Anarion

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Hell can tempt you with things you want? No, that’s not right. Hell is broken. Hell tempts you because you don’t know yourself, not really. It offers you what you think you want. Then you get it and lo and behold, you never actually wanted it and you’re very unhappy! Also deep in debt and so committed by that point that doubling down looks like the only good option.

Poor Peregrine.

Well, the thing if someone is in that deep is that you have to pull them out of context. Especially someone like Peregrine who absolutely has spent an unhealthy amount of time running through this over and over in her own head until the justifications turned themselves into well-worn grooves of trodden grass and flowers in her mind.

This is what Giri thinks about as she crawls her way towards Peregrine dragging leopard and girl alike through the slippery, muddy earth. And this is what she’s thinking as she manages to reach up one strong, well-muscled arm past the nipping leopard teeth and rips off Peregrine’s dress.

[Overcome 6+2. If this is tricky enough for Wit, it’s an 11. If it’s Daring, that’s an 8]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

The Crystal Gala of Akar

The invitations invite you to the Crystal Gala. They offered information about the space station, the math done to center it on its axis, and the views it offers. But they did not prepare you for the design. The space station of the gala is built in the form of a gigantic spiral ammonite shell of translucent crystal, divided into swirls of rooms converging on the precise center of the Akar system. A golden ratio spun about the absolute center of gravity of the space, offering a glowing view of the shining star of Akar, and the light reflecting off the planets and the arena world itself. Artfully arranged so that as one moved through the space each astrological feature would have its turn as the central feature. Panels carefully adjusted for appropriate dimming for the eyesight of the inhabitants, calibrated for localized distinctions between Terenian, Zaldarian, and Hybrasilian guests. As guests enter and move deeper, they find themselves looping past guests in previous rooms, separated by circling gravity to create a dizzying impression of beings everywhere mixed with the light of the heavens reflecting and scattering through rainbow panes. The light of Akar makes it all sparkle like a gigantic spiral diamond as the views loop over themselves towards the crystal fire heart sustaining the station.

The farthest and widest end of the ammonite forms the dock of the space station. Here, several grand mecha are on display as the various guests arrive, many doing so in their personal mechas, especially the prior champions. Moreover, as the contingents arrive, the Aeteline will be on display here, the feared and cursed armor of the war, never piloted since Solarel’s banishment and so not seen in action for years. Yet it still gleams with its manufactured perfection and the powerful image of knighthood that it carries as representative of the power of Zaldaria.

The Grand Gala of the Akar is a new and unique event. There are not many shared traditions that span Terenians, Hybrasilians, and Zaldarians, but celebration with a grand feast is one of them. The Gala thus stands as a testament to the efforts of the past several years: the choice to end the large-scale wars and celebrate the fragile peace among the empires, an honor to the pilots who have excelled in competition both past and present, an opportunity for fine food and drink served to the taste of the guests and, of course, an opportunity for political power-brokering above and beyond the demands officially requested in the competition.

Except for the qualifying pilots, attendance at the Gala was known months in advance. Given this exclusivity and planning, each guest was provided with a list of attendees. There are no announcements or grand entrances lest the event waste all its evening going through the accomplishments of each guest. Yet many of the arrivals make their own entrance, choosing their style, entourage, and timing for the impact they prefer.

***

The first to arrive was Voctine XCI, the former Empress of the Zaldarians. Though banished, she has maintained a household and established a border hold. Her invitation remained, as the other empires were not entirely confident on the status of a deposed Empress and at least some of the more knowledgeable ones thought that her arrival might precipitate a fight in and of itself. Voctine XCI herself arrives dressed in a tight-fitting black bodysuit that emphasizes the curves of her long metallic limbs. Overtop it, she wears a fitted white shirt with double-breasted buttons and a black half-cape that ends at the middle of her back secured with gold epaulets and lined with just a hint of red. In banishment, she has chosen a picture of command but with a tight fit emphasizing the speed and flexibility of her entourage. Her arrival as early as the docking bay doors open ensures that she does not lose her place and can instead welcome her rival with as much of a sneer as she can manage. She will enter and proceed into the station, looking for a good place to arrange a meal and establish herself.

