with a silly grin like she'd just committed some grand act of mischief. Yes, I'm sure you're tired of hearing it, her face seemed to suggest teasingly.

"Is there something I'm missing?" Yalen could be heard saying as Xiuyang departed. "You'd think marriage meant we were going to disappear."

"And it's still months away," Jocasta grumbled in reply. That was the last that Xiuyang heard of their conversation before it was overwhelmed by the party's other noise. Yet, it continued.

"I see you're not using my gift yet," Yalen continued. "Familiarity or does it..."

"Suck?" Jocasta found the word for him. She shook her head, though. "It's wonderful, actually: a superior piece of equipment. I just want to save it for the wedding so I can pass it off as your gift then and you don't keep spending our funds, Yalen Castel."

"Sheesh." He scratched sheepishly at the back of his head. "I feel like I'm being chided by a parent right now."

"Ah, so you have that kind of fantasy, do you?" She burst out laughing. After a moment, so did he.

...

Then, after mingling a bit, Xiuyang approached Tyrel, with a polite and unusually graceful bow. "Your radiance. I thank you again for giving me a chance. You saved my life in at least three ways, maybe more. Meeting you was worth the trouble Juulet caused me. My only regret is that my lacking talents held you back. You deserved better." She looked up at Tyrel with a sheepish smile. Her words were sincere, but something about her eyes seemed impish, suggesting that Tyrel should be in on some kind of joke. The joke being, perhaps, that because they were firmly in their social roles at the moment, she couldn't simply brush off her praise. In much the same manner that others might put on a show and fill Tyrel's ears with empty words, Xiuyang plainly spoke her mind.

Tyrel had begun to let herself go at this point. She'd had a good few drinks. She'd arm-wrestled Miret and some other girl, made out with Chad in the garden, and a couple of her fleeting tetsoi were already beginning to rub off. Chad was sweet-talking some yanii girl and was alone momentarily. Tyrel was... perhaps not ready for such an earnest moment and it caught her off-guard. The first hour or so had been reserved for those, with the rest set aside for just... being a yasoi.

She fell back on her as-manufactured settings responded by deflecting. "The goddess thanks you for your praise and homage and accepts your penance," she responded with mock-formal grandeur. Then, she sighed. "Nobody deserves anything here, pal." She shrugged, taking a couple idle restless steps as yasoi were wont to do and ending up exactly where she'd started. "We get what we earn and what the gods give us. I've had a helluva time here, all said, so I owe you just as much for being a part of it." She paused. "Well, saving your hide is maybe worth a teensy bit more," she admitted with a smirk, "But we'll work out a payment plan for that debt."

Xiuyang offered a ladylike chuckle from behind a dainty hand in response to the faux formalities. If their roles were reversed, she'd have likely done the same or a similar bit. "I'm inclined to agree. In a perfect world, that would be right—but at times, I see the gods offer only opportunities, and what is earned is not always given by the powers that be. Sometimes, you have to take it," she said, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.

She downed yet another drink, in a quite unladylike way. "I owe you a debt, do I?" Her sigh was heavy with sarcasm. "Guess it can't be helped; I suppose you'll just have to accept an unconditional favor from this shady-looking Yanii." A conspiratorial smile graced her lips.

"You speak as if that wasn't my plan all along. Now the shady Grey Army operative on the charm offensive has bound the shady yanii to her in loyalty." She steepled her fingers together most evilly. "Muahahahaaaa.... or something." She downed a half-full glass in a single gulp, swaying a bit. "I find myself very tempted, in fact, to get rip-roaring drunk for some reason." The Avatar of Vyshta furrowed her brow. "I don't quite know why!" she giggled.

"You planned it all? I'm shocked," Xiuyang replied, feigning shock and maybe even a little offense. "Truly, I have been finessed, outfoxed even." She took another drink of the Ellermane Bleu. "I'll say this, though: any debts I owe to the goddess, are owed to you—not the Grey Fleet or its Admiralty."

It would be a gross exaggeration to say that Xiuyang had planned it all exactly the way it happened. Of course, everything had gone horribly wrong in every possible way that it could; in the end, though, "owing Tyrel" a favor or three had been her aim, and fortunately, she'd achieved it. More fortunately still, Tyrel seemed to understand. Yasoi were loathe to accept help from Yanii, lest they exact some price for their services at a later date. The fear was not unfounded, but it made honest generosity difficult. This was Xiuyang's foot successfully in the door, so she believed.

"Some say this wine is good for closing business deals. That's the superstition, anyway. Alcohol's not supposed to work on me, although... I guess it does? Just can't seem to put the stuff down." She smiled slyly.

Tyrel downed some more. "Well, you've gotten me plenty sauced up." She paused and tilted her head to the side. "What do you want, yanii?" she asked, her voice still lighthearted enough, but a note wariness, or perhaps weariness had crept in beneath a surface of good humour.

Xiuyang's face fell slightly as she briefly regarded her drink, rather than Tyrel. "To see the Yasoi thrive. ...Yanii are poor stewards of peoples and land. History teaches what will happen if they grow stronger and more numerous, while the Yasoi remain weakened. They'll do the same to your kind as they do to each other. Do you think it an arrogance on my part to assume that I might play a role in averting that?" She looked at Tyrel seriously. "I'm not some wide-eyed idealist. I don't see a future where Yanii and Yasoi walk hand-in-hand in a unified society. Peace exists only when war and conquest are less profitable than cooperation and trade. It's cynical, but it's true. Few pay attention to history. Fewer learn from it. Fewer still have the power to change its course, and choose to do so, let alone on behalf of others. I'm asking you to be open to giving me a chance to someday be one of those few. ...The chance Juulet refused me," she added, the fear of rejection plain on her face. "If I must get something out of it for you to trust me, call it 'leaving my mark on history,' or something."

Tyrel seemed to consider. She was drunk, but perhaps not as drunk as she seemed. From the direction of Zarina, Miret, and Chad came laughter and loud conversation. Cal was with them, not pushing drugs for once, and even Seviin had been drawn in and she was blushing ferociously. "Well what was I supposed to do!?" she laugh-wailed. "I had to try to win and it was all I could think of, you know!"

Both of their eyes flicked there for a moment before Tyrel's returned. "I trust you, suunei. I trust you to be honest in your intent." She shrugged. "Much as the current situation will allow, I'm open to working together." She poured herself some more wine and, without asking, topped Xiuyang up as well. "Thing is... I have to know that you can keep the peace, and Juulet... distasteful a thing as she can be at times, might be the key to that. I know well your history with her. I shall hold her to account once I've established more of a rapport, but..." Tyrel hesitated, glancing down at her wine.

Xiuyang's eyes narrowed, though not with malice. "She told Jamboi that I'd be fine—but she confessed to me that she didn't expect me to survive. She's a snake—and the tongue of a snake is good for tickling ears. I don't know what she said to 'make up' with you, Tyrel, but I wouldn't trust a word of it. That woman's only out for herself."

She punctuated her accusation by downing her drink in one go. "You were there. You saw what I had to deal with. Those dogs would have roasted me over an open flame after they were done beating me within an inch of my life. I'll have nightmares about it until the day I die, and she thinks it's funny. The only peace that woman will ever make is the peace I've made with death," she spat. "—but no. I'm not stupid enough to try to fight her again. You don't need to worry about that."

Whatever Tyrel might've said next, it died on her tongue. She offered up a noncommittal shrug. "I am under no illusion that she's a good person," she replied. "You needn't worry." She downed the last of her drink as well. "Just as I needn't worry about you going rogue." She set it down and ran a finger along the lip. "We're both reasonable, functional people here, after all."

Cal seemed to have pulled Chad aside and they were speaking in hushed tones. She craned her neck to look their way, half-rising. "Speaking of..." She bit her lower lip and glanced back at Xiuyang. "I may have a boyfriend to go save from a certain conversation." She began reaching for her crutches - the new ones she'd picked from The Trials.

Xiuyang made a slightly dismissive hand gesture, like she were dropping dice on the table, or perhaps dropping the matter at hand. Out of your minds, both of you, she thought privately.

Then, she caught Tyrel reaching for her crutches. "Uh, Tyrel? What are you planning on doing with those?" she japed, laughing nervously.

"Something nefarious," she joked, "and definitely not just walking." She grinned, resting her stump on the table's edge for a moment and fixing her dress. "Come 'ere, suunei. Let's hug. Then I have to go spend time with my boyfriend. Don't you have one somewhere around here too?"

Xiuyang stood up, smiling and hugging the Avatar of Vyshta without a care. "I do, but it's not good to be too clingy. He's a busy bee. For a merchant, a party is never just a party. That goes for both of us, of course." She gave Tyrel a wink and a grin. "I have business with that man, anyway. I believe I owe him feedback on his product. I'll occupy him for you." With that, she "excused" herself, though she was going essentially the same direction as Tyrel. She greeted Cal with a wave.

Cal {Placeholder}

Words Which Cut Deeper Than Scars

For a while, Xiuyang mingled with the Yasoi, keeping an eye on Tyrel to ensure she didn't wander off and discover something she didn't need to see. Eventually, though, conversation died down, and she'd run well out of excuses to stay. None would say it openly, of course, but... if the "tree-rider" had no business, she was an eyesore to most of them. Ashon was different, but he was also not present.

So it was that Xiuyang eventually wandered off, herself, wondering if she should excuse herself and check up on Marci. It would be the first time she'd use facemimicry since the incident in Yarsoc, and she couldn't be sure what it would do to her. Still, she couldn't just not use it for the rest of her life out of fear—but that was when her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of clumsy footsteps in the grass.

"You aren't leaving, are you?!" a sweet voice called out to her urgently.

Xiuyang whirled around to see the girl with the pink hair giving her that same fake smile she always did. "I wanted to meet you! Since you're an illusionist like me." She almost whispered the last two words. "I just have to ask! I'm like, dying of curiosity—why don't you use your magic to hide your scars? Since you don't wanna wear a mask anymore." Her smile was as saccharine as ever.

Xiuyang couldn't help but smirk, just slightly. A few tactless fools had asked her why she didn't just heal them, but this was the first time she'd been asked why she didn't hide them instead. "I suppose the easy answer is that I'm doing it to fu—mess with someone," she replied truthfully, correcting her language in spite of herself due to the girl's innocent appearance. It was true, though Juulet's reaction had been pretty disappointingly underwhelming. Then again, everyone's reaction was underwhelming. No one pointed and laughed at her facial scars. A few people, including Roslyn, refused to gawk out of courtesy. There just wasn't much point in hiding them.

"But don't you think your boyfriend finds them uh, unsightly?" the girl replied, without an ounce of malice in her tone of voice. Yet, it irked Xiuyang a little.

"He's never once said such a thing to me. I doubt he cares about them. He likes me because I'm an intelligent business partner," she replied confidently. Really, a marital union between two Revidian merchants is more or less a glorified business deal, anyway, she considered, laughing to herself.

"Ppfft," Raffaella scoffed, blowing a raspberry. "Boys don't like it when a girl is smarter than them—or stronger, taller, older... The one thing we're allowed is to be better looking than them. The world of girls runs on cuteness!" she proclaimed, somewhat absurdly. "I'm sure he just hasn't said anything because he's a gentleman. Deep down, all guys are the sa—"

Smack.

It was sudden, and ruthless. Raffaella stumbled backwards onto the grass. Her cheek stung, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Why..?! I was just giving you honest advice! Why are you so mean?!" She glared upwards at Xiuyang.

The older girl's hand trembled with barely-withheld rage. "Hurl all the thinly-veiled insults you like at me—but don't you ever compare Ciro to some common scoundrel," Xiuyang growled.

Raffaella sobbed. "I hate you, Shoe-yang! Unlike me, you only have friends because you have money!" she choked out, scrambling to her feet and running away, crying.

A heavy feeling settled in Xiuyang's gut, in spite of herself. The girl was fake and empty inside, but she still felt bad for hitting her. Was she right, too? Were her friendships only as deep as her pockets? A great many of them were business partners, she realized, and it was her own doing; relationships were easier to navigate in terms of favors owed and given, rather than the messy and vague terms often offered by "friendship."

The abrasive words, spoken in puerile teen anger and ignorance, cut at her like a rusted knife—until she, too, wanted to cry—but, she refused. Ducking behind the railing of a nearby pavilion, she grit her teeth, teetering on the edge of tears. Stubbornly, she choked them back, bottling up her anger until it felt like she might vomit. Mercifully, she did not.

"Shallow bitch," she allowed herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

[Force and Fury]

---

---

The people of the village of Porto dell'Alba - at least those who were not currently at sea - looked out of their homes one warm dordian morning to witness something unexpected: there was a girl, running down the single dirt road that passed through one end of their tiny settlement and out the other. A couple made comments and went back to their routines, for people are nothing if not beholden to their norms.

Had they looked closer, they might've noticed that she was not human, like every single one of them, but eeaiko. Her long dark hair, half-gathered in a ponytail, bounced and flicked behind her as she ran in that slightly awkward way that her people did. Perhaps, they might've wondered why she was in such a hurry and where she might've been going but, if they did, they said nothing and merely remarked on the queerness of it.

Kaureerah wasn't sure why she had decided to run today. She brought with her no lute. She left no message for her friends. The bare earth fell away from her feet in the language of footsteps. The clean, crisp air filled her lungs. The sun warmed her skin and sweat beaded on her forehead She ran past the little fishing village until she came to a low promontory that she had been to a handful of times before. There, she stopped, chest heaving, hair pasted in wet bands to the sides of her face and back of her neck. There she stopped: one small woman away from the sight of all but the gods. In the grassy field around her, butterflies flickered from flower to flower, fragile and beautiful amid the shifting sea of green. In the vast sky above, puffy white clouds drifted languidly in the breeze, impossibly huge and yet gentle amid the serene blue. In the churning sea at her feet, waves rose and crashed upon the rocks, cool and refreshing and welcoming her into their cerulean world.

The people of Porto dell'Alba did not see the girl dive into the water. She swam and darted and caught the fish with her bare hands as she had done in her distant home: a place that she hated, a place that she missed. Soon, she would return to her new home, and she reflected that it was so very different from the original but, in some ways, just the same. She didn't have to go back yet.

[Jumbus]

Connection, Delusion, & the Dawn

---

Event: The Revolution - Speaks with: Zarina - Mentions: Kaureerah @Force and Fury@YummyYummy

---

A Stop in the Road

The late afternoon sun shone down upon the jungles of Xolectoxo. Its divine glow graced a small town that few knew the name of and fewer bothered to see. Leon Solaire didn’t need to wonder too long about why that was. He looked out upon a far humbler display of civilisation than what he had become accustomed to in the grand cities all too eagerly on display.

The waterways so common in this region weren’t so beautifully maintained, the grasp of nature came through and cracked the stone. The water still flowed but small cracks resulted in small puddles forming every so often down the trail. This was a town left to time and even if Xolectoxo itself were to rapidly change, this place wouldn’t likely see the effects for years to come. It wasn’t unique to Callanast of course, countries back in Constantia were built upon humble communities like this; there was a lot to love about them. Leon firmly believed that if the buildings were not beautiful, you could often find beauty in the people’s hearts. And yet, for this town, it bothered him. He did the best he could to sweep that thought aside.

Leon had spent months travelling Callanast, staying in some places longer than others. He had learnt the wonderful art of manifestation magic, discovered recipes of tea that could help harness the edges of imagination, and found his sense of direction illuminated by his newfound skills. There was no better example of the performer's improvements than the freshly manifested Sun King mask hung from his left hip.

And yet, caught in the grandiosity of this new culture, Leon had neglected the very reason he had come to Callanast in the first place. A reason that he considered important to him at the time, but had become little more than a pitstop on his way back to Ersand’Enise.

---

The bright glowing yellow visage of a King Coal Toad charged in and out of the jungle’s edge chasing a trio of kids. Well, it was close enough to a King Coal Toad, Leon had taken multiple creative liberties in conjuring the illusion. Firstly, it looked like a toad in comparison to the actual creature's draconic form. Second, its proportions were ridiculous with big bulging eyes, a stubby body, and multiple tongues. Lastly, it quite visibly consisted of nothing but light. An encounter with a real King Coal Toad is quite scary, but this presented little danger aside from what a child's imagination was willing to give it.

"King Coal Toad"

The middle child of the trio was a meek boy who squealed with a playful fear whenever the beast drew near him and took to running away. It all seemed in good fun but Leon would flick his wrist and have the illusion stumble over itself comically whenever it got too close. The eldest, who couldn’t have been older than 12, picked up a stick and tried to defend his little brother by bravely taking the beast head-on. Leon would have the toad reel at the boy’s heroic swings. And then, the youngest of them; she didn’t seem to care for pretending and was content to just run at the golden frog while giggling. Leon laughed at the simplicity of it.

The performer relaxed in the home’s inside pool, let the gentle breeze pass over him and out the door into the backyard where the children played. Homes in Xolectoxo, at least the jungle houses anyway, were all about flow. Twice the number of doors to the normal home and movable screens were all designed to create a steady airflow throughout the house. Water irrigation systems flowed through the town providing small streams to each home, one off-stream usually branching off into a small pool which was perfect for getting out of the heat.

Leon loved the idea of inside pools and wondered why they hadn’t been picked up more in Constantia. Did it cross his mind that it would require costly city planning for town-wide irrigation or that the idea of an inside pool of this size is effectively the same as a large bathtub? No, not really.

The passing breeze began to carry the scent of his tea and the lady of the house followed not too long after with a cup for Leon and herself. The performer turned his head away from the backyard to give his full attention to his company and the King Coal Toad disappeared, which drew some disappointed complaints from the kids. Their mother called for them in Xochi to occupy themselves for a while; she asked the eldest to go check on their father and see whether he needed help with harvesting.

After setting the tea to the side, she sat on the opposite edge of the pool, letting only her feet and ankles dip in.

Yaretzi Cuautli was a woman in her late 30s or early 40s. Cuautli wasn’t her maiden name but was the one she had for at least 12 years judging by the age of her first child. She stood on the shorter end and, while she was beautiful, she certainly didn’t hold that to be a priority. Her attire was nice but undeniably cost-efficient and much the same could be said about her make-up and the spare jewels she wore. The woman had been settled for years and one could only imagine she was prepared to spend the rest of her life here in this town.

This woman was Leon’s biological mother and immediately he knew he made the right decision to meet her under false pretence. He did not return to her as a long-lost son seeking answers he already knew; he was simply a travelling performer in need of a place to rest along the road, one who loved to learn the stories of those he met on the path. He only wished to see her, know who she was, and he could leave it at that. She had moved on as he had, she had made a happy life for herself, who was he to disrupt that?

Leon picked up the cup of tea made for him, took a sip, and continued their conversation in Xochi. “I couldn't help but notice that you could understand Avincian when you answered the door early. It had been my mistake, but I was surprised to find you knew it also. Is there any chance we could speak in that?” Leon’s rudimentary knowledge of the language of Xolectoxo left his pronunciation stiff and needlessly formal.

Yaretzi humbly chuckled as she reached for her cup of tea. “It’s been too many years since I’ve needed to speak Avincian. I think at this point your Xochi is better.”

“That does not bode well.” Leon joked. The two shared a laugh.

They proceeded for some time with small talk. Leon talked about animals, cultures, and stories from Constantia while she strived to do the same for Callanast. It was clear that she had not been nearly as well-travelled as Leon was, but that wasn’t to say the conversation was boring. Leon told her that he was something of a big name in Constantia but comically feigned lament over the fact that so few had heard of him this far west. He admitted that he appreciated the time away in obscurity but he yearned to return to it all.

Then Leon realised the conversation had become focused on himself. While Yaretzi seemed perfectly content to listen, it wasn’t the reason he had come here. “Well, that’s enough about me. As I said, I am a wandering performer and what good is a performer if they lack a steady supply of stories to draw inspiration from? I could talk about my story all day; it's a terrible habit. I would like to hear yours Yaretzi.”

The woman looked surprised for a moment then settled back to a normal pleasant expression. Had she not expected him to ask or was it something else? Leon couldn’t be sure.

“I could tell you, but I doubt it would be a story to excite one such as yourself.” She took a sip of her tea and took some time to prepare. “I grew up in Calicoatl as the daughter of a cobbler. I’m sure you’ve been there already, tall building and too many people to count. It makes you feel quite small in the grand scheme of things…”

“There weren’t any high expectations for me, but I did well in school, quite well. When it came time to pursue higher education, it was all a gamble as I was the first in my family to consider it. Finances would be tight for a while, but if I succeeded, I could bring in far more for the family. So I went, I studied, and I failed. At the end of my first year in medical school, my grades didn’t make the cut.” Yaretzi laughed it off. Leon could tell it wasn’t a nice moment in her life, but time had healed such a wound of pride.

“The years following felt like a whirlwind. It seemed in losing that chance, I was being pulled in all directions at once, not really knowing who I should be or where. That was until I met Chimalli. Coming from the city, I scoffed at a place like this at first. There were no grand towers, no temples of gold, nothing more than vegetable farmers to keep the place afloat.” She delivered in a joking fashion before a content smile took her. “But I love it here. I think it may have been the first time I truly felt like someone who mattered to people, no matter how few those people were.” A silence lingered as Leon waited on more. But more didn’t come.

“Well, Leon Solaire? I don’t know if that would make for a good story or even a song. But it's what I have.”

No, that isn’t all you have. “Are you sure that’s everything?” Leon pressed.

What followed was immediate regret on the performers' part. He had pressed too far and his mother looked at him with an expression of confusion, or sadness, maybe it was a mix between the two, but Leon couldn’t quite read it. Had the question brought up painful memories she would rather not recall? Had one of those memories been the circumstances of his birth? If so, why was it painful?

Or had she figured him out? Did she put together that her first son was sitting right in front of her? If she could see through his mask, then why didn’t she drop hers? Could she not accept him as her son?

These were questions that ran through Leon’s mind in an instant and they were ones he may never gain the answers to as the two sat in silence. Their smiles and pleasantries dropped as they both processed information that the other would never be partial to. Like mother, like son…

It was Yaretzi who broke the silence. She looked up and peered over Leon’s shoulder past him, then back to the performer. “Yes, Leon, that was everything.” She gave him a smile of sad acceptance.

Leon looked back over his shoulders to see the two younger children spying in on them from the doorway. He gave them a happy smile to try and ease their worries about the situation. However, they retreated out of sight not too long after, like they had been caught in an ‘adults conversation’ they shouldn’t have been part of. Well, that's exactly what it was when Leon thought it over. Perhaps they would never come to know that Leon Solaire was their half-brother.

It was Leon who broke the tension. He looked back to smile at his mother, it was a cheerful one, if a little forced. “For what it's worth, I think it makes for a good song Yaretzi.” He let that linger for a while. “What I had meant to ask is if you knew any magic. I find that odd people on the road tend to show surprising capabilities. Would you have a hidden talent like that?”

Yaretzi perked up at hearing the conversation topic shift away from her life. “I do.” She said with relief. “Although, it's only some basics I learnt when I was young.”

“That’s wonderful! Please, don’t leave me in anticipation.” Leon let out with increasing excitement.

“No, please, don’t get your hopes up too high.”

She proceeded to raise her palm skyward as Leon could feel a slight chilly breeze pass by him, Yaretzi was drawing from Arcane. When could see the first blinks of luminescence sparking from her palm, Leon went to shield his eyes from the glow with an excited smile. However, when his mother finally began channelling, Leon was quick to drop that shield. There was no need. From her palm radiated a small dim sphere of light no bigger than a housecat. It lasted for about 10 seconds before fading to nothing.

Leon was disappointed. He shouldn’t have been. For a woman of humble origins like her, this was quite an impressive feat. And yet, he was disappointed nonetheless, he couldn’t deny that feeling. His mother couldn’t have been much higher than 5 RAS, if that. His Sunblessed abilities must have come from her, not his Revidian father, so he had expected more. He didn’t let that change his expression though, he kept an excited smile. “It is quite the display.” He lied.

“You would lie to spare my feelings?”

“I wouldn’t. There are too many on the road who lack the ability at all. This is quite impressive by comparison to them.”

“Whatever you say, Leon Solaire.” She said poking fun at his recovery attempts.

Later that night, when the whole family was back, Leon would perform a private showing for them. He sang, danced, told stories, and even gave the kids the chance to slay the mighty King Coal Toad once more. At the end of a fun night of family-friendly antics, the performer took his rest in their house. The conversation from earlier played through his head again and again as he tossed in the bed.

When sleep had finally taken him, he dreamt of a staircase.

---

Leon didn’t linger long in the morning. Soon after the break of dawn, he had already taken to the road. Only his mother and his eldest half-brother were there to see him off.

He left the home feeling let down. Much like the meeting with his biological father, his mother had not lived some grand impressive life. His father was at least somewhat successful as a travelling merchant; his mother seemed to have turned away from any notion of greatness whatsoever, even if her magic capability was the greater of the two.

When Leon thought back to the circumstances of his birth only a year ago, he had imagined something greater. Perhaps he was the descendant of a mighty Sunblessed mage or a king from some faraway land. In the unknown, he had filled the gaps with something that could justify the popularity and fame he had gained. Something that could ease his mind when thinking about the heights he wished to reach.

But it seemed that every stone that paved his past before he could call his memories his own was a testament to the contrary. An entirely mundane origin whose only exception came from not being wanted by either parent. If that were to be the case, then maybe it was best to leave that part of his past behind and let himself try to forget it. Instead, Leon would define himself by his present and the future in which he could do unprecedented good. The sun shone brightly ahead, he need only follow the path he set for himself…

Then he remembered Atzi, a girl from the Sunblessed community he met only months ago, which caused him to turn back for but a moment. Perhaps, like her, his mother had far more to tell and she would want to tell it. Maybe all it took was to turn back and just tell Yaretzi that he was her son. Maybe then they could talk with true intentions and come to an understanding with one another. Did he really want to leave questions unanswered before it was no longer an option to ask them?

Those thoughts were fleeting. He turned on a heel and was back to the road ahead. It was not his place to stay. His mother had created a happy life for herself here; it was not his place to disrupt that.

Even if he were to stay, what good would that do him? Staying in a place forgotten to time while the world passed him by? He could not allow that. As the mask of the Sun King hung on his hip, it was a reminder that he had the power to impact the world and manifest a brighter future. It was not his place to hide away from it; it was his duty to do help improve it.

This place could only ever be a stop in the road. The Ersand’Enise Trials were fast approaching and set the stage for his return. If he were to linger here, even for a moment, he could miss that chance. Then, maybe, the sun that beckoned his future would fade from him. He could never allow that to happen.

---

A Promise

Zarina and himself were setting up the Chamber of Time and Space while Pete was off to the side munching on a grotesque VOID ham. It was in a moment of quiet in the Forked Tower basement that Leon caught himself. At what point had he stopped being the Sun King, had he stopped speaking like Leon Solaire, and let the mask slip into just Leon? When he had charged the gates of the Violet Enclave, his heart was set on the staircase before him and yet, for a while now, he had been speaking normally and honestly to this girl as if none of that mattered. It was... nice, for a time, but it couldn't last forever. He had a person to be and a reputation to embody; this often didn't allow for normalcy. It would only be a matter of time before others joined the two and it would demand he return to the mantle.

"Zarina," Leon broke the moment of silence with an uncharacteristically serious tone of voice, "I like you and I would like to think I could trust you. Earlier in that basement, I was drained of RAS. I have the inability to recharge like everyone else and it's a weakness of mine. It is a weakness I have gone through great efforts to hide."

"Could you promise me not to tell anyone about this? And by anyone, I mean not a living soul, on Ipte. I know it is a lot to ask."

The break of silence wasn't as catching as the tone employed by Leon. It required Zarina's immediate response, prompting her to stop any setting up of the orbs for their scheme. “Hmmm?” She twisted to regard him while Nibbler dived back down into her bag with the scent of Pete becoming stronger in the general area.

“Ah.” The Virangish nodded slowly with her lower lip sucked in. The weight of the request took its time to process. “Right, sure. I promise.” she said with a not-so-reassuring casual tone. She raised her hand to indicate she wasn't done. “Sorry, it caught me off guard. I gotta assume you'd probably be in danger if people found out, huh? Since you're Mr. Popular 'n' all.” She shot him a sly smile and crossed her arms. “Or maybe it makes you look less perfect. I gotta admit, many girls, and even boys, still think their idols are beyond human. I can see some freaking out. So-” she lowered her head slightly and took a tone that matched the seriousness of the sunblessed. “I promise. I don't rat. And I'd like to think you're one of the good ones too. People, that is. So, of course.”

"You make it sound so juvenile... when you call them boys and girls." Leon replied with a chuckle but didn't shift from his contemplative expression. He turned to check the ground behind him before taking a seat. Then he took off the Sun King mask and tossed it gently aside. If he was to trust Zarina with the secret, he needed to explain his reasons for keeping it. "I want to be a symbol for something, Zarina. Leon Solaire, the Sun King, I could be a figure that people can believe in. Someone who can't be defeated; someone they can trust to see the sunshine on a brighter world. I can't even begin to imagine what I could achieve with that." Even through his dour tone, Zarina would be able to hear the passion filling the performer's lungs at the end of that phrase.

"But people are fickle, as you may know, and I can only imagine that gets worse when a war is knocking on your door. If I am seen defeated or showing weakness, they could lose faith in me in an instant." He clicked his fingers for emphasis. "I would cease to be the person that could achieve their dreams. What change could I hope to inspire like that?"

Leon's mood cheered up with a more humble smile after Zarina had made the promise. "It warms my heart to hear you'll keep it. Telling you couldn't be avoided, after seeing me like that in the basement, but I'm glad it was you. It might be nice to have at least one person to talk about it with." His smile grew. "I trust you."

Zarina chuckled with a twinge of nervousness in her tone. “Well, uhm,” she scratched her cheek, looked to the side, the whole package of tells to give away she was flustered. “thank you. I kinda feel unworthy now that you say it so frankly. I'd say it's an honour, but-” she flashed a cheeky grin at the beloved public figure. “I'd rather be your friend than a fan, so no brown-nosing.”

The task she had been working on was dropped for a brief moment and she joined the young man that had confided in her until they were a few feet apart. She sat by one of the podiums holding an orb and crossed her legs. “And as a friend, I'll give you my genuine thoughts.” she looked at him straight in the eye. “You're not a God. Nor was that old Hugo. Nor the Zenith. Nor Tojarra. Nor the Doge. In fact, the Gods themselves aren't ...” She pursed her lips and instinctively turned her head where Lilith's statue would have been. Obviously, it wasn't there. “They're not as pristine as we believe. Nor did they ever have to be. And neither should you.”

From a more serious and flatter expression, she adopted a more radiant smile. “I was raised with a similar sort of mindset. Save face, project an image of something I'm not. It's basically how my family gained influence.” She peered down and reached out for Leon's hand - warm and gentle palms that sought to give reassuring caresses. “I'd get into so many fist fights as a kid whenever someone tried to make me feel vulnerable or helpless. It made me feel good, and I had respect, but ...” her expression was glum and her eyes didn't leave the floor. “Nobody really liked me. Knew me. I hated what I had to do to keep things as they were. It was ... Unbearable, and the returns were meaningless. There was no betterment to anything other than the superficial, and my soul was hurting.” She squeezed the hand and clenched her jaw.

But then her features softened and she peered up to him. “Then I met the right people. Those that never had me feel naked and vulnerable for just being ... Me? Even when I was a total cunt.” She nodded and chuckled nervously. There was an internal battle to hold back some stronger emotions as she reminisced. “I focused less on what people think of the idea of me, and instead on what I wanted to do. How I was going to do better for both myself and others. It filtered out the many, but I kept the right people. Those that I could truly do something good with.” her eyes dived into his before she stated with a clear sense of pride. “Now I've made the world a better place for Tethered. And I've saved an entire nation from a monster spawning from the very depths of hell, and helped their broken system heal. All because I trusted the right people with who I truly was, as imperfect as I may be.” she brushed a few locks of her hair over her ear.

“What I'm saying is ... You don't have to be a God, loved of feared, to change the world. For better or for worse.” she looked to the side as a stray thought his her. “Besides, the Gods are imperfect basket cases anyway. Mostly.”

Leon didn't interrupt when Zarina was speaking, nor did he try to chime in with a clever comment. He was silent as he listened and he listened well. When she reached for his hand, he gave it willingly. When she squeezed his hand, he could feel the pain she went through. Even if it was a small window into her life, he came to a better understanding of who she was. For a moment, it looked as though he wanted to believe it, that he could follow her words and it would steer him right. But then she finished her speech and a break of silence set in as he processed her words in their entirety. Leon looked away from the girl and down to the floor with a frown.

"I'm happy for you." Leon looked up to Zarina with sympathy and held her hands in his, this time reassuring her. "I really am, Zarina. I couldn't imagine a world where people would look at me in fear. I can't imagine the drain it would have on the soul." He smiled that humble smile he had shown so little before their time in this tower. "I'm glad you could rise above it and find those people who could help you up. You seem to have achieved so much with them at your back..." There was a pause as Leon's smile faded and his tone grew somber. "And maybe to some degree I can understand what you are saying. Maybe I know something about what you are going through. But what I have is different." His gaze and his hands slowly withdrew. He looked out toward the chamber as he hugged his knees.

"Those that look up to me, they don't fear me, Zarina. They love me... and I love them. It doesn't hurt my soul, it warms it to know that I can bring such happiness to so many people." Leon smiled into the distance. There was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice, some evidence of second thoughts that even the performer himself didn't know were there. "When you are up there, above the world, and they are looking up to you in admiration, awe, and expectation, is it anyone's place to deny what the heart wants?” Leon's eyes lit up somewhat to the empty chamber as if gazing upon something conjured by the mind's eye. "If they look to you to fulfil their dreams and wants, could you really crush those so willingly even if it's just the truth? To go out of your way to bring someone happiness, is that not the greatest expression of love?"

Leon turned back to Zarina but kept a reserved posture. "You talk about the Doge, Hugo, the gods themselves like they aren't perfect. The gods could take some convincing, but I can believe you. And yet, people look to them as if they are perfection and they have the ability to inspire that faith. Even if they themselves can't change the world on their own, the people who follow them can." A confidence took the performer as he expressed a far more determined believer. "It's not going to end here. War is on the horizon, Zarina, I'm not blind to it. But I could be like them, as a figure, I could inspire so many people and actually change things for the better. You say I don't have to be a God, but I would say only a God could rise above the tides of war. A God can do so much more to change the world, so if I have the ability, is it not my duty to try?" 'After all, if the fantasy is greater than reality, then what good is the truth' Leon thought the last part but chose not to express the words.

Do they love YOU, though? The man I'm speaking to? Or just an idea they'd gladly see either shine in triumphant radiance or burn bright in martyrdom? Are you not operating out of fear of what they'll do if they know you? How far would you bring this?

There was a desire to debate, lecture and push back to the notions of grandeur Leon had been selling. From his word selection to his body language, an attentive friend couldn't help but wonder if this path was a righteous one. Hugo Hunghorasz died backstabbed, the Doge had always poised himself for war and few knew of the nature of the Gods. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with Leon's creed - there were simply men born to do these things and to change the world. But few ever spoke of those dear to them, that knew them, and how the ordeal affected them. They were a spec to the grand scheme of things, of course, but did they not matter? Especially to the person in question?

All these urges to speak her mind and challenge notions of 'good' over 'truth', ideas that were generally beyond Zarina most of the time, were stifled. A light frown took form at first, one hard to distinguish with her head slumped down and her hair veiling a portion of her face. She put on a convincing smile and looked up to the celebrity she had adopted as a friend. “As your bud, I'd underline how foolish you sound sometimes. But ...” she pushed herself up as Pete began to approach them to demand some attention. She shot the revolting animal an amused glance before resting her hand on Leon's shoulder before giving it a tight squeeze. “I'd be a hypocrite to say you shouldn't follow what the heart tells you. Just don't forget that there's more to life than changing the world and squealing fans.” She winked.

She let go, turned to face the orb she had been tinkering with. But before she returned to work, she raised her pointer finger and turned her head to look back. “Just-” her voice lost its jovial tone for a moment. “Make sure you also do this for you, Leon. Not just for a world that scares you if it ever found out you were human like all of us.”

Leon smiled back at Zarina as she touched his shoulder, accepting the comfort she provided. He didn't rush to speak, instead he just watched her work for a while. In the moment of quiet, he could have been churning through any number of thoughts, but it would be difficult to tell. For a moment, it may have seemed as though he answered her question with silence.

But when he did finally speak, it was wistfully and without much direction. To an outside observer, he could have been talking to Pete just as much as he was Zarina. "Without it... I don't think there would be a Leon Solaire. I would have never had the popularity I have, never have got into Ersand'Enise, and would never have met the people I could truly call friends. I wouldn't have had a dream of seeing Calanast, running in the Trails, or fighting and making a difference as I stand now..."

He sat up a little more and faced Zarina but didn't buy for her attention from the task at hand. "Unlike you Zarina, I am who I am because of that image. It is at once the thing that has brought me to this point and the guiding light to which I can follow into the future with certainty. I can't imagine how lost I would be without it... I'm happy doing this." Leon affirmed confidently, but to Zarina's ear, traces in his tone wouldn't make it entirely convincing.

Leon stood, approached Zarina until he was face to face with her, and placed both of his hands on her arms comfortingly. His visible mood had improved greatly in that short walk and he looked close enough to the Leon from minutes earlier who lacked the dour mood of the conversation. "I understand what you are saying and I thank you for your words. I don't think I could speak that way to a fan so, for what it's worth, I prefer you as a friend as well. Maybe it will do me good to... be myself in front of someone else once in a while. But I hope it's alright if it's just one person for now."

Zarina's expression decomposed into a frown as she turned her back on Leon to pursue her stakeout of the temporal chamber. His words caused some old scars to flare up, and perhaps even put a mirror on what she herself was doing. Like him, she wanted to be a hero and someone seen as reliable - someone who could save everyone, albeit on a far smaller scale than the star she shared the room with.

They were now face-to-face. A friendship she would not reject had been formed. She reached out for his waist with both her arms and embraced the Sun warrior, now out of his radiant armour, for a brief moment. The hold was tight and the smell of lavender that permeated her being - particularly her neck - rubbed onto him as well. “I like that.” she cooed before stepping back, eyes half-lidded and smiling. “Being that one, super special friend.” She winked.

“Hmm.” although a stray throught hit her. “What about your stage partner? Y'know, Kaureerah? I thought you two hit it off as friends, habibi.”

Leon returned the embrace with his arms a little higher on her back in comparison. The look, the moment, the smell of lavender, it was a situation he knew well. But his mind wasn't swept to fantasy and was instead focused and grounded, making the feeling all too foreign. He wasn't blind to the implication of 'super special friend', but he hadn't meant it that way, had he? It was strange; to admit what he had admitted to Zarina was a level of trust he hadn't put in anyone for a long time. While it didn't fit the idea of love as he knew it to be, he couldn't immediately attribute the feeling to something else.

The reoccurring feeling of pressing on his chest did not return. Days earlier in the library, Ingrid had tossed a pebble into the lake of Leon's mind. He was confused by the ripples and sought to understand the cause. Even if there was little time to ponder on theories, all of them he had so far would expect this exchange to be much the same. It wasn't. Not a pebble or even a speck of dust breached the water's surface. And yet, lost for understanding, those waters were sent into turmoil as if a rock five times the size was tossed in. His facade dropped again. The turmoil of it all caused him to be a passive participant in the wordless dance of desire, neither reciprocating nor rejecting her.

There wasn't the time to process it all and it wasn't the place. So he focused on Zarina's latter question instead. "... Kaureerah... I don't know. I wasn't lying when I said I loved her." He did, he did, by all metrics of what he knew love to be, he did... Just like so many before her and who knew how many after. "I'll say this. Kaureerah is beautiful, more beautiful than simple appearances. To see her smile, to see her happy, it sets my heart alight as if she were one hundred people, more." A smile returned to him when speaking, the exact same one when he talked about the Sun King. Then it faded. "I couldn't bear to disappoint her, to see that warmth fade. Her more than anyone. I don't think I could ever tell her what I've told you here."

Zarina patted both of Leon's shoulders and smiled with a head canted slightly, causing some of her rebellious locks to hang. “Yeah, you should definitely become a thing, you two.” she decided with a foxy smirk. “And you should tell her. What's there to lose? Oh!” She shook Leon's figure a little. “Make it a song! You know she loves those. And surely, she'll love you, a kindred spirit. Or, wallah, at the very least give you top service.” She winked.

Pete got antsy and trotted over to them, demanding attention with his tail wagging aggressively. “... We do have a rebellion to complete, don't we?” She raised a brow and shot a complicit look at her celebrity friend. “If we survive this, come over for a drink. You know where I live. In fact, Kaureerah's my tenent so ...” she shrugged as she walked backwards, slowly. “I. Am. Inevitable!” she exclaimed dramatically.

