Anarion

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

"My home? Oh you wouldn't..." There's a moment there where De Alcard hesitates. This is a rote answer, the kind she's given to a thousand other people within TC who only asked the question to be polite and wanted a learned answer. You're familiar with that, Hybrasil has set greetings, rituals among different groups and careers, the Huntress Lodge has a thousand such traditions some stricter than others.

It's an interesting thing about De Alcard though. You can really see the exact rate at which her mind is moving. Too slow or too off balance from all this to fully catch herself before slipping into her learned patterns, but fast enough to always catch herself. She's been doing it all night so far, and during your fight. She's careful, thoughtful, just, well, off her game a bit.

The thought is occurring to her too with this catch. So she stops instead. "You wouldn't have heard much about my home, I should think. I suppose you know that in TC being close to the center is everything. TC Prime counts its population in the tens of billions, and I'm quite sure Secundus has cleared a billion as well, they're most probably nearing two." She sips her drink as she mulls on that, perhaps imagining TC Secundus growing ever larger. Likely many opportunities for work there.

She continues though. "Other places, they're for the resources, you see m'lady. Nobody particularly wanted to live on Alcard. The light is very red there and not very attractive. Gravity in Alcard is on the heavier end as well, the planets in system have heavy metal cores, very dense. Mm, I apologize m'lady, I'm sure I'm boring you with all this, but talk of metallurgy is expected of my house. Alcard is so named after the Alcard family, my family. My Great grandfather started the mining colony that produces some of the arms and armor in the galaxy and I'm proud of our work. Though it is apparently still some miles behind the best that Hybrasil has to offer." She takes another sip of her drink, not too much at once, and looks down at you from over the glass with a pointed expression that says she very much understands how she ended up here.

"I'm a third daughter of course, but I was lucky to have the potential for piloting, so I was not consigned to record-keeping or having to go off and start my own branch family in a new mining base somewhere in the system. Alcard has only one inhabited planet you know, but we've got little asteroid bases dotted all over, and I'd guess we're over ten million souls all told by now. Everything and nothing all at once. And you know, not a whit of what I've seen compares to your beauty, m'lady."

She lets the conversation lull for a moment there. You've walked clear across the stage floor through the crowd, chatting and sipping. It can be assumed that she's fine with your brief modeling stint, having raised no objection and being in no position to do so, and you've very nearly reached the bar, where there's some activity and even an overturned stool from what must have been a brief fight a short while ago.

The main show will be starting in a few moments. She's gone through two glasses of the bubbly stuff she's been drinking from the waiters and downs her third quickly before setting it aside. Don't think she's forgotten the offer of a kiss, indeed it seems like she's been sipping so much of her drink to work herself up to the matter. She considers for another moment, but the alcohol has made her bold, and she ultimately bends down on one knee like a squire and takes you close gently, carefully, ensuring that she has not overstepped.

Has she, or will you grant her the kiss she wants?

***

Isabelle

Isabelle, Isabelle, Isabelle, this is simple, you've played this game before. Emidio, he is tired and hard-working and he would like to have something that is easy to write and something that will get lots of attention. He might like to do some good in the world besides, he surely hasn't gone into his line of work for the wealth and the luxury despite attending parties like this.

"Emidio Paz, at your service" he says. "I write for La Nueva Opinion, covering their culture section. As you can see..." he makes a sweeping gesture to the room, carefully avoiding knocking a passing waiter "this is the heart of culture for the galaxy these days."

Really, the trick isn't Paz himself, you understand, he's basically telling you that he's willing to call you important. You could probably get him to write that heart of culture bit straight into the article praising you if you make the right sort of joke at this moment and ask if he's talking about you. The trick, the real trick, is that you know much more than he does about what would please Adriana Teresio, and you need to navigate that without displeasing your family in the process.

The woman is bold, hard-driving, and extravagant. She painted her mecha entirely bright red after all, and dueled people in and out of it in her fiery youth. It's simply not good enough to be thought well of, and she's in the discerning camp that will notice your moment of hesitation in your earlier match. If you want to impress her, do something powerful here tonight, something that shows you've already learned and grown from the previous experience. Maybe become the patron and poster child of your favorite designer, and then simply drop the action right in front of Emidio? That will displease your family and present a real risk to your business though though. Sponsoring something this big, it's terribly wasteful, it won't come cheap, and others in your family might disagree with you as to whether the likelihood of getting Adriana's attention is worth the risk you'd be taking. But of course, doing that right is what would get Adriana's attention in the first place. You could come up with something less extreme than that, but the more risk averse you get, the less likely it's really going to sit well with Adriana, that's the tradeoff.

***

Dolly

Angela clucks her tongue and with that outstretched arm, she wraps it around you and pulls you close to her. Oh, little Dolly, this big, hard-working woman with her strong muscles is really very much, isn't she? She's looking so intently down into your eyes, that arm holding you tightly, so very strong.

She holds that gaze with you for a long moment, keeping you pressed against that soft, long, satin dress so close that you can feel the weight of her thick leg against your chin. She holds you long enough that you blush and lower your head, and that seems to satisfy her. "This isn't an act, little priestess, aya, you are not joking with me."

And then, then she picks you up, straight off the ground! She hefts you so that she can put you on eye level with her. Oh, gosh, she's so strong, outside of Jade you don't have any way to resist that strength, do you? You could fall back on Hybrasilian instincts and scamper away, find somewhere very dark and quiet to hide, but Jade wouldn't like that and you wouldn't really like that either. It's very nice to be picked up and held, isn't it?

She holds you at eye level and speaks to your face, very close, her breath hot. "You, goddess, you think you can toy with me, ya? You and your little priestess, you're good, I'll give you that, but you think yourself untouchable and it makes you arrogant." She snorts derisively, the breath tickling your nose. "Well you've made yourself an enemy today, and I'll be starting by keeping your priestess for the night."

And with that, she settles in a chair that peers over the balcony to watch the start of the fashion show, still holding you very firmly, Dolly.

The others up here, they've seen all this, and they're all wondering if she got it right. What are you going to do?

***

Solarel

Your tigress partner hauls you into the booth roughly, though not unkindly, she ensures that your pretty cream dress is properly tucked under you and not at any risk of tearing, then slides in directly next to you. She's barely said a word this whole time, just that opening joke, but now that she has you in a private, quiet space, calm and in hand, she's got some things to say.