***

After her, the next arrivals were a mixture of Terenian families. Arriving first tended to indicate a certain level of insecurity, a need to establish place before the places were taken. Thus, these tended to be the lesser families, houses looking to climb. Almira and the Lozanos would aim to arrive near the back of these families, attempting to be at the top of the pecking order, but too nervous to give up the chance to get in and gain control of a room within the sparkling ammonite station. Almira herself has chosen a modern Kikuji fashion: purple, with embroidered white daisies carefully sewn onto it. Her neck and one arm are bare, which she has complimented with an array of topaz gems around her neck and in a lengthy series of bracelets up past her elbow. The dress is slitted to allow her leg on that side to slip out as well. She has complimented it with one of her signature shawls, unable to resist this particular affectation, colored in bright scarlet and set with glittering gems throughout to finish out the outfit. It is not what you would call subtle. In comparison, the rest of her household is dressed in more muted colors, the younger siblings wearing a more traditional Kikuji style with both arms covered and in single colors with flowers and bird embroidery. Isabelle unless you choose otherwise, your mother would press for your arrival with her here, to add legitimacy to the family. But you are free to choose otherwise, each pilot is offered the opportunity to arrive whenever and with whomever they please and they are not obligated to join the contingents from their own species or faction.

The Terenian gaggle will quickly lose coherence, splitting off into business discussions, or a few will seek to learn more about the Zaldarians and soon to be arriving Hybrasilians. Though fewer than you might expect.

***

Third in is the official Hybrasilian delegation led by Kimri Blessed Daughter of Grandmother Night, a pantheress and the current speaker of the Hybrasilian Priestess Council, the ruling body of the Empire. Kiriala arrives with this delegation unless Mirror has explicitly brought her into her household instead, as do several council members and their guests. Dolly and Mirror and their entourage have invitations to arrive with this delegation if they so desire. The speaker wears her formal priestess tunic. As an adherent of Grandmother Night, she does not dress in ways that would inhibit her movement. Rather, her garb is a short tunic in the Night’s black, designed to allow her to move silently and easily. Though she is one of the oldest living Hybrasilians, she moves with a grace that suggests she could tear your throat out if she willed it. Her high position is indicated only by a small pin worn at her collar set with a series of precious stones in all colors to indicate the unified Hybrasilian council. Other council members dress according to their worship, some in more elaborate dresses, others in more functional garb, several bedecked with heavy jewelry and multicolor striped fabrics as dresses and capes.

Also with this group is a small group of fisher cats, tailing the main entourage. Alanna Coul, the famed Hybrasilian mercenary (aside from Mirror) leads them dressed in her pilot’s outfit, perhaps the most formal thing she owns. Behind her is indeed Maehlia Dahlia, wearing the hibiscus dress designed by Mayze, with the most bemused look on her face, her mane a little longer than normal trailing behind her, and the tan fur of her chest showing prominently. A young fisher hangs on her arm protectively, and in this at last is the secret of her unusual order: she did not order this dress for herself, but it seems that her girlfriend did order it for her. One might wonder who the lucky fisher is, she’s not well-known. Perhaps someone who joined her on an expedition in the nebulas that grew together, and who preceded her to Akar to prepare things. Maehlia doesn’t quite seem to know what to do as a model for the latest fashion line among all three empires, but neither does she seem unhappy with her situation.

The Hybrasilians will seek to intermingle, speaking with some of the Terenians and forming the largest overall mass of milling guests as more arrive.

***

Fourth is the Empress of Zaldaria, Naelkai II and her full entourage, including the tribal raiders and Marna Kerne, currently believed to be the greatest Zaldarian pilot, who won the arena competition three years prior. Naelkai herself is dressed in a long, flowing gown that rolls out in a waves of pleated fabric around her, primarily in golden fabric with a black chest surrounded by white lace at the neck, hems, and sleeves. She wears a glittering tiara as well and everywhere she moves she utterly fills the space, asserting a level of confidence and control that is either genuine or extremely intentionally affected. Marna, perhaps leaning into her raider origins, has chosen a pilot’s jumpsuit, half black and half purple split vertically to match her mecha’s paint job. Though simple, it highlights her gray coloration and makes her stand out in her own way. Unless instructed otherwise, Akaithon will also enter in this section, dressed as a formal lady of the city in a green gown with a white lace collar, though shorter and narrower than Naelkai’s so as not to risk overshadowing her in any way.

The empress will enter and immediately look for her rival, two poles of a magnet bound to clash as they work their way through the glimmering crystal spiral.