"You know, I might just take you up on that. All of it." Leon replied with a pat on the sides of the arms and a smile. His demeanour lacked the sass of his company and was that a blush? No, it must have been a trick of the light.

Leon returned to the Sun King mask and donned it once again. "You’re quite right, we have a rebellion to win. Talk of love and longing is best held over drinks." He jumped up and down briefly, shaking out his arms and legs for the fight ahead. "Oh, and Zarina. We will survive this. We both have places to be, people to see, and higher to climb. Its only a matter of when those drinks are." Such overwhelming confidence and certainty emanated from the performer’s voice that one could think he had seen the future and knew it to be fact. This was not the case.

Although, on the way out, a stray thought hit him. ’What about your love, Miret? What happened to the one that caught you so only a few days ago?’ Leon thought the questions but didn’t let them out. Even if he didn’t have all the details, he had seen her case before. There was a rule to love and heartbreak: Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to. At least it would give him an opportunity to repay the favour.

---

The Dawn

Back at the top of the Forked Tower, Leon looked to the skies above and saw the veil of night waning. He had spent many an early morning waiting for the sun to rise, and he knew it could only be a few minutes before dawn broke and the sky would be bathed in the heavenly glow. It brought thoughts back of a time only months earlier in Xolectoxo when he sat atop a spire that pierced the heavens. One so elevated you could think that the sun was closer to you than the earthly worries below.

There had been a thought that had raced through his mind from the moment he stepped into the Violet Enclave and looked up and the titan of a building that was the Forked Tower. Now that the day was won, he could finally act on that idea but he had to do it before the sunrise.

The revolution had ended, and they had won. But even if the dawn arrived, it wouldn't mean the fighting had ended. The sun would rise upon a world of turmoil and confusion, unsure if the bloodshed was to cease. Leon could provide that beacon, he could be the first thing people would see to give them certainty and let them know that justice had been done.

Dragon of the Old Mother, you granted me your strength, I ask you to look at my first act with it.

Leon had been at the front of the parade when the Zenos had dispersed the clouds from the opening ceremony. It didn't escape his notice that they didn't disperse them at the conclusion of these Trials. So if the Zenos weren't going to disperse the clouds, let it be the students that do it, let it be him.

Let them look upon me. Let them look upon me and see the dawn. Let them see the Sun King and know that justice has been done. I am Leon Solaire, I am the Sun King.

The performer raised his hand to the sky and channelled everything he had into luminescence to create a miniature sun above the Forked Tower. With enough power, he hoped to bathe all of Ersand'Enise in the glow but was uncertain. It is not as though he attempted to create light on this scale before. The Sun King tried to look up for a moment, but even he knew better than to look directly at it within such a short distance. Instead, he simply smiled widely and joyfully at the achievement as the golden rays engulfed him. The mask hid the hunger in his eyes.

---

By the time all was said and done, Leon just sat at the top of the forked tower, welcomed the rising sun, and wondered what the future may hold. In the days to come, he would be asked if he wished for his memory to be wiped. He would hold the memories of what happened at this place, but ask not for the memories he lost to be restored. He remembered a successful rebellion, thats all there was to it. He need not gain the rest when he could fill in the blanks himself.

---

The Reason to Fight

In the days following the revolution, Leon walked through places as he normally did. But there was an interesting thought for him to ponder now. Had the civilians of Ersand’Enise been given the same option as them? Were they given the choice to forget the events of the entire revolution? Had they even been given the choice or had their memories been taken regardless?

It was a scary thought the more he pondered on it, but it also provided a fun game. He considered it rude to outright ask someone whether they had chosen to get their memory erased, they wouldn’t even remember saying yes if they were given the choice. So instead, Leon played the game of trying to guess if they had their memories erased. Did they look at him like just the Sun King who had participated in the Trials or one who had a hand in overthrowing the school as well? He couldn’t tell yet, but that didn’t bother him. Knowing would mean the game had come to an end.

Strolling through Mudville, something small caught the performer’s eye. A small pony, only ankle high, with an absurd mane of royal purple had run into his path. It looked lost and was running around aimlessly. With its small size, even getting from one end of the road to another must have been quite the feat of distance. Not to mention dodging the feet of less observant pedestrians. Leon knelt to pick the small horse up and had a surprisingly easy task doing so. The horse must have recognised him without the mask on. Then he waited with the horse in hand, comforting the miniature animal while scouting the surrounding area.

The performer didn’t have to wait long until the pony’s owner came along. It was that girl from his first day back in Ersand’Enise, the one whose happy smile heralded the entrance of the Sun King. He looked back at her with a beaming smile, happy to see her again.

The girl asked for her pony back and Leon was more than happy to oblige. Afterwards, he waved a hand over his face and illusioned the Sun King mask onto it. The real mask was hanging from his left hip; it would be a simple process to put it on. But it was the apparating mask that evoked more wonder and whimsy, even if it wasn’t real. It was only obvious which option Leon preferred.

“Oh what a terrible day. A small horse; lost and astray. She cries out to the town with fading neighs.” Leon spoke in his Sun King rhymes. “But there’s no need to worry, there’s no need to mope. The Sun King will always be there, so stay well, and have hope.”

Leon looked at the girl and wondered if, in this girl’s eyes, he had become what he desired. Did she look back at him like the storybook heroes he admired as a child? Did he look like the impossible person he wished to be perceived as?

To create such an absurdly impossible creature as the miniature horse, Leon had triumphed over reality itself just to make a little girl happy. If he was someone who could achieve the impossible, what was such a task as achieving peace if not a matter of scale? Did this girl believe him capable of that? Could she look toward the uncertain future with hope and be certain that things will be better, that tomorrow’s sun will shine upon a better world?

Could Leon fulfil the promise of that hope? It was his duty to try.

No, that wasn't it. What was stopping him? It wasn't a matter of if he was capable of succeeding, it was simply that he must.

---

Memories of a Revolution (Event Archive)

Memories of a Revolution

---

A Foreword: Memories of a Revolution is a section made for archival purposes. While there are some fun sequences in there, none of this is a necessity to read. For convenience, I have provided summaries of each sequence above if anyone want to follow the exact events.

---

- Laska catches Leon and Zarina being friendly and comes over to check about the 'problem' Leon had with his company.
- Leon never had a problem with Zarina and simply lied. He somewhat gets away with this by deflecting it to talks of love.

Caught in a Lie (Discord collab)

She was there with her basket, ordering muffins across the counter as if they were medicine: the nun. Had she simply failed to notice Zarina and Leon seated together at a table out front? With all that had taken place at the school of late, one could forgive her for not noticing. Still, the nun noticed everything. To be so unobservant was unlike her.

“This thing?” Zarina flicked the edge of her Kerreman hat still on her head. “Downright saved my life back there. I'd be turned into a crisp without it. That and it's stylish, of course.” she winked at Leon before indulging in her still hot cappuccino. The two were sitting at one of the small tables that surrounded the Zeno Bucks kiosk near the pier. “I wasn't going insane, right? The guy full-on agreed to working with that slime, right? Just before attempting to send me to Dami's Hell.” she shook her head in both amusement and outrage. “Fucking Prenchy highborns.”

Zarina may have had animal senses, but she found herself often taken by conversations that she missed the good nun and proud penguino owner. Or maybe this long, long day had really done a number of the coffee brewer. Still, the world had failed to break her smile.

"It is rather stylish and all the better if it keeps you alive. You could consider me jealous of such a fashionable piece, if hats suited me that is." He winked back and took a sip of his water, which may or may not draw judgement from the coffee enthusiast across the table. He simply didn't like the bitter taste of coffee and didn't require the caffeine either.

Leon chuckled at the highborn comment. "In my experience, the noble class hardly lives up to their name when matters of personal gain are involved." But his tone grew serious. "No, I don't think you were just seeing things. And I don't think that he was the only one. If I'm being honest, I find it all too troubling in hindsight. I was lucky to have stepped in when I did."

Leon's gaze at the end drifted off across the pier and out toward the ocean, not noticing Laska. While the event didn't disturb him at its conclusion, negative thoughts were creeping into the performer's head when he dwelled on the moment. Still, he kept his smile for his company's sake.

Then, with an almost eerie suddenness, Edyta Laska materialized beside the pair. "Oh my Ipté!" she chirped merrily. "Fancy seeing you two here!" It was a sunny dorrad day and she was wearing a lighter habit than usual. A lick of wind stirred her clothing and she smiled. "I'm so very glad to see you've made up."

Zarina pleasantly listened to Leon with frequent nods and sips from her still hot beverage. But before she could speak, a greyborn interloper joined them. “Ah, sister Laska.” acknowledge Zarina with a curt nod. “I-” she was about to answer in complete auto-pilot, but she caught on. “Wait, what?” she blinked, shifting her attention to Leon for clarity. “We got beef?”

The nun's eyes darted between them. "Oh," she replied. "I wasn't aware it wasn't..." She trailed off, trying not to look Leon's way, trying not to be confused, but she did not entirely succeed on either account.

'Made up? What is Laska talking about?' Leon thought with confusion, it took him a moment before he remembered and his eyes widened just a little. 'Oh shit.' Of course, the performer didn't want to look like a liar but he had only been in this situation a few times before. He didn't know the best way to get out of it cleanly.

"Its good to see you Laska. I'm glad to see the sun is treating you well." Leon replied pleasantly. "Its been a enlightening day for me. Honestly, I find myself struggling to remember the problem in the first place."

Zarina pursed her lips. “Uhm ...” and then shrugged. “Okay?”

Edyta smiled. "Well, I'm very happy to see that things are patched up, Leon." For a moment, she did not lose an ounce of her smile. "While I try not to burn to a crisp in the sun." Then, however, it fell into a look of concern, aimed directly at the other party present. "Though Zarina appears a bit confused." she pulled up a third chair and sat, placing a sack of muffins on the table. "Perhaps we should take the time to remember our feelings and work through them." She smiled. "I have muffins!" she giggled.

Zarina's felt like she wasn't in on some joke. Genuine confusion turned into a dull stare to make her lack of amusement evident. “Okay. Now I'm actually lost.” in fact, there was light annoyance in her tone. Luckily for everyone, she was easily pacified by muffins. The wildblood perked up and grinned wide. “Muffins? Shi- Darn, sister! You know where to strike.” gleefully she indulged. But she did not forget the oddity that had come up, and she stared at Leon expectantly while feasting.

Leon let out a nervous chuckle as the two had their eyes on him. Was the sun getting hotter? If so, it wasn't in the good way. They were grilling him with their eyes. Leon adjusted his collar and thought through what he could say. The performer kindly accepted a muffin but didn't take a bite yet. He had nothing to say and he didn't want to be caught in a lie with these two. He liked both of them.

"Alright, I lied sister. I'm sorry. I never had a problem with Zarina." He let out while feeling a weight off his chest. "But you have to understand, I did it in the name of love this ti... I did it in the name of love."

Sister Laska blinked twice. "For love." She tilted her head to the side and her mental state could've been just about anything for all of the other two's ability to read it. "Love," she repeated, more softly.

Then, she shrugged. "Ipté and I aren't as well-acquainted as we should be," she decided, either ignoring or missing Leon's verbal slip-up. "I'll be the first to admit." She leaned in, eyes darting at Zarina. "Who's the special girl?" They flicked back and forth between the two.

“Wh-” Zarina had already wolfed down half her muffin before the radical shift in subject hit her. She suddenly felt very targeted, especially as the nun's eyes met her's. “I uh ...” a look of uncertainty was shot at Leon, lips tight and covered with crumbs. Her first naive suspicion was that it concerned her given the convenient circumstances that led to the final team compositions. Did he do it for her love? Her wits were simply not quick enough to realize he was the subject of that decision, and assumed too much on how much he knew of her. With a mousy voice, she uttered the next word. “Heh. Miret.”

Her cheeks were red hot and and her gaze fixed on the half eaten muffin. It was sinking into her quite fast what she had just said. How she just wanted to just melt and become one with the gravel.

How quickly the tables turn, Leon thought to himself, he had gotten out of that predicament rather cleanly. He rested his head in the palm of his right hand and tried to keep the spreading grin on his face humble. He felt like he was under a looking glass just moments earlier and now saw both woman in his company shift immediately at the mention of love. Frankly, the ball was in his court now and he was smug about it.

"It would appear that I'm not the only love bird here." Leon Solaire let out a small chuckle, winked at Laska, then looked back to Zarina. "Theres no shame to be had in admitting the one you love. Its a good sign you shared so readily, Zarina." Then, instead of answering the question himself, he turned to face Laska. "How about yourself, Laska? Is there a special someone you would like to share as well?"

Zarina rolled her eyes. “Good sign that I'm a clueless idiot, yeah.” shaking herself from the mild humiliation she had subjected herself to, her attention fell onto Laska.

Edyta Laska's eyes darted between the one and the other. She blinked. "Oh no no." She shook her head. "I'm so very happy that you're happy," she replied a bit too quickly. "and there was no crisis in the first place. Ipté be praised!" Grabbing her basket, she made a suspiciously quick exit.

As the nun attempted escape, Zarina knocked her knuckles twice onto the wooden surface. “Hey now, we were just getting started on this great snack, sister.” she shot a cheeky smirk toward her. “I didn't know you were quite the dancer until last night.”

"Really?" Leon looked to Zarina with pleasant surprise then back toward Laska. He finally took a bite of his muffin and seemed genuinely impressed with the taste. "I didn't take you for the dancing type either Laska. You surely wouldn't leave us so soon without giving a recount." Leon gave his best puppy dog eyes, he would be heart broken not to hear. After all, most of the dances took two.

They had recognized her and said nothing. Edyta did not know how to feel about this. She did not know how to feel about this. "Even those dedicated to Eshiran must still serve the others. That night was Ipté's." She bowed her head indulgently, desperately low. "Now, I fear I will be late to the soup kitchens if I do not make haste. Oraff must also be honoured." She took two steps away before pausing and redoubling back. She murmured something quickly to the barista and left a few coins on the table. Then, pale face as red as the hair behind her habit, Sister Laska scampered away via a slightly different route, pausing and raising a hand in a quick, partially-aborted wave at Zarina and Leon.

“Honouring Ipté. Fancy way to say 'yeah, I like him'.” Commented Zarina after a snobbish sip of her coffee as Laska took her leave. Amused, a foxy look was shot toward Leon. “So, love. You really gotta make a heart throb for a girl to make a song for you.” her brows wiggled. “You and Kaureerah make quite the duo.”

Laska had already gone before Leon had gotten a word in. "There's nothing wrong with fancy, although it is a little formal." He responded to Zarina with a smile.

In stark contrast to Zarina, Leon's reaction at the mention of Kaureerah didn't cause a blush and he wasn't startled or shy at the thought. Instead, he rested his face once more in his right palm and his smile grew just a little wider. "Oh, it looks like I've been found out. And here I thought our romance was a closely guarded secret." He replied with playful sarcasm.

“I'm onto your scandalous proclivities, Leon.” Zarina wagged her pointer finger that had previously been coiled around her mug. “Funny, I did not think of you two as 'available'. More, like, free-spirited.”

Leon chuckled. "Any traveler can stop at a beautiful view and decide to stay a while. Who know if it convinces them to stay?" He paused for a while and considered something over a sip of water. "I'll say this Zarina, I've never said I love someone without meaning it."

Zarina raised an unconvinced brow. “Sooooo ...” her eyes shifted to the right as one of her employees tending to an order and passed by their spot. “Do you love her?”

Leon raised an eyebrow back at Zarina, somewhat confused at her skepticism. He thought a bit, feeling a trace of that familiar feeling in his chest return. What was that? "Of course I do." His delivery was flighty, doing little to sooth his company's doubts. Even if the statement was true in his mind.

---

- Leon gives a rousing speech to a group of Revidian students to join the revolution. This is a big success.

Revidian Speech

Leon paced around Balthazar Square in anticipation of the coming storm, a storm that he had vowed to head among a small group of others. He didn't need the preparation the others did. He had been meditating and channeling manifestation magics for most of the day. He was ready; but time ticked away for the other's to prepare.

In his pacing, he spotted a group of students some distance from the gathering mob. They weren't combat ready, they didn't look like they were preparing; just watching, some with curiousity, some with judgement. It didn't take Leon long for him to identify them as a group of Revidian students.

Leon could already guess what the group was thinking. 'Is Leon Solaire a traitor? Both Torragon and Revidia expressed support for Tojarra, why would he betray their wishes? Why would he choose to head the charge for the Perrench?' He could see in the eyes of some, who already condemned him as a turncoat. But an equal amount looked upon him with curiosity and even reluctance. 'Very well,' Leon thought, 'I shall put on a mask I haven't donned in a good while: Leon Solaire, the Revidian.' He floated up onto an elevated section of the square and delivered a speech to the lost Revidians:

"My fellow Revidians, take a look at what this school has become... You see what is happening in front of you. No doubt, you see the injustices happening before you; those held in custody, and those being silenced for speaking out against it. Maybe you are scared to act or try to defend it because that injustice calls itself one of us... But I know Revidia, I know the beauty of its rolling hills, I have tasted its wine, I have danced with its women and men alike. Through all my travels there is a reason I always come back there out of anywhere in the world... But I ask you now to look at the up toward the Forked Tower, where a girl was taken from her home in the early morning and held there without a word. The Perrench think that we condone this, that this is the work of the Central Alliance. I want you to tell me if that is the Revidia you know. I want you to tell me if that is a Revidia you can take pride in. I say no, that is not Revidia."

"To those who call themselves Revidian, I ask you to fight. What Revidia would we hope to inherit if we turn a blind eye to the corruption before us? But I am not asking you to fight Revidia or turn against the Central Alliance; only that you fight to remove a coward to hides behind their colours. Take up arms here and let it be known where the true Revidia stands. Follow me, follow my spear, and fight for its honour!"

Leon grabbed the Sun King mask from his belt and placed it on his head in preparation for the fight ahead. He couldn't rest until the sun shone upon a brighter world, he could think of no better starting point than cleaning up the place he called home.

- A short time into the tower, Leon and Zarina struggle with ghoulsilk. Leon uses a little too much of his RAS in the fight, needs to admit weakness to Zarina, and the performer's mask slips more in her presence.

Struggle in the Tower

Upon entering the tower, Leon and Zarina fought a fearsome scagbiist that guarded the entrance. But now, the scagbiist's skull was smashed. It died with an awful, ugly noise. Leon dug his heel out of scagbiist brains with no small amount of disgust shown on his face. He didn't want that to happen at all. But in the thick of the fight with a great beast’s ugly jaws bearing down upon him it was hard to keep merciful control.

Zarina threw her arms in the air. “Kicking? Dami-t, Leon.” she rubbed the temple of her nose as she looked at the dead animal.

"You think I wanted this to happen? I haven't killed a beast before in my life, I thought the big thing could take it. Can we carry on? I really don't want to think about it." The bravado in Leon's voice was pretty absent, there was genuine remorse in his tone. He continued to try and clean the blood off his boots on the stone floor. It didn’t help.

The two could have stood and talked on the morals of the matter. But the tower beckoned.

Zarina pursed her voice and sighed. “Right. Right.” she cooled off quickly enough. There had been enough death - human deaths, to make this an almost forgettable ordeal. She tapped his shoulder. “Let's go.” then, she looked to the stairs leading down. “Down is where I'd check first.”

Leon nodded in agreement. "You've had a good nose for things so far. I'll follow you down." And he reached to hold her hand in the descent, which was accepted. They had seen Rikard and Yvain wander into the tower alone just to disappear only moments later. The two didn’t want that happening.

The hallway was ancient and stony, but the stone had a strange, unnatural quality to it as Zarina and Leon progressed deeper down. They headed down the stairs until they reached the bottom. Before them lay an old stone hallway. It was dark and unlit, though faint, multicoloured light trickled in through an open archway. At the end of the hall was the statue of Lilith the Redeemed, two candles lit at her base.

Zarina stopped before the statue. “Would you believe me if I said she woke up once and nearly killed us with a stare?” she jested, although her stare lingered on Ahn-Dami.

Leon chuckled back. "The idea beggars belief, but from you I find myself struggling to think that was a lie."

“At a time like this, it'd be nice to get some Godly wisdom on what the fuck we should do with all of this. Fuuuuck.” tired and exasperated, she leaned her shoulder against the stony wall by her. “They fucking killed these stupid goons that were no threat to them. So easily too.” she began to rant, eyes still on the statue but she was clearly addressing Leon. “Am I crazy for thinking we should do better because of the power we have?”

Leon took a pause, finally confronted with what happened in that charge toward the tower. Having to think of the people he saw his companions kill. "I... I would like to say we could have done it without them. That I... we could take on those defenses ourselves and be fine. But I think I'm coming to understand that sometimes its unavoidable... Shit." It would be the first time Zarina heard Leon swear. "No, we can do better than that. I want to do much better than that, and I will." The was a surge of certainty in voice near the end.

He looked as if he were about to continue before Leon felt it: tendrils of some thing... subtly dropping down on him. Zarina felt it too. It was not accidental. It was not incidental. It was deliberate and stealthily done. The performer’s face dropped as he instinctively expelled flames from where it touched his skin. The tendrils heated to absurd temperatures and began to constrict.

Zarina was just about to respond until ... She froze. Whatever was dropping on them, she sensed it. “The fuck!” She instinctively side-stepped it and then tried to catch it via telekinesis. The moment that she tried to move it, it began to constrict, incredibly quickly and with absurd durability.

With an almost metallic 'ping', Leon’s tendrils snapped, but he found that there were yet more! He already has three layers of this unholy stuff on him! It began to constrict rapidly.

Meanwhile, Zarina looked up to notice where all this had come from. The movement caused it to constrict even faster. The sudden pain was too much and she noticed nothing. “Eshit!” Zarina was constricted, and she naturally resisted.

Leon burned further. The air around him, his skin, and his RAS reserve. He recklessly ejected fire from himself in a fight for freedom. Another layer snapped off. He was further burnt. The ghoulsilk constricted further.

Zarina, slightly panicked, opted to just teleport out of the stranglehold. She reappeared less than two yards away. The ghoulsilk constricted very aggressively now. There was less of it, however.

Leon’s two final layers popped and he was freed. He was rather badly scalded and even burnt in some places, but the infernal webbing was gone. But he didn’t delay, seeing Zarina still struggling, he rushed to free her too. Hands placed on Zarina, or rather the ghoulsilk strangling her, he burnt it.

The last layer gave way and Zarina was freed. Now, finally, they had a chance to see just what had spun such vile webbing, only... they couldn't see it.

"You look out for me, I look out for you. We can worry about what those others are doing when this is all done." Leon spoke in shorter breaths, the fear in his eyes quickly becoming apparent.

Shaken, panting but in one piece with wounds fading away by themselves. She was bent over with her hands over her knees as she nodded. “Yeah. Great idea.” she thumbed up. “Thanks for that, habibi.”

Leon and Zarina stood there in the flickering light of two small candles, Lilith the Redeemed's beatific face gazing, in shadow upon them. They appeared, momentarily, to be unmolested. The question was... what to do next?

Zarina slid her hand into the side of her head, scratching at her scalp. “Fuck it. I'll open up the real basement.” She inspected the current floor they were on and the various baubles they could work with. “I've been meaning to ask. You're fucking strong, but you run out of heat slowly. What's the deal there?”

Leon gave Zarina an uncharacteristic frown, he didn't want her to notice that. But then, realising the situation he was in, it eased and lightened. "Shit. I suppose it's unavoidable when you see me like this. When we get a moment, I'll need some time to rest and recharge... I don't recover like all of you." Leon still fruitlessly looked around for sources of danger. "But I don't think it's time to rest now. Let's get this basement open and hope we can close the door behind us."

“Oh.” Zarina seemed mildly surprised, but not too much. “Kinda like Zeno Sunny.” she remarked while sifting through the pages of the tome by the statue. “Last year we got to enjoy this place for a week. There was this whole puzzle involving colours, and-” she pointed right at the statue before licking the pointed finger to turn a new page. “her. Nearly killed us with her eyes, but a pleasant lady.” she hummed as she inspected the rest of the room. “I think there'll be a couple of things I'll have to pull upstairs. You wanna charge up before we get to that?”

The correct answer would have been 'exactly like Zeno Sunny'. But Leon didn't like that, I made him sound so... ordinary. So instead he replied "yeah, kind of." He lightened up more as Zarina talked about the basement puzzle. "You think she will wake up again? Even if she has deadly eyes, I would rather like to meet a god in person. I do wonder if a god could be charmed..." He trailed off in thought. "Right. Charging. I'll get onto it."

Zarina raised her brows in mild surprise. “Oh, you know it's Ahn-Dami? I definitely did not the first time.” She chuckled a tad nervously. “Given this is a revolution, I suppose the NDA isn't gonna matter.” she counted all the orbs and recalled the different combinations. An unforgottable experience, and oddly stressful for something so simple in hindsight. “The artifacts can drag them out, or at least project them or something. I think we could see her if we do this puzzle again. Or it was all a trick and part of the Forked Tower vacation special to make us feel extra unique.” she shrugged. “Good, simple times.”

"Oh, so she's Ahn-Dami? My guess would have been Ahn-Shune." Leon winked at Zarina with a smile. "You spoke of godly wisdom then said this statue woke up with a deathly stare. It was only reasonable to assume it was one of them."

"Good, simple times, eh?" Leon chuckled. "I would have liked to have seen those times. Been there to experience them. It seems every time I come to Ersand'Enise, the world is on the edge of calamity. Perhaps I'm a bad omen, despite my looks." He joked, but a twinge of regret was in his voice.

“You're right, I did.” Zarina nodded as she finished her inspection, still wary of any potential silk droppings. “We saw her too - Ahn-Shune. And her counterpart.” the memories elicited a few chuckles, almost manic ones. “It felt like we were tripping some serious balls.”

She returned to the base of the stairs, reinvigorated with energy as her wounds had since completely healed. “Or,” she raised her pointer finger before pressing it to the famous performer's chest. “The world needs a hero, and you so happen to be here at the right time.” she shot a mirthful grin at Leon.

Leon laughed along with Zarina. "Now, meeting three seems too much to be real. Maybe one of them was induced by something."

The performer smiled initially at Zarina's hero comment. "Well, a day at the beach would have been nice at least." He joked back. But then he stepped back with a furrowed brow and sat down in a meditative position. "I don't think I'd be much use of saving anything like I am now. I should get onto it."

- Finding that the tower’s guard scagbiist was coming back to life. Zarina and Leon enact a plan to tame it. Leon thinks its ugly, but the beast has a strange affection toward the performer.

Pete Saga Part 1: Taming

Making it up to the entrance room, Zarina found the scagbiist lying there, as dead as ever, though... well, it was probably nothing. She remembered Leon having made quite the mess, though. She raced up the stairs to start undertaking the puzzle.

Zarina kept her eyes peeled for any of her friends and colleagues as she ascended the tower stairs until she passed the dead beast and headed for the first floor. Once there, she got to the staves. She recalled Yuliya being in charge of this phase. And the coordination between her and the rest of the group to start the orb puzzle. “Eshi, what's with this faculty and mega doom puzzles ...” she grumbled.

It was hazy, but it came back to Zarina and, on her first genuine try, she actually got it. The scagbiist in the foyer remained an eerie, dead thing, though at least it was rather far from the basement door...

Down there, as she activated the correct orb, she found Leon charged and ready. With two of them this would go much quicker. Now it remained to run back upstairs!

Zarina explained without too much context what to do to Leon before dashing back to the staffs for the next phase. Loads of cardio. Each time she passed the scagbiist, she cringed just a little more inside.

Zarina was laser-focused on her task and, as such, paid little attention to her surroundings as she dashed past the dead animal - which she'd honestoy been trying not to look at - and up the stairs. Leon, however, was a bit more aware, and he noticed the differences that had happened incrementally while Zarina had not. The scagbiist's skull was wholly intact!

While he was following Zarina so as not to get split up, Leon did little of the work. Instead being busy with his mediation. He looked at the scagbiist each time they passed with regret. Then he noticed the skull, he frowned and checked his bloodstained boot to see if it was still... well... bloodstained. "Hey Zarina, didn't that scagbiist look much worse after we fought it? It looks as though the skull is back together for some reason."

Zarina kept going when Leon spoke, figuring she could keep going as they exchanged. But when the Scagbiist came up, she quickly stopped and turned to check it out for herself. “Well, you did obliterate the skull-” She descended the stairs and eventually caught a glimpse of the beast. No blood, no pieces, just a whole dead animal. “Okay, what the eshit?” she approached the beast and sensed the chemical reactions occurring within the animal, enhanced by the hat she had been wearing. “First thing that's coming to my mind is something temporal. Which is baaaaaaaad.”

"Would you know if it's having some change on us? It looks as though its just affecting the beast for now." Leon looked up to Zarina from where he was closely inspecting the skull. "I'm not shabby with Binding magics. I could tie this thing up if you think there's a chance of it coming back to life or something."

Zarina took a closer look. The animal seemed... It was alive! While unconscious - perhaps resting - the scagbiist was very much alive. They needed a plan and quick.

Step 1 - Make a muzzle - Leon is up:

Sounds like a job for manifestation magic. Unfortunately, Leon was simply too distracted. He had been considering what song to play on the Lyre to calm the creature down and, lo and behold, he conjured... a lyre, but it was... an electric one. It was... sirrahi tech. How cool!
He pocketed it. But then shrugged at Zarina, he failed with manifestation.

“So ...” Zarina pursed her lips. “Just make one?”

"Sorry, I was feeling lucky." Leon whispered back apologetically. He was a little disappointed that she didn’t find the electric lyre at least a little impressive, even if it wasn’t exactly what they wanted. He resorted to muzzle conjuring using binding instead.

Step 2 - Put the muzzle on - Zarina to help:

Upon seeing a perfectly good muzzle being made the old fashion way, Zarina thumbed up. “I think that was just this guy's breath.” she then helped him slide it into that grotesque maw.

Zarina's hands were steady as she delicately slipped the muzzle over its face. It stirred somewhat but remained asleep. The animal shifted and let out a snort. By the gods, it was ugly! One of its hind legs kicked, as if it were in a dream. It remained, somehow, asleep.

Step 3 - Serenade the beast - Leon was born for it:

Leon began a Delicate song on the Lyre. One that would heal his wounds in the process. The song is soft and gentle, the animal's ears perked up after a bit and it rolled onto its side, wheezing in its sleep. But, by Ipte, it is one ugly bastard!

Step 4 - Use internal chem - Zarina is up (and Nibbler):

The scagbiist began to purr. It tucked its arms and legs in. It went to lick its lips and… It noticed the muzzle! The scagbiist's eyes flickered open. They were beady black things within pink folds of flesh. Oirase must've been drunk when she made this thing!

Step 5 - Tame the beast - All together now:

It tried to open its mouth and began to panic, but Leon's music and Zarina's chemical magic seemed to ease some of that. It rises suddenly.

“The muzzle.” she mouthed.

The scagbiist began stalking toward Leon. Its tail flicked back and forth almost.. rhythmically, whiplike. It was an ugly, hairless tail with a bristly tuft on the end, clearly designed by Exiran when he was filling in for Oirase.

Leon is less than impressed by how this thing looks. But a lifetime on stage helps keep a smile. He continued to play, nodding to Zarina with the muzzle to release it. It wasn't that he trusted the ugly beast, it was that he was confident in his ability to defend himself. Zarina went for the latch. Leon would hold his nerve, hopefully.

The scagbiist drew closer, the muzzle sliding off. It sniffed at Leon and, for a moment, there was the hint of a sound. Both he and Zarina feel it: a fuzziness in their manas. They could still break and run if they wanted to.

Zarina did not run and was prepared to act if things got bad. The performer on the other hand was getting less sure by the second. His smile was uneasy at this point. He really fucking hoped Zarina was right on this. He held still.

The scagbiist opened its mouth as it approached, and Leon could smell its foul breath. This was breath to make even Shune blush. By the gods, this thing was ugly to all senses! Its tail flicked back and forth. His magic continued to dull. Zarina's magic continued to dull.

Zarina prepared a fail-safe. She attempted to temporally anchor him here and now, and hold it for a few seconds. It failed

As the thing drew closer, so did Leon's preparedness to defend himself. He wouldn't run, but it wasn't going to lunge at him without a fight. He continued to play, but his favoured kicking leg was primed.

All at once, the scagbiist darted in, about to leap onto Leon!

Nope! Leon’s nerve gave out immediately and he ran.

The scagbiist's mouth yawned open and its tongue shot out, wet and sloppy. It missed and skidded across the floor becoming startled. That seemed to shake it - somewhat - out of its agreeable mood. Its head turned and it snorted, the magic dampening beginning to ramp up. It let out a whining noise and what an ugly sound that was! What had Dami been thinking, allowing such a thing to be created!? It was abhorrent to all senses.

Leon continued the song. "Zarina!? Do the taming thing please…!" The scagbiist turned and stalked toward him again.

Zarina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gods fucking damn it.” she stood straight and observed the beast's movements. “Play again.”She whistled at the beast and turned its head. The animal paid attention to her, but it wasn't pacified in the slightest.

Leon's song came in again, shaky at first, but then steadier. Caught between who to gravitate towards, the scagbiist let out a moaning whine. Its tail flicked about in agitation. After a moment of hesitation, it lunged towards Zarina!

Zarina didn't dodge, but she wasn't going to be stupid either. She generated higher scale growth on her left forearm, under her sleeve, just in case. Its jaws snapped shut inches from her and it lowered itself into a springing position, tail flicking some more.

Zarina hummed the same tune that Leon was playing. Soft and honeyed. She continued to excrete the same chemicals she had used to 'imprint' when it was unconscious to identify herself as something pleasant, potentially safe and akin to whatever had been feeding it. Slowly, she approached her now scaly hand near its snout. “Shh, shh, you're a good ugly little shit, aren't you? M'hm.”

The scagbiist tilted its hideous head to one side. Holy shit was it ugly! It lunged again, almost playfully, but there was a touch of aggression there too. It let out an unhappy noise and began to losee interest as the gentle music played. “Hmmm.” Zarina took note of the animal's energetic state and its body language. “Got anything upbeat? But, you know, not too intense?”

Leon seeing it a little more playful, by some interpretation, played a cheerful song instead. His music was... not his best, but scagbiists were not the most discerning creatures anyhow. Zarina waggled a stick around. The Scagbiist's beady little black eyes seized on it. Wow, those eyes were... not cute. It lunged again, this time for the stick.

Zarina actually withdrew the stick, waved it a bit to keep the beast's attention, before throwing it near the stairs leading up. The scagbiist bolted after it with surprising speed but, midway though, a discordant note from Leon caused it to stop and contort.

It regarded Leon intently for a moment, having lost interest in the stick. It began to stalk towards him. The performer continued playing his song while slowly moving toward Zarina and keeping his distance, balancing these as best as he could.

The beast's tail flicked back and forth excitedly. It lowered itself into a crouch as it stalked its 'prey'. It began to let loose with a loud purring sound but - my - was that purring ugly!

Leon tried his best to keep up the song. By now he figured out that the beast liked when he played notes off tune. But he couldn’t do that, his pride would not let him. Why did this thing have to love his mistakes more than his successes!? He was a little more at ease with the crouching, seeing what it did with Zarina. But still not entirely confident.

The scagbiist rushed up to Zarina and launched itself through the air. It did a barrel roll, midflight, and landed on its back, legs facing upward and squirming. It was showing its belly and purring. It was showing its belly and purring. It appeared... to wanted to be petted. Who would pet it better?

Zarina, unable to resist, provided the pets. And belly scritches. Leon stayed back from petting it. Unless the beast started to look unsettled, he would be reluctant to get close.

The sacgbiist rolled a bit in his direction and looked up at him sadly. “Awww, he-” Zarina blinked and checked. “Yeah, he- Wants a little cuddle. C'mon.”

"Do I have to?"

“Yes.” Nibbler hid in Zarina’s bag. Very much unhappy with this.

Uneasy at first and overly cautious, Leon inched his way toward the excessively ugly beast and pet it reluctantly. It let out a happy little yowl and curled into a crescent, rolling over. It went to sniff Leon. It went to sniff Zarina. The magic dampening, in the meantime, faded.

“See? All happy.” Zarina cooed. “We should give him a name.” The scagniist looked at her expectantly and tilted its godawfully ugly head.

"I guess you were right after all. I guess..." He trailed off, not really thinking of a name. The scagbiist went to lick him. Leon let the lick happen. This thing was ungodly levels of ugly, but it was being affectionate. There were hints of a smile on his face, but he wasn't going to give Zarina the satisfaction. The scagbiist nuzzled in, purring.

“How about ...” she tapped her chin, quite pensive. “Either Squiggles or Pete.”

"Pete sounds nice."

Zarina made a funny face and giggled. “Wanna snap his chain?” Pete pawed at his chain and looked glum. He horked up a wad of phlegm onto the floor and wagged his tail.
Leon did exactly that. Put his hand on the chain link some distance from his neck and melted it away.

“There you go.” Zarina cooed. She reached out with the gift to get a hold of the chain. In no way was she going to let the animal break away where there were people. With that, Zarina had - partially - tamed a scagbiist, though she would have to feed it soon. For the time being, it seemed happy to follow her and Leon. They still had a riddle to complete, however. Well, a riddle consisting of colours. “Okay.” Zarina stood back up. “Back to what we were doing ...”

"Agreed"

- Leon and Zarina open the Time Chamber and fish out their friends from alternate realities. Pete eats ham. In the chamber, Leon takes notes some of the more interesting alternate realities.
- Pete and Laska make quick friends, Pete and Seviin... not so much.
- With everyone together, the group head out for their final fights.

Pete Sage Part 2: Time Chamber

It took them ten minutes and a number of failures, though their failure counter never reached zero. Then, as they stood by Lilith, they suddenly found themselves standing, instead, in an entirely different sort of room. Behold: THE CHAMBER OF SPACE AND TIME!... Pete sniffed at Zarina's bag.

Zarina stretched and yawned after arriving in the fabled chamber. Casual, like this was just Lepdes afternoon, and examined the orbs- She noticed the sniffs! “Tsk, no Pete.” She pointed an authoritative at it to assert herself. “We'll find you some food. Soon.” She looked over at Leon. Pete looked surly.

Leon summoned some prime pork cuts for Pete but was quick to place them on the floor for him. He did not want the beast eating from his hands. Zarina seized it quickly with kinetic magic and pulled it toward her hand. If there was feeding, she wanted to be sure it knew who provided.

"Better to feed him here I suppose." Leon tried not to judge Zarina for choosing to hand feed, but there was a little bit in his eyes. Either she was one of the best animal tamers he had seen or the luckiest.

Pete gobbled it up easily. If he wasn't thrilled about the ham, he was happy just to eat. Meanwhile, the mystery of the chamber beckoned to them. It was a pocket dimension, after all, with the ability to access other pocket dimensions.

"This is my second pocket dimension of the week if you can believe it. But this one looks much different." Leon looked back to Zarina after his eyes wandered the area. "Is this a 'don't touch anything unless you know what it does' kind of situation?"

“I can believe it.” Zarina answered nonchalantly. “It's a 'Do what you think is right' sort of deal.” she continued to give Pete some validating scritches before standing up to watch Leon's decision.

It didn't take Leon long to associate the colours with the schools of magic but that was not any more helpful. Was there supposed to be a set order of things? 'Do what you think is right', well he didn't feel any supernatural or esoteric pull to either end of the room. "Alright, I'll give it a go then." There was excitement in his voice.

He approached the Arcane orange end of the room, hoping to interact with it. Whatever interacting with it meant. For a moment, Leon thought he sensed something, but it was just Pete messing with him. Then, the arcane orb lit up and hummed warmly at Leon's touch.

Feeling Arcane power go into him, Leon touched it again. The orb shut off. “Nice one there.” Ignoring Zarina’s comment, he touched the orb yet again. The arcane orb hummed, once more, with warmth and power."This place is wonderful. I'm jealous I couldn't be here earlier, without the weight of a revolution over my head." He said with amusement.

Zarina went for the green one. “Don't tell the others, but I almost forgot we were in a revolution.” She twisted to regard him. “Almost.”

"I wish we could linger here a moment longer, But one should be cautious of dancing too long, its easy to be swept up in the fantasy."

On the wall, a clock appeared. It started to ticking down: one minute. Forty-nine seconds. Forty-eight seconds. They were on a timer now, no time for idle chit-chat.

On their first attempt, they tried going to the schools that they were proficient with. Leon to Arcane, Binding, and Dark. Leaving Zarina to do Kinetic, Atomic, Magnetic, Temporal, and Chemical.

But the plan was halted when Leon saw activating Dark meant turning off Temporal. The room required opposing schools to be activated at the same time. This left a problem, Magnetic and Chemical opposed each other and Leon could do neither.