"Yes, I know you and you know me. But you're not the only one of your species I've met. I learned since the last time we met, Solarel. You walked over us because you had new gods, I understand it now. Gods we'd never met, gods that spoke to you directly, even gods you hunted." The thought of that, it makes her heart race, her muscles tense. Crescent wants that hunt for herself. Might even be on that hunt right now, with you the prey. Your pink brushed scales glimmer in the dim light of the booth and for a moment you truly imagine what it might have felt like to be hunted by a cat through the twilight, stalking every closer.

"You're going to be mine tonight. I'm going to show you a good time, Solarel, I'm going to show you just how I let bygones be bygones" and she bares her fangs and presses against you harder than she was. The feel of a Hybrasilian must be so interesting for a Zaldarian like you, taking in energy as you do. She's small and soft, but this one is strong and sturdy too, muscles developed and coiled, ready to pounce. She's underselling how well she knows your people too, this pressure, it's good, she's reading your body incredibly, putting in energy in all the right places.

She leans into you and whispers so very close. "And when I'm done, if you're very good, I'll tell you about a place where you can learn all about my gods and yours."

***

The first fashion line by Prime Couture

As you all converse and settle, the main show will be starting.

Prime Couture is the most famous fashion house on TC Prime. They were started by the Teresio family some years ago, and have developed into a large fashion house that snaps up promising designers and employs a veritably army of artisans putting their garments together. It's known to be somewhat vicious: if you join Prime Couture at all, you're already top talent, but if you want to break out to be famous in your own right, you're competing for a tiny handful of slots with several hundred equally bright designers.

Tonight is a premier under the house brand showing off a new line of ball gowns styled "for an expanding galaxy."

They open with their music, a lazy sort of opening guitar that rises into a tango accompanied by drums, synth, and a rolling baseline as the models begin coming out.

The dresses here are all about the fabric. The house seems to have obtained neural mesh imprints of vistas from across the galaxy, including from several Zaldarians and Hybrasilians and they've made a kind of printed fabric that shows off the landscapes upon the models. The long gowns are woven wide and with long trains in several different cuts so that as the models walk and then turn, it's like a distant sunset is walking past you, or a lush lake, or sweeping spires patrolled by vast and wild nanobot spirits. There's something really special to these, like seeing through someone else's eyes and each dress is its own unique perspective with accents and emphasis as the viewer saw it. That means the sparkle and shimmer of the water beyond the leaves for the one, and the strong powerful silhouettes of the mechanical gods in stronger starker contrast than the other, their spiritual overlays making the empty terrain between them look dim by comparison.

The final model, walking alone, wears a dress with flying high shoulders and a vast cape down her back wrapped over the interior dress visible from the front. The landscape is not on the surface, but rather is a view from a pilot exploring the ringed nebula. Or perhaps some kind of composite view. It's impossibly wider than a single pilot could be at a single place, like gazing upon the vast rings of star matter from the vantage of a god. The rings of the nebula crisscross in different colors, circling the shoulders, running along the cape and down and back through the sparkling front of the dress in a wild rainbow depicting this cradle of stars.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

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

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

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

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

Valentina de Alcard gives you a cool stare. Definitely royalty, not a woman accustomed to being told that she’ll get three quarters of what she wants. But you did beat her, and you can tell she’s leaning into the station that deserves, so she’s ready to be the follower tonight. She didn’t stop you when you took her hand, and she lets that purr of your reverberate through her own body before nodding, once.

“Alright m’lady, you granted me my boon as the loser. So tonight, your wish is my command. Lead me where you will.” She brushes her other hand to smooth her skirt, lets it ruffle down to the midnight base and faces you with her full chest to let you lead the way.

And gosh, where did she get the old speaking style? You’re pretty sure that isn’t how most TCers talk. They’re supposed to be all mining folks or flashy dumb pilots who you beat up with their own arrogance. Maybe this is just how everyone from Alcard talks? Or maybe she’s just got a thing, or she thinks this is how to address a Hybrasilian. Or her conqueror. Lots of options.

Of course, she doesn’t leave you hanging, she’s already starting the friendly chatter. “...would prefer they get the young designers out faster, they’re always impractical, don’t you think m’lady? I’m here primarily for the ball gowns from Prime Couture, though I admit some interest in what Linterna Brilliante premiers since it might serve both of us in piloting and they’re always so known for their forward thinking. I don’t mean to dismiss the need to find talent, far from it, but I think they would be better served premiering for specialists, experts with an eye for talent who can help them improve. Premiering for all of us will subject them to such extensive criticism for just a handful of well-received pieces.”

Admittedly, the designer out there now showing a neural mesh enhanced suit jacket is a bit over the top. The assisted handstand and cartwheel was stiff but even if it had gone perfectly a lot of designers would have said it was a bit much. But after that model, the next one is a young designer who’s trying to integrate drone technology into the dress. Actually, could they have modeled it after your mecha somehow? It’s not as sophisticated as the nine tails by any means, but the whole design up there is a woman in a fairly plain platinum dress with shoulder straps but with a set of five small drones painted in metallic lapis lazuli who are wheeling about the dress to join in formation, creating in turn a sash, a scarf, a hood, a drape, and then a shining multipart necklace. Their whirring motion creates constant blue-tinted light playing across the platinum surface so that it almost looks like she’s part of a river current of some sort.

De Alcard is looking too, though she may well be less moved than you perhaps? What’s next for her?

***

Solarel

Her callsign was Crescent. She piloted an average size Hybrasil Mecha, a little under 10 meters tall with long legs and narrow rounded shoulders framing the cockpit in the head. Her primary weaponry had been missiles set onto a back-mounted launcher that came over those narrow shoulders, mounted above the crystal fire drive, making her mecha look top-heavy. Since her hands were free, she carried a spear as well, but it had been the missiles that had made you approach as you did, fleeing juuust ahead of the missile chase and even taking a glancing blow from a detonation to lure her into chasing you so you could set up the shot.

You could also tell from the Mecha aesthetics that her call sign referred to a phase of a moon, but not which one. She’d painted it a deep green with a bright yellow crescent upon it like the shape moons took when angled around a planet such that only a partial amount of sunlight could reflect on their surface.