***

Fifth (and last that has coherent organization, if barely) is the very large Terenian delegation, which is not so much a united group as it is the combination of the most powerful families and planetary leaders. In this group is Valentina D’Alcard, wearing a suit, a bit stodgy, should have unbuttoned it, but she looks good. Marcina Villajero enters in this group with honors. She wears a white dress, not too wide, with just a little bit of looseness around the ankles so that it shifts as she walks, sleeveless and bare shoulders showing off her shapely figure. She’s very precise as she moves in it.

Also in this contingent is Charon, who is the most powerful man on Styx and is rarely seen in public. Fully half his face is openly cybernetic, one eye completely covered and down past the ear and into the neck, indeed likely much further. While the regular eye is blue, the cybernetics glow with a particular red that matches the specifications sent to Mirror. He’s a tall man, and thickset, and he wears his cybernetics openly. His head is shaved as well. But he’s also wearing a delighted smile as he enters, and the tetrochromat blossoms on his robes glimmer in the starlight with the perfect compliment to the light reflecting from and emanating from his open cybernetics. He, is nobody else thus far with all their serious business, appears to be truly enjoying himself, in no small part due to Mayze’s design.

Finally, at the end of the Terenian group comes Adriana Teresio herself. She is, one might say, not quite herself. But she is bedecked in roses in her Mayze Serpaws dress. She refuses the arm of an attendant and walks in under her own power, smiling and waiving, though looking more than a little unsteady. The first arena champion. Her typical entrance is something flamboyant, usually with a sword, but she’s accepted something different this time. Other guests speak of it in hushed whispers, but nobody will say a word directly, at least not yet.

Marcina offers Adriana her arm, while Charon and his cyborgs look to speak with the Zaldarian empress, if they can catch up to her.

***

Then, there are all the others. The qualifying pirates: Ada Smith, dressed in a prim suit that shows off her muscles. Presumably the real Jacinta Niares, a burly lioness who’s wearing a captain’s shirt unbuttoned entirely, her neck and chest open, above a pair of functional slacks. She’s brought her own small entourage of other Banders, including Valynia, who is dressed in a center-slit short red dress that shows off her perfumed spots with every step she takes. She’ll look for Dolly as soon as she can.

Others trailing in are latecomer Terenians and Hybrasilians and independent Zaldarians (Solarel would be expected to appear here, though she has the pilot’s right to appear whenever she pleases). Heim Stockar has chosen not to come, though he would be allowed in and would typically arrive late in this situation. Quar Dilara, the imperial knight captured by Isabelle, also makes an appearance here. She apparently determined that her captive status prevented her from appearing with an imperial entourage, but she still has allowed herself to attend the party, though wearing a simple white ruffled shirt and casual pants likely scrounged from Isabelle’s closet.

***

This is the arrangement of the gala. The arrivals will spread themselves through the station, forming pockets of power and motion. There will be a clash of empresses, but swirling around that will be food and drink and merriment throughout the station. There will be solicitations and congratulations, and at some point one fool ass or another will start doing speeches. There’s even supposed to be a ceremony near the end to officially celebrate the launch of the final rounds and the commitment to peace they represent.

Tell everyone how you arrive, who you bring, and where you go!

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

There is a world swirling around you after the match. Facts and details. Repair of your mecha, the blessings of your crew, now fully active for the first time since you’ve properly finished a match. Lareth laughs when she looks over the battle footage while she works. A parent’s laugh, an elderly laugh, amused at the work she has done that came to nothing but proud all the same.

Crew from the Makhaira visit you. Akai isn’t fool enough to appear in person, not this fast, but there’s information. A location within the vastness of the Hangar, a boarding location on Akar II. There are times, crew schedules, maintenance information, details on pilots, entourage, supporting mecha. Marna Kerne’s name highlighted, the Zaldarian pilot that Akai didn’t think she could beat, now in the entourage of the Empress. Nierka Stalok, your first fight. She hasn’t lost a match since facing you. A world of planned times and movements, support crews and weaponry and on and off hours.

These are the trappings of the Evercity in one of their purest forms. Where the Empress travels, the bureaucracy travels. But Akai moves in it like the great mecha on the planes, unconcerned by the lesser obstacles before them, supremely confident. She’s sharing a part of that with you, a piece of a greater whole. This information is like the skeleton of a building, the machinery of a factory. Within it are holes, blindspots, weaknesses that have escaped notice and will continue to escape notice until they burst. In all of this the theft of the Aeteline is buried if you can but see its shape.