With some quick thinking, Zarina tossed Nibbler at the Chemical orb who would be able to activate it. But doing so also activated Pete’s sense of smell, and he was craving a Nibbler sized animal. Leon was only just able to summon the magnificent VOID ham in time to tossed it to the scagbiist. Perhaps it was an apology for shattering his skull earlier today, he still felt weird and bad about that.

On their second and final attempt, Zarina, Leon, and Nibbler were able to activate the chamber seconds before a bored Pete was able to tackle Leon away from the task.

Leon pet Pete, still with some caution. The scagbiist rubbed up against him and purred.

C O N V E R G E N C E

Pete, however, was not the only thing that purred. The orbs began to hum and glow and then, in the centre of the strange room, the runes lit up. The platform began to rotate and, just as Leon and Zarina could hear voices upstairs as Desmond, Tommy, and Tku stumbled through the Forked Tower's doors, it let out a flash. For a moment, they could see hundreds of different realities, all at once. It was mind-bending. They were nearly overwhelmed, even the animals or, well, Nibbler, at least.

There were 212 realities where they'd already failed and either the academy or the world was destroyed. There were 36 where Desmond was dead and one where he had ascended to godhood. There were three where Zarina was a man and one where Leon was eeaiko. Marceline was the big bad in one and, in another, it was Kaureerah. There was a dimension where everyone they knew was a sentient dragon, themselves included. In one particular reality, everyone was painted purple and a further instance had them all completely normal, but with forked tongues.

Cawuio-Zast was the Zenith in one, and terribly corrupt. Most jarringly, Alassa Tojarra had both eyes in a certain version of the world, and she was heroic while Leon himself was a tyrant. Manfred was alive in a good few. In 27, Dory was some sort of demon queen, and Ismette in another six. There were a couple where Marz was an apathetic hippie and one where he had created the Bomb. Trypano was, blessedly, a skeleton in one, and oh so very happy about it. There was another where people's heads looked like boots and one more where the pets were the masters and the humans, eeaiko, yasoi, hegelans, and cazenax were mostly small and on leashes. In one, Juulet was a normal, well-adjusted girl with two legs named Juliette. Penny was the Zenith in another. Esmii was not short in a surprisingly normal one though, in that same one, an evil Xiuyang had murdered her family and usurped their positions. Roslyn was a pirate in seventeen of them. In another, she was an egg with legs, but everyone seemed to treat her normally.

It was, in all, bizarre. They would need to find the ones where their friends were trapped, however, and put an end to this madness so that they could return to the business of bringing the corrupt school administration to justice and rescuing Penny.

It was all too much to take in. But a few realities etched their way into the performer’s mind.

Then, Leon spotted it! He saw it!

There they were: the others racing up the tower, various degrees of lost. Yvain was petting a demon dog guiltily, since nobody else was watching. Rikard was busy battling the tier six demon Ataxhaman in a solo duel to the death... and winning. Trypano was racing up an endless staircase in her underwear, holding hands with Seviin. They did not see the seventy-eight Rosy threshers waiting for them up ahead. Edyta Laska had cornered a Tan-Zeno who'd tried to cast a spell on her and was punching the woman multiple times in the face.

Realities 377, 21A, Neo78, and B^). Those were the ones they needed to reel in!
Zarina was tripping. She saw everything, but Leon seemed capable of locating those they cared about. “Shit, yeah, I see them too!”

Leon reached out mentally to manifest the tool he needed in this situation. The magic of manifestation never let him down when it counted. In his hand, he held the [INTERDIMENSIONAL FISHING ROD].

Leon would fish for Laska first, trying to stop the merciless beating that she was delivering to the Tan-Zeno. She was yanked from her dimension, knuckles still raw and bloody. She finished her swing and… connected straight with Leon's jaw. Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh my Oraff! I'm so sorry! Are you alright!?" She cast about wildly. "Wait a second... where's that b...ad person? I was giving her the beating she deserved. Not you!"

"I'll be fine, enough. No, no, don't worry about me." Zarina would notice that his voice had much more presentation to it now. Leon Solaire was speaking.

“Yo, suunei.” Zarina casually waved at the nun. “Before you lose your mind, the big animal is normal. Please don't strike it.”

"Zarina, I'm not some big anima... oh yes, right."

Edyta gazed upon the scagbiist. She blinked. "You have... a scagbiist?" She blinked again. "Wizard."

“Yeah, we have a Scagbiist.”

"Soo... what are you actually doing?" the nun inquired. "I remember us being separated..."

“Snatching people from where they ended up. Other worlds. 'N stuff.”

The Rezaindian nodded.

Leon would let Zarina explain and fish for Rikard. Even if he was winning at the moment, a fight to the death was a fight to the death. Zarina reached out for the rod to deflect it. “Wait, let the kiddo have this.”

Leon looked at her, lingered on it a bit, before going back to fish out Yvain this time. He just couldn't quite fish Yvain out. The boy was not done petting his (demon) dog. Leon switched his efforts to Seviin instead.

One moment, Seviin was holding Trypano's hand. The next, she was being pulled out through the VOID. Seviin maintained her grip and, moments later, she and Trypano tumbled in. The very first thing that she saw was… a Scagbiist. The girl let out a shriek and scrabbled backwards. Pete's ears shot upright. His beady little black eyes widened, if such a thing were possible.
Zarina was quick to stand between the two. “Alright, no time to explain, someone help me get Seviin calmed. Leon, get Pete calm too.” Leon went for VOID ham maneuver in response. It needed to be done.

Seviin began to draw. She drew with all that she had. Pete sniffed. Then, there was a VOID Ham. Leon tossed the VOID ham Pete’s way, hoping it was his preference over Yasoi.

Pete eyed Seviin for a moment longer before trotting off toward the VOID ham. He took it up in his mouth, quite pleased, and began tearing chunks off of it.

Seeing, and hoping, the Zarina could handle the situation, Leon returned to look upon Rikard’s grand battle. He hadn't thought much of the boy when he ran into the tower but this combat was making him reconsider that impression. If it started to look dire for the boy, he would try to fish him out. But otherwise, he intended to respect Zarina's wishes even while she didn't have the ability to stop him.

Leon shuddered a little at seeing Rikard take a powerful blow, take some time, and hold. It was Zarina's wish, he couldn't be dissuaded by a small bump in the road. But then, Rikard seemed to have scored a decisive blow. The demon is fell to the ground, electrocuted and burnt.

Rikard stood atop the hulking corpse. It was the size of a monsigneus. He reached down and snapped off one of its horns. hundreds of tiny green people streamed out from their hovels nearby. they lifted him onto their shoulders and began parading him around.

That was Leon’s cue to fish him out. With that, Rikard was pulled form the midst of his joyous celebration, back into reality. "And I thought I was done for right..." He trailed off and regarded the others. He was still covered in demon guts and stank to high heavens. "So, I'm back in the dimension where I started?" he asked calmly.

"Thought it would be best to celebrate with familiar faces." Leon replied before he got a whiff of him. "Try to clean yourself up, would you?... Oh, and well done."

"Shall I... Heal it's wounds? You can trust I will take care not to overstep it's bounds. It's in all our best interests, after all." Someone asked Leon from behind his back. He assumed the voice was asking about Pete. "Sure thing, do what you can." He remarked absent-mindedly, mind occupied by fishing. But his brow furrowed not soon afterwards, Pete was not hurt and he realised who made the offer. The performer turned back to Trypano. "Wait, no, don't even go near Pete. I'll be frank, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Maybe you could help prove otherwise another time. But for now, Laska, could you make sure the almost naked one behaves? I need to focus on getting the blonde one back, it's been challenging."

Edyta's eyes flicked between the other two and the animal uneasily. She furrowed her brow. "I..." She walked over towards Pete, pulling something from her pocket and crouching in front of him. The scagbiist sniffed it tentatively and then more agreeably. Its great, slimy tongue flicked out and then its jaws closed greedily around the muffin. Edyta reached out and stroked the animal and he flinched only somewhat.

"Laska, you're a saint. He said with a smile before turning back to have another go at Yvain.

Finally, Yvain was pulled away from petting his demon dog, only to witness Edyta Laska rubbing the belly of a scagbiist. He blinked. "Who's a good boy!" Edyta cooed. "Who's a big suck?" Rikard crouched nearby.

"You seemed to be having a good time in there. Sorry for pulling you away but we need you." Despite his disagreements with what Leon saw the noble do, it came from the heart and he said it with a smile.

Yvain scowled. "I suppose this... scagbiist is supposed to be FrouFrou's substitute?" he sighed.

After all the effort of fishing, Leon didn't rush over. He just sat down, caught his breath, and watched the scene unfold before him. Seeing everyone back and getting along… reasonably well was good for the heart. It was at least some merriment before the coming storm.

After a good few minutes of break, he spoke up. "Luck has been on our side so far, Zarina. Shall we go put an end to this? Now that everyone is with us." The Sun King remarked, standing up to prepare himself for the fight ahead.

“Let's.” from joyful to solemn, Zarina marched with her friends and colleagues out to confront the menace.

- Leon and the group climbing the tower find themselves on a gender bending floor and rosebud confusing the senses to their full extent. Under pressure, Leon shows his feeling towards Kaureerah to Yuli.
- Leon and the group make a bond in that room. And despite his misgivings to them from earlier, a four-way date is arranged with Leon, Yuli, Yvain, and Kaureerah.
- This memory has been abandoned.

Floor 69 (lost)

Leona Solaire enters the floor. "Well, I'm glad the group could stick together. Although, this is rather new... Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Another room's curse it seems. Could be worse, truth admitted." He greeted leon who had lagged behind only briefly. In truth there was new admiration for the female form but just like before it felt like something was missing. Sharper teeth maybe? A more alluring exoskeleton? His mind was left to wonder as he looked back to see how his newly changed comrades were fairing.

Yuri recognized vaguely who this was. The tanned skin, that gorgeous figure, nice and tall. Extremely alluring, in fact. He strutted over to her. "How about you and I go on ahead. Think we have more fun with just us two, hm?"

Leona was just watching the scene unfold with a fun curiosity. This was a oasis in the life or death situations the group had meet so far. Then Yuri approached him and could feel what the situation was like on the other foot. "You know, I don't seem to remember you being like this when the roles were reversed." Leona replied coyly and shot him a sly smile. "I wonder what has changed to make you so eager. Has the chest hair simply given you confidence?"

She tried to keep eye contact, but something drew her gaze over to Yvonne. A moment where she was flustered and even blushed, before wrenching her eyes back to Yuri.There was something more than simple attraction playing at the performer’s mind. "I... uh... besides, I have someone that I would... umm... like to keep to for the time being."

Yuri went to cup her face in his hands, but her attention was drew to Yvain, or Yvonne now, so he paused. A disappointment to be sure, but alas, it didn't matter for him. There was nothing he could do to combat the pheromones, he was utterly disappointing at either school that might aid their... aflictions here.

"Maybe it's the chest hair, maybe you look better like this, or just maybe, you didn't get to know me well enough." he winked at her, and leant on a nearby wall. He rummaged through his pockets lazily, before happening upon an interesting little malady he'd bought in Vossoriya. An aphrodisiac, in fact. When in a raging firestorm, throw a cataclysm on top? Perhaps that could aid their escape. The insults had left their mark, but this was a nice distraction.

Leona couldn't help it anymore, it was only a matter of time before she couldn't control her own actions. If she was going to go down, she was going to take someone with her, someone who could explain. She simply stood, walked over to Yuri, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him passionately. "This doesn't leave this room. And if it does get out, we are explaining this to Kaureerah together."

Then, still grabbing Yuri's collar, she gave into the pull toward Yvonne. "Come with me," Leona lured Yuri in with her voice, she had given into the moment.

Yuri indulged himself, caught off guard by the sudden swing by this new Leon. And while the moment was intense, the moment that followed was regretful and guilty. He knew they had a thing - but he was under the assumption Kaureerah was... here and there. Still, his eyes fluttered and a light blush took his face. "What happens in forked tower, stays in forked tower." He slid the aphrodisiac potion back into his pocket, realizing it wouldn't help the situation at all.

And he let himself be dragged along by this assertive woman. Normally, he liked to be in the lead, but this was a welcome change of pace. Duty was back on the mind though, and Yvonne and Ivar were about to be victims of a rizzling. Not on his watch. Not with those outfits. And especially not by clones of the fucking Zenith.

Yuri walked to Ivar with intent, dragging Yvonne and Leona with him on either arm. "Ladies, help me. We can't lose I-var? Not if we want to keep going forward." he spoke, conviction in his tone and a clear mind. He marched to the lap-dancing male Ingrid, and shot him a glance. He spoke in Old Eskandish, a language not too disimilar to the one Ivar had been using during this entire intimate encounter.

"Woe upon thee who sheathes a rusty blade in a fresh scabbard. On your feet."

The seven other of the harem turned to face Yuri with an identical scowl on each one.

"You dare!"

"He dares!"

"So uncouth!"

"You're done, little girl."

"I'll make you mine."

Leona looked over to Yvonne and simply winked. She was still under the spell.

Yvonne... knew not enough about Chemical magic to help much and just blew a kiss towards Ivar...

Then her attention travelled towards Leona. "If you'll be good, we'll share a nice bottle of wine together."

"Whatever the heart desires."

Yvonne winked in response. "The heart shall receive."

Yuri’s words did not cut through the haze. He was lost, the pheromones and words held too much power. He looked to the ladies on his left and right, and to the larger lad that walked behind. "The heart wants what the heart wants, beauties. And my heart does not want to watch the massacre." He grimaced, as he turned face heel and went to leave this peculiar room with great haste.

The Perrench lady sighed. "Seems that the Eskandish are both bottoms on the map and in.... more intimate occasions." She couldn't help but snort a little.

"A wishful imagination fulfilled is nothing to interfere with." Leona continued out with the others. "He won't be the only one needing privacy."

Then she blinked, feeling a veil over her mind alleviated. "What happens in the forked tower, stays in the forked tower eh."

"We're still in the tower, little miss sunshine. Three of us grab some wine when this is over?" he winked at her, and then at Yvonne.

Yvonne regarded Leona's comment. "Only if you want it to stay here."

"Why that sounds wonderful." She answered Yuri's offer.

"Its a tempting offer. I might have to bring a plus one." Leona said with a sly smile. Although the thought of tasting only burnt wine made her want to jump off the tower.

- Leon, under fire from Quantum Upta's visions of alternate realities, loses his mind and tries to kill everyone. He is mercy killed by Jocasta.
- This memory has been abandoned.

Madness & Death (lost)

The vast expanse of the universes unravel right before Leon in an instant. An overwhelming amount of information flood into his mind. The horrors of the endless expanse of the universe creep in.

Bombarded with the thoughts of his own failures, everything pressing down on him that meant he would amount to nothing. He repeatedly brought his full force down upon the second Upta in a frenzy. Why wouldn't she just die?

But then, it became one vision too many. He looked back at his companions knowing the infinite span of their betrayals, abondonments, and hate. Hate welled up in his own heart as he looked upon them with disdain. All of them. The Sun was unleashed, and he exploded.

"Sorry, Leon, but you're anchored." Before much harm could be done, Jocasta killed Leon with dispassion in her eyes. "Pull yourself together."

- Leon rides balloons with Ingrid and the rest of the Upta Squad into the realm of the Eleven Nations gods. Given the option to turn Pete into a person, Leon accepts in the believe that Pete remaining a scagbiist could cost lives. The performer thinks its the right choice, but regrets it in his heart. He had cared for the big, ugly, silly, & sweet beast.

Pete Saga Part 3: Eleven Nations & Loss

Thanks to the efforts of dozens of zenos and biros, even those who'd fought against Iptacht, the badly damaged tower was restored. It stood there, stalwart and... it seemed almost to begin healing itself now that it was stabilized. However, there was no saving the Violet Gate. The portal flared and became unstable, and those closest to it, who had been busy saving the tower, found themselves being sucked into... whatever lay beyond it.

Leon found himself at the precipice. All of his friends had been sucked in, but for Jocasta. The question was present to him, does he follow? "Godsdammit," Jocasta hisses. She glances at Leon. "We've gotta save them."

The performer paused. He looked back upon a peaceful tower top and remembered at that moment why he had chosen to take on Upta in the first place. The stage was set for him, it was the perfect opportunity to enact the plan he had been set on since the beginning of the revolution.

But then he thought about Kaureerah. He thought about Zarina. He thought about Pete, Carm, Jomurr, Dory, Ingrid, the friends new and old he had made in Ersand’Enise. Just this once, he would turn his back on the plan. The revolution wasn’t truly over, not while his friends were lost in the portal before him. There were doubts in his mind that pulled him back certainly, but Leon let himself be taken by the portal. No matter where it may lead…

What Leon didn’t expect was to be transported into an ethereal realm of balloons. He could hear Yuli, Yvain, Ingrid, and Trypano safe and talking about some kind of puzzle. But Leon simply decided to grab a balloon and follow it, wherever it may lead.

Ingrid wanted to go with the balloons, being all whimsical and shit. So Leon reach out to bring her along for the ride. "I have to say, this is not where I was expecting to meet you again." Leon said with a chuckle before looking up toward where the balloon was taking them.

"You know this still isn't the strangest void I've been in this year?" Ingrid laughed at her crazy life.

"Tell me about it sometime. It sounds like the start of a song." Leon replied with a wink. He tried his best not to point out that the bookworm was almost completely naked.

"Well we can bring in some Rettanese music if we want to make it authentic," Ingrid said with a smile. Seems he just like winking. Maybe it was an eye condition

Leon and Ingrid, just as their rings tick down to a mere sliver and they find that it is near-impossible to hold their balloons on, emerge from grey into darkness. However, this time, the transition is different. The rings disappear and they are in a night sky, miles above the ground. Cold air rushes past their ears and their hair flutters. They are no longer traveling up, but down! They are falling, and quickly!

Leon enjoyed the descent with a joyful laugh. He could fly, of course, and he could probably catch Ingrid as well. Now it was time to enjoy a job well done. She allowed herself to be caught, "Why thank you." Ingrid looked at the sky so empty of people, "Do you think they are still stuck up there?"

"They'll be fine. How could you resist the urge to ride the balloons?"

"Knowing Yuliya, she fought the balloons," Ingrid smirked.

Leon's brow furrowed for a bit, irked by something. But then the feeling passed and he laughed. "You are probably right!"

In rapid succession, Yvain, Yuliya, Trypano, and Jocasta find their environment fading from grey to white. The balloons promptly disappear as do the final remnants of their rings. They emerge into the glare of a brilliant morning sunrise, high up in the sky at the edge of space. They continue shooting upwards and it is cold even though they can sense that warmth is coming. It is cold and the air is very thin. Then... they begin to fall.

"Look! They made it!" Ingrid squeezed him a little.

"... where are they?" Even if the rest had appeared, they were still far too far for human perception.

Leon realised, when he landed with Ingrid in a princess carry, that there was virtually no weight on his arms. Ingrid knew how to fly the whole time and chuckled before letting back down to her feet.

Once landed she stood out of his arms, "Can't blame a girl. I've only been held once apparently."

"There is no shame to be had in it. It makes falling from the heavens more fun after all." Leon joked.

"It definitely had style," Ingrid laughed. This was fun. A breeze came by and she shivered. She looked down to just see tits. "Jag är naken!"

They touched down on an island just as another group were emerging from the sea, having been borned there on a great wave. One group of familiar faces was already standing on the beach in makeshift clothing though, among them was... Kaureerah!? No, it was another eeaiko girl: smaller and paler. The beachgoers seemed to include Penny, Ashon, Roslyn, Xiuyang, Esmii, Guy, and the unknown eeaiko girl. They noticed a huge bristly fish just off of the coast, staring at the others forlornly.

Leon looked toward the other group approaching. Ingrid would notice Leon's face light up even more for a moment, before returning back to normal, perhaps a trace of disappointment.

"By the way Ingrid. Did you want me to bind you some clothes?"

Penny blinked. "Me or Xiuyang can like... make you clothes?" she offered to some of the... less-attired ones. Then, she noticed Leon. "Actually, you know what? You've got first right on that one, buddy."

But Leon didn't look to be channelling binding. He instead made hand movements like a magician, one who pretends to be a mage with flair, as he made some clothes appear from the glorious well of manifestation… And it was a potato sack and a rope…

Ingrid had been given quite literally a potato sack and a rope. "Thank you?" It would do. She wears the potato sack and ties it at the waist. Defining the waist is key!

"I'm sorry Ingrid." Leon turned back to the group, he could see that she was happy with the apparel, but he wasn’t. "Penny, Xiuyang, could one of you please help me out? I don't want to commit crimes against fashion here." It was against Leon's pride to let Ingrid wear a vegetable bag.

Ingrid liked her potato sack. It was a short skirt now!

Xiuyang sighed. There was so much to take stock of. She hadn't even fully processed that Penny was with them until just a moment ago, and now she was being told that Joshe Intaba was apparently alive and well. Two animals had become humanoids, at least temporarily in this... dreamlike space? That was how she was coping, at least. Of course the scagbiist-turned-cazenax could speak perfect Avincian, and knew exactly what was going on: they were all going to meet with some gods now. Sure, why not?

"I feel like I'm on drugs," Xiuyang remarked, getting an eyeful of Ingrid wearing a potato sack for some unholy reason. "Alright, Leon. I'd better hear some gratitude, though, or I'm gonna start charging for these," she japed, and set about making simple cotton robes in basic colors for everyone. She handed them out to the ladies first, starting with Ingrid and Trypano. "It's not something a noble would wear, but it's at least not abrasive," she said as she gave Ingrid a green one. "If we're really going to meet with gods, please wear something," she reasoned with Trypano, giving her a red one.

Leon let out a sigh of relief, grateful to Xiuyang for absolving him of his crime against fashion. He needed to get better and manifesting fine clothing.

Pete came tumbling from the sky with a whimper, completely out of control and - if such a thing were possible - even uglier than usual. Leon flew up and caught Pete in a princess carry before quickly realising the scagbiist was too heavy and setting him down. Pete licked him, right across the face. The beast was so fucking ugly... so why was the performer forming the faintest of smiles in with him around?

Pete ran circles around Leon. Was he guarding Leon? Was he being playful? Was he just chasing his own tail? Clearly, he was not loved for his brains, so... was it for his beauty?

Leon had... no fucking clue what Pete was doing now. He looked to Zarina for help.

"It would seem that his demise was greatly exaggerated. I suspect it might of been the work of the Zenith but luckily for us he pulled through and with the Lantern of Shune-Zept no less." She cast a look over to Leon and the Scagbiist. "Ah, glad to see he made it. Here, I think he deserves a reward." She bound together a handful of thresher meat and tossed it over to Leon. "Here!"

For reasons unknown, Pete began digging. The scagbiist made a whining noise.

But then, Guy thinks about giving the egg he picked up to Pete. He made the offer to Leon to feed the egg to Pete. "He will turn into a person, by the way," he warns Leon.

Pete began sniffing around. The meat smelled tasty, but there were also... eggs. Pete loved eggs.

Leon thought carefully about it, stuck on making a decision. What exactly did that mean? Turning Pete into a person. He wanted to think about Pete and how he would feel. But he couldn’t read the expressions of such a beast. Would he be happier if he was a person or a scagbiist?

But then he looked a Seviin, the mere form of a scagbiist caused her to have a panic attack. Scagbiists feed on people and it was only a matter of time before Pete got tired of void ham. Surely, he wouldn't be a cannibal if he was a human.

Perhaps there was a more important matter in this decision than Pete’s happiness, than his own happiness. Maybe it was simply the case that he must. It is what the Sun King would do.

"Feed it to him Guy."

Pete went to lap up the broken egg eagerly. He lapped it up and then… There was a spray of sand and a loud 'pop'.

Guy looks at Tekah, "Don't do what I do, you're smarter than me."

Then, sitting there in the sand, coughing and brushing it off, was a tall, lanky, middle-aged cazenax. He scratched at the back of his mostly-bald head and then he seemed to notice the others. His eyes darted about. "Holy canaxi!" he exclaimed as they went wide. "What'd I do to become the centre of the universe... not that I'm complaining..." He was dressed in silk clothes that had once been fine but were looking a bit rough for wear, with a gold chain that was almost certainly fake. He picked at something between his teeth and stood.

Trypano gave an excited clap. "My, I positively cannot identify the magic employed here!" She beamed.

"It's friendship, lady. That's the magic. Gods, I'm fuckin' famished," he remarked, shoving the finger that had been in his mouth into his ear to pick some sand out.

Leon was surprised to see that the dog he had once seen as 'ugly-cute' was now a middle aged man older, and probably more wise, than him.

"I'm sure that's what resulted in the laying of said eggs but perhaps more is to be explored in that topic." She gave a look over to the remainder of the eggs. "I wonder what it could do to a slime..."

"Well ain't you a... type," Pete remarked. "Anyways, food." His face was lined and craggy. His teeth were crooked. One of his eyes was a bit squinty. But his claws were sharp. He gave off a strange aura that seemed to make them feel... weak.

"I... have some thresher meat here if you still like that? Maybe you would want it cooked?"

"Thresher meat?!" Tekah played up her fear and surprise.

Pete licked his lips and winked.

"Did you... want it cooked?" He looked to Zarina for help, she was occupied, even then he doubted this was in her realm of expertise anymore.

"Oh, yeah. Whaddya think I am? Some kinda barbarian?" Pete grinned and reached up to punch Leon fondly on the shoulder. "I'm just messin' with ya, big guy but, yeah, I like my food cooked."

Leon was dumb-founded but grinned back uneasy. At least he didn't want to eat people anymore, he hoped. He went to make a fire.

"I still have arcane, need help?" Roslyn asked, waiting for an answer before she followed.

"Sure, come help."

Leon looked over the fire with an empty feeling in his soul. Sure, Pete was behind him, waiting on the meal that was being cooked. But it wasn’t the scagbiist Pete, the sweet if tragically ugly dog that had started to grow on him. No, it was Pete the middle-aged Cazenax, who Leon had little in common with. He found the stomach-sinking feeling of regret well up inside him, one that usually comes when you lose someone, and he did. Leon had killed Pete the scagbiist a second time; after he had gotten to love the beast. Even if his reasoning was sound, he still felt bad.

Pete quieted down after a few moments. "Youse guys know where we're at, right?" He looked up at the stars. He scratched his ass. A stillness came over him then and his voice lost some of its rougher qualities. "This is a sacred place, well, if you're from the eleven nations." He sniffed. "Good people. Good food." He fiddled with one of his buttons. "They's got three gods, well... kinda." He turned back to the others. "I'm thinking y'all are either really headed for greatness or you're gonna die, 'cause those gods are gonna show up anytime now. Youse guys respect their shit, okay?" He straightened his collar in an utterly ill-begotten attempt to make himself look presentable. This was impossible, of course, for he was Pete.

- Leon, Zarina, & Ingrid meet the Dragon God of the Eleven Nations. Leon is pleased to find that himself and the dragon see the same way on a lot of things and get along well.
- After attaining the dragon's power, Leon offers for it to look upon his actions thinking that it could prove entertaining for the god.

Enter the Dragon

The arms of the Old Mother beckoned to the nine who had been summoned by her and they began to rise into the sky. Light turned to darkness, lit by an endless blanket of stars, and the air grew cooler. They warded off the cold with the magics at their disposal. The journey was not short, however, and soon the land below was but a speck and the vast apparition before them was everything. Each arrived at around the same time and the immense arms of the Mother swept in to gather her children. They found themselves in an alpine meadow overlooking a small, crystal clear pond ringed by spruce trees. Within this setting, there lay five sacred animals.

Leon, Zarina, and Ingrid had all picked the same option and found themselves walking the same path. The three approached the mighty dragon and, sitting atop its horde of gold and gemstones, it turned to regard them, its reptilian eyes calculating. "Do you humans not know that you gaze upon death?" Its tongue flicked out and it loosened its wings.

Zarina stood firm, immovable. "It wouldn't be the first time." she stated confidently. "I am not afraid." her eyes stared right into the dragon's, with her pupils thinning to an almost reptilian slit. Almost.

"Death? Perhaps. But I also see majesty, beauty, and power." Leon praised the dragon earnestly. "I simply felt compelled toward you." Is he trying to charm the divine dragon?

Ingrid stared in awe of the dragon, Sven if only you could see this too. She gulped at its comment, "I come not for your treasure but to maybe learn." Secretly, Ingrid wanted to learn how to get all that gold herself.

The dragon reared up, then, a glow building in the back of its throat and its great wings spreading in an explosion of colour. It seemed, suddenly, three times the size it had been. Three different individuals and three different responses. "And not a one of you frightened," it remarked. "I suppose I am rather wise and majestic," it 'conceded' with a hint of a devious smirk. Then, all at once, it reared back and a great cone of flame shot out to blanket the trio!

Zarina's internal chemistry went to work the moment she felt an incoming threat. Scales were made to grow on parts of her body they were not meant to at the strange she was, and hardened as well. The light bumps hiding in her hair pushed out to form the cutest little horns, still far from the glorious curvature they reached in her bigger forms. Her clothes weren't so lucky, and her messenger bag containing Nibbler was clutched tightly by a particularly reinforced arm.

"Not again," Ingrid drew and drew, knowing she could be safe but then it hit her. She can't draw this away she had to use it or else it will explode on Zarina and Leon. She tried her best to push against the dragon's flame, futile as it may be. I'm not dying to a fucking lizard.

The majesty of the dragons multicolored form left Leon in awe. As a Sunblessed, he was unable to draw the flame safely, so he redirected to swirl around him, showing the dragon some theatrics of his own. He reached out to touch the warmth of the flame. Perhaps divine dragon breath had some esoteric benefits that he couldn't grasp.
The dragon's flames faded and the entire trio remained unburnt. "Well, you didn't flinch, at least," it allowed. "And you, sun man, you had the right idea." It nodded in approval. "Strength is not only about raw power. It's about the appearance of such and about decisiveness." It stalked forward, towards them, closing in, smoke curling from its nostrils.

Leon smiled back at the dragon. "It was my pleasure." He took a bow. Maybe the performer should have been nervous about the approaching dragon, like he was with Pete. But Leon saw a kindred spirit in the dragon's words and trusted him for it.

Zarina shrugged. "Dragons don't have to play pretend, now do they?" she stated, perhaps a bit too overconfident. She realized this, and bowed her head. "Then again, I'm but a dragonling. I thank you for your wisdom, dear elder."

The dragon snorted, most displeased! "Who are you calling old!?" it rejoined, "I am but a sprightly eighty-seven, I will have you know." Then, it smiled in its draconic manner. "Oh, but I understand well your intent." It laughed faintly. "You will find, incidentally, that you already posses the gift that I have given. "Might anyone guess how?"

"Because we had it in our hearts to begin with?" Leon guessed, perhaps having read one too many kids stories growing up.

This time Zarina actually flinched. "Oh." she scratched one of her small head-nubs. "Then I'm a baby. Err," she raised her hands in another, more exaggerated shrug. "Googoo gaga?"

The reveal that they were blessed brought Zarina to inspect her being. Leon's response had her crack up. "If that's not the answer I will be a little disappointed." she remained giggly for a little bit. "I dunno, something about not burning horribly after being doused in fire?"

The dragon stopped in front of Leon and guffawed. "More or less," it told Zarina. "Friendship isn't worth very much to a dragon though... I suppose it is a nice thing to have." For a moment, its eyes glossed over. Then, it returned to them. "You were doused in dragon's fyre and did not burn." It inclined its head. "The gift is yours."

Leon was a little let down by the real answer. But the gift of the grandiose dragon was his, he was still happy with that.

"Ah, yes of course, I thank you for this gift. If you have the ability, I invite you to watch and see what I can achieve with it."

Once again, Zarina bowed her head in gratitude and humility, although she failed to shed the amused grin on her face. "Nice hoard, by the way." she looked up with a sly look on her more draconic eyes. "You know I always thought that was a myth. Do you have a favourite treasure you're dying to show off?"

"Perhaps I shall, for you, too, Leon Solaire, are a treasure." It turned to Zarina. "The rest is off limits. Get your own hoard, hatchling." It winked and turned to Ingrid. "And be bold." It smiled and, with three great beats of its wings rose and soared away.

Ingrid did a bow as well and when the idea of a favorite treasure was brought up Ingrid's eye's glowed, "That's an excellent idea!" Ingrid turned to the dragon, "You have to have something that is your favorite!" And then it left, leaving Ingrid being a little pouty but in the end, Ingrid stood tall, all 6'4 of her.

Leon watched the dragon fly away gracefully. Gods, he loved that dragon, what a charming guy!

"Assuming malice, much!" pouted Zarina as she waved the dragged goodbye. "Now I kinda wanna hoard shinies. Be a good ol' Loot Cazenax." she grinned cheekily at the other two with her. "Hey, Leon, you got a nice gem a day ago, right?"

Leon snapped out of his admiration and turned to Zarina. "I got a few actually." He grinned cheekily. "Why, are you looking to start your hoard?"

"Yeah." Zarina snapped sassily. "I just said that. And now I'm gonna take aaaaaaaallllllll your goodies, lyre boy." she raised her gauntlet-layered hands and wiggled her fingers as if she was about to snatch something.

"Oh no. I am simply powerless before your draconic might." Leon played the damsel-in-distress to play along with, what he assumed to be, Zarina's joke. "How could I have known the dragon would like me better?" He shot Zarina another cheeky smile and with that, the performer dashed playfully back down the mountain. "Catch me if you can!"

"You brown-nosing little fuck!"

And back they were to the real world.

[Echotech71]

Niallus Saberhagen

---

Event: Aftermath.

---

Niallus sat, daydreaming as always. The fires of Revolution seem to have dimmed, but what's to say that something will rekindle it. Surveying the landscape it had some resemblance of a street, but with all the debris, it was difficult to tell. From where he sat, he wasn't too far away from Himself, Rikard, Roslyn, Johann and a little Cazenax stood their ground against a small army.

It was an extremely close call for himself as he suffered quite a few injuries. Luckily for him someone from the long range support group, must have noticed his group was in trouble, deciding to provide heals and buffs to Niallus and his group. Knowing what was at stake, he stood his ground with the others and continued fighting. Rikard managed to wipe out quite a few in succession. Niallus managed to take down a few, and also used Bottom Feeder to drain some of the rebel’s Manas. He didn't want to use it, but given the situation, he had little choice, he needed every advantage, his home was under attack.

Looking back, after the fight when his group managed to succeed in defeating the army they were against. At some point during the fight, the little Cazenax seemed to run away. When the students all came together. They broke off into groups once more. Niallus' group broke off in an attempt to rescue Penny. Pushing forward towards an idea where Penny could have been held, it was a difficult journey to get there. Navigating through a maze avoiding deadly traps.

His thoughts come back as his satchel falls onto the floor, spilling its contents; some sheets of parchment fall out of a book that was in his"Crap." as he leaned down to pick them up, he went through the sheets, checking if they were intact. Some sheets had sketches on them out of charcoal. Some were of landmarks, The Forked Tower, The Evertree. There were a few portraits of some of his friends. Even one of Albion. Seems that they were all accounted for. Need to be a bit careful with these. Sketching has been somewhat of an interesting hobby, as his work seemed to be paying off as they were pretty good. Portraits of people were far better than landscapes, but he was making steady progress. Placing them and the book back he found his application form for the opening for Tan-Zeno.

His application was complete. He was still debating whether he should hand in his application, as he wasn't sure if he was good enough for it. Thinking his answers were lacklustre, mediocre at best. Come on, at least try. Trying to motivate himself to go through with it. Taking a deep breath, deciding that he might as well get this over with, he went to hand in his application.

[Force and Fury]

---

---

---

---

She had one leg.

Chad sat at his desk as Alta Sansuul went on. "Why don't you introduce yourself to the class, dear?"

He watched her walk. He wasn't the only one. The class always erupted in speculation whenever there was to be a new student. Alta Sansuul usually heard a few days ahead of time and let slip the juicy secret to whoever had scored the highest on the weekly exam. This time, nobody had known. This time, the usual crescendo of murmurs and excited whispers was notably absent. Every student could hear every awkward click-thump, click-thump of the new girl's one legged steps as she made her way towards the teacher's desk. Her eyes flicked nervously their way for a moment and Chad thought he caught them before they escaped to the safety of the floor. He saw her throat tighten as she swallowed and, suddenly, it was as if he was in her shoes - shoe - and absorbing every bit of the mind-racing terror she must've been in. Still, he watched. Eyes continued to dart among the students.

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen a one-legged person before. Everyone had. There were statues of the fallen goddess Vyshta. Then, there were the discards who came back from the frontiers from time to time: ones who'd survived some sort of animal attack, writhing tree, or other unknown horror. There was lots that hadn't been discovered yet deep in the Writhing Wood. Chad watched the new girl come to a stop. She wasn't just missing a foot or anything either: it was her entire leg. He paused, trying to recall right and left. My left, he remembered, her right. There was only a tiny bit of it left and he watched it just kind of dangle there as she stood, jiggling slightly when she turned on the spot. He found himself burning with curiosity and he could not have been alone. He'd never actually known anyone with such a gnarly injury. What had happened? What was the story? He remembered not to stare. His father had told him not to.

The silence hung ripe and heavy and Alta Sansuul's eyes momentarily joined those of her students in glancing the one-legged girl's way expectantly. She opened her mouth as if to speak but, then, all at once, the new arrival took a deep breath and: "I'm Tyrel and I just got here last night from all the way out in Saliac and I'm tireder than you could imagine... but I'm happy to be here." She flashed a nervous smile, as if having to remind herself to do so. Her eyes flicked up and searched the class and Chad tried to give her a reassuring look. At least she sounded just like any other girl, really. Why would she not have?

"Well, we'll get you caught up soon enough," promised the teacher. "And perhaps be a tiny bit lenient if we see any yawns or daydreaming in class."

Tyrel's big green eyes darted to Alta Sansuul's. "Thank you Alta," she replied, and her voice was kind of nice, "But I promise you won't need to." Now, there were a couple of whispers - a couple of murmurs. The new girl had given them something else to chew on besides a missing leg. The teacher looked at her questioningly and there was a hind of something in the girl's eyes that reminded him of his brother Darien when he was about to - "I always try to put my best foot forward."

There was a collective intake of breath. Eyes widened among the smarter kids and the teacher clammed up. A couple burst out in nervous giggles and snickers. "And I always succeed, too," concluded Tyrel with a straight face. In an instant, Chad reevaluated her entirely. He grinned. The girl smiled back. Was it at him, specifically?

Alta Sansuul smiled as well, in that way that adults did when they were reacting to something unexpected from kids. "Oh? she remarked, "Then I shall expect much from you Tyrel'dichora."

The girl bit her lower lip as if stifling a grin. Then she smiled up at the teacher. "I'll do my best, Alta Sansuul," she promised, "But I'm not like... some goody two-shoes," She replied, and now even the dullest among her audience could not doubt what she was doing it on purpose. The teacher let out a snort of amusement. "Well, it seems that year three has yet another original."

Tyrel shifted on the spot, resting the little stump of her leg on one of her crutch handles. That seemed to bring everyone back to what they'd noticed first about her, before she'd been funny. "Well, instead of me asking you to keep talking about yourself," the teacher offered, "We're going to let the class ask."

Tyrel nodded.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she called out in her singsong voice, "What kind of questions are we going to ask?"

Chad knew the answer to this. It was an easy way to win points with Alta Sansuul, so his hand shot up along with a half dozen others'. As usual, one of the girls with ribbons in her hair was picked. "Relevant, Respectful, and Reasonable," she chirped and the teacher nodded. "Exactly, class!" She clapped her hands together before turning to Tyrel, speaking in a low voice. "If there's anything you're uncomfortable answering, you don't have to," she promised.

"Okay," the girl replied sheepishly, and the chorus of whispers only grew. From behind Chad, Ashon tapped him on the shoulder. "I dare you to ask it," he whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief and a hint of malevolence as Chad twisted to face him. A couple of others were looking his way as well.

"Uh huh?" came Tyrel's voice suddenly, and Chad turned back around. She was pointing at Emiin. "What is your favourite colour?" she asked, and Tyrel furrowed her brow. After a moment she shrugged. "Magenta," she declared, "And then maybe light green."

"I like magenta too," Emiin lied, or maybe it wasn't a lie. Chad didn't know her favourite colour and it probably changed every weak, realistically.

Three more hands shot up. "Do you have Titan sloths in Saliac?" came Samon's question.

Tyrel nodded vigorously. "We do, and they're huge!"

"Have you seen one?"

The girl seemed a bit lost for response for a moment and Velani whispered from the desk beside Samon. "Of course she has if she just said they're huge, dumbass."

Samon shrunk two sizes and something flashed in Tyrel's eyes. "Actually, I didn't just see one," she replied, "I got to ride on one once."

People shifted in their seats and conversation rose. Either Tyrel was one of those kids who told a lot of ridiculous stories or she'd had a really interesting life. Of course, the most interesting question hadn't been asked yet, as if everyone was just waiting for someone else to ask it.