You didn’t know she was a tiger before, nothing about her suit or her bearing had been that specific, but looking at her build and stance now, that sort of overpowering direct style of blowing the opponent up before they could do anything did seem in keeping with her personal movements.

She’s rapidly crossed the distance to where you fell and she uses her build to pick you up. Well, she’s not tall enough to actually get your feet off the floor, but she’s grabbed you by the collar and she’s holding your upper body weight. She knows something about Zaldariens too, can you feel the way she’s pressing with her paws, putting the force into your metallic skin with such subtlety? She can tell what she’s doing, the kind of energy she’s giving you and it seems like she’s enjoying the game of understanding what it does to you, no fear there.

If you had to guess, yes she’s recovered from her wound and it’s a credit to Hybrasilian tech or to Crescent’s mental fortitude. You can also guess that she has not forgotten the time she careened into six separate asteroids before getting her momentum under control and the fact that she doesn’t seem all that angry is giving you vibes somewhere between flirting and rivalry. They’re not particularly far apart.

There’s also a sense that she’s…testing something? You know that sort of feeling. Whatever it is, she’s making this feel good, in fact is she?! …yeah, yes she’s doing something with her paw muscles, really subtle, like she’s twitching in a pattern. It’s not directly rhythmic, something irregular, but it’s there, a subtle flexing of the muscle in a complex time signature, repeating around once every 14 motions followed by a variation, and a part of your brain is now wholly dedicated to following that pattern and completely puzzling it out. It’s hard to even notice that she’s dragging you to a booth just past the bar.

[Crescent defines a vulnerability in Solarel to her touch. She’s also spending her string immediately to offer an XP if you let her drag you away from the bar.]

***

Isabelle
“Thrilling isn’t it?” Despite all the Lozano siblings being together, Emidio Paz knew how to slip into an opening to talk to someone in a group. It even helped to look a little tired. That was the key, actually, to look well-dressed but just a bit tired and overworked. It had that perfect combination to the rich and powerful of being non-threatening (because they could tell your clothes were good enough you weren’t there to ask for money) but also sympathetic. A person could feel that urge to clink glasses and toast tired arms to the unceasing rat race with a kindred spirit.

And so, Isabelle, you find yourself next to a man in a good quality but slightly wrinkled suit taking notes on a stylus. He grins, runs a hand through hair that’s just long enough to show he needs a haircut and across the two days of stubble he hasn’t shaved and then flips his stylus back out. It’s a lot more interesting than the terrifying woman tasked with organizing the event. No shade on her, Lucille Toldeo has that look of a woman who’s been around the block, put most of that block onto her thighs, and in the intervening years managed to learn how to command everyone around her with her eyes. It’s just, the way she greets you is that you’re a check mark and now that she’s done the politeness that check mark has been done and there’s other things to do and you know better than to get between a woman like that and her lists.

“Excellent match today” he says, a simple compliment that nevertheless tells you he knows who you are and given how newly arrived he looks that he’s a man who could catch up on the news quickly. He glances then to the stage. The first fashion line is starting from the up and comers. They’re showing something pretty intriguing, a suit that incorporates a similar neural mesh fiber to the mechas within the lining. The model is showing it off, demonstrating how it can help her move. It’s a bit thick, this is obviously a prototype and the assisted handstand looks more awkward than it needed to because of how stiff the coat is, but it’s still impressive and she disembarks the stage with a flourish assisted by the flaring cuffs of the pants.

“Bet you could pull that off” he jokes, and he looks at your dress and smiles and tells you without any words that you’re a very beautiful woman. “So are you thinking sponsorships? A new clothing line maybe, pushed by the premier of the great house Lozano?”

It’s disarming, it’s friendly, you’re already sharing a drink and it just makes you want to answer. So, are you?

[Refusing to honestly answer the question requires a defy disaster roll]

***

Dolly

Those whispers are loud as thunder, aren’t they, dear sweet Dolly? They’re the whispers of smart Hybrasilians who know how to get into places, and those whispers are going to follow them from here. Will it be that Dolly is making a bad name for them, an errant priestess? That this is what it is to be under the sway of a goddess? Will they laugh and snigger behind your back? Oh the thought of it is so embarrassing, the rumors will be endless. Jade doesn’t care though, no of course not, you’re hers first and foremost and if you want the others to think better of you, you’ll just need to be more poised, more sure, no matter where Jades touch comes to rest upon you. Especially not there!

Angela is blushing though. “You’ve got to have a game” she stammers, sounding far more uncertain. All that back and forth you’ve had, the sudden stops, the flusters and blushes has thrown her. A blush is rising in her own cheeks. She doesn’t know what to make of this attention, but she’s understanding that it is attention and she’s starting to think that you like her, that maybe you want to be close and you’re lurching about is a struggle with your own feelings.

Well, of course that’s what she’ll think when she has time to sit down and write this all in her diary along with her drawings of the next barn owl (a name that she is absolutely not giving up and also how dare you look at her diary!). But in the moment, it’s confusing and odd and she doesn’t quite understand why she likes it anyway, why that feeling of being in over her head is coming over her and her cheeks are getting brighter and brighter with her rosy blood.

“E-everybody has a game, you’re not just, I mean, not that you’d, but you did all those things, those taunts, aya what is all this huh, you tell me!” She’s stepping back and forth without realizing, setting the train of her dress swish-swishing along the floor, the sparkles catching your eye so tantalizingly. Her hand is still right up against your face and the smell of her nerves is strong enough that your sensitive little nose can catch it. It’s a lot to have a strong woman holding herself right in your face and forgetting about it all at once!

The music is starting down below, the first few dresses from the young designers starting to be on display. You might feel a kinship to them if you can ever pay attention. But you’re busy!

Do you see what Jade saw, this woman who could move so well, so beautifully and cutely and embarrassedly all at once that she deserves your praise, or do you see something different in this moment, Dolly?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

After the match

The end of an arena match always involves some cleanup and a chance to calm down and think through what happened. When the fight is done, the pilots need to leave the combat zone. If they can all fly out under their own power, that’s done easily enough. If they can’t, there are smaller ships and tugs to get things out of there and in the worst cases the scrap will become material for the arena itself to reuse in the future.