"What other animals did you see there? Oh, are there writhing trees?"

Tyrel nodded and, all at once, she lifted her stump off of her crutch handle so she could grab it. She took a small step. "There are, and we need to hack them back every day. Saliac's not quite on the frontier, but it's close. A lot of mundanes come through it on their way there."

It was like they were sharks, ever more certainly circling in towards the question they wanted to ask, trying to make it seem natural so it wasn't rude, as if by collective agreement. Chad raised his hand and was chosen immediately. "Have you ever been to the Writhing Wood?" he asked daringly, and people leaned forward on their elbows or lifted their butts off of their seats.

With a small, close-lipped smile, Tyrel nodded. "A couple times. It was..." She trailed off. "scary but amazing."

Chad was going to ask a follow-up, but Thandar was practically falling out of his seat in eagerness to ask the next question and Tyrel picked him with a nervous but good-natured smile. "Did any of them try to eat you?" People bounced up and down nervously. Alta Sansuul's eyes scanned the room warningly, but Tyrel shook her head. "Not really. Sometimes, their branches move a bit in your direction but, as long as you keep moving, you're fine."

"Well, since we're going to be learning about the different regions of Tarlon starting tomorrow," the teacher interjected, "It'll be very nice to have someone who's lived in such a different one." She smiled. "Maybe Tyrel will really have a chance to put her best foot forward and help us with some of our wonderings."

There were a dozen hands up now. "You ever see any really dangerous animals?" asked Sandii, kneeling on her seat until a venomous look from the teacher forced her to sit properly. Tyrel nodded. "Yeah, but mostly just in the distance."

Jasco was next. "How 'bout when you saw 'em not in the distance? Were you scared? Did you fight them?"

Tyrel arched an eyebrow, taking one of her weird steps back. "Of course I was scared. I was with my dad and brother." She shrugged. "I ran away."

A few pairs of eyes went to her leg, or lack thereof, once more. How do you run? They were all thinking it, but none asked.

"What's your brother's name?" came a reprieve from Lyla.

"Calidan!"

"That's my brother's name!"

"How old is he?"

"Fourteen," Tyrel replied, eyes roving about the sea of hands and faces.

"Did he outrun you?" Thandar's question was particularly brazen, and a few people shot him annoyed looks. "Um." Tyrel's eyes flicked the teacher's way, but she didn't ask for help. That was the worst thing she could do and she seemed to know it. "I mean, he's a lot older than me, so what do you think?"

Velani made the 'poop' sign at Thandar and rolled her eyes. A few people laughed and he opened his mouth to protest. "You know what I was trying to ask!" he retorted. "I just wanted to -"

Alta Sansuul clapped and, out of reflex, Chad clapped back with the others. "Thandar, quiet time one!" she singsonged. There were two more claps. "Velani, quiet time two!" Clap clap. "Class! Three 'R's!"

As one, they recited, even Tyrel, Chad noted, tentatively.

"Exactly, everyone!" She cleared her throat as Thandar and Velani glared daggers at each other for as long as they could until retreating into their opposite-corner wall-facing exiles. "Now, do we have any more questions that follow our three 'R's or are we finished, class?" Chad wanted to die. There were so many dumb people. He raised his hand and Tyrel, scanning the crowd, chose him again. Emiin let out a frustrated huff. "So, if it's okay with you, I'm just gonna ask the thing I think everyone wants to." He wasn't trying to be rude, but he was pretty sure it was rude anyway. He plowed forward regardless, despite Alta Sansuul's warning look. "So, um..." He was starting to clam up. He never clammed up. Why did he suddenly care so much about this random girl? She'd probably be like all the other girls in the class once the novelty wore off and they'd only ever talk to each other when they were paired up for stuff. "What happened to your leg?"

Gasps and murmurs. Chad had done it again, of course: the thing everyone else had wanted to do, and at just the right moment. Ironically, he hadn't really been meaning to. He'd just honestly started feeling bad for Tyrel, having to put up with so many dumb questions. Maybe you're not so bad, for a girl, like Velani. Maybe we can kind of be friends.

"Oh," replied Tyrel after a moment, and everyone went dead silent. "It was anklechewers," she admitted, "I think you call them kneebiters here?" She looked at Alta Sansuul and the teacher nodded, along with a few other people. "I was five and I got lost in the forest and bitten. I wasn't supposed to be there and I didn't want my parents to know so I didn't tell them."

"Well that's stupid," Chad could hear Samon whisper to Ashon, and he made a note to punch the former at recess. Tyrel's eyes flicked his way, too, as if she might've heard, and he pretended to be looking elsewhere.

"It was pretty dumb," she addressed him indirectly, "but I was five and five-year-olds are dumb. Anyway, the eggs spread and they had to cut my leg off or I probably would've died." She shrugged again, only a little bit uncomfortable. "Honestly, I'm used to it and, most of the time, it isn't that bad." She sniffed and glanced about, eyes finding the teacher momentarily before returning to her peers. "Honestly, I know I'm kind of a rare thing, so if you wanna know anything, you can just ask. It doesn't bug me."

Alta Sansuul nodded approvingly at Tyrel and, momentarily, at Chad as well. He would get a checkmark today. He could feel it. For a moment, whispering and murmured conversation held the class, but then there were more hands. "You said you ran. How do you run?" There were plenty of nods and more murmurs.

"I can show you at recess," Tyrel replied eagerly. "There's two ways: the like... jogging run and the hundred percent run for your life run." She shook her head. "They're totally different."

"And, speaking of recess," the teacher interjected, "We need to get started on today's arithmetic before we run out of time." She turned to the new girl. "Tyrel?"

"Yes, Alta?"

"Thank you very much for your informative and amusing answers."

"You're very welcome, Alta Sansuul."

"Boys and girls!" the teacher singsonged, and they all perked up. "Let's all give our new student a big round of applause and make her feel very welcome today."

Chad clapped along with the others. Ashon's claps were obnoxiously loud, as usual, as if he thought it was some sort of competition.

"The empty desk near the door is yours," Alta Sansuul was telling Tyrel. "You'll find a slate inside."

Tyrel bowed her head. "Thank you," she replied in a small, sweet voice, making her way over. A few people watched, but the novelty was already beginning to wear off now that their burning question had been answered. She took her seat, pulled out her slate, and that seemed to be the cue for everyone else to do so. Velani and Thandar were called back belatedly to join in and class routine returned to its norm: waiting for the clock to tick its way to 1:00 HO so that recess could begin.

Chad had earned some goodwill, and so he was chosen for a few questions. Duly, he calculated his equations, erased with his rag and not his sleeve, and flipped his board when asked to. Alta Sansuul tried to call upon everyone at least once and, when Tyrel stood to give her answer, people took a bit more interest, just to see if she was smart. Chad found himself a bit disappointed not in her response, but in the fact that she was so far from him. He felt like he'd made kind of a friend, and he didn't want to have to wait until recess when the other girls would inevitably steal her away and she'd be busy demonstrating how she ran - not that he wasn't curious himself.

The minutes faded one into the other, and so did the equations. Times tables were easy. That was when he felt a gentle tap on his side: it was a note, passed surreptitiously by Sandii, and he took it with the smallest nod. He opened it and quickly closed it up, warmth rising in his cheeks. His eyes shot Tyrel's way and hers flicked over to meet them. Did she give a hint of a smile or did she follow the unspoken code that one did not acknowledge sending such letters. He wasn't sure. He opened it again. Then, feeling guilty, he folded it gently, tucked it deep into his desk, and decided to keep it.

The Letter

Thank you
- Tyrel

---

---

[A Lowly Wretch]

(Header Pending)

---

In a busy warehouse in the morning hours amidst the bustle of busy sailors and warehouse workers a tall pale woman stood, hair of crimson and a dark cloak adorned loosely upon her shoulders. Hoisted upon her shoulders was a large box, just one of several which contained her belongings. Not only had her laboratory been destroyed but the rest of the school had been damaged during this period of great upheaval. While she still had a dorm to rest in she really didn't have a place to call her own within this city anymore. Any privacy she previously had claim to was more than thoroughly spoiled, leaving the purpose of hiding moot. Hence, it was time to pack up her belongings and shelve them for the time being.

Each step spoke of the sheer weight of her approach as she carried her belongings to the zone she was allotted. She placed the one hundred and thirty six or so kilogram crate into the empty spot next to the other five she had already placed, setting it down with remarkable control for something so heavy. Standing back up she turned back towards the entrance, her last crate of belongings now set away to linger in anonymity like so many other things stored here. Of course, someone so tall lifting so much hadn't gone unnoticed by the various workers who were also busy moving crates to and fro, nor had her scant garments below the cloak which had hung like a cape from her shoulders whilst she had worked.

"Eh, she might be a giant but she's a might finer sight than the prostitutes 'round 'ere." She overheard one commenting to his co-worker as they passed. "P'haps if you're into mountain climbing." The other replied to the former, followed by some rough guffawing from the two. She paid the idle comments of those around her no mind. She'd been tuning out the words of those spectating her since she was a child. This was nothing new.

_
Having drawn her cloak back around herself in full she walked down the rubble strewn streets, gravel and debris grinding below her bare feet. Hers was not the only home that was damaged, the chaos brought about by the upheaval having taken it's toll far from just the tower itself. Many homes and businesses now had to undergo repairs. A number were now also sans an owner as some were killed in the violence, however many wasn't something she had been tracking. Still, it did mean that there was possibility for finding new housing. She contemplated discussing the matter with Xiuyang as she walked. It did bring to mind that Xiuyang hadn't spoken with her in a while. While she was naturally reclusive Trypano had made no effort to avoid her. Perhaps there was something involving her condition she was still trying to keep from the world. She was more than willing to seek a cure for it in the book she was promised but alas they still had yet to cross that bridge.

Turning the corner into an alleyway Trypano continued down out of sight, stepping into a doorway to her left. Using binding to open up the floor slab she slipped below into a discrete tunnel which led down into a sewer line that crossed under this specific area, closing the path behind her so no evidence of her passage remained. Continuing through the dark passage she made her way along until she was finally below her destination. Emerging in a similar manner to how she descended she closed the path behind her, placed on her mask and then used a combination of her binding and chemistry knowledge to cleanse the detritus that clung to her cloak and stuck between her toes. A simple execution removed all the stench from her person, leaving her veritably scentless. In exchange she then lightly coated herself with a conjured perfume which smelt of freshly baked bread. It was a delightful scent that was not too strong nor too alluring but rather brought about feelings of home's comforts and a light tease to hunger.

Turning a corner she found her way to the door to the usual spot for their blood magic classes. She stepped through the doorway, scrutinized by those tasked to watch the entry as she made her way in. Even despite their guises some of her fellow students were no less recognizable than her here such as Johann, Sven or Maura who it seemed has come down with some sort of injury or malady. Others she knew were attending but couldn't accurately pick them out from a mere glance such as Xiuyang and Kaspar. She knew better than to discuss personal matters here anyways, it would be a faux paus to out each other's identities through casual conversation just in case authorities were listening in.

_
As the course of the lesson went on they listened for the day's lecture before presenting their own works in progress. Trypano walked up to the dais at the end of the room, having been slated to be presenting her work that day. Standing there before the crowd she stood, waiting stoically as the room's focus gradually centered on her. It was time.

"Fellow colleagues and of course our esteemed teachers, I stand before you to present to you the progress I have made in the fields of both blood mark energy communication and limb animation." She opened her presentation, standing before a table which was prepared ahead of time for the operation she was about to conduct. "As you all well know blood marks are capable of taking in energy and converting it and/or redirecting it as per their design." She then unveiled her arm from below her cloak which revealed two parallel rings installed upon her arm, up along the bicep, in the form of crimson marks, intricate lines woven throughout the pattern within the rings.

"What I am attempting to do is create marks that can convert both blood and impulses from our nerves into energy which will then be transmitted into the receiving mark and converted back into their original states. With this I should be able to sever a limb such as this arm-" She gestured to her arm that's presented. "- And not only will it continue to survive while removed from it's host body but I should be able to retain full control over it. Observe..."

A concentrated silence grew ever deafening as people watched on, ever concentrated on Trypano's demonstration as she was about to sever the limb. All eyes were on her, there was no backing down from this now.

_
She was able to cleanly sever the limb, yes. It flopped onto the table like a dead fish, no signs of life to it yet. The blood that would be bleeding from either stumps were frittering away, the material being broken down and passed into the limb and back. "And now, time for the limb to receive it's commands." She announced to the room of spectators. Despite her professional air however she knew that something was wrong. She was willing her arm to move as though it were still attached and yet nothing was born of the effort.

"Ah. J-just a hiccup! It definitely worked in the tests. Just gotta..." She leaned over the still inanimate limb, pouring over the mark she had set. It should be transmitting properly! She fretted internally, studying the pattern to her mark with great intensity. Why!? Why now is it not performing as expected? Her mind screamed back at her, the stares from the audience now boring holes into her as she fumbled to recover from this technical error. As she brought her stump near to the ring around the separated limb she saw a couple of fingers give an errant twitch, a sign that the marks connected, if only briefly for an intermittent spasm.

"Ah, a-as you can all see it does connect! There may be a slight issue in the transmission distance but it really is proof that these types of blood marks can allow for remote control of connected parts!" As she spoke she was now desperately trying to wind down her display, bringing the arm back up and re-attaching it through binding. Still reforming all the connections within the arm she started hurrying off the stage, trying badly to mask her embarrassment. If she could have she'd of fled the classroom to find some abandoned space to review what went wrong but seeing as class wasn't dismissed yet she instead found herself a corner to keep herself until they were dismissed.

Even if she possessed enough temporal knowledge to simply disappear as she now strongly desired there was no escape from this absolute failure.

---

Mentioned - @Force and Fury,@Emeth,(Possibly more)

[Fallenreaper]

Self Reflections and Hazy Memories

Roslyn
Time: Shortly after the Revolution
Location: Student Dorms.

Thump, thump...

Roslyn stepped up to her dorm house's door. Her hand took out her iron from her dress pocket and inserted it into the lock, giving it a soft twist. The door opened with a click. Rustic hinges gave a soft squeak as it the door came open. Roslyn gestured her hand outward, sending her bauble of light ahead. The pale, warm glow illuminated shadows before melting into the faint orange cast by the dying fire.

"Uh, I didn't expect someone to still be up this early." She mumbled to herself and closed the door. Her eyes scanned the room until she found the reason why.

Sharen, her roommate. The mousy, young black haired girl laid balled on the rug nearest the fireplace. A long, drawn out sigh escaped Roslyn's lips. She stepped closer and leaned down to check the girl. She noticed the tale-tell signs of red smears on her cheek, but there was no trace of a wound. Likely healed over by magic, the brunette thought.

"Well, at least you didn't get killed. That's something I can thank the Gods for." Roslyn use the sound of her own voice to keep her awake and continued to talk to herself. She noticed the flaking logs crumbling into ashes and the fireplace growing cold. Taking hold of the nearby spade, she snuffed out the remaining embers.

"There, fire is out." She turned away and began to head upstairs.

With each step, exhaustion needled at her and tried to drag her down. Just a little farther, she thought. Her bauble began to flicker and dimmed causing her to side eye it. Roslyn drew from the sounds of her steps causing her bauble to brighten once more. Upon reaching the landing, she proceeded into her room. Once the door tapped shut, she tossed her things to the nearest corner and flopped onto the bed. The bauble died instantly and sleep greedily swallowing her.

******

"Roslyn, are you in there?"

"Yes, I am. I just woke up." Roslyn pushed herself upright, sitting up in bed. She hadn't bothered to undress since last night. Her hand rubbed against her eyes to clear the grit.

"Good. The letter you gave me should be on your side table. I'm starting on breakfast."

"Okay," Roslyn said as she reached for the letter and held it in her hands. Inside the folds was a will and apology all in one. A grim reminder of yesterday's risk.

The events fired slowly by in order. First she fought alongside Rikard, Johann, and Niallus to enter the Violet Enclave. There also was a green Cazenax that joined. Getting through the first wave was hard. When her call for help went unanswered, one of their group made a 'tactical' retreat. It revived the enemies' morale. Thankfully, it seemed someone was paying attention and boosted their strength. The tables started to turn before the doom golem exploded. She had just spotted Rikard get scalded before the flames cut off her escape. Her eyes shifted down to the letter as she thought she was going to die then. She recalled her skin tingled then the pain began to dull, someone smothered the fire until she got back up on her feet. Whoever it was, Roslyn was grateful for it.

They made it into the Nashorn. The gauntlet proved challenging and confusing as they worked their way through each intersection. She lost a few things along the way and couldn't use binding for a while. Xiuyang seemed be the same level of frustration she was in Vossoriya. Though likely for different reasons. Especially when the woman materializing from shadows and then later with the two Zenos, Domi Durdovin and Van de Waal. Waal sent his goose to finish them off after taking Niallus' offering.

Recalling the Zeno's words about her compass, Roslyn grabbed her bag from the corner. Flopping back onto the bed, she took it out to examine. Everything seemed to be in order now causing her to frown. She didn't understand what happened, but whatever it was... it was gone now. Stuffing it back into her bag, things seemed to become weirder from that point on. After stopping a demon, disguised as Xiuyang's shadow, from strangling her they were sucked into some part of the void. At least, that was her guess. It had the same feeling as when the black orb slammed down on her during Mano e Mano.

It took some time to navigate out and they nearly lost Xiuyang, who was the last to hatch. They had transported into some realm of gods. Not any that she was familiar with as they found others. An old woman, the Old Mother, beckoned her and eight others toward her. They rose into the sky before landing in an alpine meadow overlooking a small, beautiful pond. Surrounding the place was a ring of spruce trees. The members began to split as Roslyn headed to the butterfly stirred by Nibbler, She was joined shortly by Penny. Both girls waiting patiently for the insect to draw near for what seemed like hours. Finally one landed on the top of Penny's crutches then another on Roslyn's shoulder, their number growing. Roslyn remembered being left in amazement by the sight of it all. In small little groups, their heads turned and wings beat in a pattern. It was a riddle. Working together, the girls managed to solve it:

Five steps back, you get the magic.

The two didn't waste time trying it out. The butterflies then congratulated them, landing upon their bodies before disappearing. It made Roslyn a bit sad to say goodbye so soon. Penny mentioned she was glowing causing her to notice it too. The scene ended as they slowly began to slip into slumber. Roslyn woke in a tangle with Xiuyang exactly where they left off. After that, she was given a choice to keep or give up her memories. She chose to keep them and returned to her dorm to sleep the nightmares off.

Her fingers traced the name of her family on the letter. How would her family had felt knowing the danger she put herself in?

Roslyn's head bumped back against the wall behind her. Things were so much easier when she was eight years old. It was before her mother died, her brother grew sick, and her life became a mess. She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to recall her years in the meadows. Usually with old memories there was a blurry recollection that let her mind fill in the blank. Not this time. She couldn't even see the meadow in her mind's eye. Just a darkness settled in her mind.

The girl frowned and tried harder.

"Roslyn-" A distorted voice drifted in and out, beckoning to her.

Roslyn didn't recognize the voice as she pushed her head to remember more details. Abruptly, a sharp pain nailed into her forehead. Her breath hitched in her throat and her stomach twisted with a dread. She continued to try and push past the suffering, seeking the missing memories. Something wasn't right.

Ba-bump... ba-bump.

Her heart echoed loud in her ears that it drowned out everything else. It felt like her brain was going to erupt from her skull. She didn't understand why trying to remember hurt so much. It shouldn't be this way. Roslyn felt the needling pain spread from the left side of her head toward the right. Like something was trying to stop her recollection.

"Sholi..." The word broke past the fogginess loud and clear. A blurred out woman, about a foot shorter than her, vanished then reappeared yards from her. A cold, clammy sensation chilled Roslyn's skin as her hand sought for the bucket near her bed. Roslyn couldn't stop now. Gripping the edge, she lifted the bucket up before...

Another voice, this time in Avinican, spoke before fading away. "I'm sorry, Roslyn. We have to do this. It will keep us all safe."

Her head became swallowed by the relentless, rhythmic pounding. The burning surged behind her eyes causing them to water. That sickening sensation within her middle finally rushed to her throat. Stomach acid splattered into the bucket's bottom. As she struggled to catch her breath, another wave came up. Finally, her stomach was empty. Her headache started to wane when she stopped trying to remember. Roslyn leaned back again and used the back of her hand to clean her mouth.

W-what the fuck happened? Wrinkling her nose, she lowered the bucket onto the floor. The liquid sloshed causing her stomach to tense again. Roslyn took several deep breathes before her middle settled again. She'll need to dump that later as she topped it with a wooden cover, hiding the evidence from sight.

One more thing to add to her ever growing list. Roslyn smacked the back of her head lightly against the wall. Trypano and her removal from the THESIS program still lingered at the top of her most stressful things to do. She didn't look forward to visiting her family. She had no doubts that Garith had gotten worse since last year, but she didn't know how bad. Was he still using a cane or was he bed bound now? It was hard to tell since she was too frighten to face the reality and watch him deteriorate.

"I'm a horrible sister... " She grumbled out loud to herself as she sat there.

She didn't know how much time passed when she decided she had enough self-loathing, her mind drifting to the woman. She felt so familiar. Roslyn wondered if she could repeat what she saw. First she needed to find somewhere with more space. Having something to distract her helped ease her mood.

Quickly, Roslyn rushed about to clean up, change her clothes and tidied her hair. Before exiting, she paused when she spotted Esmii's salve. A faint theory formed in her head. She grabbed it alongside the compass then headed out.

---

TLDR Highlights:

Roslyn comes back to her dorm and heads up to her room to sleep. When she wakes the next day, she reflects on yesterday and her role in it all. While trying to recall simpler times, she discovers one memory is abnormally hard to recall. In her attempts, she suffers a headache painful enough she gets sick and is forced to stop. She tacks it onto her ever growing list before heading out, hoping to attempt to replicate something from that memory.

[YummyYummy]

---

---

♫

The Trials had finally ended. What was a simple, action-packed week felt like months to some, but it was all worth it for the big top ten (and then some) as they claimed their prizes and bid generously during the auction. Zarina’s invite punctuated this chapter of their lives with what was hoped to be a positive note and she was still hopeful despite the very recent developments and accelerated tensions. There would be no such things during this homebrewed gala. When 1:00 HD hit, the party officially begun.

“Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!”

At the main entrance door that remained open during the whole evening was none other than Horus wearing a hat similar to Zarina’s Homburg. A popular face and voice to greet the guests, with hats and other items gathered by the short but conveniently dextrous young Monkeybird to be stored in one of the nearby closets. The house had been arranged to accommodate for an influx of people, with tables added to the drawing room decorated with many appetisers. But the bulk of the activity was actually in the yard where three rows of tables were set with more foods and drinks aplenty.

Ellermane Bleu, courtesy of Desmond’s catering, was the main alcoholic beverage to go with the bite sized goods on the tables, but soon came a butt of Hegelan-approved beer to be set by the archway between the indoors and outdoors. Maat, the second and more colorful Monkeybird, made sure to tend to the nozzle.

““More? More? MOOOOORE! SLURP!””

Then came Osman, the newcomer land octopus carrying trays of biscottis with cream and shrimp as well as glasses of Meattu champagne. His tentacles stretched out to reach for finished glasses to switch them with a newly filled one. A brilliant server, to be sure, even if it couldn’t quite grasp any sort of order, it knew when to take an item and when not to.

Zarina, clad in a brilliant gold dress of both Virangish and Torragonese inspiration and long trumpet sleeves, was playing the role of host to a T, making sure to greet as many guests as possible with the usual politeness and pleasantries - even to those she didn’t quite remember. Big smiles, loads of energy, and an offering of expensive drinks to keep the mood up were her go-tos. Oh, and of course, she wouldn’t hesitate to show off her fancy new House Hippo in her handbag. The little critter was a tad overwhelmed, but also found itself consistently fed.

Technically Correct had arrived precisely on time, finding Johann to be one of the earliest arrivals to help the hostess prepare for the evening. Others such as Ayla, Ashon, Marceline and Kaureerah were there from the start by virtue of actually living there. And the Zeno Bucks staff worked to keep the dishes coming and the venue clean (as well as helping the animals/mascots).

The Soul Sisters were expected to arrive soon with a whole stage prepared out back dedicated to them and all other performers. Until then, Gonzalo, the barista stationed in the Workman’s Quarter, was the tune of the evening with his Laud, along with his troupe of merry musicians. There wasn’t a minute with some music.

Welcome to the Trials End Party at Zarina’s! Feel free to enjoy, reach out to people, do your own little skits for entertainment and so on! This is an opportunity to exchange with friends, new or old, before the world makes this difficult for you. Ellermane Bleu effects apply to all those who drink it.

Meeting with Jo

At the precise moment where Jocasta had undone her spell, Zarina joined the trio to greet them like she had done almost every other guest so far. Although this pairing had been one she was hoping to exchange with for a long while now. The signs of temporal tampering were there, but she had long since made it a point of not prying on the sensei's decisions and machinations - she figured some alone time was needed, and there was little she could do if violence happened regardless.

“Well if it isn't our ambitious social climber.” the hostess greeted with some good humour snark, arms open to hug both Yalen and Jocasta. “It's great to see you two, truly. Honestly,” she looked at Jocasta in particular. “I was starting to miss that resting bitch face - with respects of course, sensei.” a devious-Jocasta smirk took form on her visage. “Really, though, I'm glad you're here. Wouldn't be a party without one of my besties.” that smirk quickly turned into something more of a genuine smile. “Ellermane? Or Champagne?”

"It would appear I've already had my fill," Jocasta replied, placing the empty glass down and shaking her head with a rueful smile. "It's good to see you too, Zarina. It's good to see you this... glowing, and in the right kind of way." For a moment, she underwent a tiny crisis. She'd let Taleja have her riposte. Such the better to put her at ease for later. Them having a short but seemingly pleasant engagement during the party would allay suspicions. It might look like unrest, like some attack based on class or nation or whatever else people had decided to kill each other for these days.

Then, Zarina was there, however: a friend, and she thought she might get it off her chest. She thought she might tell a truth and confess a fear. Yet... had they really been friends these past few months? They had no classes together, they had little free time for each other. They were still pleasant enough when they happened to meet, of course, and she would always be grateful for what the Virangishwoman had done for her, alongside Ayla and the others, but it was mostly the business of stopping a Zarina-dragon from rampaging about the city when transformed that brought them together these days.

It all added up to an inescapable feeling that this was her swansong with these people. She moved about a different sphere now, different circles. "Well, enough about me. Ipte knows all people have been doing is congratulating us on the marriage since we've arrived."

Yalen, tossing back another drink, nodded wearily.

"Stop drinking so much, you. I'm not giving you a ride home again, you know." She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Anyhow, should I be throwing my bouquet straight to you after the whole thing?" She smirked, eyes catching a glimpse of Miret int he distance. She arched a brow suggestively.

Zarina furrowed her eyebrows at the comment made by Jocasta. It took her a few seconds to connect the dots, and it took her following Jocasta's gaze to realize. When her eyes inevitably met Miret's, she quickly turned back like a pre-teen on a first crush. “I've noooo idea what you're talking about.” there was a perfect mixture of both over-the-top humor and a genuine attempt at denial. There was no hiding from Jocasta, but then again Zarina was one to kid herself more often than naught. “Just just a good friend.” she canted her head to the side. “A very tactile, cuddly and flirty friend.” her voice degraded quickly into a whisper.

She shook her head. “I don't think those Tarlon-types believe in these ceremonies anyway. Even with their more open minds with ...” she pursed her lips, just realizing what she was about to say. This wasn't something she was ready to accent despite everything. It still wasn't entirely right. And so, reality easily settled in. “You know how it is with them. It's ... I'm not fooling myself.”

Jocasta smiled in understanding. "Well, come what may, enjoy the ride, whether it lasts another hundred days or hundred years, right?"

Yalen grimaced. "Darling," he cut in, "since when have you been this sentimental?"

"Since you, ya big teddy bear!" Jocasta twisted about on the spot. "Oh, you have to bring her here, you know!" she told Zarina, "Or I shall go find her myself!"

Zarina took a heart chug of her wine. “Right. That's one way to see it.” she said, lukewarm about the notion, but she flashed her friends a reassuring smile afterwards. She was, overall, happy and they could see it. “Looking handsome, by the way, Yalen.” she flashed him a cheeky wink.

Then, she lowed her head and tapped her forehead to the edge of her glass. “For Eshi's sake, Jo ...” she mumbled, cheeks reddened. “Okay, y'know what? Sure. I want my friends to be friends too.” she uttered with total cope and her features stressed to the point of being quite red. Twisting as well, she called out. “Luuchy! Hey!” she gestured for the Yasoi to come. “I wanna introduce ya'. Tyrel too, if she wants!”

"They all say that now that I'm about to be married," the little blonde man sighed, and his significant other's mouth fell agape in mock horror. "Oh, you little bastard!" she chided.

Then, Zarina was calling the others over. Miret made her way there. "You call me that one more time, I'll..." She trailed off. "Oh, is this your zeno friend? The one who swatted the fly?" she exclaimed suddenly.

“Or you'll what? Hmm?” and suddenly, Zarina felt her hostess ease return. Her shoulder brushed up against Miret's shoulder, and the glimpses she shot at the Yasoi said it all about the level of passion she felt for the girl. “Luuchy.” she said, provocatively.

“Tan-Zeno. But, yes, this is Jocasta. My Sensei and good friend.” she gestured toward the first blonde. “And Yalen, her fiancé and a close friend too.” then, she reached for Miret's shoulder. “And this, my friends, is the biggest Luuchy in the world. Also known as Miret'thilan'dichora.”

"Sensei!" Miret snorted. "So you're Nikanese now?" She punched Zarina in the shoulder.

"Oh, it was my awful idea. I'd just read a whole bunch of Nikanese things around the time."

Nonetheless, they shook hands and seemed to have taken to each other. Yalen was introduced as well. "You know," said Jocasta after a couple more minutes of smalltalk, "we should um... do something sometime, the whole gang, like we used to. Maybe next Victendes assuming this place doesn't tear itself apart before then, huh?"

Jocasta, in agreement, let her go with a fond farewell. "See," Yalen's voice could be heard saying, "I told you this was a good idea."

Meeting with Marz

Marz slowly made his way over to Zarina, he was in some more formal attire, well, what is known to be formal for hegelans. A large shirt of multiple layers of vibrant and gorgeous colors, each layer of different fabrics to give a form of depth and from his own occupations, a had a large leather belt which had multiple golden inlaid rings which each one denoted a form of mastery over a craft. For Marz, he had been recognized as AA quality in over 10 different skills of craft, with a center platinum ring with a ruby inset which denoted his recognition in the creation of his first great work. One that could denote his legacy, a master work

The moment Marz made his way to Zarina he said in a quiet almost sheepish voice, "Great party". Marz couldn't find much else to say, most others here seemed almost so consumed in their own existance and those they are speaking to he feels nothing he could say or do would even register with them.

Zarina had Fiske in her sights, tucked deep within the mass of people she had graciously let in her home. Her amber hues did not leave his lithe form, with Miret in tow if she decided to keep up with her luush'elar. There was, however, a voice so small and sheepish, that it somehow got her attention more than the ceaseless laughters and obnoxiously loud exchanges. Surely she had hallucinated this!

And yet there he was, Marz the gruff and hardened expert smith and supposed ruffian. Looking fabulous and also shy. Taken aback, Zarina had lost track of the rat in her home, and now she had a new object of intrigue. “Oh. Why, thank you!” chiped a jolly Zazzy, confident in keeping her hostess persona going despite her mild worries. “Glad you could make it. I was getting worried we brought the beer keg for nothing.” she remarked with mild snark, arms crossed and a fat grin on her face. “Or, maybe just maybe,” complicit and certainly devious, she bended over a little to approach the bearded man's height with a smirk. “You actually have a soft spot for the more refined and delicate delights, hmm?”

Miret came up from behind and leaned upon Zarina's shoulder. "Hey Marz," she said with a smile. It was an innocent enough greeting on the surface.

Marz was mostly sheepish, just listening, for a moment it seemed he at least found some ground, possibly to even find something to talk about...

"Ahh-" Marz was then taken aback when Zarina started to poke at him. His teeth gritted as he looked to her with a flustered face, "-are you calling me soft!"

Marz was flustered by such accusations, the poutiness that is worn on his face told of Marz' true age. That he too was just a young man, even with his rougher demenor and gruff self, he too was just like those around him, in the peak of his youth.

“Yes.” Zarina said without a moment's hesitation. “Soft and silky from what I see, Dami's damn beard!” her eyes focused on the beard in question, so well kept and matching Ayla's incredible mane. “I can see why so many googly-eyed ladies walk into your workshop.” she snickered, back straightened as she regained her regular height. “But soft doesn't mean weak. You can be a mighty, black dragon with flames that devour all for centuries, and still have the softest of underbellies.” she commented as she swiped a couple of wine glasses from Osman's tray with one offered to the Hegelan. “To good health, women, and soft, lovely bellies, yeah?”

With the jolly moment, Zarina didn't stop with just pointless small talk. There was a rare genius crafter in her gala, and they hardly had the chance to exchange. Perhaps diving into his preferred subjects would be of intrigue. “Beards aside, I also heard you make quite the tale-worthy scythe. Am I to believe I'm talking to a legend in the making akin the stories of Tagemitsu Kenshin?”

Miret leaned in and nodded. "When the war happens, what side are ya gonna join?" she asked Marz. "You know they'll both make you offers."

Marz was taken aback once more Zarina seemed to almost speak in such a way to complement and still make fun of him at the same time, much like the many Skalds he had worked with on projects before.

And even when the drinks were brought all he could do was raise it and say, "Ah...Aye, to soft erm bellies". Marz then took a drink as soon he was asked about his work.

A gleam lot up in Marz eye as he said, "Aye! She was a beauty, a gorgeous scythe which held was a craft I could say was one of my best to date. But in my opinion, it is going to be the worst of my legacy". Marz said with a laugh.

Marz then turned to Miret, a topic which he didn't think much about, "I, ah, I'm unsure. I haven'thad much thoughts on such ideas. As strange as it maybe".

Marz gets lost in thought as he swirls the wine in his glass as he speaks, "A smith makes arms, tools that people use to fight. Simple as is, they arm those to kill others. But I never thoight about which side to choose. My time within thi land has been short, and truthfully I'm unsure where some of the people I even know will go. The strange nature of this lands and it's dealings with each other makes it seem almost impossible for me to even know where they will even go".

Zarina shot a look of disapproval at Miret. “Miret,” she spoke while foregoing the compulsory Luuchy. “I don't think we should be discussing camps to choose in a time where we get to not have to do any of that.” she semi-scolded her luush'elar, only to then convey a contradictory message by tugging her closer by wrapping her arm around the Yasoi's waist.

“You don't have to think about that, Marz. It's fine.” she flashed a less playful smile at the Hegelan. “And, don't worry too much about how good the first one is - I assume it's your first big weapon project anyway. It has a special place as, well,” she looked to Miret, as if addressing her too. “your first. In some way, even if totally inexplicable, it'll be unbeatable.”

Marz gave a light nod, "Aye", clear thought that this was not place to think sides of what is to break this hall apart. Just more simpler talks.

Marz casted his gaze back to the girls, "Aye, the first, even if the worst, is where it all starts".

"No matter where she goes or what hands she lands into, no matter what else I make, what I know is that she was where it all started". An unworried face sat upon Marz as he then perked up.

"Oh! I did wish to come to you as well, I've noticed that you don't wield a weapon. Is there a reason?"

Miret blushed. "Come 'ere, you. I get the double meaning!" She twisted to face Marz. "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to bring it up but, like... shucks, everyone's thinking about it." She held up a hand. "I'll stop, luuchy. Don't worry. I will."

Then, Marz addressed Zarina and Miret leapt back. "Ooooh, He's gonna make one for ya!" she teased. "He's gonna do it! He's gonna doggone do it!"

Zarina to keep a stern face toward Miret - not a very good one, she wore her emotions far too easily - but eventually giggled and dropped her forehead onto Miret's shoulder. “I'm Luuchy too, now? Darn it.” and with that came a very quick and inconspicuous smooch on that same shoulder. “I trust you.”

She straightened herself, yet again, and brush her straight, brown hair back over her hairs after all that leaning and moving. “Ah, you've noticed, huh? Well,” she passed her hand through her hair again, letting the strands flow between her fingers as she pondered. “If we discount the times where opportunities were snatched under my nose ... I suppose it never was my priority to, like,” Zarina was never good with words, and keeping things agreeable with others - to not offend them - sometimes made it a hurdle for her. “make weapons to harm people. Hence why I have a shield.” she shrugged.

But then, after a somewhat glum look; she continued. “I'm not some cushy idealist, however. I know I need one. But at that point, I'd only settle for something that could contend with the worst horrors of this world. I've no interest in more efficient ways to butcher fellow men by the hundreds.” Zarina smirked, as her golden hippo poked its head out of her handbag. “Now if you're offering to make such a thing ...”

Marz nodded as he listened to Zarina, taking in her thoughts, ideas, and even feelings. Marz listened with great interest as he finally said, "Yes, I am offering to make you a weapon".

Marz nodded his head as he began to think, "No cushy ideals, yet in the same, less than pragmatic. Something to fight the worst of things".

Marz put his hand to his chin as he seemed to go deeper in thought, "Yet, not anything normal, weapons that are normally just to kill in the normal sense. This needs to be different, yet efficent".

Marz nodded to himself as he continued, "One for battle, not for war.".

Marz then smiled to himself as he continued, "Yes. Yes, I think this is a good one. A real challenge in it's own right".

Marz looked to Zarina and declaired, "Yes. I will make you a weapon like no other. A weapon, that shall do what you wish it to and need of it. To fight what needs to be fought, to spill blood when blood needs to be spilled, and nowhere else".

Zarina started off deadpan, letting the Hegelan dive deep into his musings. But as it went on, she couldn't help but appear amused. “My, keep this up and I'll have to pay an hourly fee.” she chuckled, hand squeezing Miret's side. The tip of her tongue tapped against the back of her teeth, prompting a little popping noise. “Don't lose your mind over the details. I am a person who can choose. Any sword can be brandished or left in the sheath and that will determine whether I will kill with it or not.”

But then, she thought for a moment, and then giggled. “But then again, if you wish to make something extraordinary, who am I to give leeway and shortcuts?” she reached out to the shorter man, digits keen on dragging through the puffed up and glorious chin-mane of his. “So long as you swear it is made with the genuine passion of the next great creator, then I will humbly accept it regardless of its form.”

A moment passed and she shook her head, snickering in light shame. “Gods, I sound so over-the-top. But, fuck it, I'm a bitch for epic things. You'll get to see a big, fucking angry dragon with your masterpiece. And Tku will draw it.” she jested, partially, before leaning closer again, fingers since retreated back. “I appreciate the thoughtfulness. Tuna?” she had a near-perfect timing with the swiping of the dish being carried by Osman who had just bee passing by. It was presented right before the Hegelan.

Marz nodded, his eyes were calm, he didn't react or even flinch to the touching, the once meek man hiding away in his own clothing was no more. Marz stood as he always did, tall and strong, as he nodded, "Aye. I make nothing without putting my everything into it. If I didn't then I wouldn't be Marz Mohfolk".

Marz let out a light laugh, one after being told of the great picture he would see with Zarina holding his weapon, "I think I would love nothing more than to see my weapon held in such a display".

Marz was then almost seemingly cut down a slight bit with Zarina switch back to a host and offering him some morsel to eat, "Oh, uhm, y-yes, I would like some, uh-th...thank you.".

Zarina produced a mild, 'cool' grin with her eyes half-lidded once Marz reverted back to what appeared like a shier demeanour. “As the Perrench say: Bon Appétit.” she bowed her head graciously.

Then her attention went to the rest of the party. Most were receiving their main meals that they could either get delivered, or take from the buffet. “You know,” she spoke up again, despite her words and actions suggestion a finality to their exchange. “we speak of sides but ... Why not simply create for the good folks here? We might fight for our country, but would we brandish our weapons against each other, as individuals, when we bear the same mark of Marz Mohfolk on our weapons?” she mused. “Your creations do not just have to be weapons of war, they could also unite us - a generation that can do better.”

The hostess' eyes landed upon Desmond, first. “This man, for instance, one of the greatest warriors I've known. Great guy too. He can make his own weapons, that I'm certain, but I'm sure even a gunman would need a quality hand-to-hand weapon from time to time.” then, she shifted toward Ingrid. “And here's a girl that rustles the hornet's nest, and earns quite a bit of ire from her impulsion. But ultimately, Ingy's a good woman. She too could be magnificent and bring greatness with such a masterpiece.” then, finally, her eyes landed back onto Marz. “What I'm essentially saying is - don't stop with me. We can continue what this soirée started well beyond its time, even in the worst times of war.” she smiled, warmly, and looked to her Luuchy. “Hells, even this little Luuchy could use something to remind her of her favourite Yanii.”