Many pilots find the flight back a good opportunity to cool down and collect themselves, though plenty also use the time to go over the details, get their AIs working on new tasks, and sometimes simply beat themselves up with their alone time. Sometimes, you have to give your opponent a lift.

One way or another though, what’s left of both combatants needs to get to a hangar so they can rest and depart the planet. The Arena itself, made as an achievement of Zaldarian nanobot manipulation, is ever-shifting but it always leaves room for copious hangar bays in each region. Sometimes they’re hidden via caves and tunnels. Sometimes they’re just below the surface. Sometimes they’ll simply be out in the open in sections of the arena outside of any combat zones. There are always directions to them once a match is over.

However they appear, every hangar is going to smell of metal, grease, and heat from the constant work. Every mecha needs its own dock: a place to refuel its crystal fire drive with dense heavy element fuel that can be converted to energy by way of the strong nuclear force, to repair and recharge its armor and shielding, and to do retrofit work. On top of that, work in the Arena simply cannot be entirely automatic, so every hangar is going to have space for shuttles and courier ships to bring in and rotate crews, attached living space for temporary stays, and storage for all the tools and materials. The result is a constant hum of activity, the merging sound of metal, power, and bustling people creating a general din and liveliness to any Arena hangar.

Once you reach a hangar, there’s the repairs and departure. Services are free, but many pilots are picky and will bring their own mechanics. Besides, modifications are permitted in the time between matches so long as you lock things in and allow your mecha to be inspected the day before the match. Very few pilots stay on the Arena itself for too long. It’s not the best place to sleep and the facilities are minimal. And after a match there is always a night to celebrate or drown your sorrows and then a day to sleep that off.

It should perhaps be noted that day and night are a bit abstract when dealing with the positions of three distinct planets orbiting the same star, but each planet in the Akar system makes an effort to accommodate shared time around the arena matches, so whether it’s light or dark when you come in, there’s time for a party, time to sleep, and time to deal with the physical and mental repairs and preparations needed to enter the next match.

***

The opening night festivities!

Following this season opener, there’s a gala special event on tap for everyone who wants to be seen. La Plataforma is hosting a fashion show on Akar Prime!

La Plataforma, originally founded in the Terenius Secundus system, is one of the largest fashion magazines in the galaxy. They distribute reviews, pictures, patterns, and juicy gossip on the latest trends and trendsetters throughout the known systems and they’ve recently expanded from TC space into both Hybrasilian and Zaldarian space with minimal objection. Couriers run their neural meshes from planet to planet, and you can also get files for both biological species and AI assemblers to make their patterns or just view their catalog of the latest styles in any form you can manage: high or low tech.

They’ve calculated that the combination of huge crowds for the matches, potential buyers from across the civilizations, and the chance to attract the pilots to sponsor designer clothing lines makes hosting a fashion show during the Arena season a winning move here. If they’re lucky, a popular pilot will maybe even appear in one of the fashions in the next match, causing it to really take off and cementing La Plataforma themselves as the trendsetting visionaries of the known galaxy.

So they’ve made a big deal of it. A really big deal. The kind of big deal that involves renting out most of a city block of some of the most populous and desirable real estate in the galaxy. The kind of big deal that means throwing out news of this thing on holovids for the past month, doing a cross-promotion with the Akar Prime travel bureau to put up adds in the arrival hangers for the planet and in all the civilian shuttles, and putting up actual, honest to gosh physical banners about this thing all around the spaceport. People will be singing the jingle for the fashion show ads for decades.

The core of the production is being hosted at the Jungle. They’ve rented out the entire building both bar and rec center, and brought in their own crew to clear out the recreation area to act as a huge dressing room and runway, while the bar serves as a viewing area (and also still a bar, making for a lively crowd!). The stage is set up on the far side of the building from the door in a kind of T-shape with the models able to line up on the long section of the stage while the thinner runway ramp is still wide enough for several people to be coming and going at the same time in a constant rotation. The whole thing is raised up over ten feet with every kind of lighting you could imagine.

Rather than try to fight the aesthetic, they’ve gone all in on the Jungle’s Hybrasilian theming: the stage is decorated along its base and lower walls with curling wide-leafed ferns. The center walkway and main stage are open, but the leaves wind their way up the sides of each wall and curl in towards participants on the ends. Vines dangle from the ceiling and the lighting has been cunningly done to mix in with the vines to create a diffuse glow from above along with the usual spotlighting, giving the whole space an ethereal air to it with only the stage itself clearly lit so everyone can see the clothes.

Partially concealed in the area to the left of the stage is a lower and smaller stage setup for the DJ and sound techs. The Jungle’s regular DJ apparently was good enough to be hired for this and she’s got a Hybrasilian fast beat girl group playing for the guests even before the models are going to get everyone ready for the final setup. In front of them is the VIP area for the photographers to make sure they can get all the appropriate close up shots.

The bar itself hasn’t moved, but the tables and chairs have been cleared out and put into storage so that the entrance is a huge open room where people can mix and congregate. Wait staff offer champagne and wine, while the bar has bottles with liquor in every imaginable shape and color, some even gleaming and sparkling in the ethereal light. The only furniture items are a few covertly placed drink drop-offs around the sides of the room and a small section of chairs set up to the front right side of the stage reserved to account for elderly or infirm guests who wanted to attend.

But wait, there’s still more! The upstairs section above the stage has been opened up and turned into a two tier balcony viewing area with yet another set of photographers, VIP guests, and its own bar specially set up for the space. Stepping away from the balcony railings offers a space with standing tables lit by deep purple uplights to allow for people to relax, chat, and step away from the glamor for a moment into the shadows.

Not content with this full out building setup, there are also two overflow rooms in the building next door and cameras are set up to locally broadcast the whole event. The overflow rooms are getting a perfect 3d recreation in real time, while everybody else is getting whatever their home setup allows for. When this is done, neural meshes of the event and impressions from the top critics will be shipped out of the system and across the galaxy.

Outside the buildings, guests are lined up on the street and the area is full of life, light and noise from all the traffic. A route has been set up for small shuttles to ferry people directly to the venue as well via a second-story entrance. The smell of sizzling street food fills the air as local vendors have set up at the entrances to the block just away from the lines and they’re making a variety of barbecue buns (meat and veggies of all types and all constitutions) known to be an Akar prime specialty.

As for the show itself, well, it will be a party through the evening. The first hour is specially reserved for up and coming designers who entered a La Plataforma contest to have their work shown. Models are being provided for the young up and comers for free from the more established houses, and this offers an opportunity for several rising new artists to show off their clothing lines. Styles were selected on the theme of “shatter the norm!” so the expectations are for the outlandish and wild to start things out.

For the second hour, multiple major designers are premiering new lines tonight. Three major TC fashion houses are present to offer contrasting perspectives from the most populous region of the galaxy. One from TC Prime that specializes in ball gowns, one from Shiki that emphasizes more elegant and old-fashioned dresses for both afternoons and evenings, and one from Styx showing off a modern witch style that emphasizes long sleeves with form-fitted bodies. One of the Zaldarian hold artisans from nearby Marinus will be showing a new line of sleek body-fitted designs with nanobot shifting technology that allows for constant pattern adjustment in response to light and movement. These are meant to contrast with the more old-fashioned Zaldarian hold style, which emphasized longer robes with lots of fabric as a sign of wealth and nanobot control. Finally, it’s rumored that the final line premiering will be something new from the elusive designer Mayze Szerpaws.

When the whole thing is all done, the designers and the models will join the party still wearing various outfits from the show to allow for discussion, questions, closer inspection, and general festivities, and finally sometime late at night after everyone is satisfyingly drunk, they will all go home and pass out while the techs work feverishly until morning to get the whole experience imprinted onto neural mesh templates for distribution.

***

Mirror

Valentina De Alcard has dressed to kill for the night. Despite her tiny mecha, she’s not a tiny woman by any means. While not a giant either, she is a sturdy five foot five (seven in her heels), made longer by a long neck accented by sparkling diamonds and absolutely nothing else. Her black hair is up in a thick styled bun, and her dress is shoulderless, revealing the two-tier rows of diamonds upon her olive neck and bare skin down to her half-revealed breasts. The dress itself is a purple lavender that’s lighter at the top and darkening going down to its pleated base. The upper rim is bordered in black, outlining her breasts and the curve of her back, and the bottom darkens almost to midnight to match her high-heeled black leather boots.

You’d think she’d be throwing her weight around with a look like this, but she’s aimed for a look of reserved and dignified poise to start the evening and is giving you deference despite you being the tiny catgirl in this situation.

How are you appearing for the evening?

***

Dolly

“Ai! There you are!” shouts an irate Angela Victoria Miera Antonius. She’s found you in the shadows of the upper balcony, among several other Hybrasilians who love the plants and the perch. You got a VIP pass of course, given your premier match and you actually need to be hiding a bit from the solicitations to accept free clothing. But Angela came and found you through it all.

She’s wearing a fancier dress than her mecha might have offered. Long and black with a train down past her legs and a low cut neck that accentuates her height. It’s sewn with thread that sparkles and glitters in the dim light as she moves, and her hair too has been worked with glitter and is down and loose around her glasses, so that each step she takes it’s like a rainbow playing across her.

But now she steps quickly and with purpose, pulling a thin neurofiber from her gold-trimmed handbag and thrusting it in your face, close enough that you can start to see the words imprinted within it. Goddess Gags Haughty Heiress and oof, you know that one’s gotta sting even without her thrusting it in your face with knuckles that look like they’d be just as at home at a boxing ring as they would with that delicate handbag.

“What’s the meaning of this, huh? You put on an act to embarrass me? You hold back and you flaunt and you rip up my mecha, and and AND you make fun of the name, huh? You think you can get away with this? Tell me your game, Dolly Hunters!” She drags your name out too, like she’s not even sure if that’s part of the trick or not.

You’re in trouble.

***

Isabelle

You’re at the show with an entourage. Everybody wants to be seen with you, all the designers want to hire you, the photographers want to shoot you. But you’ve also got the VIP treatment. People are here to fetch you drinks and make sure they never run dry. You’ve got your pick of tables, food, and conversation before the show. You can talk to nearly anyone in the room (save the mysterious Serpaws, who makes her own mind subject to no one’s fame.).

This life is an odd sort of freedom and jail all together. You have nearly complete freedom of choice, but every choice you make is subject to attention, to judgment, to fandom. What’s it like? What’s your choice for the show? Do you hold yourself aloof, or show favor to the designers? Do you pick a favorite? Do you take gifts or spurn them? Tell us all about yourself.

***

Solarel

A hot meal and a long rest might have sounded good at the end of your match, but you're in a land of wonders and mysteries everywhere and tonight there's a bigger one at the Jungle than anywhere else to be found. You've pulled yourself to the bar and the wait staff are being careful (Zaldarians may be recent on the galactic stage, but they've had a few years to practice their agility and get used to the requirements).

You've barely had a chance to take in the sights and sip your first drink when a thick, heavyset tiger of a cat walks up to you and punches you square in the chest. "That's how your people do greetings, right?" She grins her cat grin, secure in the knowledge that she cannot possibly be punished for her crimes.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"It's my duty to banish you, on behalf of both the Flower Kingdoms and the Dominion" is what Giri meant to say. She saw the blade being drawn, intended to put out her strong hand overtop of the Rakshasa's and hold it steady, the blade still half in its sheath. This is what she saw in her mind, her other arm wrapping about the Rakshasa and holding her fast so that she couldn't flee, couldn't escape to somewhere unobserved.

But instead, she found herself nodding. Her collar jingled merrily, her finger throbbed, and she felt light-headed. The bite of the Rakshasa coursed through her like fire. Stupid a little part of her mind was shouting at her. Stupid mistake, calling to fairy without any preparations, without someone else to watch you, to watch what you caught. If the Red Wolf were standing here with you, this would be a complete triumph, she would jump in and seize the creature and you would be garlanded with flowers and have your way with your new lady as ar reward. But instead you've left yourself vulnerable and nobody on deck is looking at you.

No words of power escaped Giriel's mouth, nor did her hands draw her blade. She nodded, and she jingled like a good girl, an obedient girl. The ship groaned over the land drowning out smaller things, so only the Rakshasa could hear the sound of her happy nods that yes she was going to be a good girl.