Marz began to nod as he listened and thought, upon what was being said, "A generation that can do better".

Marz continued to think as a smile came onto his face, "That, sounds like a true craft. Crafting not just with a set of hands that are my own, but through bonds...yeah".

Marz nodded to Zarina, "Aye, I like the sound of it. Something that can be seen by all, not just those who are the receiver of it".

Marz continues to nod, his smile growing as his mind begins to be filled with ideas now in his own mind.

The Beginning of the End

The Hours of Dami ticked over into Ipté: a time when most not engaged in either acts of love or acts unlawful were fast asleep. The hired musicians had since gone home, but there were a handful among the remaining wakeful students who were well-acquainted with music. These remnants and their friends danced slowly, sat around tables in semi-drunken discussion, and helped those who'd had a bit too much to drink settle themselves in for the night. Others staggered home under their own power, careful to go through the Parade Gate and not risk the Seagate and its desperate masses of refugees.

Soft, slow music wafted into the night, accompanied by the odd burst of laughter, the clatter of glasses and plates being gathered up, and the distant backdrop of frogs and crickets in the Border Wood. It all seemed to be winding down: the students' own perfect ending to an imperfect Trials, initiated and carried out by themselves without any help from those older and putatively wiser.

Into this scene of burgeoning serenity grew a new noise, however, threatening its tentative existence: armoured footsteps, marching in file; the orange flicker of torches in the night. Most didn't notice these. They were either busy, lazy, or drunk. Then, came the knocking on the door: three beats, firm and authoritative. Two Centuries stood outside of the door, accompanied by a hooded figure who appeared to be a Zeno and four city guards.

They waited.

Ten seconds had passed. They knocked again, just as firmly.

The Soirée's peaks had been reached after Magnificent Green's display of talent and exaggerated sense of triumph. The guests loved him and the hostess appeared to be in on the joke. Or was it truly an act of improvisation? It almost seemed too good. Zarina had since hopped off the stage, leaving those that wished to play to do so as the late hours settled in quickly.

Many of the animals had since retired in her room - forbidden to all guests - as did many other guests, either finding their ways home or using one of the hostess' unused rooms to 'settle down'. She knew this was inevitable and took it upon herself to stay awake until the party was definitively finished.

The urge to dance was still strong. She knew, despite the avoidance of the subject, that she would not see her lover too often after this. Nor would Miret ever be her's the same way she's been in this honeymoon phase. But maybe she could still bask in the illusion of being special for a little longer. The wine she ingested in very frequent intervals were telling her yes. But just before she could commit to any decision, a set of three loud knocks from the closed entrance door caught her attention.

Uncertain of what to expect given the hours and the lack of noise, she approached at a brisk pace but cautiously extended her hand to open it. It was during this hesitation that the knocks started again, prompting Zarina to jump. “Coming, coming.” she announced.

Deep breaths. She opened the door and regarded the gathering of seven individuals. Surprised but composed, she shot them an expectant look. “Good eve- Errr, hello.” she spoke, calm with her attention on the conspicuously distinct zeno. “Can I help you?”

"Zarina." the Zeno flipped back her hood. She was Sienna Afraval and she appeared nothing if not apologetic. She tried to force a smile, happy to see a favourite student, but it died quickly. "I've been sent on authority of the Wise Council." The two Centuries were recognizable as well. Mareceline padded up softly behind Zarina. "Jurgen?" she asked tentatively. The other was Collette. She received a stiff nod from the first.

"Don't worry. You're not in any trouble, for what it's worth," Zeno Afraval assured them with a sad shake of her head. "We're here to escort one of your guests to the Violet Enclave for questioning on yesterday's.... incident." She appeared distinctly uncomfortable, even as her eyes roved across the inside of the house with a light of curiosity and even amusement. "I don't - I've been told it shouldn't take long." She shook her head. Collette, as well, could be seen glancing inside. Whatever wry comment she might normally have made was held in, however. "It's all..." Her eyes darted towards the floor, avoiding Zarina's. "All procedural."

It was abundantly clear that the people they had sent were handpicked for the task. Zarina crossed her arms the moment she realized what this was about and kept her frame in the center of the door frame, only leaning slightly to the side when Marceline joined in. “Lady Afraval,” she began, still calm but her voice stammering just a little bit. The tactics used were effective, even when the subject was aware of them. “I'm sorry but why at this hour? They're either sleeping or having a good, quiet time. If they're even still here.” although it only occurred to her now that something was missing. She kept her voice down. “Who are we talking about?”

Sienna's eyes went to Collette's briefly, and then to Jurgen's. "It's Penny, Zarina - Penny Pellerin."

"And why now?" Marci challenged. "Why after she's already been released? Why in the middle of the night?" She repeated Zarina's unanswered question.

"So we could get her quickly and quietly into custody and back out of it for classes tomorrow," the Zeno offered. "We assumed she'd be at her place and were surprised to find she'd gone here." Jurgen shot her an unreadable look. "Listen, Zazzy, I had my misgivings about this, but it's what I was told and, whatever's happened recently, I trust them enough to believe they wouldn't outright lie." She paused and gathered her breath. "May we enter and speak with her?" While it did not come from Sienna, there was a subtle, cautionary, drawing of energy from the party outside.

Zarina made it clear by the growing frown on her face that she didn't like any of this. She chewed at nothing to pacify herself, but the fact that so many powerful individuals were at her door quickly put her on edge. “You do know it's a bit weird they send you, Ms. Afraval, to get a Perrench suspect. Arch Zeno Tojarra already made the situation very awkward.”

However, Zarina's maintained composure was challenged when the faintest hint of active drawing caught her attention. She shot a warning glare at the concerned parties, although she couldn't quite tell those who were concerned. “You may. But only you.” her attention remained on the martial flock behind the Zeno. “I presume she isn't being arrested? If so, nobody else's stepping in unless she wants to go with you.”

"What she wants doesn't matter in this," Jurgen warned, though it was distinctly not a threat. "The school has declared this a 'disciplinary matter'." Collette shot him a pointed look and he fell silent, eyes briefly finding his younger sister. "I shall wait with our visitors at the door," Marceline promised, preempting any rejection of Zarina's terms.

Sienna offered up an apologetic face. "Thank you," she replied once the others were quite finished. "I do realize how this looks and they have assured me this is not an arrest, else I'd not have agreed to come." With those words, she stepped past the threshold. A couple of the guards - the Zenith's Guards - Zarina and Marceline noted, scowled, but they were the minnows here and they did not press.

Zarina forced herself to not reply with appropriate sass to Marci's brother. Still, she did add something. “My home is outside of the city's walls. Disciplinary measures or not, you'll need more to compel me to relent.” she then nodded to Marci before showing Sienna in.

“She was definitely here, and I didn't see her leave.” Zarina informed her previously appointed zeno, voice lowered to something more discreet. “If I were to make an educated guess ...” the teen's intuition would bring them to the upper floor, and eventually to the trap door that led to the attic. “Fair warning, the boyfriend's here. Good guy, but different.” before they progressed any further, she reached for Afraval's forearm to get her attention. “I'm trusting you, teach. I really don't want this night to end up in violence, pain and division. It's been so ... I almost wanna say perfect.”

---

Ayla was occupied with still tidying up for the evening, especially as people seemed to have confused plant pots for disposal areas, namely leftovers of that muffin. Her interest perked at the commotion as she moved toward the door to investigate, finding Zarina and Marci in talks with whoever was there. When she spotted Zeno Afraval, she was about to smile and welcome her cousin warmly, though when she noticed the facial expression being held, she quickly picked up that this is more than a social call. “Is there anything we can do to help?” She approached with an eyebrow raised as she communicated silently towards Zarina and Sienna but relented as they moved on elsewhere in the house. She turned to look toward Collette and Jurgen, “Would you like bread and salt? We have plenty left over.” She indicated toward far more appealing food items than simple provisions in her statement.

Marceline did a double take at Zarina's response. Had she misinterpreted Jurgen's words or had the older girl? To her mind, that had not been a threat but, rather, a warning of the school's intentions and his barely-suppressed misgivings about them. For a moment, she second-guessed herself, and that was enough that it passed. Jurgen all-but rolled his eyes and returned to being stoic and professional.

Then, his eyes found Ayla, even before she'd reached the door. He smiled in her direction as she spoke. "I would very much welcome your hospitality," he replied gratefully, stepping through the threshold, even as Collette shot him a warning look. "I thought this was Zarina's home," she replied to Ayla. "Is it... not?"

Zarina, meanwhile, had spoken her entreaty and Sienna furrowed her brow. "I can't promise anything," she replied quickly and quietly, "except that I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't escalate and that I will hold my higher ups to their word." The stairs creaked as they walked. "You're doing Ipté's work, Zarina. I'm so sorry to have thrown a wet blanket on it."

Then, they were at the top of the stairs. There was a hallway leading to three rooms and the privy. The trapdoor to the attic was not so very far away.

Ayla paused for a moment as it seemed she had stumbled into an awkward situation, though she is unclear why there are hostilities, and even if there were, it would be best to make things as cooperative as possible if it involved the Academy and the Centuries. “Zarina does own the house, though we pay rent to live here,” she shot a look toward Marci as if to say ‘what gives?’ As she shook her head side-to-side. Peering at the weather, she looked bemused. “My apologies, then you must wait by the entrance as you enter. It would be improper to have two centuries waiting outside in this weather, and we must extend our hospitality to you.” She moved to pick up a chair as she brought it over by the entrance and fetched another. She encouraged Marci to bring some food and drink, while she did likewise, offering some delicacies. “What would you both prefer, meat? Scotch Eggs? Macarons…” She looked at the basket still sat at the table, “Best to avoid those muffins, though.” She moved the basket out of the way discreetly.

he guards waited outside, having not been invited in, while their nominal superiors stepped through. "Ah, yes, the erm... 'muffins'," Marceline acknowledged, still trying to get the last remnants of their taste out of her mouth. "Do not be so adventurous, Jurgen." She shook her head. "And neither you, my lady. I shall fetch the finest of cuisines for my dear brother and his friend." Marceline twirled on the spot and rushed off to fetch what was left, returning with Zenobucks coffee, scotch eggs, macaroons, and 'pigs in a blanket' from McBoller's. In the meantime, Jurgen looked at the basket and smirked as if to say, 'should I?'

---

Zarina clenched her jaw. “If she refuses, what happens then?” she inquired, showing glimpses of her naiveté to a teacher who knew her all too well. “I'll side with my guest and friend, Sienna.” they were nearing the end of the hallway with the trapdoor's cord hanging conspicuously before a large cat tree. “Nobody should hear us.” she said just as she conjured a quick and cramped sonic bubble. “What are they going to do to her? Is it just some interrogation?”

Sienna shrugged, eyes darting about as the bubble dropped. "Far as they've told me, it's just some questioning. They're all at a loss for where that attack came from and that, in itself, is pretty worrying." She shook her head. "Then, I imagine they'll give her a slap on the wrist and send her on her way." She eemed about to let up, but her face darkened. "There's... a chance they'll do more. I don't know if you've heard, but there's been vandalism on the statues of the Zenith and Arch-Zeno Tojarra." She bit her lower lip. "The wise thing to do is to let Penny go and I firmly believe that wisdom will prevail here. Still..." She let herself fall silent for a moment. "That doesn't always hold true these days."

Then, they could hear footsteps from below - awkward and distinct ones, coming up the stairs.

“So they've got nothing. That doesn't look too good.” remarked Zarina. She reached out for the cord, but was interrupted by a notion that brought her to think. “And no, I didn't hear. Fuck.” she took a deep breath before looking at the cord again. “I'm trusting you, Sienna. Same way you trusted me after ... Last year, despite the mess I caused.”

“Hmm.” footsteps were drawing near just as she prepared to open the hatch again and the hostess couldn't help but recognize how distinct they were. She raised her hand for Sienna to stop any ascent or if she wanted to speak. “Wait, someone's coming.”

"Not just anyone," the Zeno whispered, popping the sonic bubble as she finished. "That's her."

"Babe?" came Penny's voice, traveling up the stairs. It ran into the remnants of their sound dampening and didn't travel particularly far. Then, there was a pause and her head appeared in the stairwell. "Oh, Zarina!" she exclaimed, before noticing who was accompanying her. "And Zeno Afraval." She quickly bowed her head in respect. "You grace us with your presence." Her eyes found Zarina, though, and seemed to send a quick and alarmed message: 'What is going on? Am I in trouble? Is there any getting out of it?'

Despite the warnings, Penny's arrival caught Zarina off guard. Unsure of how this would go down, she greeted the Perrench with a look of uncertainty that could only feel the worry Penny inevitably manifested. She gestured for her to come closer before looking over shoulders.

“Zeno Afraval, a couple of Century and some city guards are here for you -” she peered toward Sienna briefly. “for questioning. It's your choice if you wanna do any of that.” she crossed her arms and set herself in a good spot to step between the two if something ever went wrong. “If you don't want to go, they can't compel me to give you away, for what it's worth.” she shot a confident smile to Penny, one identical to the one she kept during the whole Soirée as she basked in the unity she had created. “But, I think you should hear what Sienna has to say.”

Before Penny could speak, Sienna Afraval raised a hand. "I should stop you right there." She tried to address both Zarina and Penny. "Technically, by the letter of the law, I can legally compel her to the Violet Enclave because of the ridiculous charge leveled against her." The Zeno shook her head immediately. "Now, you can rest assured that I never would. Not for a moment would I force you to do anything against your will." Her gaze took them both in. "That said, I think you should come with me, Penny, and you will almost certainly be either acquitted without a big showy public trial that they don't want or else given the lightest slap on the wrist imaginable and dumped right back in class for tomorrow."

Penelope's face tightened. "And the people actually responsible for this mess," she inquired in a voice that walked the line between wary and too-sweet. "Have they been caught?" She tilted her head. "Found?" She continued. "Are there any leads at all?"

Sienna's face looked pained. "Penny..." she sighed.

"Zeno Afraval," the girl replied.

"Penny, please don't. I know they've treated you badly. Its'... quite frankly abhorrent, and you've every right to be angry and distrustful, but I'm trying to set it right. Others like Zenos Masson and Silvestri, Fabio, Luna, and Sunny: we're all trying to set it right. This is the best compromise we can get. They know their situation isn't amazing, but - "

"But a cornered animal lashes out," the Perrenchwoman interrupted. She narrowed her eyes. "And wouldn't I be a great person to hold ransom in a pinch?"

"They'd be digging their own graves if they tried."

"Oh, they won't do it formally," Penny decided. "No, they'll have some justification, but anyone with half a brain for politics will be able to see the truth."

"The truth?" Zeno Afraval replied. She shook her head, and quite aggressively. "The truth is that statues of Arch-Zeno Tojarra and Zenith Upta have been vandalized by Perrench and Perrench-aligned students, but the news hasn't traveled yet." She took a deep breath, trying to reel them both in with her eyes again. "But it will and they may feel compelled to act and then the scenario you mention becomes a possibility." She held up a hand to forestall further comment until she was finished. "A remote one, I firmly believe, but still a possibility. We go now, however, and this can all blow over." She cleared her throat. "They give you the punishment of penning a letter on the danger of aberrations or something stupid like that, everyone sees that they've let you go as they should've in the first place, they find some Revidian or Torragonese to slap with the same penalty, and then we go back to... well, hopefully not all hating each other." Her voice was almost desperate, almost pleading. "Please, Penny," she entreated. "You're a good person. You always have been, and I'm sorry this has happened. It's unjust and even cruel, but I'm asking you to help me here. You can help me put an end to the worst of it, but our time is short. We have to act now while cooler heads may yet prevail."

Penny's face and bearing burned with anxiety. Her eyes flicked Zarina's way before returning to the Zeno. She swallowed. "And if they don't?" she asked simply.

Zarina looked back at Penny with equal amounts of concern, but she forced herself to regain her composure. With confidence, she spoke. “Then we'll push back against the school. Us, the students.” she stated without blinking or a hint of hesitation. “It's not a threat, this is how it's gonna be. And not just those of one side.” at first her eyes flickered to Penny, and then they reached Afraval's. “And all those who'd stand against corruption, not just the students.”

The hostess of the abode and festivities reached out to Penny's hand in a show of solidarity. “Just know, no matter your choice, I stand with my friend. As I'm sure Ashon would too.” a grin that radiated youthful and reckless confidence reigned on her expression, one that sent the message: 'I meant it, they can't make me, legal or not.'

“But I trust Sienna. Of all the staff ... I trust her the most, along with Jo'. She didn't let me down at my very worst.” she turned her head to regard the Torragonese royal with softened features. “I don't think she'll let you down either.”

Penny nodded. She seemed ready to reach a conclusion, to go with this plan or not, but then she paused. "I hear what both of you are saying," she acknowledged. "I understand it, even." She took a step to the side, however. "But it's not only about me," she declared, running her hands tenderly across her midsection. "Not anymore." She smiled faintly and nervously. "I need to speak with Ashon. He must be part of a decision of this import." Eyes darting between the other two, Penny reached up for the rope to pull it.

As the attic opened, a Yasoi male flopped upside down before the trio of ladies that had gathered before them. He took a glance at each of them, then sagely nodded his head, “It is true, whatever I have been accused of is correct.” He released himself as he flipped onto the landing, his arms spread out in a welcoming manner. “It was when I was a wee lad, about this high you see,” he mimed the height that he was, “There was Kerreman Knight, just like that one down there, moustache and all, and he held the village ransom as he demanded a shrubbery. As you know, a shrubbery is very important to us Yasoi…” he could feel the eyes glaring towards him, as he cleared his throat, “Well, long story short, the Grey fleet made me do it, and I am down a shrubbery.” He shook his head in disappointment as he turned to Penny, “I promised that I would use that shrubbery to feed you and our future family. I have failed you, my love.”

He held his hands together as he presented them to the Zeno Afraval. “Please don’t inform Zeno Tarthas’talix’tuura, the sting of his cane continues to plague me to this day.” He gestured to the gathered crowd of guards outside the building, “You didn’t have to bring all of them with you, though. I am pretty harmless. Only need a wink and a smile, though…” He held his finger up as a warning, “I am a very happily taken man, so I would have to politely refuse…”

He looked toward the three of them, one after the other. “This is only a copy; I was just buying the real me a good head start over that way,” he thumbed towards a random direction, gesturing with a slowly repeated tug of his thumb.

His hands came to a stop. "It is not me you want," He expressed a frown as he looked toward Penny, ceasing his little distraction he attempted to buy her time.

At first, Penny's heart raced when she saw Jamboi. Then... her eyes widened as he proceeded to make light of the situation. She laughed, despite herself and, finally, she understood. She took a couple of steps forward and reached for his hands. In the span of a minute, he had made her feel excitement, alarm, mirth, and fondness. That was, simply put, why she loved him. Nobody else could do that.

"Jammy," she said softly, "You're right that it's me. They only like my little hat, though, the one I never wear, and are desperate to have it. I've determined that it doesn't look much good on them anyhow." She reached up to stroke his face, a forearm crutch dangling from its cuff and sliding back down her arm. "Dare I say I might even have a chance to look for your shrubbery and all of the things quite a few of us have misplaced or had stolen. All I need to do is let them hold one old hat that I don't very much like and, the longer that they hold it, the more likely I think it is that others might have a chance to look as well." She willed it not to be too convoluted. She willed him to understand. She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Ashon understood her words as he leaned in close and embraced her, planting a loving kiss on her lips. "Penny, when the roof tile fell." His eyes met hers, perhaps saying far more non-verbally as he held her within his arms. He released her, his hand caressed her stomach lightly as his fingers clawed upon it. "No more Vossiriya, bad weather, worse food."

Zarina watched them both with compounding interest. She first believed Jamboi to be making a fool of himself, or far too much light of the situation. But as it went on, and she acknowledged Penny's reactions to the Yasoi's drivel, she began to understand. Skepticism turned into intrigue, and that too eventually became mild envy. The chemistry these two shared was palpable and the love for one-another manifested in simple looks brought Zarina to reflect on things she wouldn't have on this pressing situation. To be this special to another person was something she had yet to know. Something she desperately wanted to know. She remained a romantic and a dreamer, even at the face of futility.

Her arms crossed under her chest as she sought to keep in any budding emotions during this heartfelt exchange. “How long can they reasonably keep her without any proof or a confession?” she had twisted to address Afraval and made an effort to not disturb the two lovers.

Penny embraced him back, leaning into his warmth and strength. "No more Vossoriya," she murmured into his chest. "I promise." She released him. He released her. "I've brought my own food anyhow." She smiled up at him.

Meanwhile, Zarina had addressed Sienna Afraval, and the Zeno did her best to answer a hypothetical for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "They'll want to get her in and out as quickly as they can," she assured the youth, "unless the world goes crazy again." She shook her head. "In that case, honestly... all bets are off, I'd say. In that case, you act, and -" She lowered her voice. "I support you."

With that, Penny was finished, and she turned on the spot, holding her hands out. "I suppose you'll need to cuff me," she remarked, tilting her head to the side challengingly.

Sienna looked her up and down. "No, Penny. That won't be necessary."

"Never know," the teen replied with a wink. "Girl with one leg might just run off on you." She let her hands fall to her sides and exchanged a small supportive look with Ashon. "Thank you, Jammy." She turned to Zarina. "Thank you, Zazzy." She took hold of her crutches again. "I'm ready, Zeno Afraval."

Foraging for Winter

What a night. The Soirée was, by all accounts, a success. Zarina was working with three hours of sleep following the event, but there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in her - well, almost. The fresh memories of unity and joy kept her going just before an act she had premeditated with her business partner that reminded her all too much of the state of the world. Freshened up, caffeinated and looking fabulously green like Perrench pastures to match the colours of Zeno Bucks, Zazzy was ready to tackle this arduous day.

She waited inside the main patio bordering the Godsroad. The yard was still a mess and the inside, while cleaned, still smelled of party and of the few guests that were too intoxicated to leave. A little bit of people - and consequently steeds - watching was what she needed to accompany her bambalouni with coffee as she waited for Marceline to be ready.

“Mornin’.” she chirped, upbeat and with a cup prepared for her sister.

Marceline slid into the seat across from her. "Mornin!" the girl chirped, raising her cup in acknowledgement and thanks. She seemed, already, quite awake, though there were bags under her eyes. She crossed her legs and took a sip. An easy silence built between them. "You know, I barely slept a wink," the younger one admitted after a bit. "And it wasn't because of Penny either. I imagine she made the right choice and we'll all come out of it alright. 'Least... I hope so." Her voice grew solemn for a flicker before she covered the lower half of her face with her cup, taking a second sip. "Really, it was all that thumping and moaning last night," she remarked, not letting her drink down just yet. "The Tarlonese, I imagine." She shot Zarina a dim look.

“I zoned it after an hour. The thumping.” Zarina answered with a wry look returned to Marci. “Probably.” with that one word went the positive energy she had been emanating since she had woken up. It wasn't a regret but an insecurity that gnawed at her. The older girl blew on her coffee and took her sip as her eyes drifted back to the diverse group of peoples heading to work in the city.

“Ayla's got the cleaning. We,” a second wind hit her with a strong 'we' coming with an even strongest announcement. “have some acorns to hoard before the storm hits. And I've got a few friends -” her tone fluctuated to emphasize the fair weather nature of the term. “who can broker deals fast. Question is how many funds we can secure with the good will we've garnered with a year of good business.” the uncertainty prompted her to flex her facial features for a second before she took another sip from her now cooler coffee. “And then there's the question of what happens if we've gotta take a leave of absence ...”

Marceline leeched a bit of the heat from her drink and downed it. "Ugh," she teased, "Imagine being a twitching coffee fiend." She rolled her eyes and placed her cup back on its saucer. "I've got a couple leads as well. One might require a brief trip across the bay into Méatu." She shrugged. "So I'll probably be 'sick' for a couple days. This semester's classes are all easy anyway. I'll see if Jojo can grab my assignments for me."

Restless, perhaps, Marceline stood and stretched. "Come on, suunei, we have a crisis to go head off." She rolled her neck. "And if we have to take a leave of absence? Well, isn't that what twenty-five hour copies are for?" Marceline arched an eyebrow and winked. "Besides, there are two of us and, if worse comes to worst, I'll just make myself less valuable by playing crippled for a bit." She began walking towards the door. "Ip-damned warmongers. How many businesses." She paused. "And people are they gonna kill? Gods know they could never offer me enough to risk my neck for the fatherland or bloody Sancho."

Zarina lazily ascended from her seat and mimicked Marceline's efforts to stretch, ending with an unrestrained yawn. “That's a lot of twenty-five hour copies there, suunei. I didn't know you were that loaded.” she joked, mug still in hand as she finished up before leaving the porcelain item at the patio and stepped onto the Godsroad. “It's more for me anyway, you'd want at least an assistant. I can't exactly pull a fast one on my country. Nor do I really want to.”

They walked into the city, as cutting through the fields lacked the opportunities of buying foods they did not need at the market. There was no hurry to reach their contacts just yet. “... How's it going with Fiske?” Zarina brought up out of the blue, and it sounded as awkward as a parent taking interest in a child's niche hobby. “I didn't see much of him last night.”

"Oh!" Marci chirped, seeming in something of a hurry to reach the gate, "He was with my copy. They went and had a little fun together." She winked. "Now come on, Zazzy! We've got spratz to gather, and coffee!"

Zarina furrowed her brows. “Your copy? Oh, wait,” she snapped her fingers twice. “that prize of yours?” then she regarded Marci like she had something on her face. “... Any particular reason you'd do that? Other than 'fun'?”

They soon arrived at the pier where a Virangish man with a thick and white moustache awaited them. From there, Zarina worked her magic. He was the first of a decently long line of hands to shake if they were going to exact their plan swiftly.

Marceline twirled some hair around a finger. "Oh, just stuff n' things," she replied sweetly. "Also a test. I'm going to take out a couple more so we can cover more ground over the next few days." She shrugged. "If I'm a bit scarce, that's why."

Then, they reached the first of their contacts. Zarina took lead on this one. Marceline knew how to support a narrative. It was the first of many.

The day was progressing as smoothly as it could. Negotiations were nothing new, but the initial rejections from different transport groups were bigger than normal given the unusual nature of their orders. Still, their successes were enough to put the duo on track to exact their plans.

“Eighty tons already.” remarked Zarina during the luncheon break, and puffchicken eggs were on the menu. “Not nearly enough, but I've got some favors I can pull still.” she stated confidently. “You think they'll actually keep Penny?” she asked, a tad glum.

"I'd like to reach two-hundred, and I think I have a shot with my guy in Méatu, but I think we can make do with one-fifty in a pinch." Marceline shrugged. "It's just... so many variables and there's no way we can like... anticipate them all." She pursed her lips, starting to feel the bug to talk business strategies, but she tamped down on it and picked at her food, waiting for Zarina to speak again. When she did, Marci nibbled at her lower lip and glanced downwards. "I dunno." She shrugged. "But Jurgen seemed to think so and I'm learning that he really knows his shit when it comes to this kind of thing. He can read people."

Marci took a sip of her drink. "They're idiots. They're basically trying to hold Penny hostage and hoping we don't call their bluff, but it's an open secret among us students that she's the daughter of someone very important in Perrence." She shook her head. "It's like they're trying to start a war." She scowled. "I swear: half the people we know would do a better job in charge."

Her fingers drummed nervously and her analytic bravado seemed to fade. "I mean, I think so...?" Her eyes met Zarina's for a moment and she finally seemed a bit more her age. "You think so too...right?" She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed and face worried. "Like, we're playing chicken with someone's life here, and it's... goddamned Penny." She took a moment to breathe and paired it with a shrug that tried to be nonchalant. "We're not like, best friends or anything, but - Ipté - she was in my apprentice group last year." Marci swallowed. "We were fuckin' roommates. We used to cook together and we both sucked at it." The fifteen-year-old choked out a small laugh, took another breath, and wasn't quite sure what to do with herself.

"These people are fucked," she mewed, not quite finding the vigor that she'd been looking for. She shook her head. "I've just been putting it out of sight and out of mind and..." A third breath. "Why does the world have to so full of bad people?" Marci swallowed. "Why am I becoming one of them?" Her eyes were beseeching for just a moment before she twisted and looked away. A hand reached up, as if fixing her hair, but it ran itself across her cheek. "It's fuckin' Penny. I should be there instead of in Méatu."

“Wait.” Zarina raised her hand to interrupt Marceline. “She is?” it wouldn't have been the first time she pulled a sarcastic joke, but the cheeky smile or giggles didn't come. It seemed Zarina did not pry too much into Penny's business. “I thought she was just really loaded.” she shrugged. “In that case, yeah fuck. They're messing up. Maybe you should apply for Zenith.” she playfully nudged Marci with her elbow.

The jokes and generic remarks ceased once the subject was explored more seriously by Marci. Zarina decided it was a time to listen. No words, only considerate looks and nods. Once her sister figure had finished with her thoughts and worries, she reached out to wrap her arm around the younger teen's shoulders and pulled her closer. “For starters, you're not bad. And,” she looked out toward the pier. It was full with daily arrivals, although the unloading had since been done. “I don't think most of them are bad. It ain't a rule of nature that you suddenly become bad with power. I gotta assume it's more complicated than just doing a good or bad thing. But ... They did cross a line when they took our friend. I agree.”

Zarina leaned her head to the side, resting it over the shorter girl's. “We're gonna do something.” she whispered, eyes still locked on the busy scenery. “Sienna and I spoke of this. And if there is no change by tonight, we're gathering as many of our friends and their friends to ours. After the soirée, they should find it to be a comfortable place to talk and prepare.” calm, collected and resolute, Zarina squeezed her sister's shoulder. “Méatu can wait a day or two. If you want.”

Marci seemed lost in thought, her young face pensive. "Yeah," she decided. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea." She nodded slowly. "Gods. I worked so hard for that contact..." She shook her head as if to clear it. "They're not gonna touch a hair on Penny's head, so help me." She took a quick bite of her food, swallowed, and then took another. It seemed to settle and recenter her.

"You know," she remarked after a bit, "I've been thinking a bit about how the war will affect our business." She had a bit of water and glanced out over the piers. "Conventional wisdom's that we're kind of a luxury and luxuries don't do well in war." She shook her head and, when her eyes returned to Zarina, she was wearing that predatory grin she usually did when she got an idea. "So, riddle me this, oh sister of mine," she teased, "Living through a war is a stressful business, is it not?"

Zarina raised a brow and took a moment to muse on the subject. “I suppose it is, dear sister.”

Marceline steepled her fingers together. "So then tell me, dear sister, what is one thing that people do to escape stress that could benefit us?"

Zarina's narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “They fuck?” she proposed before giggling. “They take substances, reasonably priced too. You want our stuff to be that thing they can enjoy to escape the sorry state of the world?”

She pointed finger guns at Zarina. "Bingo!" she exclaimed. "Bring on the spratz! Bring on the sugar and honey and coffee and candied apples!" She patted her tummy. "Bring on the muffins and cookies and cakes!" She grinned mercilessly. "Bring on the fountains of chocolate and those sweet sweet baybeh brandæble turnovers!" She leaned back and clasped her hands behind her head. "We all just need us some sugar, so screw conventional wisdom." Restlessly, eagerly, she leaned forward. "We're in an open marketplace. We have no direct competitors yet." She shook her head. "While every other merchant of luxuries slashes their prices in the hope of retaining business, we don't cut even a bit." She paused and pondered. "Maybe we even raise 'em a little because, ya know, the war effort is making things more expensive and people will understand." She took another sip of her drink and arched an eyebrow conspiratorially.

Zarina laughed the whole way, but never once in a mocking manner. Marci's tirade on their next moves was both amusing and inspiring, and goodness did the older of the duo need to hoard all these feel good moments with the war looming over her head. “Hey, hold down there, fireball. Little pepper you.” she poked her pointer finger against Marceline's shoulder with a cheeky look to her. “Let's not gouge the livelihood out of our customers. We START with premium prices, because Virang is suffering, and THEN we lower them. A little bit, just BARELY below our standard. Progressively. Then, we become champions of a better tomorrow, and for all.”

Marceline pursed her lips. "We raise them," she countered, "gradually, as the war effort grinds on and supplies become scarce." She leaned in, "But not really. Technically, we raise them, but we offer nearly constant discounts. Regular price: eight owls. Special price: five owls!" She shrugged. "You're right. We shouldn't gouge people when they're struggling." She shook her head. "So we don't effectively jack up prices for the most part. We just make like we've had to out of necessity but are trying to keep things affordable." She chewed and swallowed the last of her meal. "Makes 'em think they're getting a deal: Patriot Pandes, Oraff's Orredes, Lucky Lepdes. They'll come out in droves when they smell a discount and we look like a good corporate actor."

Marceline paused. "I'm being horrible again, aren't I?" She offered a roguish grin, but there was uncertainty in her eyes.

Zarina laughed devilishly. “You are. But it's a good idea.” things calmed as she finished her meal as well and downed it all with her ice coffee. “It's actually very similar to the first talks we had, y'know? Deals to make people wanna buy, we talked and talked about the best ways to move money from vulnerable purses into ours. It's already been a fucking year.” she shook her head before peering toward her business partner. “With you around, I think we'll manage no matter what the war tosses at us.” she reached out to give Marci a typical big sister head pat that came with a free hair-ruining rub. “Of course, I'm here to keep you honest.”

Marci bore it stoically until her eyes glance up from her unmoving face to shoo Zarina's lingering hand away. "It's crazy, isn't it?" She smiled. "Gods, I dunno what I'd do without you." She shook her head. "You always know how to talk to people. You know so many people, and you manage to do it all while being honest and decent." She lingered a moment before standing. "I'm in awe of you, Zarina." A mischievous grin followed. "When I'm all grown up, I wanna be just like you!" She plunked an incantor down onto the table and stretched, glancing up at the distant clocktower on the far side of the Harbour Gate. "Ready to scarf away some more acorns?"

“Not so sure about decent.” Zarina joked with her head lowered to cast a light shadow on a look that suddenly became hawkish. “Just like I'm about to be not-so-decent at this promotion to mom I'm getting here.” she raised her voice to "scold" Marci. “Become just like me. Hahahaha.” it was all in jolly good fun, in the end.

As they both stood to do their next bit of their work, Zarina stepped forward to embrace Marceline. “No matter how shit turns out, you know you'll always be my precious sister. Alright?” she squeezed before releasing. “Okay, dramatic-romatic-me aside, we do be needing some hoarding. I think Patrick should arrive in ten ...”

Marceline had her game face on by the time that he arrived just slightly ahead of schedule. "Right," she said, with a businesslike nod and a smile. It wasn't like her to get so emotional. She always made poor decisions when she did. "Let's do this."

And 'do this', they did. After Patrick, who was good for fourteen tons, there was Bilal and his forty-seven, and then Consuela with thirty, Marco, who'd haggled for every benny on eighteen, and Kofi, who'd managed to scrounge up eleven. Petronela, who Marci was supposed to have gone to see the next day, was unexpectedly relegated to backup. As Oraff gave way to Eshiran, the pair had - miraculously - secured exactly their stretch goal of two hundred tons, but it was tentative, pending funds and securing their carriers and storage. Marceline didn't want to think about how stretched they were. In between potential suppliers, they'd gone to almost every bank imaginable.

They'd barely even bothered with the Somnians, however, who'd refused them outright, and Garibaldi's Pawn was always going to be a last resort. MBC and the Zenith's Bank had declined them for the riskiness of their venture, as had Bluebell's and the Seafarer's Exchange for the scale of it. Marceline had tried to play up the Kerreman angle with Green Dragon, but they hadn't bought it. Leaving the bank, she'd shaken her head. "Never have looked properly Kerreman, you know." She'd let out an annoyed huff and waved the notion away.

Matters had looked grim until they'd hit pay dirt at the Banque Royale. The vice-chair of the branch had merely steepled his fingers and smiled. "Ah, mademoiselle Nader, mademoiselle Hohenfelter," he'd purred, "I drink your café near every morning." Indeed, there'd been one of their ubiquitous ceramic mugs on his table. Those had become a common sight throughout the city in the year since Zenobucks had commenced operations. "I say you have a winning formula and, if you can navigate this coming Revidien agression, then investing in your venture is... a winning idea for us, n'est-ce pas?" Of course, he'd gone on to speak of the risks. No bank was going to give them too low interest a loan, or too large a loan in this uncertain political climate, but they'd managed to secure two-thirds of what they needed from the Perrench.

That left them slightly short on funds as the sun hung heavy and golden, and Bilal and Consuela were not the sorts to take 'IOUs'. "Well," Marci remarked, "We still have Sealy's and..." She grimaced. "Garibaldi's, though we could try the other branch of MBC!" Both were dressed like proper young businesswomen, but they were, quite frankly, worn out, both physically and mentally, as the size of their gamble began to catch up with them. "Sealy's first?" She did not have high hopes. They usually offered only small and midsized loans, but they were in shipping, which was another problem, and perhaps the amount remaining might just fall within their loaning model? It was that or Garibaldi's, who would almost certainly give them the money, but would append onerous terms to it and, as many whispered, would enforce repayment... vigorously. They could try to return to MBC with their beggar's bowls out, but that was a bad look and being backed by both the Perrench and the Revidians was... risky.

Decisions, decisions. They were very close to completing their blitzkrieg maneuver to secure their future, especially with palpable discontent within the city and a bubble of anger just ready to burst in the coming days. There was no place for half-measures.

“They're going to be firm on a fat rate. And we don't have time to negotiate at this point.” Zarina bit the nail on her thumb. “But I saw we take what they offer.” a loud 'click' came with a pierce of hernail being downright cracked. She was clearly anxious. “I've got a fail-safe. Kinda. My mom. If we really need it.” her idle arm clenched the folders they had accumulated containing quotations, contracts and bills

As the sun began to approach the horizon, they had arrived to their final decision: Sealy's. If there was an establishment they would prefer owing a large interest to, it'd be them. Zarina was far too familiar with the more unsavoury loan shark types. She had absolutely no desire of having them as a first choice.

Sealy's was nearly ready to close for the day, and it was no exaggeration to say that the pair... jogged part of the distance there, employing magic both to boost their speed and keep themselves from looking disheveled. If this entire whirlwind venture had proven immensely stressful, moments like this, oddly, were not. Marceline simply ran, feeling the wind in her hair, the air in lungs, and the folders tucked under her arm wanting to break free and squirt out onto the flagstones. There was so much risk and uncertainty but, for these bare few moments, it felt like an adventure. It felt like she was living the life she'd always hoped for but never thought she might have - a life that could last indefinitely once she ate the apple on her eighteenth birthday - a life that could be free of the tethering. A weird sense of certainty came over the girl and she shot Zarina a big smile as they slowed down and took a moment to clean themselves up before entering the bank. "We got this, habibi." She flicked some hair over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Don't worry."

---

---

At first, the clerks had been less than pleased with their late arrival, but when they'd recognized Zarina and been satisfied that the pair represented a serious business venture, they'd been ushered upstairs, where the manager, Maryanne, had decided to entertain them. She'd even gone so far as to remain after hours on their behalf.

She, too, was in possession of one of those ubiquitous mugs, using it as a makeshift flowerpot on her desktop. Behind her hung a portrait of Isidore Sealy, the famous Enthish shipping magnate and owner of the bank. After initial pleasantries and some discussion of their business plan, the trio got down to the meat of the issue. "You have to understand our hesitancy," the Enthishwoman was saying. "Your venture is promising, but times are uncertain and this falls somewhat outside of our business model." She furrowed her brow, dipping her quill in some ink as she continued to take notes. "You say you've secured your supply, at least in theory?"

Zarina nodded. "They're reliable people. We have written agreements." She was already prepared to produce them.

The manager nodded and raised a hand to forestall the actual handover. "I am going to need to see those and look into their financials." She paused. "as well as yours, out of due diligence, but we'll send your papers off to a printer and you'll retain your originals." She tapped her quill twice on the paper and leaned back in her chair, considering, her expression very much like Mr. Sealy's behind her. "And transport?" she inquired after a moment.

Marci and her partner glanced at each other, the former deciding to take this one. "The majority is accounted for," she assured Maryanne. "Pending a few more discussions with our logistical partners, we expect the rest to come together over the next few days, especially once they see we've secured supply and capital."

Maryanne scowled, unconvinced, and drummed the desktop with her fingers. She paused to consider and the pair knew that things like this were usually not good. Zarina opened her mouth to offer assurances, but she was preempted by the manager. "You will politely inform those you are still waiting for word back from that you have chosen to ship with the Sealy Consortium instead." She tapped her quill twice on her paper, as if rendering it final. "Our fleet arm will be your majority logistical partner for the duration of a five-year fully-binding contract, exact details to be finalized by appointment with my superior in..." She trailed off, consulting a very busy-looking calendar on the wall. "Two months' - No, two and a half months' time." She stood and marked something on her calendar. "On the 25th of Ardanes, to give Pa- Mr. Sealy some lead time."

Marceline's eyes widened and she turned to Zarina wordlessly. This was more than they could've hoped for, but they'd be putting the future of their venture squarely in the hands of a rather predatory Enthish shipping magnate and... the quickly retracted 'Pa' had not gone unnoticed. Maryanne was his... daughter!? "Y-you'll have to understand our need to discuss matters," Marceline replied after a moment of stunned silence. "Of course, Zenobucks will remain wholly owned by its current shareholders." She worked hard to keep the note of uncertainty from her voice.

Maryanne nodded and seated herself again and leaned forward, knitting her fingers together. "Naturally," she agreed. "We're not interested in selling coffee, Miss Hohenfelter." She nodded in Zarina's direction. "Miss al-Nader. Only shipping it, in bulk, to a reliable retail partner with significant potential for expansion." She smiled, and it was neither pleasant nor particularly unpleasant. "Are you such a partner?"

Zarina nodded and so did her partner. "I would imagine we both agree on that," the former replied, "Though, naturally, we will have to conduct our own checks."

"For due diligence," Marceline added.

"You are, of course, welcome and even encouraged to do so," Maryanne assured them. "You will find our financials in order, our carriers are neutral-flagged, and our terms suitably generous." She clasped her hands together. "Our assurances are honest and made in good faith. I do warn you, however," she concluded, "that this is not a negotiation." She pushed the paper she'd been writing on towards them on the desk, and it was all fairly mundane matters, similar to what they'd discussed. "You may accept our terms as written or you can try Garibaldi's" Her smile was pleasant enough, but she was a wolf through and throiugh. Maryanne held her hand out for them to shake on the tentative deal.

Zarina stared at the hand presented to her. She instinctively reached for a shisha pipe to her right, a typical behaviour she had when discussing business in a more relaxed setting. It was her tell - a sign that she was about to make an offer of her own. “One month and a half.” she stated, firmly. “Time is too valuable of a commodity to waste, especially now. If we're going to have such a tight venture, then we expect you to be fully on-board with the aggressive strategy we've proposed.”

Zarina looked to her business partner with a slight smile. “If we can agree on that, then I don't foresee any issues. And you've seen our expansion plans for countries such as Enth in the very near future. Less-than-a-year near if we're all in on this with alacrity.”

Maryanne scowled. "I'm not certain you understand, so I'm going to make matters clearer: that is Mr. Sealy's earliest availability, and he will want final say on this deal." She started to draw her hand back. "While we understand the urgent nature of your venture, we have to work within the constraints we're given." She looked disappointed.

Then, Marceline darted in and took the hand before it fell away. "We accept, of course," she replied. "As my partner has already made clear." They shook, tentatively, as Marci shot Zarina an apologetic look. "But perhaps we could pen a short-term agreement - a sort of test run - to cover the time until your senior is able to attend?"

The manager pursed her lips. "In theory, I'm open to it." She sat back down and reached into the desk cabinet to pull out a boilerplate agreement. "I will need both of your written consent, of course, and that will be binding."

The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm.

Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”

The woes of working with partially delegated responsibility. It was the price for their haste and Zarina was clearly not the most eager to work through layers. But it was necessary. The taller girl shook just as did Marceline. “I can agree to this as well.” she replied with some conjured up enthusiasm. Marceline was to sign first, but both would take a thorough look at their trial-period engagement. “My colleagues in the industry always spoke highly of Sealy's when times were uncertain. Back when the Sea Fox had her way with the Ensollian waters.” Zarina's manufactured enthusiasm become something more genuine as she seized the pen when her turn came to sign. “I'm looking forward to meeting the man himself.”

Ten minutes had passed and Marceline was skipping, springing high up into the air with each step. "We did it!" she proclaimed boldly, landing nimbly and spinning a half-pirouette. Her dress flared out around her like a daffodil. "You and me, suunei! We fucking did it!" She waved the paper about and held it out towards Zarina. "It should probably go in the folder now," she self-corrected, straightening out a battered corner. "Before it goes 'poof!' just like all our money!"

Zarina was a little more composed than her younger equal. Still, her bright and wide smile said it all. She was quick to swipe the paper from Marceline and shove it into the plethora of paperwork they had accumulated. “That we did, suunei. Now we just gotta actually enforce this shit. Chances are we'll need to grease up some more wheels.” she remarked with healthy pessimism but a whole lot of optimism sprinkled in as well. “'Our' money?” she snorted. “I've got an old Varennes we can pop open tonight, before we get our guests to talk about the whole Penny thing. Figured we treat ourselves for once.”

"Okay, okay!" Marceline relented, "Poof like their money!" She returned to skipping, hair bouncing merrily as she went. "And poof like our entire futures if we lose their money!" She half-spun and smiled. "Livin' on the edge," she exclaimed, "but we've got this." She shook her head. "I dunno why, but I just think we really do." She took a deep breath and rushed back to grab hold of Zarina's hands. "This is the start of it all," she promised, not yet having come down from her high. The sun was vast and golden now, headed for the jagged horizon of rooftops and spires that was Ersand'Enise.

"And as for your wine," she replied, "You bring Ayla - because it just isn't a party without her." Marci winked mischievously. "I just might be coaxed to wait before heading to Méatu and not -"

POOF!

Just like that, Marceline was gone.

Zarina’s Shitlist

Record of people that really managed to piss me off. There are different degrees of ‘shit’, but if you got here, you must’ve really fucked up. Reading this list without my approval will also earn you a spot here. Fuck you.

The Shittiest Shitbags

• Augusto Frannem-ass - You made me kill people for whatever sick gain of yours. How much more of a piece of worthless garbage do you have to be to use me like that. I don’t wish death on many, but I definitely do so to you. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU!!!!!!

The Shitty dirtbags

• Trypano Something - It’s bad enough that you just bite people’s fingers off, but you’d let my friend Yuliya die for a quick buck too?! And THEN you have the fucking nerve to appeal to my sensitivities with that slime being ALIVE?! What about my friend?! Piece of unlikable trash. FUCK YOU.
• Fiske Fagtraut - I have no idea what she sees in you. But I dislike you. I know you fucked up and she paid for it. You’re on thin ice. I know you steal shit from my house too. FUCK YOU.
• Yvain Bitchnon - You owe me a lot. You’re staying here until you pay me back. Also, we all saw you side with that thing like the flaccid lesser man you are. And to think you’re gonna lead our biggest ally someday. FUCK YOU.
• Arch Bitch Al-ASS-a - You cause a deadly mess and slap my teacher? Fuck off, I don’t care how prestigious you are. You’ve then imprisoned my friend and tried to fuck our moment of unity. I hate you with all my heart. FUCK YOU.

The Shitters

• Ingy Sea Giant - I never had a real problem with you, but you are one terrible decision maker. You wave some demon around and help these shitty fuckers nearly kill me and my friend. I thought better of you. Fuck you.
• Desmond - This broke my heart. I don’t care how much you were keen on turning on that thing, you risked my life and the life of my friend for material goods. I would never do that to any of you, or even people I don’t know. I don’t understand. I need to understand. Fuck you.
• Patrick Peacock - You think I don’t realise you’re shorting me on those sugar deliveries? You condescending fuck. But your time’s coming, bud. It’ll be glorious. Fuck you.

One Special Person

It had been a long and arduous day. Business deals were made, slimes nearly killed her friend and friendships were forged. And yet Zarina’s journey was over. The hours of Dami blindsided Zarina with her Zenobucks outlet closing right as she was inclined to get another drink.

Time flew. And the imminent departure of the person she thought she had formed a special connection with hit her like a sack of bricks. Deep down, she hoped this chaotic day would never end.

She brought home leftover pastries and quickly made tuna pizza from the dough she had prepared in the early morning. It wasn't great pizza, but it was edible. The dough was a tad overcooked. Zarina, on the other hand, was undercooked. Little effort was put into looking fabulous. It was beyond her ability to look as fresh as a first date to someone she knew top to bottom quite thoroughly already. Except for the hair, always silky smooth and brushed beforehand with a bow to keep some more rebellious locks together.

Alone, in her room with the animals penned in Ayla’s room, she waited to have a final moment with Miret without any interruption. The pizza was on a towel draped over her bed, like a picnic but indoors.

Everything was just right to make a pleasant final date, but how was she actually going to say goodbye? How could she truly articulate what she felt? Was it wrong that she wanted more than just being another lover in the harem? The overthinking and stress caused Zarina to bite through the left thumb’s nail until she reached the corner.

"Hey luuchy," came a soft voice, and Miret appeared, hanging upside-down through her open window. "Trying to stoke my appetite, are you?" She hopped through the window, landing in a crouch, and took two steps toward Zarina, already reaching out to heal the damage.

Zarina deep dive in her thoughts left her vulnerable to a quick startle. “Luuchy yourself, Luuchy.” she extended her hand that needed healing, and then reached for Miret's once the deed was done. “I figured my lure would work. You underestimated me, Daring-one.” she winked as she seized a slice of pizza with her idle hand, folded it and hovered it close to the Yasoi's mouth. “Bet they don't make pizza with my special ingredient back in Tarlon.”

"I wouldn't be so sure," Miret replied, before taking a bite. "Cal can find just about anything, you know." She chewed a bit, positively unladylike as she continued. "So, what is it?" She smiled coyly. "Love?"

Zarina tried to stifle her grin and failed pretty handily. “Nooooooo ...” her legs swung restlessly as the answer took its time to come. “It's ...” after a brief staring contest she giggled. “Okay, yeah, it's love. Screw you for making it suck now.” she took a hearty bite herself.

“What's up with that Cal guy anyway?” Zarina inquired, barely concealing her distaste over the mention of another individual in Tarlon. “Isn't he, like, the guy that was selling drugs during the fights?”

Miret sighed. "Yeah, he's one of those Luuntese 'providers'." She shrugged. "He has his place, I guess." She took a few more bites, eagerly. "But he can't make a buudvuud like you can." The statement came with a smile and a giggle. "Luuchy, this is fuckin' delicious. Can you just like... cook for me forever?" The smile went from mirthful to appreciative, and then it fell away. "I love you." She glanced down at the food, or maybe just her lap, and then up at Zarina with an uncharacteristic shyness.

Zarina perked up, her heart skipping a beat. “Really? I thought I overcooked it and ...” her nervous ticks flared along with her muttering that spoke over Miret's words, or rather given how quiet she had gotten, were more so in the background.

“I-I ...” it felt unreal. The butterflies in her stomach were poised to make her cough out her pizza with how intense they were. Needless to say, she was flushed. “I love you too. Fuck.” she reached for both of Miret's hands and possessively clenched. “I love you. So. Much.”

It was her turn to look up to her lover with watery and pleading eyes. “Don't go.” she begged with a mousy voice, but one that didn't stutter or show any hesitation. “Please.”

A tear rolled, unbidden, down Miret's cheek. "Godsdammit, Luuchy." It dripped onto the pizza, wet and salty and soaking in. "I'm trying to eat here." Her voice was small, though, lacking most of its usual puckishness. She forced herself to swallow, put the pizza down, and leaned in wordlessly to simply embrace Zarina. That was all that she wanted to do. She didn't know why, but it was all that she could think of, even if it wasn't enough.

Zarina held for dear life, perhaps a bit too hard at some point, with her face dug into Miret's shoulder. She let the whimpers come out first before saying anything else. “Stay.” she pleaded again. “Don't go-” another invited sob nearly had her swallow her word. “-back.” the less experienced of the two swallowed in an attempt to compose herself. “I'll love you forever. And never let you get hurt.” she whispered by Miret's long ear she loved to nibble. “So you won't live this long life alone.”

Miret managed to separate to arms' length. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Quietly, one of her hands slid from Zarina's shoulder and pressed itself to her heart. "I never will," she said with all the gravity and solemness that befit an unshakeable promise. "I'll always be in there and you'll always be in here." Her other hand pressed itself to her heart. "But that's..." She shrugged weakly. "Shitty, empty stuff and it fades over time and distance." She regarded Zarina, eyes wide open, even if they were puffy and red-rimmed. "I won't always be here, but I'll always be in your life and, if you'll have me, you'll always be in mine."

Miret sniffed and gathered herself a bit. "This stupid war won't kill me. I know it and, if it does, Tyrel will move heavens and earth to bring me back. That's how she is." There was a deep breath, as if she had decided on a path. "You're good and honest and smart and beautiful and I would never hurt you so help me Ypti, cross my heart." She made the gesture with her free hand. "But I want you to live. I know you don't like our Tarlonese way, but here I am: Tarlonese. Don't pine for me. Don't set things or people aside. I'll always be yours even if I'm not there at the moment. I'll be yours for as long as both of us last, okay?"

Zarina shivered. Miret's words did little to pacify the tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked away, unwilling to accepted the vague notions of the heart and memories bound to fade. Until Miret echoed exactly what was ringing in her head. Zarina was blurry, but knew her crying lover was there. She reached out to cup the Yasoi's wet cheek, lovingly stroking it with her thumb. “Gods, I love you.” she uttered with a near muted voice.

“I-” Zarina chuckled nervously, sniffling intensely. “I dunno about smart, I did fall for a Tarlonese.” she jested and nodded at her lover's proposition. “I want you in my life, Miret.” she spoke with great clarity as the tears dried on her face and the sobs died down. “But I'm a greedy, greedy girl. An avaricious little dragon.” her hand reached for Miret's nape to tug her a little closer. “I wanna be that one person ...” she whispered as if she was confessing a secret. “That one only person that makes you heart skip a beat like you do mine. Me,” she leaned in closer, lips so closer to the other's. “and me alone.”

She stopped right before their lips met. “But I know I can't. I-I know.” she began to tear up again. “I'll be sad. For a bit. But I'll survive, just like you.” she forced a smile, one that tried to radiate some confidence. “And I'll see you again, and we can try this again. No War. No fucking Tarlon. No fucking hating myself over loving. Just us.”

There it was: the forbidden bit at the end: No fucking Tarlon. Miret swallowed. She often felt the same way. While Chad had always been a believer in the cause - or was it ironic in his sometimes infuriating manner - and Tyrel's grievances were kept mostly private and released only in little bursts of annoyance, Miret had often found herself questioning and straying.

That was... until Solcuura. Until Sairax'Solcuun and what she had seen at the palace: the casual decadence and cruelty of the royals, how most of the ruling class had simply used their money and power to flee and become parasites elsewhere, how the Queen, herself, had threatened to blow the towers and wipe out half of the city unless she was allowed to walk free. She had heard Chad's recollection of how the death ray had been modified to turn on the city if need be. She had walked the streets and witnessed for herself the dark dens and the rot, the slavery, the exploitation, the blinding of timewalkers and their use as mules for others' addiction. She had seen it all and her certainty that her people were wrong had wavered. Tarlon did not keep slaves. Tarlon did not blind timewalkers. Tarlon did not allow the consumption of aberrations except by express permission of the people's councils.

She said nothing of that, though. She didn't want any conflict now. She still didn't trust her leaders. Likely, they were doing this for their own reasons. Life was not the luminous, wonderful thing she'd thought it was as a child, venturing through forests and ruins with Tyrel, Chad, Velani, and Ashon. People in power exploited. People in power lied. Then, she caught herself. "Hey, bucko," she griped, after a long moment had passed. "I happen to live there, ya know." She wiped some tears away, and did the same for Zarina's. "But this pizza recipe, I want it. I'll cook it for myself and Chad and Tyrel and it'll remind me of you, okay?" She nodded encouragingly, partly to convince herself. "It'll remind me of you until all this bullshit blows over and we can be us, again: just us." She lifted it to her mouth, stained with tears and all, and took another bite. "Cold and extra salty," she laughed. "Mmm mmm!"

But would you still love what I'd become after so much time and distance? Zarina thought just as she expressed her wishes. She was convinced this had gone beyond a honeymoon phase, that it was genuine. And yet, by the nature of what they both were and the state of their worlds, she could only begin to doubt. Would I love you?

“Okay, I didn't mean it like that.” Zarina conceded with a hint of a more genuine smile one her. “Fuck our countries for keeping us apart. Fuck 'em for making love so complicated ...” she snuggled up to the pizza-enjoying Miret, seeking her warmth one last time. “Mmm. Look up mozzarella and marinate some tuna in veggie oil. That's it. Oh and overcook it. And love, don't forget loads o' love.” she looked up and stole a bite from the Yasoi's slice. “Now I need something to remember you by. And I'm almost out of sex-lettuce.” she grinned like a fox before going for another bite, but this time on her lover's jawline.

“I meant it, though,” she looked up with wide, adoring eyes and a slightly deeper voice than her normal - a result from all the sobbing. “if we wanna try this again later ... I wanna be the one. Not just another one.” she clammed up, hesitating to ad one final bit. “See me like Tyrel sees that beautiful boy. Chad, right?”

It was all going well. It was painful, but it was right. Miret could feel it. "I shall commit the recipe to heart, even the extra crispiness from my crispy lil' fucker here."

She smiled softly, but then came the part at the end, and her heart tightened. She looked down, not trusting herself to meet Zarina's eyes. "Luuchy, no," she squeaked. "Please no. Don't ask that of me." She swallowed, threading her fingers nervously together. "It is the giving and receiving of Ypti's pleasure, freely and joyously among the community, that keeps us together, and people want me. They... need me." Abruptly, she hugged her knees together. "You are my luush'elar. You are the one my heart beats for, but I cannot deny the simple and necessary pleasures of Ypti to others when they are mine to give." She brought her brows together, concerned, the taste of burnt pizza still sooty in her mouth.

This was not what Zarina wanted to hear. But it was also what she expected. She wondered why she even bothered, and her heart knew why. She hoped to be the exception of a cardinal rule Miret's people lived by. There would be nothing more special. She was genuinely selfish in this very moment, beyond the perspective of a Tarlonese, by putting this on her lover. She knew this, but she also needed it.

With a clenched jaw, Zarina kept her piece. She wanted to be mad and call out this supposed "necessity". Had she fucked anyone else in her soirée? Did unity and friendship require the most intimate and raw pleasures? Passion and sadness were melding with a growing frustration she couldn't air out and it was asphyxiating.

“I need you ...” she muttered under her breath.

She shook her head, resolved to not make this more painful than it already was. She reached out for Miret's hand to tug it off her knee and squeezed. “It's okay.” she leaned in to press her lips upon the Yasoi's forehead. “I'm sorry. Being your luush'elar ... Is enough.” It was enough, for now, but she wasn't cruel enough to add that final bit. She shot a reassuring smile. “I suppose your one special girl being a Huusoi is already a pretty big thing, huh?”

A thought just hit Zarina as she wordlessly hopped off her bed and dug an ornate, five-inch high wooden box from a closet. Inside was a black egg with scale-like patterns on the shell. Cupping it with both hands, she offered it to Miret. “Keep it with you, it's kinda hard to break.” she nodded to ensure it was okay to take. “I'll be with you, in a way. And when danger finds you alone, eat it.” her hands slid over Miret's once she'd taken it and closer them around the Primordial Egg, for her to keep.

Miret hadn't expected any lashing out, but she'd prepared for it anyhow. It was moments like this one that reminded her of how different they were: of how doomed this all was. She swallowed, painfully, about to speak and fill the silence, but then Zarina did, and she listened. "You are a pretty big thing," She admitted in return, managing a teasing smirk.

But then it had come time for gifts. She cradled the strange egg, knowing what it was. "So this is what dragons..." She trailed off and grinned. "You are just the best thing ever." She held it to her heart. "I will always treasure it," she promised. "I will never lose it," she swore. "And when I'm totally up shit creek at some point and about to die and not be bailed out by Tyrel again, I might even use it." She leaned in close. "And I won't be as far away as you think, you know." She winked. "Trust me. Okay?"

[BlackRoseSiren]

Aftermath of the City Burning and Meeting Lunara

Place: The Ever Tree
Time: Evening

When the groups of students finally got back and had helped to heal as many Zenos as they could, Esmii overheard a group of people mention that The Ever Tree where she lives had been one of the many places affected by the attacks. Her heart began to race as she feared the worst, even though her and Sven’s little animals were at Sven’s home, but she was still very worried.

She searched around and, on finding Sven, quickly ran over to him and tried to explain what she had heard. "Sven, I need to get to the Ever Tree. I heard it was one of the places that was hit by the attack. I’m going straight there to help heal people and see the damage. Do you want to accompany me or meet me there in a short while?" She said this while she frantically looked around.

”Whoa whoa whoa!” he replied, the words tumbling out of him just as they’d tumbled out of her. ”It’sh not too bad,” he assured her quickly. ”I think they managed to shave it, but there’sh damage.” He shook his head. ”I still have to help shtabilize the tower. That thing fallsh and it takes three blocksh of houshesh with it.” He bit his lip, peering about to see if there was anyone else he knew or trusted nearby. ”Shtick to the plan, okay? I’ll meet up with you ash shoon ash I can. I love you.” He paused, squeezing her extra tight before letting go. ”And don’t go alone.” He scowled. ”You never know, okay?”

Esmii smiled, and in his embrace she took a deep breath, to calm herself down. "I feel calmer now, thank you, my love, I will be careful and I promise, I won't go alone. Promise me that you will be careful as well." placing a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes. She rose onto her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. ”I Love you too.” she said softly to him.

Lunara, on hearing their conversation, made her way to the cute couple. She cleared her throat and said. "Hello, My name is Lunara Agha, I am one of the people who helped to defend the Ever Tree. If you want I can accompany you, until your boyfriend is free to join you?."

Esmii on hearing Lunara’s voice, she looks in her direction, smiles and says. "Nice to meet you Lunara, I am Esmii and this is Sven. I believe I have seen you around, but never spoken to you. Thank you for helping to protect the Ever Tree, and Yes if it’s not too much trouble for you, I would appreciate it."

Lunara smiled at the little Yasoi girl. "It’s no trouble at all, as I also want to see how everything is there, as I had to leave before I was finished helping."

Esmii excitedly walked over to the girl and hugged her, when she realised what she did, she stopped and stepped back from the girl. "Lunara I am so sorry, being a Yasoi I tend to get too excited and hug people a lot, but I should have asked, since we have only now properly met."

Lunara started to laugh. "It’s ok Esmii, I don’t mind being hugged. Well should we set off. And don’t worry Sven, I will keep an eye on her, until you meet up with us." Lunara then turned back to Esmii and said. "Let's get going then, I will follow your lead as I can’t remember how to get there."

Esmii looked back at Sven, she then smiled and blew him a kiss."I will be careful, please be careful as well. See you soon." she then turned to Lunara. "Yes, let's head there now. We can go this way. I will try not to walk too fast."

The two of them set off for The Ever Tree. Being very careful, as they were worried that someone or something could attack at any moment. They had many conversations while they made their way to the Ever tree, about their pets, the courses they were taking part in, their hobbies, about their friends and families. They enjoyed each other's company. Maybe they both found a new friend amidst this chaos.

Esmii was able to lead the two of them to the Ever tree quite quickly, with a few small dentures as a few of the ways Esmii knew were blocked with debris, however they got there in the end. On arriving they both noticed a few groups, some were clearing the debris and others were trying to help the people who had been injured.

The first thing Esmii did was look at the Ever Tree, and she noticed that what Sven said was true, it had taken damage but not too bad. ”Ruii joi Damy (Bless you Dami)“ She mumbled with relief in her tone as she was worried about the area. She then began to help the people around, She knew she needed to be careful as she had healed and buffed her group, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her.

She then thought Suuluun (Sorry) Sven I know you will be mad at me for overusing my magic, but I need to heal these people. She made her way to the group of people where Lunara was already, She then grabbed a hair tie from her bag and put her hair into a ponytail, and began to heal people. She knelt down next to a small Yasoi girl and asked."Oira hyco yr, eloi ciin joi diidolrey? (Hello little one, where are you uncomfortable?)"

On arriving Lunara walked straight over to the injured people and began to heal as many as she could. She knew she couldn’t heal a lot of them as she was tired and her binding isn’t great. She looked at the group of people and said. "Ok who needs to be healed, Me and my friend Esmii can help you, but please be patient."

After healing a few people, Lunara decided to take a small break, however she noticed Esmii wasn’t taking any breaks. She saw that she was healing person after person, and she could tell that Esmii was tired. "Hey Esmii, are you sure you can heal all of these people? You look tired, you should take a rest, before you do more. I don’t think Sven will be happy that you are pushing yourself."

Esmii looked at her, acknowledging what she said. "I will take a break soon, but I need to help these people first. They got hurt because of the stupidity and anger of others. I can’t just sit back and rest, these people didn’t do anything, they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She started to remember a memory from her past, but she shook her head and thought. Now is not the time for this. Focus on healing people. You can rest later, I wasn’t here to help these people before, but I am now. She then continued to help, heal and bandage the injured people that were around her.

Lunara frowned on hearing Esmii’s response, Lunara knew this was bad, and that she would not be able to carry on much longer. Lunara thought. I hope Sven arrives soon, I feel like you are the only person that she might listen to, or the only one who can stop her now.

Just as she was thinking, Lunara noticed Sven was slowly making his way over. Lunara decided to meet him, before he reached where they were as she wanted to tell him what's happening. "Hello again Sven. We managed to get here with no problems. But." She took a breath and looked in Esmii's direction, then continued. "Esmii has healed a lot of people, but she refuses to rest, and she looks like she will drop at any moment. I am worried about her. I feel like right now, you may be the only person that can get through to her."

Sven had a feeling that his beloved wouldn't just sit by. He kinda expected this. He scratched the back of his head. ”Thank you Lunara.” feeling fatigue starting to set in, letting out a small yawn.”I can take her back to mine. It's been a long night and both of us need to resht.” with that, he walked to his beloved.

Esmii was so focused on helping people, she didn’t realise Sven had arrived and that Lunara was telling him what she was doing. Suddenly Esmii began to feel lightheaded and started to have problems with her balance, and knew she wouldn’t be able to carry on much longer. So she sat on the ground and rested her back against a tree that was close to the lake, she then glanced up at the night sky and at the lake, and said to herself.

"Dii (No) not now. I need to keep going, I can’t stop now." She clenched her dress in her fists, and sighed out of frustration. She knew that she shouldn’t push herself but she wanted to carry on helping people as she couldn’t help them before. She was so lost in her thoughts and in the lovely sights of the lake and night sky, she didn’t notice footsteps from someone getting closer to her.

With her being distracted, it was easy for the giant Eskand to walk up to his girlfriend. And in one fluent motion he scooped her up in his arms. ”Shweetie, You've done enough you are exhaushted.” turning on his heels, walking off, bridal carrying Esmii. ”Letsh head back to mine. Sho we can get a good resht.” tightening his grip on Esmii's frame.

Esmii suddenly realising she was picked up, she looked and noticed it was Sven. "Sven you startled me." On hearing what he had to say to her, she rested her head on his chest, sighed and said. "Ok my love, you are right. Let's head back to yours. I have done all I can, Sorry for overdoing it again." While she was in Sven’s embrace, on feeling his warmth and the sound of his heart beat, the little Yasoi girl slowly fell asleep in his arms.

Upon realising that Esmii had fallen asleep, Sven smiled and gave her a kiss on her forehead. ”Shleep well my love.”

Fin

[Suicharte]

Opportunity Knocks... or Doesn't

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Characters: Cal'tuuro'jaros, Johann Steinbauer@Force and Fury

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♫

The others were busy having their revolution and, in principle, Johann supported them, just not... in action. He had bigger fish to fry.

"I am telling you, moila, the good stuff is up and not down. I have it on a very reliable source." When the door wouldn't open and the only traps he sensed were mundane, Johann gathered up a great deal of magnetic energy and... a few turns to the right, one to the left, slide the bar... CLICK!

He grinned wickedly. "All of this good stuff," he crowed, "that they keep under lock and key, is now ours, as all magical knowledge should be." Perhaps it was just Johann's revolutionary spirit that caused him to speak thusly. He was... animated by the zeitgeist. What could he say?

The door slid open with the slightest creak, revealing the most comically nefarious of shadows: tall and lean, shorter (though still not short) and round. The latter cast about for further security measures but - wasn't it beautiful? - all of the people who warded this place were rather busy at the moment. "Let there be light!" He kickstarted a few chemical reactions and the lanterns flickered to life.

Like a child who'd pried open the honey jar, Johann tiptoed into the room, still paranoid, but increasingly eager with each passing moment. It was here! It was all here: Temporal, Dark, Blood, Deep Atomic, Command, Primordial, though the last two sparingly! Johann licked his fingertips and reached eagerly for his first prize.

Cal had his own goals in here and the Kerreman did not begrudge him those. It was an alliance of mutual convenience. There could be no... achieving positive goals for... the world without breaking a few rules, after all.

Cal'tuuro'jaros was not one to show emotions in their fullest extent. Perhaps he may have went a little over the top when playing a part, but in this moment, he felt true, ecstatic glee. Johann was a man of the sciences, one of unique principles and actions that resonated with him. At least, as far as he could tell about him. The conversations they'd shared seemed to suggest as such, but oftentimes in life, people wear masks.

In this instance, the masks were off. The two were as open as a book about their intentions to dive deep into topics well hidden, and with the benefit of mutually assured destruction, they were perhaps allowed to be their unfiltered selves for a little bit.

"As it should be, Moila. Better in the hands of respected scholars and providers to the community, than to tyrants or an angry mob!" he joyously looked around the room. There was still the caution of traps, as the zenos were fond of, but he found it hard to imagine they'd put something that could risk work as precious as this.

As Johann reached for his prize, Zeno Cyrus McGillicuddy's Treatise on Pocket Dimensions, he shot an interested gaze. The idea of wanting a personal space told him much - but he had something else on his brain. He reached for a couple of books that he sought knowledge from - two that he stuffed inside a bag for later reading and one that he began to read in the moment, looking eagerly for something he'd heard rumors of

"Say, Johann, my good man. The knowledge of the schools is bound to be excellent, and this research will surely further our work..." he paused, and evaluated. To say what was on his mind was a risky proposition, and it was a pure fifty-fifty that his read was right. He hated gambling. But, there was true potential for exponential growth here, and he had been shown that taking calculated risks could sometimes have colossal payoff.

"What if there was a faster way? he grinned wickedly, genuinely in fact, holding a particular book written by the late Paradigm, on a page related to the pinnacle of chemical magic - something that was practically in reach by both, so long as they helped each other and his assessment of the portly Kerreman was correct.

Johann furrowed his brow and shuffled inward. His eyes flicked back and forth across the page. "What if... He bit his lower lip and bade Cal turn the page already! "This," he murmured, "is ground breaking stuff." He twisted to regard Cal for a moment, eyes lighting up with almost-childish glee. "Think of all the stability we could provide: so many needs and fears erased just like that!" He nodded along as he read and, perhaps, his curious nature even rivaled that of Cal's. Yasoi were known to lose themselves in pursuits like this, even Tarlonese.

Then, from somewhere far too close for comfort, he heard a thump. People were rushing up the stairs: perhaps past the two pilferers and perhaps through the same doors that they'd entered. Johann's eyes widened and he reached out with his energetic sense. No: not this time, but the danger was very much present. "I suggest we might read these in safer environs. We should abscond with our prize before it gets too hot." He hustled over to a nearby shelf on Chemical magic, one on Temporal, and one on Blood, and slid the choicest texts into first one bag and then the other. "Time to liberate some knowledge."

Cal looked curiously at the man's reaction. To think that his read was right - that this man was a kindred spirit. He was glad he'd picked him to come along and not another. People like Tku were certainly a grade above the average Yanii - but if he'd read the mans words in writing, he could have easily mistaken him for a member of his own kin. "I couldn't agree more, my good friend. As we prosper, so shall our communities." he spoke in earnest glee, nodding as their eyes met in mutual understanding and agreement.

And Johann deliberated his warning. His heart pounded a little faster in his chest, as to be caught in the midst of their scheme here would spell disaster. But, as he would suggest, a flight response is often better than a fight, especially dealing with the monsters in these corridors. So he followed the instruction of Johann. Several different books were shoved into his own collection of bags, including several notes personally written by Hugo Hunghorasz, Adradelle Latvar, Giacomo the Owl, and a number of the books of forbidden schools that he'd taken particular interest in.

"I do believe we've scored ourselves quite a haul, my good friend. Now, should we indulge in the fruits of our liberation? It would be a waste to not experiment and make the best of such unfortunate circumstances" he spoke with a wide smile, a sense of the unbridled yasoi curiosity he normally kept bundled away coming through in his tone

Johann was surprisingly quick - he was not the sort of man one usually thought of as such. He chose five tomes - one for each of the gods, and made haste for the exit. Then, he froze. He froze and his eyes flicked Cal's way. "We go out there, we're found out, I think." He cursed beneath his breath: "Schiesse I'm not losing my mind, correct? You sense them too?" The revolution had arrived, or perhaps just some unfortunate souls. There were more of those infernal clones of the Zenith and someone was fighting them.

here wasn't much chance for conversation at this point - the risky maneuver they'd pulled had immediate consequences as the revolution was fully underway at this point, and he didn't need Johann's reassurance to feel it. He'd left manas behind to detect entry, and it was clear as day there were multiple powerful signatures around them - a battle between the strong and no real way to escape unscathed. He grit his teeth in frustration - there was only one way out. "You're not crazy. But there's only one way out." and then there was a pause. "They're fighting, though. An ample opportunity to slip by." he gave him a look of confidence, as if this was there shot, and prepared to sneak by. So long as they didn't have to fight, no-one would know they'd been here.

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The battle that followed was intense. The moment they'd stepped back out into the hall of this place, there was clear combatants. One, two, no... three variations of the Zenith Claresse Upta were currently engaged in battle with Tan-Zeno Klesta Hannevor. And as sneaky as they tried to be with the magics they possessed, it was not enough to trick a combatant of that level, engaged in a fight to the death with opponents at her level or stronger. She did not turn to regard them but shouted out, relief resounding through her voice "Thank god tha cavalries arrived! Give me a hand 'ere!" she shouted, deflecting a blood spell from a maddened clone of the Zenith and responding with an arcane lance of her own.

Cal spared a quick glance at Johann to indicate that he had absolutely no intention of sticking around to help this woman. She was a loose end, and were she not in the midst of life or death, perhaps she'd realize immediately where they'd come from. It only took that thought for him to also realize that - perhaps they'd better make themselves sparse before they were recognized. He hesitated to speak before the Tan-Zeno spoke again, this time far more insistent. "Interesting direction ya came from, help me out and I'll turn a blind eye, c'mon!" she shouted, throwing more defensive magics out to resist the horde. She seemed to be truly desperate at this point

They'd had very little time to process the information they'd read in the library, and even a three versus three as this was, it was far from a fair match. They were only students, after all, right? Still, he figured that sometimes, taking a risk was worthwhile. Especially for an opportunity like this. He thought back to the passages he'd read - thousands of words in his head as he attempted to find the right ones. The theoretical school was too risky. The other one... there wasn't nearly enough, and his mind went back to what he was familiar with - blood. There was a spell that Giacomo the Crow had written about in his personal memoires that had phenomenal potential. It was, of course, a spell of the forbidden magics that could hold vast consequence from being used. Regardless, he took the gamble and attempted to unleash it.

The effects towards one of the charging Upta's was... not pretty. Truth be told, it was the first time that Cal had truly killed somebody. He'd done so in Mano-e-Mano, but even in Mandelein where his mettle had truly been tested, he had settled for putting the wildbloods to sleep. And yet, he couldn't find himself feeling much as the body of said Upta was torn to ribbons, imploding from the inside out. He spared only a glance at Johann, and then at Hannevor as the viscera covered his clothing just from the splashback.

Within 5 seconds, another explosion of gore occurred, but it wasn't his doing, nor was it the Zenos. And it wasn't at the Upta still channeling the spell toward Klesta. He turned again and saw that she was still deep in concentration, somewhat shocked at what had occurred. One look at Johann was all he needed to decipher that it was him. An instantaneous copying of magic of that level. And such precise target selection - it was only then that Cal realized that this Yanii possessed talent potentially beyond his own.

You're terrifying, Steinbauer. Terrifying and brilliant.

His thought was cut short as the atomic spell was unleashed toward the Tan-Zeno, right as a combined assault had managed to rid the world of a third Upta. But they'd simply acted too late..

Klesta Hannevor lay before them, on death's doorstep, and Johann scowled. "It appears the unforeseen has come to pass," he remarked, standing over her crumpled form. It was a grim sight and he let out a sigh and shook his head. "A shame, truly, wouldn't you say?" He glanced over at Cal, lips pressed together in a thin line, and then at their bags, thrown hastily into an alcove and - only by the grace of Ahn-Shune and some defensive spells - saved. His face settled on a determined look, bu tthere was something else in it: something eager and wild and difficult to place. "But... mayhaps, Gods willing, not all need be lost?"

[Emeth]

The Price of Memories, a Renewal of the Soul

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The Death Merchant

A Fond Farewell (New Forum Content)

"My best friend's fiance is with child, Ciro. I can't stay idle and let this injustice go on any longer; I'm going to rescue her. Don't worry about me and protect our assets from these criminals, okay?" She caressed his cheek and gave him a peck on the lips, daring not to linger a moment longer, lest he convince her to stay. "I don't plan on fighting the Zenith. Besides, a goddess couldn't kill me. What chance does she have?" She flashed a cheeky grin.

Outside, students were preparing to storm the Violet Enclave. Xiuyang was relieved to see Tku, the artist who'd painted her new favorite work of all time, safe and sound and handing out mana-enhancing drinks. A particularly potent one caught her keen eyes, and with that, she was drawing energy in the 9 RAS range. She had equipped all of her gear for this mission, and between her three weapons, she chose the concealable flintlock pistols rather than either of the standout polearms. She expected to be absorbed into some kind of stealth unit as usual, but to her surprise, Edyta Laska pulled her aside and asked her to join the Longsword group, a second unit of heavy hitters. This caught her by surprise, both to have her strength acknowledged, and to have Laska of all people be the one to recognize it. Without thinking too hard about the consequences, she agreed.

The Violent Enclave (A Fleshed-Out Powder Keg Summary)

As some students had taken to calling it—once the mercenaries were called upon to attack the students—was their target. Wave upon wave of them came, but the Longsword group, consisting of Edyta Laska, Xiuyang, Ashon, Ingrid and Tommy broke through them with ease. While Xiuyang froze her enemies in place or knocked them out with chemical magic, Laska cut them down without mercy. It felt strange, fighting alongside her in a sort of anti-establishment revolution, with neither one judging the other. Perhaps Ahn-Eshiran had brought the two closer on some spiritual level. She briefly wondered if Laska felt the same.

Again and again, Xiuyang cast spells on the razor's edge of her knowledge as a mage. She failed more often than she succeeded, but Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers absorbed her energies and ensured that nothing was wasted on these lesser opponents. This would prove critical as the golems came into view, along with the leader of the mercenaries, Aras'thazan'in'tiimithal, the Burning Star of Yarsoc—not that the silent elder introduced himself as such. While he and Ingrid were locked in combat, Xiuyang was consistently harassed by the golems. Again, it seemed as if she had been identified as some weak link. The whole ordeal was beginning to piss her off, but she was holding her own.

She attempted to heal Laska, but her hands trembled uncontrollably as she felt the immense power of the mercenary leader blow Tommy away. "Cazzo," she cursed under her breath, shaking as she repeated the attempt while the chaos unfolded around her. Laska said nothing, and patiently waited for Xiuyang to finish her work. Then, she assessed the situation: Ashon needed healing now. It was all Xiuyang could do—to defend herself against attacks and move fluidly from one healing target to the next. Her strength, for whatever it was worth, was only buying her opportunities to keep her allies in fighting shape.

Then, the Doom golem suddenly approached her, and she was caught unprepared—her guns, empty. She stood no chance of defending against its attack without them. She took off, running for her life—and well she did, for next was the end: a magic that shouldn't be touched... a magic that should be considered a forbidden school by all rights and accounts—yet it wasn't. The privilege of nobility was to wield this mighty weapon, reserved for the chosen few blessed by the gods to reach the heights of 8 RAS and above. And even then, few would wield the power that came with advancement in this school.

The company leader was one of these people—and he had shown his unruly strength on the field of battle, halting the advances of the sword party; but Ingrid was another. A scepter of the gods in her hand and a wish on her lips—for destruction upon her enemies, for [CATACLYSM] to befall them—and so, the mushroom fell upon Ersand'Enise. A cloud of death and destruction that consumed these mercenaries, strong by all accounts but in the face of a trained mage of the academy, a high noble from Eskand, ashes in the wind.

The Hourglass Order (T I T A N F A L L . . ?)

What had started as a partisan conflict now brought the students together. The decadence, corruption, and incompetence of the academy's and the city's administrators was simply unconscionable at this point.