[Giri rolled to overcome, being willing to sacrifice her self-control in the moment. Rolled snake eyes.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

As you finish the fight, Valentina respects you by turning on her comms. You can hear the sudden gasp of surprise as you take her, and the grunts as your strikes connect, never hard enough to cut her off. And then most satisfyingly, the murmur of pleasure as your work continues that lets you know that she’s enjoying being dismantled just as much as you’re enjoying doing it.

When you have her pinned down at last, there is a pause as she simply breathes. Then the comms crackle one last time with her deep voice. “Well fought, Hybrasilian warrior.” You can tell by how she says it that she’s not as studied in your culture as she wishes she were, there’s that tiny hitch that lets you know she paused on “warrior” not quite knowing how to properly address you, but she’s shouldering on.

“I surrender, and I’d like my reward in the post match evening. You’ll be attending the fashion show on Akar Prime, I hope? Would you allow me to…accompany you to the show?” Again, it sounds like she almost asked you to be her date, but then switched it at the last moment in light of your win here.

There’s a juicy XP in it if you take her, despite the complications of your other identity also showing her dresses in the show.

***

Solarel

You’ve short-circuited poor Nierka for certain. The boop is the moment where she just can’t maintain the righteous fury any further, and instead she’s suddenly a cadet pilot being trained by the imperial ace from all those years ago. You can see it in the features, in the way her face changes, in the stance of both Nierka and the Sea Spike itself even as it finally recovers its balance. She wants to hate you because she’s supposed to, but she also had years of admiring you first, of wanting to be just like you. And now here you are showing her up, showing her a way of fighting that’s equal parts genius and sacrilege to everything she knows and you got her with it.

This is, perhaps, a lesson you already know all too well. Combat is a psychological battle first and foremost. If she truly had the will to fight, all her wits about her, and just a hint of creativity, what she could be doing here is commanding her own god to put resources into rapid sealing the cockpit as though you were experiencing a hull breach in space, cutting off your tether and then turning all weapons full force via AI autopilot on the Bezorel. If she did that, even if you overpowered her within the cockpit, your own ability to fight would be lost and you’d be stuck alone against Nierka and all the resources her god can direct within its own AI core, a losing fight even if you briefly got the upper hand.

But that’s not happening because her mind isn’t in the fight anymore. She’s embarrassed, shy, and more than a little dazzled. And so rather than risk this immediate defeat, she taps her fist twice and discharges her remaining power through the floor and away from you. A sign of surrender. And thus does the match end, all cameras on you and your blade as the Bezorel circles her. You probably didn’t expect to be standing on the top again, but for a brief moment here you are.

How does it feel?

***

Jade

Angela Victoria Miera Antonius is defeated utterly, completely, and without a doubt. But she has one last little trick in defeat and you might find it interesting as you work. For such an old mech chassis, she moves so well, so naturally to your touch. She protests as you expected, but so too she squirms and she shudders. The groaning metal contrasts with the imagined softness of the pilot within, even though you know through the indignant crackling of the speakers that she still fights you. It is a special delight and pleasure to work your magic upon such a subject as Angela Victoria Miera Antonius.

You claimed that you wanted to teach her to move like one of your worshippers, but as you carve the new name you’ve decided befits her mecha, even as she protests and you cut off the sound, you wonder if she could move that way already. You wonder if there was more here than you got. You wonder if she held back in this match or if her training was deficient somehow and if only she could let the natural instincts of her body take over, as they are so clearly doing now, whether she has much greater potential within her.

This is a tiny little wonder, a distraction in your triumph, barely even something worth registering to Dolly who you are busy entertaining as she properly deserves for her performance. But you have this wonder all the same and it won’t quite leave you alone.

How does that leave a goddess for her departure?

[Angela takes a string on Jade.]

***

Isabelle

She growls. She yowls. She curses through the comms and tells you all the myriad ways that you were sired from whores, and gosh she’s really going to do a lot of things to you if you ever manages to have you alone and tied up without diplomatic immunity. Things with whips and chains and, well, she’s just going to keep going on about this but her heart isn’t in it, especially as you press your hold and she can feel the pressure arch through her body, to hold and lock her arms in place, make them start to tingle and burn.

And so, at last, Jacinta six burns out with you on the top and taps out with a final “fuck you, your mother, and your family!” even as she signals her defeat. So there you are the victor, cool calm and collected against an opponent who lost her temper and lost the match with it. The headlines will be all about the TC heiress who kept it together under fire. Sure, some of the more keen analysts will note your moment of naivete, but they’ll praise your flexibility and creativity and offer their assured confidence that you grew from this match and have the potential to go far.

It’s very nice being on top, isn’t it? Being the heir ascendant. It probably never even crossed your mind how enjoyable Jacinta six’s tender ministrations might be in the right circumstances.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

The question of what to do with Lotus was a difficult one. Giri was still on the hook to deal with the problems of the two lovestruck demons in some form or other. She found herself up ahead of Three Gleaming Petals, but with no particular desire to move the goddess off of her. She'd gained information and comfort, and she needed to think, which she could do just as well without waking her partner. Poor thing had really had a run of it anyway, she deserved the sleep.

So, help the demons through their problems without setting the world on a course of destruction brought on by the demon general. That...well actually it didn't sound that terribly hard, it was really just helping counsel a confused maid into coming to terms with her own self. And the other one, probably needed to just talk to her and get more information. The magic part of things didn't even come into it. As for Lotus, again that was harder. It depended quite a lot on what Han and Lotus wanted, as well as what Red Wolf wanted and the circumstances. If they were caught red-handed trying to escape like fools and Giri was ordered to summon a local spirit to get in their way she probably had to do that under her the terms of her punishment, especially since she had no reason to believe that either Han or Lotus would be mistreated in the Red Wolf's care. But, if she had good information about how Han would behave, how Lotus might behave and thought it better to offer them the Dominion's mercy, she felt she had the right to make that decision. Or to happen to have made herself busy with something else serving her new lady while they were busy. Unless she has orders to the contrary, her practice is still her own. Still, she didn't like thinking about intentionally undercutting Agata, not when she knew better which was always the lot of witches in these things. And she rather thought that it might be worth some captivity to keep Han and Lotus together, Han would regret it forever if she let the girl get away without saying how she felt.

That whole train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when the ship struck sand. There was a thud and a jarring sound, but oddly they didn't go falling over. Three Gleaming Petals didn't even wake up right away. If the ship ran aground, they should have stopped but if they didn't get moved that meant something was wrong. Weird and really wrong.