The Arboretum was on fire. The geese honked and took flight, flapping frantically to flee the growing conflagration. Townhomes were rubble. The roads and canals were strewn with debris and bodies. That the Arch-Zenos had called in mercenaries against their own charges as opposed to listening to them was the final straw. While some displayed the green and gold of Perrence, others wore all black or waved black banners. Some had taken to calling it the 'Hourglass Revolution', for the time of those greyhairs who had ruled so incompetently was said to be reaching its end.

They called the lead group 'Spearpoint', and they reached the edge of the enclave's powerful warding magics. Within minutes, they were joined by over a dozen others - Longsword, Dagger, Hammer, Red Cross, and Longbow: the elite of the student body and some, perhaps, future arch-zenos themselves. Yet, for all of their considerable power, there was nothing that they could do. More than once, they were repelled: thrown back, burnt to a crisp, electrocuted, or poisoned. The Enclave was impregnable.

Enter the Hourglass Order: ten dissenting faculty members who had sided with their students over their superiors. They all wore matching pins on their lapels. "If you are here," Olivier Masson warned the two dozen youths solemnly, "then you know the risks." His eyes found each of theirs in turn. Sienna Afraval was at work casting a spell with the help of Joao Fabio and a tall man in a black hooded cloak who only a few might've had an inkling about. "I need it from you explicitly," the Zeno prodded. The night air was warm and electric, the sense of something final in the air: either great or disastrous. "Do you understand?" he asked. "Are you prepared, if need be, to die for this task we have set before ourselves?"

Xiuyang regarded the "Hourglass Order" with an odd mixture of admiration and distrust, stopping just shy of contempt. It was a stroke of optical genius, and one she was far too cynical to accept at face value. She had long accepted that the only one who truly cared for her own future was herself. Though these Zenos aligned with her at the current moment, she knew that revolutions rarely spared the revolutionaries. The puppet masters and their commands may change, but the strings would remain, and none could resist their siren's call.

"I'm always prepared to die," she replied to her superior, somewhat blankly. This time, the words felt hollow. As a pacifist without a cause, serving Oraff with all her heart, she had felt secure in her moral superiority and in her final destiny. The only future that mattered to her had been certain. She had set her heart on heavenly things, not because she was enlightened, but because she had nothing worth fighting for in this mortal life. Now, for once, she had to think about her future, and not just in vague terms of stockpiling money; what kind of world would her future children be born into?

It's the first time you've had to think at all, came a venomous whisper in her mind. Your whole life has been a series of easy decisions. Work for your father's company, go to the prestigious magic school, set yourself up to marry a rich Revidian merchant, it taunted further. Now look at you. You're paralyzed, unable to think and act for yourself, in your own best interests.

WHY NOT SIDE WITH THE ESTABLISHMENT, LIKE YOU DID IN RETAN?

Because this time, it's the more difficult choice.

That's why.

Xiuyang glared up at the tower, at the source of the intrusive thoughts. No... they were her own thoughts, but someone had magnified them, and they did so from their ivory tower, secure in the belief that they tormented her "for her own good."

She fought back against the chemical magic, her spite for these societal parasites growing every second. Oh, how tempting it was indeed to choose the side of power, she thought, glancing idly with swiftly concealed envy at the prize Ingrid had just claimed. Unlike her gilded peers, she was an impostor, a poser who fell just short of whatever invisible line she needed to cross to be strong enough to choose her own future. That, at least, seemed certain: that the powerful would only become stronger, while she would continue to stagnate, or grow at a pace so slow that it wouldn't matter in the end.

She could put a stop to that now, by looting the Forked Tower just as she'd always fantasized of doing, but she told herself that they would come for her. These Zenos would be just the same as the ones currently in power, and she would be stripped of her ill-gotten gains. If she wasn't going to be eventually expelled simply for having a Revidian flag next to her name once Perrench interests took over the school, she would certainly be expelled then. Was she simply telling herself this to cope for her lack of courage?

Once again, she made the easy choice.

She was here to save Penny. No, she was here to ensure a happy future for Ashon.

Nothing else mattered. Her doubts, her fears, her lacking convictions were all worthless garbage.

Once again, she would make an easy choice that future generations might look upon with confused, misguided admiration. Historians would praise her for her courage, perhaps.

Only she would know that her actions were ultimately born of cowardice. She could not stand up for herself while those she cared about suffered at the hands of the unjust. Their futures couldn't wait. Hers could.

No one would know how pathetic she felt in this historic moment.

She would not understand the courage others plainly saw in her eyes and her actions, for her own mind denied it.

She was not a hero. She'd never be one. She was simply a merchant who, in troubled times, must deal in life and death.

For a Friend of a Friend

We Endure Death at Every Turn (G A U N T L E T Summary)

A labyrinth awaited them in the tower which held Penny hostage, a labyrinth which threatened to separate the group of friends and wear them down. Trap after trap came, cutting and burning and exploding and poisoning, draining their energy and their will to go on, stealing their items and their very magic itself. It swallowed them, chewed them up and spit them out. It was not like the games they endured during the Trials—there were no Zenos on their side to save them if something went wrong. It was life or death. Xiuyang struggled to understand how her friends knew where to go, when the direction they were going made no logical or architectural sense—but the trained binder dutifully stuck with the group, and together they made it to the end, without being separated once.

They had found Penny, but before them stood several members of the school's establishment faculty, and a mysterious figure. It was a woman, one in her thirties, wearing a cloak with her hood lowered. She had grey streaks on hair and dark bags under her eyes. "Kids don't respect anything these days, not even their own lives." she muttered as she stood stoic before the group. "You'd make an old woman cry."

The shadow extended her hand out expectantly. "I care little for the politics, however. And this girl is clearly no criminal." she peered behind her to indicate Penny was the subject of her comment. "But I do care of the sanctity of this establishment. You will return what you have stolen and your trespass will be forgiven." she announced solemnly. "Failure to comply will force us to act."

"Give us our friend back, and maybe I'll consider returning the thing you tried to kill us with."

"You're a trespasser. What did you expect?"

"Funnily enough, I expected lethal resistance from a corrupt 'establishment.' I owe you nothing."

Her allies, however, had other plans. They seemed eager to part with the treasures they'd salvaged from the deadly traps, passing the woman as if she were a toll booth, assuming that they were trading these items for Penny's life. Xiuyang didn't pass the self-proclaimed 'old woman.' She remained on the other side, eyeing her with clear distrust, prepared to attack her from behind if she tried to betray the trust of her friends. "Don't just stand there being creepy. Answer his question, properly, and you can have this back. I'll take you at your word against my better judgment."

"I will not 'fetch' anything other than the property of this establishment," the shadow stated with a scowl. "Return what is ours and you will meet no resistance from us."

Ashon headed towards Penny, using his hand to do monkey ears behind the shadow's head. "Come on Beautiful, Ciro can buy you trinkets later," he assured her. "Xiuyang, if they are just trying to retrieve the items before battle doesn't matter. It is a chance to get Penny with no further bloodshed," Guy tried to reason with her. Xiuyang stood her ground, however—it wasn't about the trinkets, it was about trust, and she had none for this so-called 'establishment.'

"I don't suppose prisoners are considered property of 'this' establishment?" Xiuyang replied with annoyance. "Stop talking in circles like a bureaucrat and speak human. You're giving us Penny. I'll make it easy for you: yes, or no?" She pulled the hydrostone from inside her robes.

"No," the shadow answered. "My only offer is to not kill you as you retrieve your friend. That is all."

Xiuyang's allies were beginning to get as annoyed as she was—but theirs was directed at her. The pressure was mounting, and this woman was not budging, but Xiuyang had one more trick up her sleeve. "Whatever. Good enough, I guess," Xiuyang replied, stepping forward with the intent to give the stone to the woman. She watched herself, ten seconds ahead of her, return it. If she didn't keep her word... but the woman vanished, as she promised, leaving the two Zenos as the only obstacles left.

One of them was short—like, Marz short. In fact, as they stepped out of the shadows, they could recognize this person as none other than Zeno Domi Durdovin. "Y'kids should've let it all settle." He shook his head in mild disappointment. "I personally respect yer grit. Destroyin' those golems I spent so long to make kaboom-proof is really somethin.'" still, he smiled wickedly.

"Don't forget yourself, Zeno Durdovin." a second, slightly accented but refined voice spoke up. "We have a very important job to do." Out from the shadows came the taller figure. One plump and gay in his expression. "Although, then again, we might find ourselves without a job tomorrow. Perhaps we should consider work security over menial tasks? The message has been sent regarding this girl, after all." A sudden, high-pitched quack came from the right of his leg. It was a goose! One with a customized backpack.

It was there that some recognized who they were dealing with. The air became charged with a rich energy, but none of the students were allowed to indulge. "Hello, dear students! I hope we can settle this in a civil manner." Zeno Van de Waal grinned warmly under his big witch's hat. "Enough have been hurt today, don't you agree?" He continued to speak to the students, several of them trying to negotiate deals with him or to convince him to stand down. However, all of their offers were summarily rejected. Truthfully, Xiuyang had tuned the conversation out as she considered their options, and any dirty tricks the others might be overlooking. In particular, she was worried about the goose, which made all manner of unnatural sounds, and reminded her of the primordial Chicken in ReTan. "I've been outside, and yet I hedge my bets on the school. I encourage you to reconsider what you are doing." Mathijs shot a look at the whole troupe. One more grim that contrasted heavily with the jolly demeanour he had been keeping. "For your sake, I really hope you walk away."

"As riveting as this all is, I think the only real purpose of this conversation is to stall for time," Xiuyang interrupted, eyeing the goose with suspicion, to which it replied with a woof. "Ashon." Mathijs reached around the Yasoi's shoulders. "I really like my job. I can't tell you how much I do with mere words." He nodded with wide eyes. "And my job demands that I keep her safe from any harm. If anything, my dear student, she's safer here in a world that wants to use her as a pawn!" "No one is safe in Sipenta," Xiuyang cynically muttered back under her breath.

Domi cut the top of a cigar and began to puff up. "Safer with some than others, girly." he stared at her with a flat expression. "If ya truly think she's better off with y'lot, then prove et."

"Safe from who? To whose benefit? This is a farce," Xiuyang shrugs. "Are we really gonna give him all our things, just so he can turn around and use them on us?"

Domi scoffed. "If only y'knew the whole story." he shook his head and flicked the ashes from his cigar. Mathijs had been offered all manner of treasures, and he was currently inspecting the compass that was now in his hand. However, he noticed a certain quirk. "Oh dear. I'm afraid it doesn't work." He frowned.

Xiuyang scowled. "I may not know the whole story, but I know this: you're wasting time, because this fight could go either way as it is. If you're that much stronger than us that you don't need a handicap, or reinforcements, then you don't need to kill us to take us down, do you? Why don't you prove that," she spat.

Domi's lips split open into a toothy grin. "I like this one! FULLY AGREED!" The goose honked loudly in approval. Mathijs sighed. "She was right, you'd make an old man cry." He backed up to join Domi. Both drew, and they drew a lot from the rich energies the dark mage had conjured. Many minions were summoned from the VOID.

As Xiuyang predicted, a back-and-forth battle ensued, until Ashon scored a decisive hit against Domi. He was quickly healed, however, and the battle continued, even as some of the students wasted time continuing to negotiate with Mathijs, the true terror in the room. Domi wasn't an issue, certainly not on his own—and Xiuyang was about to prove it. Reaching into her very soul to call upon the power of the divine fruit, she took Domi down several pegs, disabling all of his magical items and brews. He appeared ready to vomit when he was suddenly struck by Niallus, supported from afar by Maura. "If you give us Penny and let us go. You can have this," he offered to Mathijs, before smacking Domi with the Wailing Leviathan.

"Hmmm." the dark mage pondered as he saw the Wailing Leviathan in action. He extended his hands. "Colour me intrigued!" he extended his hand out to Niallus. "Release Penny first." Putting his sword back in its sheath, before handing it over. "Then it's yours." Mathijs looked to Domi, bruised and battered. "I can be convinced to see the virtues of neutrality with such a fine piece of craftsmanship." he smiled toward Niallus. Seeing that he is willing to stand down. Niallus handed Mathijs his trusty Sword. "Here."

Mathijs grinned as he took the sword with great care. Her raised it like a genuine connoisseur and studied it deeply, much to Domi's frustration. "Not as valuable as I initially thought..." he confessed with a nasally voice. "But what's within is something to behold!" he chirped, turning to the group. "I suppose a temporary vacation to study this is warranted! And nothing say laid back like neutrality!" he nodded energetically. "For fuck's sake, don't disarm yourself! I'm telling you we can take them! Why are you trusting these snakes?! Penny isn't even freed yet!" Xiuyang shouted—and finally, Mathijs regarded her. "Funny!" he exclaimed, as her very shadow attempted to strangle her.

Mathijs then moved to a corner as he went to work on discovering the secrets of the sword, back turned to the conflict. Domi was left alone and in the dust. He scowled at first, but then chuckled. A new cigar was pulled and lit up before he took a seat on a nearby piece of rubble. "Ey've had enough." he raised his hand in surrender. "Yer exam's considered passed. Now get outta 'ere before the shadows getcha."

Xiuyang's own shadow rose up from the ground to attack her, lifting her off the ground and strangling her. As she struggled to break free, drawing upon every ounce of her strength, she looked around at the others as they handed over their items to this behemoth of a man. Why was nobody helping her? Could they not see what was happening? Tears ran down her cheeks. Once again, the strong took everything while the "weak" were forced to watch. Eventually, Roslyn, Guy and Niallus seemed to notice what was happening, and Guy's loyal hound Penelope was able to make the shadow vulnerable. Xiuyang collapsed in a heap on the floor, gasping for air. She pounded the floor with her fist. "We fought for our fucking lives to get this far! What the fuck was the point of it all?!" she yelled out hoarsely, teeth grit in rage.

Roslyn lowered next to her friend as she tried to heal her. Her eyes widened when she realized... her binding wasn't working. "Hey, hey. It's okay."

"Oh dear, Salome, no need to get so worked up." Mathijs smiled smarmily. "I was never going to kill you." Then, the goose emerged. "He is." The goose had nothing but violence and hatred in its eyes. Again, it let out a woof. Mathijs gave a twinkle fingered wave. "Ta-tah!"

"We're a fucking joke to you, is that it?! The hell you love this job, you love power and exerting it over others! Penny did nothing wrong and you're all complicit!" she cried out, enraged. Mathijs poked his head out of a portal. "Funny," he repeated, right into her ear, with markedly less humor than before.

Roslyn swallowed the hard lump in her throat as she watched Xiuyang's anger. "Xiuyang, this isn't helping. Let's go get Penny and get out—"

And suddenly, there was nothing but the endless VOID.

Through Persecution and Hell (New Forum Content)

"You're hoping that if I sell you our company's ships, it will encourage others to do the same, en masse? Unfortunately, selling the company's assets is... no longer under my purview. Well... I can't sell you a ship, but—I can... give you a piece of very official-looking paper... put you on one of our most famous flagships, with all her splendor... shake your hand... send you off with a misty-eyed farewell, handkerchief in hand... It's certainly not our fault if there's a... misunderstanding, is it?" Xiuyang reached across the Groove table, taking Ciro Volta's hand gently into hers, eyes narrowed with mercantile glee. "And if that's not enough to get the big boys talking, they don't call me the rumor mill for nothing, do they?" She smiled sweetly. "I'll think seriously about your job offer, too, messer Volta. I'm confident this will be a very lucrative relationship, for both of us." A toast, a pause, a flirtatious wink; a carefully crafted and smooth exit, as her heart raced unbearably fast.

This was it—her ticket back in business. She was going to take her life back, better than before, and if all went well... she dared not think of it, dared not to get her hopes up just yet. A life with Ciro—she couldn't help herself—meant business ventures, perfecting the art of the deal, traveling around the world, philanthropy. Moving the world with money—a mutual goal between them both—rising beyond the highest heights to the very peak of an even better society. Luxury and recognition—truly, these things didn't matter so much to her, but they were a nice bonus, and if Ciro wanted them, she would eagerly do her part to deliver. His plans for Mudville—to feed the poor and hungry on a scale the church neither did nor could ever dream of—oh sure, she had fed him her bit about how skeptical she was of that claim, how every politician would likely make the same promises—but he had said them with so much conviction. A smile like that just couldn't be faked. Fuck, I'm falling for him. Oh gods, I think I might love him. Oh shit. Is this really happening? Glee upon glee became a mixed bag of hope and fear—dread of having this new promise of the future she wanted taken away from her, like everything else.

This new promise was all she had at the moment. This man, and this relationship—she had to protect them at any cost.

...

"What do you mean, I shouldn't have gotten involved?! She did exactly what I planned to do, and she might have succeeded if I'd been there for her!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt the weight of the guilt. She told herself she'd tried to stop her, but that was a lie. She allowed this to happen, even encouraged it. Any who saw the guns found at the scene and knew where they came from would know she was involved. Of course, she had planned her cover story by "selling" Marci the guns, to throw any witnesses off the scent—but she had never expected Jocasta to be the witness. Now, she knew. Jocasta had to know that Xiuyang was aware of what Marci planned and had stood aside and let her do it.

YOU WERE HER VICTIM. YOU KNEW WHAT SHE WAS UP AGAINST AND LET HER FACE IT ALONE. YOU'RE A DISGRACE.

Ciro was speaking, softly questioning her, but Xiuyang could hardly hear him over the ringing in her ears.

"I... I worry about you, too, Ciro! Every moment that monster lives is another moment she might take you from me! Just to spite me, just because she can..!"

Ciro embraced Xiuyang, gently shushing her.

But this time, the voices continued, even as he held her close.

YOU'RE A HIDEOUS, STUPID, DEFECTIVE, COWARDLY AND VILE WOMAN.

YOU DON'T DESERVE A MAN THIS PERFECT.

"...You're right. I'm sorry. Ciro, I love you. I love you so much..."

Ḁ̷́ ̸͈̀W̶̝̒Ö̵͜M̶͎̚A̶͑ͅN̷̄͜ ̷̬̒Ĺ̴͇I̵̬͑K̸̦͘E̵͉̊ ̶̰͒Y̵̱̏Ô̷̪Ṵ̶̾ ̷̺͝Ò̸̺N̴̥͛L̶̨͂Ỵ̵́ ̴͈̕H̸̖͂A̵̜̐S̶̼̍ ̸̡̍O̵̳͌N̷̝̓E̴̤͊ ̶̳̓T̵͈͗H̵͈͘I̴̥͘N̵̠͝G̸̢͊ ̶̱̅Ĺ̴̟E̷̥̚F̸͕̚T̷͎̐ ̴̱͂T̵̜̏Ŏ̵̹ ̶͔͐G̸͕̃I̵͈̓V̴̗̀Ë̴̡.̷̢̐

...

---

Blackness. Endless black nothingness. The yawning and dreadful VOID.

None could see Xiuyang's face of utter despair. This. This again. She shrieked.

"I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY!! PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THIS!! I'D RATHER DIE!!"

There was no reply. Even her own voice sounded muffled, as there was no echo.

Floating through the endless space, she curled up into a ball and cried into her hands. It was over.

Finally, the gods had had enough of her rebelliousness and incompetence.

She'd finally gotten what she deserved.

Then, however, something changed. Instead of an endless nothing, there appeared a bar above her head, in brought white. It glowed faintly in the dimness. For a moment, it displayed a number: 13. Xiuyang's moment of panic was interrupted when she sensed a source of light and heat appear nearby. Somehow, this was different from before. It had to be. There had to be some small hope. He was toying with her, again, but if he didn't kill her before, he wouldn't do so now, would he? Unless the number 13 stood as a sort of condemnation. She forced herself to steady her breathing, pulled the beanie of Weggosi relaxation over her eyes, and reached out with all her senses. There was a tiny beacon of light and warmth above her head, but a dreadful nothing else.

Xiuyang was horrified. How could there be nothing?! There had to be something!! She did the only thing she could do, and attempted to draw energy from the only source available to her. If she focused, she could use Blessing of Flight to give herself some momentum. Xiuyang ascended—at least she thought it was an ascension—into a world of pure darkness and deadness. There was nothing... except for the slight shrinkage of the bar above her head. Xiuyang continued in the same direction, desperately sensing for something, someone, anyone or anything at all.

Suddenly, Xiuyang conked her head on something firm and springy. This seemed to be the edge of whatever realm she found herself in and it was blessed external stimulus, finally! Finally, Xiuyang had some form of hope that this wasn't just an endless void. Once again, she attempted to use her beanie to pierce the veil of whatever she was being confined in. Sadly, she found... something like a great soft eggshell and it appeared to be endless: for as far as she could sense. It was nothing if not springy. Xiuyang wisely decided to give up on trying to pierce the veil, and sprung off, moving in the opposite direction. It was a pathetic attempt.

Somehow, she felt herself in danger. Was the air getting thinner? Was she drowning? She was running out of energy. The space she moved through began to feel like a kind of liquid. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly cold and tired. She backtracked to the wall and banged on it, but nothing happened. Springing off of it again, with more success this time, she desperately swam through the strange-feeling liquid. At some point, she would realize that she was naked. Her beanie was gone. Was this liquid acidic?! Was she going to die?! What in all the hells was happening?! She couldn't even reach into the future to know for certain. Suddenly, the endless black surrounding her became a warm grey. Even her body felt warm. She continued past that point, and the grey became white... but the white was cold, too. She returned to the greyness, and suddenly, she felt herself growing... smaller? The space was solid now, and closing in around her, forcing her into a fetal position.

She was going to die. She was certain of it now—but, somehow, this death was a comfort.

Warm...

The Golden Mother Smiles Upon Us (Summary of Several Discord Threads)

A sudden but gradual clarity, like waking up from a dream. The VOID was but a distant memory, or perhaps it was a nightmare that had simply never happened at all. Xiuyang was in a cramped space, unable to breathe, but she could hear voices nearby, filled with concern. She reached out, feeling the barrier around her, and this time there was some give. Within a few moments, Xiuyang had hatched from an egg, coughing and wheezing as she desperately filled herself with the breath of life once more.

"Welcome to... wherever this is," Penny declared, holding her hand out and grinning. Guy backed up, letting Penny help her up. "It got pretty dicey there," Guy sighed in relief. "It's good that you made it in one piece." "You okay?" Roslyn asked her. It appeared that they'd all hatched from eggs, and she'd been the last one, worrying everyone. It took a moment before she realized that she was just as naked as the rest of them. She attempted to cover herself, measurably more ashamed than everyone else on account of the scars that covered her body—all of it.

"Well, looks like Ahn-Oraff took a little extra care in sewing you together," Penny joked. "'Least she didn't forget a part." She winked. Xiuyang coughed as a bit of the tension left her body. Screw you, Penny, she thought playfully, but didn't say. Penny didn't know half of the story behind those scars—unless Ashon had told her, but she trusted him more than that. "I'm... sorry. This was my fault."

Roslyn didn't say anything at first than head bobbed to what Penny said. "It's all right. Niallus jinxed it when he mentioned the longer I hang out with you all, the weirder things get..." Penny nodded in agreement. "It was my fault, by that logic, for going with the zenos in the first place." She shrugged. "You couldn't have done anything, Penny. Those freaks are too strong," she replied morosely. "I could've just... shut my mouth." Roslyn flipped back to Xiuyang, her eyes still keeping an eye on 'Pebble?'. "To be honest, I understand your frustration. I just know anger doesn't do much... At least from my experience." "Yeah, maybe," Penny admitted, "but my point is that we've all screwed the pooch, pardon my Enthish, and..." She trailed off, her attention bring pulled elsewhere. "Holy... What the..."

While the girls talked amongst themselves, Guy was occupied by something far stranger than Xiuyang's scars: Pebble had eaten some of the remains of Xiuyang's egg, and had turned into a person—an eeaiko, to be precise. Somehow, she found herself not questioning this too much. Instead, she strangely found herself preoccupied with another thought: nothing happened. She, Xiuyang, the girl who showed no skin, and her face only recently, had been naked as the day she was born, and... nobody cared. How her mother had fretted over every little injury she'd received as a child, as if any nick or scrape could make her unmarriageable. How she'd wept for her daughter when she saw her true face for the first time after being recovered from Yarsoc.

Nobody else cared. Was her mother wrong? Had the times changed? Were her friends all saints? She knew what it looked like when others silently judged. She knew that feeling well, and this wasn't that. Just what exactly had she been worried about all this time? Is this a life-changing revelation, or am I just stupid? she pondered as she realized, once again, that she was naked. "I'm a fucking binder," she scolded herself, binding herself a simple blue tunic. It wasn't long before the others were asking for clothes or making some themselves. "Yep, get in line. Sorry, ladies first," she apologized flippantly, going about the task as if it were perfectly normal. She'd seen a lot of bodies... been a lot of bodies. She sighed. Someday, she'd have to tell Ciro about it. He might even contract it from her someday, if they continued to grow closer together. A part of her pondered how he'd react—the other wondered if he already knew. Somehow, he had a way of acting like he knew all her secrets already, but maybe that was just that invincible confidence she loved so much.

While Guy wrestled with the mixed emotions of Pebble becoming a sapient being, and Ashon and Penny went back to being all over each other as usual, Roslyn and others began to wonder just where they were, and how they could get back to Ersand'Enise. It was as if the heavens themselves then provided an answer. The endless blanket of stars began to shift and change. They formed into a constellation, ever more complex as the seconds passed. It was... an old woman with a shawl. Soon, it was not a constellation, but a vivid image in the sky. As the deity gazed down upon them, Xiuyang and the others marveled upwards. It was the second time she'd been dumped in the middle of sandy nowhere, completely lost and vulnerable—but at least she wasn't alone. Others were arriving as well, from the groups that aimed to overthrow the Zenith or Pentad knew what. All of them had stories to tell, but Xiuyang, weary and worn down by the incomprehensible, kept herself busy just making sure everyone was well.

Xiuyang sighed as she gazed up at the woman in the sky. There was so much to take stock of. She hadn't even fully processed that Penny was with them until just a moment ago, and now she was being told that Joshe Intaba was apparently alive and well. Two animals had become humanoids, at least temporarily in this... dreamlike space? That was how she was coping, at least. Of course the scagbiist-turned-cazenax could speak perfect Avincian, and knew exactly what was going on: they were all going to meet with some gods now. Sure, why not?

"I feel like I'm on drugs," she remarked, getting an eyeful of Ingrid wearing a potato sack for some unholy reason. "Alright, Leon, I'll help you out. I'd better hear some gratitude, though, or I'm gonna start charging for these," she japed, and set about making simple cotton robes in basic colors for everyone. She handed them out to the ladies first, starting with Ingrid and Trypano. "It's not something a noble would wear, but it's at least not abrasive," she said as she gave Ingrid a green one. "If we're really going to meet with gods, please wear something," she reasoned with Trypano, giving her a red one.

"...Is that all of us?" she asked, upon completing the first half of her task. Her face fell as she realized that it was not. "Sister Laska is not with us," she observed as she started handing out robes to the men. Who else was missing? Surely there had been at least one or two more...

The eighteen young people who had given so much and saved so much stood on a sandy shore by a smooth dark sea, unknown stars twinkling above them and a glow burgeoning on the horizon. Then, the waves began to lap a little higher on the shore. The stars began to shift in the sky. The ground itself began to tremble.

Dawn happened all at once. The stars came to life and formed the image of an old woman in the sky. She lifted her great shawl and her face became the sun: radiant, warming, promising. The waves parted and it was a fish large enough to be a vast island that emerged, its great mouth yawning open in the growing light. Finally, as the sun began to brighten the place in which they stood, the mountains in the distance crumbled and fell away in a blaze of smoke, fire, and dust. The head of a gargantuan tortoise rose from the rubble. There were no voices but, suddenly, they each understood that which they gazed upon.

"I AM THE OLD MOTHER OF THE SKY WHOSE GOLDEN SHAWL LIFTS THE NIGHT." It was soft lest it be overwhelming in its sheer magnitude. The other two gods "spoke" as well, but Xiuyang could not hear them.

The arms of the Old Mother beckoned to the nine who had been summoned by her and they began to rise into the sky. Light turned to darkness, lit by an endless blanket of stars, and the air grew cooler. They warded off the cold with the magics at their disposal. The journey was not short, however, and soon the land below was but a speck and the vast apparition before them was everything. Each arrived at around the same time and the immense arms of the Mother swept in to gather her children. They found themselves in an alpine meadow overlooking a small, crystal clear pond ringed by spruce trees. Within this setting, there lay five sacred animals: A bat nestled beneath a crag in the mountain, sleepily opening one eye and gazing tiredly upon the newcomers; a clever raven perched upon a tree branch momentarily before taking flight. She glided overhead of the two land-bound humans. Atop the mountain, some hundred yards distant, nestled a great and powerful dragon, its scales shimmering in the morning light. It raised its mighty head and regarded the group for a moment. Nibbler began sniffing about and, before long, he disturbed a fabulous butterfly. With a beat of its wings, it took off and sailed up and away. They watched it for a moment as it flew over the pond and this was just on time to see a graceful loon land upon the clear waters. It paid them no heed.

The loon let out a haunting call that Guy and Xiuyang could feel inside their very bones, and dived beneath the water's surface. It seemed that the two humans would have to either follow it or wait. Guy removed his shirt. "It's going to be cold Xuiyang, try to keep up." Guy dove into the water with no hesitation. Xiuyang did not understand this place. She didn't know why she felt comforted by the enormous arms of this strange deity, why she felt so safe in this space, nor why she felt compelled to pursue this bird underwater. A shirtless Guy was a familiar sight to Xiuyang; she shrugged, binding away some of her clothing and tightening the rest. Then, she pursued them both.

They searched for the loon underwater but, then, it had popped up above, greedily choking down a fish. "Nobody here?" it squawked mischievously, clearing its throat. "Back under we go!" Xiuyang cast a light about, illuminating the water, but she only saw Guy. Then she looked up, and perhaps she caught a glimpse of something moving downward, or maybe it was just her imagination. Chill shocked him awake, Guy was alone again. Away from all the others. Except Xuiyang of course. He turned to her and spoke, water conveying his voice with ease, "Seen the duck?" The loon, just about to dive, paused. It flapped its wings, rather cross. "A Guy of your stature using such fowl language with me!?" it exclaimed. "Unthinkable!" With that slip, it gave itself away!

Xiuyang gave Guy a signal, indicating that he should chase the loon while she would wait close to the surface to catch it when it came up for air. They may have done this a few times before. Guy accepted his role as the fastest swimmer. "Knew that would rile you, you loon!" Guy started to swim after him as fast as his magic could take him. The plan worked a trick! The loon was cornered and caught. "Unhand me!" it called forlornly. "Oh, I am undone! How you have ruffled my feathers now!" It let out a long call before slipping away. "You cheeky buggers. You are good. quite good! Enjoy your gift!"

Guy popped back to the surface and changed the water to stand, "Great plan Xuiyang," Guy was feeling as refreshed as ever chasing it in the water. Xiuyang seized her chance to cuddle the creature, grinning like an idiot, without a care in the world for what brought her here or what happened before. "Your call sounded lonely, my fellow comedian," she teased as she let him go.

At his last remark, she was just a little confused. "What gift?" she replied, but then she noticed that she felt different—uplifted, like her heart was buoyant. She looked to Guy, as if for confirmation that he also felt the same. He did feel different, though he had a hard time placing it. It wasn't his specialty after all. They had a moment alone, truly disconnected from the outside world, his position in life not mattering here. In a moment of honesty, he spoke. "Sorry I treated you so coldly in that fight," he looked off to the side, not fully sure how to express himself. "I hope you can forgive your old swim buddy."

Xiuyang blinked with slight surprise at Guy's apology. Then, she shook her head. "No, you were right. I should have thrown in the towel," she replied sheepishly, averting her eyes. "I just... need to impress my father. I can't let him underestimate me. I can't let him marry me off to some snooty noble he chooses for me. I'll never get to live my life that way. Just expanding his influence and popping out grandkids. I won't be happy unless I accomplish much more than that." Unwilling to dampen the mood, she threw an arm over his shoulder and grinned. "Who said you could be my 'old' swim buddy? You won't get rid of me."

After the Chaos and Destruction (Eleven Nations Army)

Xiuyang awoke at the site of their "battle" with Mathijs, a reminder of all the negative emotions she'd left behind in that strange realm—the buoyant feeling in her soul hadn't left her, however. Whether the Loon's Call was responsible for it could not be certain. What was certain, however, was that she was currently buried under a pile of the bodies of her friends. This time, it was Roslyn's rear that greeted her. It took a moment for them to untangle their limbs.

Then, outside, there was the aftermath of the chaos and the destruction. Dead and burnt bodies lay under piles of charred debris. Confused and scared students wandered aimlessly among the wreckage, looking for familiar faces and hoping not to see them on the ground, while the Zenos sought to restore some semblance of order. Other Zenos and students alike were regaining consciousness.

Then, out of the blue, a group of Perrench students approached Xiuyang. They jeered and scoffed—some of them demanded outright that the filthy Revidian get lost. She clenched her fists. "You think I don't know what I've done here today?!" she snarled. "I know why you're here—for the glory and fame and wealth you might earn!" she accused cynically. "Tell me, you rats, how a filthy Revidian stands to benefit! Please, enlighten me! I'd love to be rewarded for my efforts for once in my fucking life!"

Though the Perrench outnumbered her, she found herself filled with unnatural courage. Mercifully, however, she would not need it this day, as a Zeno who happened to be near spotted the imminent powder keg and intervened on her behalf, on account of her being outnumbered. She did not, however, escape a mild scolding for egging them on.

Where her friends and allies found and felt triumph, Xiuyang left further embittered. She had ascended to the heights of power in Ersand'Enise only to be toyed with and tossed aside like garbage. They had been allowed some form of victory, perhaps to appease the rampaging youths, or perhaps because it benefitted the new, rising powers to do so. It didn't matter. This victory didn't belong to the students, in her reckoning.

Did she regret her participation in this? Surely she didn't. How could she regret rescuing Penny? But if it wasn't regret, then what was this new and awful feeling that was slowly consuming her sense of reason? And, who could help her make sense of it all?

Guy would probably be angry. Ashon wouldn't want to hear it and wouldn't understand. Ingrid couldn't; she was among the "truly strong." Roslyn wouldn't want to hear her complaints about being weak. Trypano wouldn't care. Maura would just try to sell her something, probably.

Perhaps Ciro would understand her turmoil. There was always Ciro.

While she, led by misguided feelings had stuck her neck out for the princess of an enemy country, Ciro, who always seemed to keep a more level head than hers, had been protecting their assets—their future. Perhaps she ought to have done the same.

The battle had run late into the night, and a new day promised—or threatened, perhaps, to dawn.

It was not too late, however, to join him.

Clarity, and a Turning Point

Xiuyang sat at her desk, faced with two big decisions—first, the school faculty was asking the students if they wished to keep their memories of everything that had happened in the past two weeks, or if they wanted to return to blissful ignorance. Xiuyang found the whole thing unconscionable—if forcing the Trials and Mano e Mano upon the students was being inhumanely cruel to children, erasing their memories of the riots was an equal but opposite offense of infantilizing them. Of course, Xiuyang would choose to keep hers. She couldn't imagine how she'd react to the knowledge that something so monumentally important had happened, and that she had chosen to forget about it and now had to rely on secondhand information.

Was a Xiuyang who had forgotten the past two weeks—or even just the most traumatic events that had taken place then—even the same person? There was surely no guarantee that she would be happier. If anything, her resentment and self-loathing would only deepen for making such a weak decision. That was to say nothing of the possibility of having other memories conveniently tampered with, or rifled through like so much private correspondence. What if they discovered that she was a Facemimic? What if they learned of her plans? Her actions had surely made her new enemies, and she couldn't afford to be at such an insurmountable disadvantage as to have them know of her schemes, and for her to forget that they even existed. The only real question was whether or not it was a genuine choice. Was there an unstated threat that, should she choose to retain her memories, she could become a target?

Bah. If there was a political target on her back, it was only a slightly larger one than she was born with. She would take her chances—which just left the matter of the piece of paper she was currently poring over carefully. Even as the school sent out inquiries regarding the mammoth in the room that was the revolution and change in management, they also sent out inquiries regarding Tan-Zeno positions. Xiuyang was faced with a kind of dilemma; did she really want to dabble in a teaching career? Not really—but the need to impress her family and Ciro, who she hoped would become family sometime next year, continued to hover over her and weigh on her mind from time to time. Additionally, there were the benefits it could bring—potential access to forbidden magics which could cure her defects and allow her to become a match for Juulet. Everything she could want was being dangled before her like a carrot on a stick; the only issue was whether or not the school at large saw her as a liability, which she would only know if she sent in an application. A rejection, in itself, would present potentially valuable information.

She found herself filling out the form, slowly and thoughtfully, a process that took all the hours of Oraff and continued well into the hours of Eshiran. As she did, she found herself deciding upon reasons why she might actually be good at teaching, and find some enjoyment in it. Of course, she had lied about her mana type, and made no indication that she'd received any instruction in blood magic. Technically, it wasn't a lie—as she hadn't had her level of skill in the school officially evaluated in any capacity. Overall, though, she was surprised at how truthful her statements felt when they were finally finished, and had found reasons to be optimistic about the prospect by the end. Maybe... I really need this. Something to call my very own—an important role to play, where others can rely on me. She carefully folded up the form and waxed the envelope shut. For a moment, she simply held it in her hand, letting time pass her by while her third cup of undrunken tea grew cold, and simply breathed in and out.

Accepting a job offer from Ciro would be yet another easy decision, in a long line of easy decisions. She enjoyed working with him, but that was what she wanted to do—work with him, and not for him. Already, she caught herself relying on him too much. No matter how long the past few weeks had felt—(if only their time together would always feel so long!)—it was still such a short amount of time. A little voice in her head told her to slow down, told her that things were moving too fast. Whether it was a voice of reason or a voice of cowardice, she couldn't yet be sure. Another voice told her other things: that she was a worthless girl, growing more and more dependent on her boyfriend by the day, already irresponsibly deep in his debt, and that someday he would surely collect, just as any sensible businessman would. She needed to do more—be more than she was: ruthless, brave, strong, smart, beautiful.

The envelope she held in her hand represented a difficult decision, and challenges ahead.

Unlike before, she would make this decision, and face these challenges of her own will.

[Ti]

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Event: Small Steps, Graceful Strides. | Location: Enise'Ersand

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♫

The events of the revolution were certainly a turning point in the history of the world. Who would have thought Upta had been a Grand Demon who had taken over the academy? It seemed that this fact alone had essentially excused all of their actions and transgressions in the form of a general amnesty, though the repercussions and very real consequences were still sorely felt by everyone.

Even with all this, Ayla found parts of herself very excited, simply buzzing with excessive energy. She couldn’t exactly put her finger on the pulse of the matter, but a little positivity in this dark time was surely needed. She remembered that warm smile that spoke from the heart as she held the girl’s hand, of someone who appeared to understand. She picked Asier up in her excitement, swung him around, and then put him down on her bed as she grinned from ear to ear. She had finally done it; she was about to make friends with a Yasoi! Casii, Ismet, Tyrel, it had all failed horribly. Well, Jamboi technically counts, kind of, but everyone is Jamboi’s friend, and he wasn’t the kind of boy you would invite out for some coffee. No, this is going to be her new friend, a tall pretty girl with white hair and a good heart. A good, normal friend to go out on dates with—no weird awkwardness, no boys involved, and especially not pretending to be a boy and unintentionally getting introduced to her parents as a potential suitor again. She brushed her hair for the nth time, put it down, then clapped her box of treats, picked up a bottle of wine, and took that long moment to breathe and settle back into being herself again.

One downside of the revolution was certainly the damage done to the green spaces. Thankfully, Ersand’Enise had some trained gardeners, but the scars on the land would take time to heal. It gave her some anxiety, especially as she knew Yasoi loved nature, but she hoped she chose wisely in choosing the arboretum. After all, they could always go for a walk instead. She decided to bring out her flute as she played, waiting for Seviin to appear as Asier lounged nearby.

Seviin didn't so much arrive as she appeared, leaning almost impishly against a nearby tree trunk. "Sorry," she began. "I've been here for some time and missed you, and then your playing was so nice that I fear I was entranced." She pushed off and strode forward, smiling shyly. "Might you forgive me, Ayla?"

Ayla’s playing almost came to an abrupt stop as Seviin arrived. The girl clearly looked pleased to see Seviin before her expression dropped for a moment, and her eyebrow raised. “Forgive you? We certainly do not. You have done nothing that requires our forgiveness.” Ayla smiled impishly after the comment as she went to give Seviin a hug. “Thank you for patiently waiting for us. We are very pleased that you arrived.”