Giri gently settled Three Gleaming Petals onto the mattress as she began to stir and rushed out to the deck in just her dressing gown, the sound of earth being carved away drowning out her pretty jingling collar.

There she was, helming the ship. Ms. innocent "I'm just a clerk" heavenly spirit. It would have been the easiest thing to run up to her in anger and clash. The easiest thing in the world. But Giri had just had quite a night, of time to think, of time to feel satisfied, of comfort and friendship and really quite a bit to consider about how that collar had ended up on her neck. And this, this magic didn't add up not even for an inscrutable heavenly spirit of Venus.

No, this didn't add up and a Rakshasa was on the loose. Maybe not even here, but on the loose and that was a power that made things not add up. She needed to stop and think about this before running up to the girl and trying to shake her out of her reverie. She needed to know its nature. And she might need the help of the dragon-blooded eventually, but for now, she could do her own thing, with her own blood this time.

Giri doesn't have a dagger or her sword, so biting her own finger will have to do. Blood drips from the wound, and with it she chants her offering. To the Fair Folk. To the people from outside the world, the stage hands of creation. Show her who's really pulling the strings here, she needs to know.

[Call upon a Toxic Power: 4+3+2=9. It will answer Giri's question, but it can take something, cause a Condition, or get a string on Giri.]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Isabelle

This is going to be one for the highlight reels. Jacinta 6's feral growl fills up the comms, but you smoothly sidestep like you were dodging a bit of dust or falling rock, and then you've got her. She struggles and twists, but your grip is strong, and you can feel that strength coursing through you in the form of your own empowered gauntlet. It feels like nothing could stop you, like you can mold the world however you want. EMP pulses collide in a crack of white light, smoke, and the smell of ozone, and with that the claws on Jacinta 6's mecha are crushed and worthless for the remainder of the fight. You smile with your victory and you offer her honorable surrender. In this moment, you are the height of nobility, grace, and poise.

Now, if you were cutting the clip for the highlight reel, this is where you would stop. Because the thing that you have forgotten in this fight is that the opponent you're holding is an angry cat and she has claws everywhere. With a wordless snarl, she wrenches her own arm in your grip (that had to hurt, good chance it's completely useless now and her own arm inside the mecha probably just went completely numb within her neural mesh). She uses that momentum to kick off the last remaining bits of the tree branch and send a foot to connect with your stomach. There is one more EMP claw in those foot talons, and it cuts right past your shields and makes you feel rather like you just got kicked in the solarplexes. The branch snaps the rest of the way and both of you fall.

You shouldn't let this take away from your victory though. This is an act of angry, snarling defiance with no regard to true victory. Even as you crash to the ground, your grip never breaks and you've still got a firm hold on her, nor is the kick really threatening you with decisive damage. It's just that what went from a cool, suave, noble victory is now going to be nothing but kicking, snarling, and fighting until she can't move anymore and that's pretty frustrating for how you wanted the match to end.

How do you finish her off?

[Jacinta 6 inflicts the Angry condition on you in response]

***

Solarel

"Listen here, Traitor. First, you disrespect this contest. Then you disrespect my god, and now you disrespect Zaldarian culture!"

She's trying to figure out how to get around to you, but she's also still recovering from how hard she was being thrown and you're moving in a way that her god hasn't ever dealt with in combat. She probably could have just started attacking the Bezorel in earnest, flames be damned, and ignored you in order to cut off your strategy, but she's not thinking straight. You've thrown her.

"I will not let this injustice stand!" A hand tries to grab for you and misses as you use the flame-empowered momentum and your pick to hurl yourself upwards. The Sea Spike flails again and tries to stand up straight and regain its balance as the Bezorel circles it.

"Your depravity knows no bounds, traitor! I will defeat you for the Empress!" She's trying something different now, bringing her own longspear around in a circular cut that's designed to hit you by cutting all the way up her own leg, the shallow surface damage be damned.

Every camera drone from the twilit jungle has flown out and they're doing their absolute best to zoom in on you without getting in the way of the match (which is programmed into them as an absolute imperative, nobody wants to invalidate a result or lose expensive camera equipment to a stray explosion). Every Zaldarian watching the live match right now is focused on you, Solarel, as you ascend an impossible mountain. So is Nierka.

You get this one free moment before her own mecha AI points out how dumb she's being and that she could just blow up the Bezorel at close range. Make it count.

***

Mirror

You can't hear it, but the audience gasps. A planet away in Keoni's Tower, a fisher cat is proudly being handed money by a collection of huntresses gathered by a screen at the highest table in the tower. "She should have gone for the finish immediately" grunts a tiger with an annoyed pout. "She's gathering data idiot. You should try it sometime" the elated fishing cat responds as she counts her new stack of coins.

You're really going to let her take this shot though, huh? You're lucky. She doesn't trust it any more than the audience does, and some part of this seems to offend her honor. She comes over the comms for the first time this match. It crackles once, and you hear her deep baritone voice whisper out "you can't be serious" before it clicks back off. She's been all business, but she wanted you to know how she felt, and perhaps understand a little bit of why she took a fast shot in response and not a fully charged, fully prepared shot.

The shot itself hits hard. You're lucky you don't control with a neural mesh, this is the kind of hit that can shock someone and throw off their reactions even if it cuts off before they'd experience pain. Instead, you get a frontrow seat to an arc of purple light that snaps out and turns all the colors negative for a moment as it impacts the arm of the God Smiting Whip. An arm that now has a hole in it. The shot cuts clean through it and for just a moment, you consider what could have been if she'd gone for her strongest, slowest hit, imagine it hitting the cockpit and knocking you out completely, blowing through your mecha all the way to the crystal core. It's terrifying.

And then it's done. The heat dissipates, you're still there, and it was all over in a flash. You've got the cooldown of her weapon and an opportunity, but you cut this much closer than you might have realized and you might be playing this bit of data back over for a while.

[Take the Afraid condition]

***

Jade and Dolly

You dance through a storm of fireflies. It would be harrowing if it weren't so beautiful. Both of you together feel the swaying, the heat, the gentle caress as the bullets fly so close. In the light of the flames, each one shines like a little molten spark of gold, and you sway with the wind and the flames as you avoid the assault. The motion is natural, a perfect dancer as a goddess of steel. Crowds would pack a stadium just to watch a dance like this without even the combat contest.

"No. You. Do. Not!" Angela speeds up her tracking, the first autocannon continuing to make you dance as the second picks up its pace to lead you. But it is here that you begin to spin the spear, bullets flying and deflecting until the throw, when latches itself to her shoulder and cuts off the fire from the second autocannon.

That's what speeds things up for you because with just one cannon to dance around, you can control the pacing, you're only fighting one AI at once, not two, and that makes beating out its prediction algorithm child's play. You know you can get close. Close enough to hug. Close enough to cut. You just need to dodge one more thing, that last moment when Angela will give up the fire and switch to her last-ditch wristblades. Navigate that last hurdle, and the match will be yours.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Dolly

"Ai, Ai! You insult me! You offer me mercy?!" Angela's voice comes over the comms as the hum of the gatling guns mounted on her suit's shoulders fills the night. Air flying off from their rapid spinning makes the torches dance in mad gyrations. "I won't let you make that mistake twice!"

A hail of bullets fills the air. Angela understands that Jade could in fact dodge, and her pattern is not to fire both guns directly at her target. Instead one gun is aimed straight for the chest and the other is leading her target matching Jade's leading shoulder.

Without a doubt, Jade's offer of mercy has made your opponent angry and she's letting loose with everything she has using her advantageous range. Jade (and Dolly!) you're going to have to do more than duck to get past this hail of bullets! After Angela's closeup and a sweeping shot of her guns warming up, the cameras have all turned to you and how you'll handle the situation! Show off some dancing!

***

Solarel

"Aaaaaaah!" screamed Nierka as your hand suddenly grabbed her by the throat within her cockpit! "AAAAAAAAAA" screamed the Sea Spike's internal AI, expressing its opinion on the sudden hull breach using a series of klaxons. "aaiaiaiaiaiaiai" screamed one of Nierka's smaller spirits animating some aspect of her coat on her person and trying to wrap itself around your arm to no avail.

The camera drones, structured to capture the full sweep of mecha combat, are all rushing to get a closeup of this personal combat happening in the middle of the duel. Lasers are still flying thick through the air, some from the Sea Spike, some from the Bezorel. This trick was so unexpected that you might have had the whole match right here. Nierka is flailing and screaming, but you've got her. Except for the poor, unfortunate challenge of Culture. The Bezorel really does have a limited tracking system and it's still following you. And now you're in the cockpit. An errant laser strike, still active, blows past your current angle and hits directly onto Nierka. Her flailing becomes more animated and spreads through the Sea Spike itself, which begins gyrating, the screams of its AIs and its pilot spreading louder. The sudden and intense centrifugal force finally breaks your grip and sends you flying out of the now backwards tilting mecha. You land on an upraised knee and you find yourself clinging on for all you're worth as the Sea Spike topples and pulls the attached Bezorel with it.

Don't suppose you've got a backup plan?

***

Mirror

There!

At the head of the river, where it begins to slope upward towards a small hill, you can see the Lonely Star! It's well-positioned: it's been painted a deep purple-gray that blends with the stone and the water. If you weren't above it, seeing it stand out in contrast to the glare of the sun upon the river's surface, it might have been extremely difficult to find before getting shot. But you see it!

With your sudden burst of speed out of the canopy, you've turned this into a game of reflexes. The Lonely Star's long-barreled laser rifle (longer than the mech is tall) was pointed down the river line, but she saw your flare as you burst from the canopy and she's already brought it around and is lining up her shot. You hang poised like a diamond of fire, the sun's rays the only protection left to you as she finishes her calculations and your own tail gun pivots.

The fight may not end on a single shot, but whoever makes the quicker draw here will have complete control of the tempo and an overwhelming advantage.

***

Isabelle

Look at all these collapsing quantum realities. Jacinta 6 snarls an angry snarl over the comms and rushes you. But just that has dropped the myriad of options down to only two: fake Jacinta or holding back Jacinta. There's no gatling rush, no insane pinwheel top of lasers and fury coming at you. This Jacinta is all in on the more classical close combat. Claws pulsing with an arcing electromagnetic field extend from both hands of the mecha and her engines roar to life as she tries to hit you hard in a straight line without any thought to her own safety.

Also, you may be wondering how you know all this. It's because those claws and that engine are chewing up the trees and vines beneath you, which you realized the second you heard the thrusters roar to life. You're going to want to readjust your position ASAP!

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Giri takes the rum bottle and pours out two more shots, one for Three Gleaming Petals, and one for herself, which she sips lightly rather than down all at once. "I'll happily tell you that I'm serving a punishment for harming one of the dragonblooded against her will to get a group of us out of hell. I think it's fair all things considered. I'll tell you that any rules of such a punishment by their very nature must take a secondary role to the rules of my calling and the oaths of friendship I have made in the past. I obey the Red Wolf only insofar as she pushes me to betray those I cannot betray and if she's not a fool she'll never use me past that line."

She offers the glass invitingly to Three Gleaming Petals. "But that's the driest way for us to converse and you look like you've had an even longer day than I did. Come, sit, drink. Lean on me and pass the night. I have no need of this bottle of rum come morning, and the Dominion hardly seems to have a shortage." She grins then because, well, isn't this a time to grin? To share some pleasure?

There's something special about a spirit like Three Gleaming Petals, and something special about a witch like Giriel Bruinstead and they both know it. They've both been around the block, and they both know the limits of a relationship like this. So Giri's offer, it's not just pleasure, it's relaxing. The kind of relaxing that comes with two people who've both traveled, who've both seen things, done things, even shared a bed before. It's knowing that this is a chance to unwind for both of them. No expectations of passionate romance, of strings attached or long-lasting obligations to carry around as yet another burden. No expectations even of what has to happen. Just a chance for two ladies who know each other to sit and chat, to drink and feel the fiery warmth of the alcohol swell up inside them, and to share that warmth in each others arms. That's a nice offer, and to Giri's credit, more seductive by far than trickery and false flattery. It's sincere seduction, the kind that gets everybody a little bit of what they want, eyes wide open about what they're doing. Well, wide open until they sink into someone else's soft chest and strong arms of course.