Her expression changed again for a moment as she recalled something. She went to collect her picnic basket and opened it up to reveal the macaroons inside. “Help yourself to one. We have brought plenty of food and drink.” Asier continued to lie on the grass, his eyes peeled open, only to yawn, and then appeared to continue resting as they closed again. “And this sleepy one is Asier; he is doing the important job of looking after the picnic basket,” Her voice purred as she teased the cat.

"These look... delicious," Seviin remarked, kneeling demurely once she had been released. "And so does *he*!" she squealed, holding a hand out towards the cat to help him acclimate to her. After a tentative peace had been established with the distinct possibility of petting at a later juncture, she reached for a macaroon. "I think I shall," she agreed to Ayla's offer, but then she paused. "Oh! Um... there aren't any... animal products in them, right?" The yasoi smiled uncertainly, fingers just about to grasp one.

The Puff-lion sniffed curiously toward Seviin’s fingers as she stretched them before its maw. It looked towards the digits in a wary manner, then moved closer to sniff at them, licking the tips of the fingers. After this brief investigation, it withdrew to continue snoozing, seemingly losing interest.

Ayla, on the other hand, was caught off-guard by the question about animal products in the food. She glanced toward the macaroons, saying, “They are baked with egg whites. Does that suit your palate?”

Seviin blinked. "Well, you see, it's something of a moral choice," she replied. "Mother Oirase created all and she gave to the yasoi - and to huusoi, of course - reason and empathy. Why is it that we raise some animals en masse to be slaughtered while, others, we give a nice comfy bed, all the food they could want, and plenty of petting?" She shook her blonde head. "It has always seemed an odd and unjust thing to me, so I choose not to participate." She seemed to catch herself there. "Egg whites are fine, though, so long as none of the eggs are fertilized, of course."

Ayla looked flummoxed at the sudden moralizing as she chewed on her bottom lip, her cheeks rosy, and she appeared a little flustered by the speech. She sheepishly offered the macaroons she had poured her heart into making once again. "Was that a rhetorical question, or do you enjoy sharing ideas on concepts such as these?" Ayla’s eyelashes batted gently as she ran her fingers through her hair, twisting a few strands. "We... have a reputation for wanting to enjoy long discussions on morality, philosophy, and history. We haven’t met someone open-minded enough to enjoy such deep, exploring, and intimate discussions with." Her heart thumped in her chest, and her cheeks almost went as red as her hair. "It's okay if you don’t. We just thought we should ask."

Her eyes did glance toward Asier, as she silently sent her thoughts toward him. "Sorry, little one, might have to wait until after the walk for your beef bully stick."

"I never ask a question that isn't meant to be answered," Seviin replied. "That I *do* believe there are right and wrong answers, not like some of these new Yan- *huusoi* and siisoi philosophers who'd steep everything in ambivalent shades of grey." She took a bit of the macaroon and smiled widely. "It's delicious, by the way! You are *very* talented." After finishing the treat, she swallowed and cleared her throat. "I simply don't believe that we are random things. The gods made us with intentionality and I intend to live in a way that reflects that." her eyes darted towards the treats once more and she smiled shyly.

Ayla took a macaroon and placed it between her lips, taking a bite as the other spoke. The soft shell melted within her mouth, and the vibrant taste of the fruit jam in the middle complemented the texture. “There are certainly black and white in the world, but instead of things being grey, we like to think of it as yellow, red, blue, purple, and orange. After all, there are at least five gods,” her voice a subtle purr as she playfully highlighted the difference, “and when they are in unison, we have our white, and when they are absent, it is a void.” She beamed brightly towards Seviin, using hand gestures to emphasize her points. “We live in a rich and colourful world, and you are right, everything is very intentional. Even the way we treat different animals, sometimes even different peoples.” She offered the box again to Seviin, shuffling it to encourage her to take the white one, or was it the red one next to it?

Seviin grinned wickedly. "You're my type of lil' ol' agitator." Daringly, she chose *both* macaroons. "And you're not wrong. The world is full of colour, verve, and option, but I think we have to pick ours: pick what matters to us, and champion it." She bit into the white one first. "That's not to say we can't change, but it should only be done for a truly compelling reason. Wouldn't you agree?" She flipped the other between her fingers nimbly and smiled.

Ayla gasped in faux terror, “Both? How dare you have more than one. You have a dark soul, Seviin, and we like it.” She giggled playfully, “The white reminded me of you,” she smiled shyly as she watched the girl bite into the treat and enjoy it. She then moved her hand to the other side of the basket, to the box, and pulled out a beef bully stick from under a blanket, “Since we are on the topic of being controversial. Macaroons unfortunately won’t feed him.” She cast it towards Asier, giving Seviin a look of playful defiance, as the puff-lion began to wake up, sniffed over towards it, and then began to bite and chew on it, his paws gripping it hold it as he savoured his treat.

"Provocative," Seviin remarked, averting her eyes. She finished the white macaroon, eyes roving about the Arboretum. "So, not to completely change the subject, but... to completely change the subject." She blushed. "I've made a rather big leap. I cannot countenance my people's violence, even if one buys the line that it is well-intended, but now I find that violence has followed me here." She swallowed and cast her eyes downward. "Tell me, truly, Ayla, for I feel as if we are just kindred enough that we may understand each other." She lifted her face towards the other. "What is Ersand'Enise like? What can I expect?"

Ayla smiled gently as she gazed up toward Seviin, pausing to reflect, “Ersand’Enise is full of diverse ideas and people. How else could two distant roses ever hope to meet?” She blushed lightly as she shared an expression of kinship with her, “Yet, amongst this diversity, things do tend to be relatively peaceful in general, recent events notwithstanding. We enjoy it here, making new friends, ones that otherwise never would have met. Maybe you'll find out not all yanii are bad,” she gave her a wink, and then held her hand, “and perhaps here you can lead by example, like the other night. Perhaps we can show others that we don’t need violence to solve everything.”

Seviin bit into the red macaroon, finally, and smiled. "I shall take you at your word, Ayla, for you have earned that much." She chewed and swallowed. "I know at least *one* huusoi who I will trust not to commit daily crimes against all that is holy and decent." She winked. All around them, nature was rebuilding, rejuvenating, with the assistance of people of all sorts instead of their indifference or even antagonism. It was... something new, something that would take time to get used to, but something that she thought she could grow very much to like. "I so ardently hope you are right, suunei." She finished the last bite, dusted off her hands, and began to rise. "Might you be willing to give your lost little foreign friend a tour?"

Ayla looked up at the tall girl and raised her eyebrow. “Not so sure about a little foreign friend, but we are happy to show around this really tall one.” She moved onto her tiptoes, as if trying to measure up next to Seviin, using her hand to indicate their height difference, grinning widely.

“Yes, let’s go for a walk, there are some nice woods nearby.” She held her friend's hand, her smile beamed as she walked, calling on Asier, who had finished his treat and came running after them.

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[Ti]

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Event: Part Two: Kryzhana Fortetsya | Location: Vossoriyan Tundra, 8-6 years ago

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♫

Oksana and Metel continued their arduous journey south through the expansive taiga, navigating the rugged terrain and surviving off the bounties of the land. The keen sense of the elk, drawn to the sweet allure of snowberries, became their guiding compass in this vast wilderness. As the time blurred into days, perhaps weeks, the duo unexpectedly encountered a seasoned hunter accompanied by his son and daughter.

At the first sign of humans, Oksana and the elk mirrored each other's skittishness, both reacting with instinctive fear that drove them to bolt at the mere hint of contact. Shouts and pleas from the bewildered family fell upon deaf ears. However, a turning point emerged when the family cleverly baited the duo with food. The irresistibly tempting rations proved too much for the hungry Oksana to resist.

Amidst this interaction, Alina, the daughter of the hunter, exhibited a warm and welcoming demeanour. Her earthy green eyes held a gentle invitation as she introduced herself to Oksana. Through a series of gentle gestures, Alina coaxed Oksana to join them. Further introductions revealed the hunter's name as Andrei, and his son as Kirill, an unpleasant boy.

Oksana, with Metel, found herself accompanying the family to the great Sich of the south—the formidable Kryzhana fortetsya.

---

There have been many nights since Oksana first joined them in the Sich, and adapting to a new life proved challenging for the girl. Nighttime, in particular, posed difficulties when her mind settled, and demons crept into her thoughts and dreams. To ease her anxieties, she often shared the bed with Svetlana, her newly adopted mother, and Alina. In moments of fear, loneliness, or night terrors, they consistently provided comfort, embracing her in a warm manner that restored her sense of security.

Her favourite part of the evening was a tradition involving oral histories and lullabies, frequently repeated and sung at night, passed down through generations. While some stories were pleasant, many served as advisories, cautioning about dangers lurking in the wild. One such tale, "Bayu Bayushki Bayu," warned of the perils of wolves, urging children to tuck in tightly, lest a wolf would bite them. As Svetlana sang the lullaby, Alina, gripped by fear, tucked up against her tightly. Meanwhile, Oksana, simply feeling the rhythmic melody, found the experience soothing and comforting. Being close together like this became a favourite nightly ritual.

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Over the last two years, the Kryzhana Fortetsya Sich has experienced exponential growth in size. Oksana was not the first, and far from the last, of the refugees who made their way in this direction. Many from smaller settlements and nomadic groups found themselves compelled to move south due to the aggressive actions of Borislav and his people. The pursuit seemed relentless, driven by a goal to eradicate their way of life. With nowhere else to turn, the ice walls of the Sich became the last beacon of safety and hope in the south.

This influx of refugees resulted in heightened tensions as life within the Sich was forced to adapt. A new class system emerged, distinguishing between those who were originally present and those who had earned their membership, giving the former a certain level of superiority over the latter, the new refugee underclass. While Oksana, adopted into one of the original families, technically shared in their privilege, her status as the "brudnyy" (dirty outsider) and her strong-willed spirit marked her out for ridicule among her peers.

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“Oksana! Wait!” Alina hurriedly followed after the upset girl, gesturing wildly with her hands in an attempt to capture her attention. Tears welled in Oksana's eyes as she stormed off toward the forest by the Sich, her usual refuge when she needed to escape.

Eventually, Alina caught up, firmly grabbing hold of Oksana and pulling her around, stomping her foot on the ground. “You don’t run off, okay?” She gestured emphatically at her feet, signalling to stand still, then moved in for a comforting hug. Oksana meekly reciprocated, muttering apologies as she embraced Alina. “My brother is a svynya, he is only jealous,” Alina reassured her, running her hands through Oksana’s hair while softly singing the lullaby her mother had taught her. The gentle rumbling of her voice provided comfort, gradually easing the distress.

The two of them sat together on a log by the forest, Oksana reaching for Alina's hand and squeezing it. Life had been challenging, and the ache of missing her parents persisted daily. Yet, with her new family, it was bearable. She turned her attention to Alina as the other girl spoke animatedly. Oksana focused on Alina's lips, observing the rhythmic and gentle movements as they formed words. The topic shifted to boys, and a pang of sympathy for Alina swept over Oksana. The family, being among the eldest in the Sich, carried expectations of Andrei becoming the successor, and marriage proposals were already circulating for the children.

In a moment of realization, Oksana noticed Alina's smile brightening as she spoke about becoming a real sestra. Oksana's eyes widened, contemplating the possibility of Alina proposing her pairing with Kirill. She playfully stuck her tongue out with an audible "yuck." Alina's giggles resonated through her body, their vibrations serving as an unspoken language of their kinship as Oksana smiled warmly.

---

As dusk settled, Oksana and Ailna began their journey back to the Sich. The air grew cool, as Alina pressed herself against Oksana, seemingly cold. Oksana, who was concerned, removed her outer layer of fur, intending to help shield her from the cold by wrapping it around her, when she felt Alina’s hand grab her wrist. To her surprise, Alina was not shivering, she was trembling. It wasn’t a chill, but sheer fear that had seized Alina’s body - she stood frozen in fear.

Oksana scanned the surroundings, as she felt Alina’s startled reaction. She looked in the direction she pointed as the cause of her fear materialized: a pack of wolves.

With urgency, Oksana grabbed Alina’s hand and pulled, signalling her to run, as she attempted to drag her along. The girl stumbled behind clumsily, slow and unsteady. As the pack closed in, and Alina fell behind, tripping over in the snow. The lead wolf prepared to pounce on the defenceless girl as Oksana, without hesitation and in a split-second decision, threw herself at the beast. Chomp. Oksana cried out in pain as the wolf’s bite sank into her arm, the warmth of her blood oozed from the wound as her saturated leather and furs failed to fully withstand the ferocity of the attack as the jaws clamped onto her arm. As the wolf tore at her, she reacted swiftly as she struck it hard on the nose, forcing it to release its grip as she dislodged her arm from the jaw.

The wolf backed away as the pack circled around the two girls in a menacing ring. Oksana clutched her wounded arm, freezing the wound. Alina, frightened, leaned against her, scared. Oksana began to conjure a spear made of ice to hold with her hands as she spoke softly to Alina, “When we move, they will move. Make a signal, and make it big.” Alina nodded as she understood, and followed tradition, and used her own gift to send a smoke flare above their heads into the dark sky, signalling for help. It erupted into a radiating light, as below, the shadows of the wolves twisted as the pack closed in on their prey.

Oksana wielded the ice spear in her hands, spinning and twisting to ward off the approaching wolves who moved to evade its sharpened point. One, being grave, ignored the spear as it lunged at Alina, bypassing the spear. “Nyet!” Oksana broke the ice spear into two, using one half to stab the wolf in the leg, to tug it away from the other girl, then stabbed it in the back with the other half. As the wolf was pulled away, another charged Alina from the other side, toppling her over. Alina threw snow at its face as it tried to snap at her, whilst Oksana rushed to her aid, and kicked the beast away, by booting against its ribs as hard as she could. With her back turned, Oksana found herself a victim as one leaped on her back, as it wrestled her face down into the snow. She pushed against the ground as she rolled with the wolf, pushing herself onto her back, as it lost its grip, then it scurried away. Another wolf approached the part as she grabbed a hold of a stone, and threw it towards it to deter it from approaching closer.

The wolves regrouped, but this time, arrows and shouts disrupted their advance. Men from the Kryzhana fortetsya charge forward, frightening and driving the wolves away. The two girls were rescued from the predatory pack.

---

Svetlana attended to the two girls, Oksana using her knowledge of healing from her mother, helping out as Andrei paced in frustration. Svetlana shook her head at the pacing as she sat down with the two girls, speaking to them softly, with concern in her voice.“I am so relieved you’re both back home. What happened out there?”

Alina spoke nervously, her hands gripped tightly together on her lap. “It was terrifying, Mama. We were walking and lost track of time when I heard the howling of the wolf. When I tried to tell Sana, they had already started to surround us.” Oksana simply had her head down; her thoughts were filled with guilt. It was her that put them in such a dangerous situation. It was her fault, and again, she was powerless.

Svetlana’s expression softened as she smiled, moving to place herself between the girls as she held onto them. “It is okay; take your time. We’re both here for you.” She and Andrei exchanged an unspoken expression toward each other. “How did you manage to get away?”

“It was Sana; she stood so brave as I sent the signal, trying to keep them away.” Alina spoke fondly as she looked across at her ‘sister’, who appeared to be in a world of her own. Svetlana squeezed tighter on the girl, as if to gesture, thank you. Andrei was going to say something when he felt Oksana’s eyes on him, watching him. He decided to simply leave the girls alone as he exited the room.

After the conversation, Svetlana tucked the girls into their bed as she eventually retired to her own bed to be with Andrei. “She could have been seriously hurt,” he grumbled as he started to express his frustration. “They are both alive and with us now,” she spoke softly to him. “It is that girl’s fault; she constantly gets Alina into trouble.” Svetlana turned her head as she stared towards him in a more stern manner. “You were the one who did the right thing and brought her home. Do you see how protective of Alina she is? Our daughter couldn’t have a better friend.”

“It is more that Alina is protective of her. The way Kirill speaks, her reputation is being tarnished by the girl.” Svetlana stared at him. “Is this your concerned father's voice, or are you worried about your prospects of becoming the chieftain?” He looked back at her, held that gaze for a moment, then relented. “If we can secure a good marriage for her, it is all but done.” Svetlana elbowed him as she turned her back towards him. “Good night.” He frowned. “I am just looking out for us.”

---

Days passed with Alina in a state of panic, relentlessly searching for her missing necklace. Oksana tried to assist, but their efforts were in vain. It was during the search that they had a revelation: "The wolves! It must have dropped there." Despite warnings against exploring, Oksana offered to go alone, but Alina insisted on accompanying her.

Journeying back to the forest, they reached the fateful spot. The snow had come and gone, and in the waning moments of their unsuccessful search, Alina heard a sound. She signalled Oksana, who conjured an ice blade and cautiously approached. Oksana vanished, leaving everything silent, causing concern. A rustle in the bushes preceded yapping sounds, and Oksana emerged, holding a wolf pup by the scruff, the necklace in its mouth. Smiling widely, she handed the pup to Alina, saying, "He looked after it for you." Three more were yapping at her feet, "No food, pups are hungry." Alina looked at the pup as it gnawed on the elk antler necklace futilely, giggled, and gently tugged it away.

They discovered that the wolves' den was nearby, and they had young to feed. Oksana felt some kinship with the creatures, knowing the pain of losing her own parents. After coaxing Alina to help nurse and feed the pups in their absence until they could leave on their own. Though her arguments for bringing them home were dismissed, this new routine became a regular occurrence, and the wolf pups grew in size.

One day, Oksana had returned from one of her trips and began to change into her indoor clothes. Alina rushed in through the door, alarmed, "Sana! The wolf pups!" She tugged at the deaf girl, who was perplexed, and hurried back into her outerwear as she followed her. They made it outside the walls to find three teenage boys throwing rocks at the wolf pups, who must have followed Oksana back home.

The largest teen picked up a hefty rock as he advanced toward them, causing them to step back. "You filthy beasts! You will suffer like your parents did!" he bellowed. Using both hands, he hurled the rock towards them, prompting whimpers and hurried movements. "Stop it, Kirill! What are you doing? These pups aren't to blame for what happened!" Alina rushed ahead of her brother, positioning herself between them and the pups.

"They're part of the same pack, they deserve it!" He went to pick up another rock, but his sister stepped in the way, preventing him from throwing it. "No, they don't. They lost their parents. We've been taking care of them, feeding them. They're innocent."

His eyes gleamed maliciously, "Innocent? Wolves are never innocent. You're just soft-hearted, always trying to save everything, even that brudnyy." His gaze shifted to Oksana, another 'rescued' by his sister, as she approached the pups, gently shooing them away. "Maybe so, but I won't let you hurt them. They're not the enemy; they're just trying to survive."

He spat toward his sister, "Survive? You're being stupid, and I won't stand by and watch you make that same mistake again!" He pushed Alina over and out of the way as he approached the creatures.

Oksana sensed the change in the wolves as they began to growl. She turned her head to watch Kirill push Alina over with a rock in his hands. She yelled out as she went to charge him, keeping her head low as she tackled into him, causing him to fly backward. She moved between herself and Alina, checking on her.

Kirill was assisted by his friends as he brushed off the snow. "You all saw that, didn't you? She attacked me." His grin was wide, "That was a mistake, brudnyy mutt. One that was a long time coming."

Alina tugged on Oksana as she was able to stand. "Let's go; he is trying to provoke you." She tried to soothe her as Oksana began to relax slightly and slowly lower her guard.

"Don't think it will be that easy this time." He began to use the gift, summoning a ball of fire in his hand as he pointed it toward the wolves. "Goodbye, Mutt." Oksana ran to intercept, but it was too late; he had turned, pointing it toward his own sister and released it. Alina cried out as Oksana only saw red, drawing from the flame.

Kirill laughed as he watched. He knew it was large enough to cause a scare, but his grin continued as he noticed Oksana heading towards him. "Take care of her. Let's see how good she is when the supervisors are not watching."

His friend Bodgen charged towards Oksana with a stick, intending to strike her. Oksana formed a blade with ice as she countered his attack. The impact caused the stick to snap and go flying as she followed up with an uppercut punch.

Dmitri bound some rocks together and cast them towards her. They thudded into her back, and she rolled onto the floor, creating a wall of ice behind her to stop the assault. The boy tried to knock down the wall with his rocks when suddenly hands grasped his ankles and pulled him down into the snow. Oksana popped out from underneath him and delivered an elbow drop.

"Kirill, stop, it has gone too far!" Alina's words seemed lost to the wind as Kirill fired a hot plume of fire towards the direction of Oksana. She created a shield of water, turning it to ice as she used it to push away the flames while slowly approaching him. The pair locked in a song of ice and fire, the heat of the flames licking past dangerous levels. Oksana conjured darts of ice as she tilted the shield upwards, creating an opening to impale the boy's feet with them. As Kirill cried out in pain, his attack halted, Oksana charged forward and barrelled into him, knocking him on his back as she jumped on him.

With her tormentor underneath her, all she could envisage was Borislav's face as she laid into him, raining blow after blow with her fists. Alina ran up to Oksana, attempting to pull her away, as she fought back, tears in her eyes as she continued. The fighting had attracted attention, and guards came to the scene, tackling Oksana and dragging the distressed girl away. Alina stayed behind with her brother, those green eyes of hers watched her get taken away.

---

Oksana was held in a secure location behind a locked door. She had not seen or heard from her family for a couple of days, as her only contact was the shifting of the guard and when she brought some food. The guards had spoken, but she was unable to hear, a fact they misunderstood, as this made them talk more freely with each other, thinking she was unable to follow the odd phrase as she watched their lips. Kirill, despite being beaten black and blue, was otherwise unharmed and recovering. The wolf cubs were not found, presumed to have left the area. It was when Andrei came himself that she knew the outcome.

The man came alone, not a trace of Alina or Svetlana having accompanied him. He looked towards her, then sighed, shaking his head. “You are not to return to our home; you are not welcome.” Oksana could feel her heart skip a beat, her pleading quickly silenced as he raised his hand. “Kirill is my son and heir. You are not. That is all that needs to be said of that decision.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, the droplets crystallizing as they reached her jaw, falling like tiny gem droplets.

He turned as he was about to leave, “My daughter and wife would never forgive me if I allowed something to happen to you. Despite your age, you will join to serve the guards on the wall. A roof over your head, food, and an important position in the Sich.” He walked out, as the guards came in to bring her to her new quarters.

Alina was gone.

---

---

[Fallenreaper]

Chilling with the Pets

Mahal

Time: Third Hour of Oraff to Eshiran. Some time after the Revolution aftermath.

---

Mahal took a deep breath. She lowered her arms and braced herself against the sand, stretching her right leg out behind her. When the mental countdown ended, she took off running. Instinctively, she drew in the mana around her. Upon reaching the edge, she slowed for a slip second. Her feet kicked up and released the kinetic energy. It sent her flying as her limbs curled in, sending her cannon balling into the water.

SPLASH!

It surrounded her suddenly. The subtle pop of shifting pressure settled in her head. Mahal drifted there. Her legs and arms began to loosen until they floated beside her. She blinked. Water blurred her vision while she observed her surroundings. Nothing at first. Suddenly, a low swish darted past. Her arms jerked to the side, swinging her about. She caught the fleeting glimpse of something dark disappear deeper.

Mahal smiled. She pushed her legs over her head and dove after it. Like a dream, the dark shape continued to stay just ahead of her. When she thought she could reach it, Mahal reached out to touch it. A sharp pain echoed in her chest. She stopped and clenched her chest. A few bubbles escaped her lips and floated upward. She cursed then shot up toward the surface.

Air rushed into Mahal's lung when she reached it, the sting across her chest fading. She continued to drift in place. Before she began her swim to shore, something brushed her feet. Mahal squeaked as she slipped off. Bobbing back up, she witnessed a dark carapace surface.

Apoy gave a low rumble that vibrated in the water. His hard shell lingered close allowing her arms to rest on him. She gently traced a jagged, yellow orange line down his craggy carapace side. It mimicked lava almost perfectly before it would fade into an ashy grey as he got older.

"Since you're eager to help. Apoy, shore." She commanded. The volcanic thresher just floated there.

"Apoy, shore!" Mahal repeated louder and gave his back a sharp tap. He still didn't go. She didn't understand. A moment passed before she realized the issue. With a soft sigh, she reached into her water tight pouch and pulled out a small fish.

"Apoy, shore." This time Mahal pushed off his form and lead him toward the beach. The volcanic thresher rumbled again and his legs began to move. She stepped up on shore before tossing him the fish. Apoy's large claw snapped up and seized it, retreating back into the habitat's depths.

"We'll work on that.." She had forgotten how food motivated he was until now. Speaking of treat addicts, her eyes shifted toward two forms bounding up to her.

Puno promptly lowered to her belly. She let out a strong, attention seeking woof. Sand stuck to her rich grey and black pelt as she wagged her rounded tail eagerly. Mahal reached to pet her only to have her dart away and repeat it. Mahal shook her head, "Puno, I'm too tired to chase you."

Mahal lowered herself into a cross legged position while she reached into her bag. She pulled out a few seasoned wood chips and a jerky treat. Catching the sight of food, Puno went for it.

"No!" Mahal raised her arm to block the greedy pup. Puno whined in protest trying to climb up her. Before she could reach it , Supok trotted up. The runty firehound leaned in for a sloppy kiss and pushed the updog off. Puno growled a warning. She lowered her form and followed up with glottal barks from her throat. Supok jerked and twisted about.

Mahal considered getting involved, but she stopped herself. They needed to resolve this before it became an issue. She watched the exchange until finally Supok rolled onto her side and went submissive. The brindle hound side eyed Mahal for help.

"Don't look at me like that. You shoved her first." Mahal then held out the jerky, telling them to sit and stay. Making them remain in place for a few seconds, she then let them have their treats. Supok and Puno settled in beside her while chewing them.

Casually, she laid back into the sand of Apoy's enclosure. Her eyes shifted to the skies and watched the clouds drift by while she reflected on the past events. It was difficult to know how she should feel about it. What was a small spark of protest spiraled into a fire of destruction and hope for permanent change. A part of her doubted it was that easy.

She found herself a part of the student body that dealt with the fall out from the conflict. Acid rain, fire, and more rain down on the city. Shortly after the chaos started to fade, she went looking for Lunara and they stumbled upon the staff. A large fight seemed to have broken out as they healed who they could and shortly was sucked into a strange place. Mahal's knuckled tightened, recalling the lack of senses and direction in that place. A small tremble broke across her flesh. She was weak in that moment. Frozen in place by panic, her lung struggling to contain air and her heart trying to break her ribs. If it wasn't for Diyablos and Puno, she might've been stuck there forever.

Mahal closed her eyes against the thought as she took a deep, cleansing breath. Something thin and rubbery touched her hand. She opened her eyes and spotted Diyablo sitting there. Giving him a gentle smile, she pulled him onto her belly. It seemed he had been playing in the ruins of a small barrel. It was one of her failed toy attempts for Apoy.

"It is too bad that Ciro only sells to reputable buyers now. Ironwood would've been a better choice." Mahal said to her small octopus, referring to the rumors of students destroying the shop.

Puno whined causing her to sigh and ruffle the dog's ears. It reminded her that she still had crates she needed to open. A part of her worried over the Rettandic ones.

Again, Diyablo tugged at her attention. She glanced down at him. "I saw you liked the barrel. I wonder why?"

Diyablos just blinked and seemed to smile with his odd eyes. It felt like he prefer to keep his secrets then reveal them, making the girl chuckle. She let him idly play with her hands and fingers.

Recently things, to some degree, started to become normal again. Sadly the scars of the conflict lingered underneath. Either the staff didn't do a good job or they wanted reminders of what happened here. It didn't matter in the end because Mahal had chosen to keep those memories. She thought about her tattoos. Not all scars were best forgotten.

For now, she would enjoy the peace while it lasted.

[Force and Fury]

---

---

Clunk.

Clatter.

Thump!

This was war in the Empire of Tantiac, and it looked surprisingly normal. The wagon train between Tanythen, Soisanda, and Yandreluul saw business even at the worst of times but, with the ban on unsanctioned teleportation, it was suddenly booming. The nineteen-year-old leaned back in her seat, trying to catch something like sleep, but she'd have needed to chemically douse herself in serotonin to have so much as a chance.

Clunk.

Clatter.

Thump!

And then, a new sound: "Hah. Aaahah. Aaaaah Aaaahah. Whaaaaa!"

Momentarily, she thought about turning off her ears. On some level they still rang with the words of the general: equal parts commendation and rebuke. You charmed them, Dichora, like we hoped you would. How approving he'd sounded, for once. But these Ersand'Enise yanii have very short memories when it comes to the good and very long ones when it comes to the bad. She'd not known what to say, so she'd simply nodded. You sure you didn't let them charm you back? She'd spoken against the accusation, for that was effectively what it had been, even with its somewhat informal tone. She'd requested that she be sent into the theatre with Chad and Miret. Nowhere else I'd rather send you, kid, but I craft the tactics, not the strategies.

Request denied.

And so she'd asked if she might return home for a week, as a morale exercise, but Chad had been sent in her stead, as a member of the winning team at the Trials. Her performance, in comparison, had been an embarrassment. Fuck your embarrassment. Those people were tough. Plus, she'd sworn she'd do things differently from last time: no big dark magic, no intimidating or bullying people. She, Miret, and Chad had been sent there to both charm and succeed. They'd decided that Chad would succeed, and the cousins would charm. Tyrel would always be granted her gilded cage. Chad's status depended on his personal success.

Request denied.

They had been seen too much together recently, as if they were exclusively each other's in the fashion of yanii and some consoi. It was scandalous and, like a child, she needed to be managed for her own good and the two of them temporarily separated. Chad had done his part, bedding Juulet, Seviin, and half a dozen yanii girls. He'd have made a pass at Penny too were it not for Ashon. He'd done it to be convincing, she knew, and because it was right to share oneself and one's love, even if one kept a luush'elar. And yet... Tyrel thumped her head against the side of the passenger car, groaning as a baby continued to wail over the desperate coos of its mother, two old men yammered loudly in the dialect of Osai, and a trio of children continued to chase each other around halfheartedly, with nothing better to do. Who had Tyrel given the gift of herself to, the general had asked. If she were a bit more generous, he had added, then perhaps her leave could be considered...

Request denied.

She'd been offered leave for Saliac, where her aunt, uncle, and a few cousins lived. She'd been denied teleport permission, hence the wagon train. Avatar of the Fallen Goddess she scoffed inwardly, but it was something. Most people couldn't simply request leave for nothing other than a desire to see family in the midst of a war. All around flew the banners of the Siip'suuras. Children painted them in school between making maps of Consoi lands, learning about the people and the animals there, and training in war games. Jaadas, Juuras, Tan'daxii: the words were on everyone's lips. Victory, Justice, Deliverance. They were so eager to give up their luxuries. They were so eager to drill or work extended hours. They were so united in imagination at what they might finally achieve now that the thousand-year plan had been put into action. Tyrel knew, as she watched a little boy tag a little girl on the soldier - "Caught you, Yanii-jexoff!" - that it was not so simple a picture; nothing ever was. And yet... maybe they could do it. The consoi might hate them for it for some time. Some might fight back - she'd already seen where they had - but their kings were cruel and corrupt. Their nations were failed. Addiction, pestilence, poverty, and chaos stalked their lands. What did they fight for? Why did they fight? Was it for their own stubborn pride or was it something as nebulous and ill-defined as a sense of identity.

A high-pitched shriek from the baby caused her to drape her spare shirt over her head. She tapped her boot rhythmically on the floor in annoyance. "Hyco faiyiil luun'ithan..." she hummed to herself.

"Duun juu saluuv!" came a reply, and Tyrel cracked an eye open. It was 'Yanii'jexoff' from earlier. The little girl, unbidden, had slid into the empty seat to her right and was smiling tentatively up at her. She must've been no more than five or six. "Holum duul alax." The child grinned. "You look really sleepy. I'm sleepy too."

From a seat some ways down, a bedraggled-looking woman leaned forward. "Tyrel, leave the nice lady alone!"

The 'nice lady' started at that. Tyrel wasn't a rare name, but it was not common either. She pushed off from the soft upholstery and leaned forward. "Oh, it's no worry. I can't sleep anyhow, and she's being sweet."

The woman replied with a nod and a grateful look, twisting to shout at the boy. "Maxan! Maxan, here!" She twisted back to Tyrel - perhaps both Tyrels. "Sorry! And thank you." Her voice rose. "Tyrel!" The girl perked up and the teenager forced herself not to. "You don't bother her with silly things, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okaaaayyy, mom." Then, it was just the two of them. "So, you're Tyrel, hmm?"

The girl arched an eyebrow and nodded. "What's your name?"

"Well, I'll give you a clue: it's something to do with winter."

"Telaxii?"

She shook her head.

"Well, mine's a winter name too. It means snow."

Tyrel the elder nodded. "I'll give you a second clue: when your mother called you, she called me too."

The girl's eyes widened. "Tyrel! You're Tyrel too!" Both Tyrels smiled at each other. "Well, I didn't think I'd meet another Tyrel today! I only know two: One's my grandmother and the other was in my class last year but now she's in a different class."

"I knew I'd meet another Tyrel today," the older of the two responded. "In fact, as soon as I saw you, I thought, 'that's another Tyrel, for sure.'"

The child looked skeptical. "Really?" she pressed, and Tyrel nodded. "They say we all come out when it's winter, you know."

"My mom calls me 'snow angel'," she confirmed, kicking her feet back and forth. If the bench had some nice upholstery - a necessity for what was effectively a sleeper wagon - It was still a basic thing, with empty space beneath. She kept kicking back and forth, humming a little tune and looking at her senior expectantly. "It's a way to practice music," she declared. "I use my legs to keep time." She glanced at Tyrel's lone leg. "Did you learn the same way?" she asked, and the teenager decided to mess with her a little bit by nodding. "I think everybody does."

"Oh," was all that she received in return and there was a long pause filled only with her slight disappointment. "Why do you have one leg?"

Kids. An adult would've blushed to ask such a question. A five-year-old did not. Tyrel felt a small finger poke her stump. "It's so squishy!" The girl made a face of endless amusement.

"Tyrel..."

"Yeah?"

"Did I say you could poke me?"

"Sorry." There was another pause. Then: "Sooo..."

---

---

Monty

---

---

"Well, you see there, buckaroo," the Avatar of Vyshta began, "one time, when I was just a weeeeee little nugget of a person, roundabout your age, I made me the mistake of gettin' a murderpenguin as a pet."

"You have a murderpenguin!?"

"Had, past tense, and I think you may be missing the point of this here story."

"Oh." The child shook her head. "It bited off your leg, right?"

Tyrel scowled. "Well now you've gone and ruined it."

"Sorry..."

"So anyways, I had me a great big honkin' murderpenguin, with flappy little wings and a long swingy neck and a sharp snappy beak."

"What was his name?"

"Mortimer Montgomery Masterson-Murderpenguin, Esquire."

Little Tyrel blinked.

"Monty, for short."

"Oh. My dowsingjay is named Berry."

"Well that's a nice name," Tyrel senior lied. It was boring. It was, in fact, only nice because an adorable little kid had clearly named it. "Anyhow, one day, I decided to take ol' Monty there for a swim."

"By yourself!?"

"Yeah," the teenager responded. "Why not?"

"But you said you were six?"

"Five, actually."

"But you said you were my age."

One mystery solved. "Oh. I thought you were five."

"Nuh-uh! I'm six and one quarter, actually."

"Well alrighty then. So, anyhow, I took him out for a swim -"

"You could swim?"

"Yes, Tyrel."

"Okay, Tyrel. Wow. I can't swim."

"Well, I could."

"I can run fast." She looked over at the older girl's missing leg smugly.

"Good for you. Have a cookie."

"Do you really have cookies or is that just some grownup thing to say?"

"Some grownup thing to say." She smiled tightly. "So, I was taking Monty out for a swim and -"

"My mom never lets me go out on my own."

"That's because you don't have a murderpenguin."

"Neither do you... anymore."

Child, I swear to Shiin, screw the story. I am going to destroy you with facts and logic. She went with something a touch more conciliatory, however. "Am I going to tell the story or are you gonna try to guess it?"

"What was it about, again?"

It was at that moment that Tyrel the elder knew she was beaten. "Oh, it was just about how badly I wanted murderpenguin eggs."

"Are they really yummy?" The child bounced up and down on her seat.

"I wouldn't know. I never got to eat them."

The girl's eyes widened. "Why?"

"Well, you see, I was an expert fisherman back then and -"

"Why not fishergirl?" Little Tyrel blinked in earnest curiosity. "Why's it always 'man' for everything?"

That was... actually not a bad point, the older Tyrel allowed. "Because, otherwise, men won't feel special and important, so we let them have it."

"That's dumb. How about girls?"

"Well, we're a bit tougher than them.'

The child nodded dubiously.

"So anyhow, I went swimmin' with that there murderpenguin Mortimer."

"Monty."

"Both names are okay."

"But you said Monty before."

"Whose penguin was he?"

Little Tyrel rolled her eyes.

"So, there's nothing that murderpenguins like better than tasselfish and I decided to catch me one o' them big suckers!"

"To feed Monty?"

Tyrel nodded. "Exactly! So I took out my bait and dangled it in the water. Can you guess what that bait was?"

"Miss? Are you the Avatar of Vyshta?"

With that, the last of Tyrel's confidence was shattered, though she wasn't quite certain if it was confidence in herself or in children. She sighed. "Nope," she lied, aware of her duty to not be noticed. "Just some random girl with one leg."

"Oh," the child replied. "Are you sure?"

Tyrel arched an eyebrow. "I think I know who I am." Immediately, profound questions leapt to mind. Immediately, she brushed past them.

"Oh, it's just 'cause I'm named after her and she's my hero."

Tyrel swallowed. Shit. "Tyrel, lean in close for a second." The girl did so and she whispered something in her ear. Their eyes met, the smaller one's wide. "You can't tell anyone, okay?"

---

---

It was a cold somnes, snow already coating the ground. Behind Tyrel, the wagon was receding into the distance, its flickering lamps becoming faint. Three other figures - anonymous people - had separated almost immediately, hurrying home in the cold and the dark, arms wrapped around themselves. The teenager's breath came out in wispy white puffs and her footsteps crunched in the fresh white snow. She twisted on the spot, eyes roving about her surroundings: the distant line of leafless trees, the glowing partial orbs of the moons, and the line of footprints she had left to connect her to the wagonway station. She knew the way back by heart. Likely, she could navigate it blindfolded. In the distance, perched amid the giant branches of Aldreth, Daxodreth, and Luudreth lay Saliac. There, lay her old home and Miret's. There, people knew her. There, she could simply be Tyrel.

---

---

[Th3King0fChaos]

Smoldering Grace

Marz found himself in a strange scene, he had found the city he had wished to become a student of since the last year's trials in a state of smoldering chaos. The fighting was over, the injured had either been taken care of or passed, the dead were being moved, the victors cried out, and the losers sulked or quietly laid in their piles, ready to be buried or burned.

Marz recounted the days as he sat down, resting after everything that happened, from the start, to the Trials. An event Marz had wished to join when Shortlisted first was being formed, yet he was passed over when the team was formed, and he had to watch. This year was different, he joined the school in earnest and had participated in the many games. From the simple Cherune game where they were to steal from each other small boxes that lead them to treasure to give themselves a leg up in the final rewards. Or the eventful race that the Dragon always provides. Yet where some of the most heated moments came from when Mano-e-Mano was lined up.

Marz sighed as he thought about the events that transpired during that time. It was no more than a week ago since the events happened, yet it felt like an eternity and it felt as if the world had set its eyes upon the event and all evil sprung from it with their own machinations. Many who looked upon the combat that kids were doing and had their own plans. Marz could not say what all of them were, yet for him, he remembered his fights and nodded as he thought about his strength, he himself knew he was strong, he was always told he was strong and he proved it, he had gained many accolades in many combat sports, yet here he had learned he was only that, strong. Then there were many truly scary people, even in the school where they were all learning together. Marz sighed as he looked to the Forked Tower where there lay pieces of rubble, ruined stone that was once said never to have been tarnished.

Marz had finally made his way back to his shop, a place that had found some reprieve, he had made sure to keep it protected before he had even thought to walk away from it. Some of the building was slightly charred, pot marked because of acid rain, and stone being chipped from the commotion. Within he felt it was still warm, reminding Marz, that no more than a few hours had passed. What to him felt like days of defending his own forge, multiple houses in which he knew that other Hegelans had lived, and then entering the Forked Tower with Cal. All these things, and not more than a few hours passed for him. Marz made his way to the forge, quietly swiping his hand as the fires ignited, burning the little bit of fuel that was there, he looked into the fire and sat upon his anvil, feeling it heat up slowly as the heat traveled through the many pipes within the forge to keep the many workstations heated.

He let the anvil heat, the pipes being able to transfer the heat well from the small fire Marz lit to the anvil that was a few feet away, it felt comforting, the heat of the forge, after the cold realization that the school has permanently changed, and all he can do is watch.