But there is one wrinkle that stands out above all the others. The gala. The arrival of the Aeteline, the empress, the empress in exile, and so many others marking the start of the final rounds of the tournament. Festivities have already been planned for months, since before the tournament even started. Travel schedules, waypoints, outfights. It’s said that Mayze Serpaws was commissioned to design multiple different outfits for the attendees, who will span all the three empires and multiple independent systems.

The gala this time will not be held on any of the planets, but on a space platform assembled from the nanobots of the Arena custom for the experience. Positioned to offer a perfect view of Akar’s star, both planets, and the arena in concentric orbits around this, the axis of the system.

And whatever theft you may wish to attempt, you’ll need to appear at the gala. Mirror will be there. You’ll need to decide what to wear.

***

Mirror

Kiriala bows, or tries to as she’s lifted to her feet. It’s the most awkward motion the Ginger Tiger has made the entire match, a girl who’s allowed herself to be swept away.

“I…” and at first she simply can’t think of anything to say. What should she say? Matches don’t end like this except in stories for kittens! She had surrendered, she had lost, conceded defeat in a match where she felt herself constantly overwhelmed and overmatched. Even her revelation hadn’t been quite right. A technicality, a small difference that Mirror had chosen to overlook.

A blush overtook her and she could do nothing but stammer. It’s a mixed sort of blush. Simultaneously irate to be pandered to, but proud to have earned it. It’s all there in the tone of the stammer, the way she rumbles, the movement of her mecha as the movement of her body, the way her tail swishes with a pleasure that can’t quite be overtaken.

She finally manages something, “I will bring you honor in your service” and then she splutters again because holding it together for that was the most she could manage before her brain started thinking about where you touched her and the way it felt through the mesh.

When you get back, Slate’s beaming and Matty is pouting because she’s going to have to share even more of your time, but it’s a pout that doesn’t manage to reach her eyes, which are not secretly secretly full of all sorts of fantasies involving knights that she hadn’t properly thought through before.

And after all this, there will be the gala. Held this tournament on a custom-constructed space platform perfectly aligned on the axis for the system, offering a clear view of the star and each of the planets. Some people are even saying that the programmers did some particular math such that the plane of station will have an intersection point if one were to draw a straight line from each of the three capital systems to Akar and have them converge. A rather strange exercise given that space itself is scientifically confirmed not to be straight, but nevertheless.

Mayze has a lot of designs coming up for the gala. One for Adriana, quite nearly finished. One for Charon, for his cybernetics. One for Maelia Dahlia, probably, who should be arriving or already arrived at this point. And then there’s the design for Dolly, bless her. And of course, Mirror will need to wear something to the gala herself. Or nothing, but nothing counts as something.

***

Dolly and Jade

Electricity hangs in the air, buzzes through you, and then Ada Smith relaxes. Just a hair. Not the release of tension, but the stabilizing of it.

So the match ends. The Goose whose name you cannot decide is bound and disabled, held in place by purrs just as soundly as by the ionic wires of Hybrasilian cunning.

It’s a victory, of a sort. Enough to advance to the final rounds. There is also the knowledge that you may have lost. That if you are paying attention, that Ada had the winning strategy and abandoned it because she believed in…honor? Fairness? Justice? Because she believed that winning was less important than connecting and because she felt that she had connected. It is, after all, impossible to resist a purring a cat.

Ada Smith is a different sort of person from the ones you’ve “recruited” thus far. She isn’t interested in play in the same way, but she wants to stay in your orbit. She wants the connection to Hybrasil, and the reassurance of friends in a place that really isn’t terribly welcoming for her. At least most aren’t welcoming and you don’t know enough about TC politics to have a good sense of who her allies ought to be. Unless you decide to ask her about rebellions and such, in which case she’ll have plenty to say.
She is a consummate caregiver though, always paying attention to the needs of people around her before her own and conscious even before you are of things you might need. She’s the sort of person that always seems to appear with a helping hand, a drink, or just the right tool before you even thought to ask for it.

And speaking of needs, there’s the gala coming up. You’re qualified and the top Hybrasilian pilots are going to be there. Including Mirror, that odd fisher cat, and at least some of your group, though it appears that Ksharta has been disqualified and is pretty broken up about it. You could invite her as part of your entourage though, perhaps even coordinate outfits. The whole thing is going to be floating out in space staring at the many astrological features of the Akar system, but perhaps a little uncomfortable for a planetside girls like Dolly and Jade compared to some of the more seasoned space travelers.

***

Isabelle

Rosalinda stares for a moment. “I…is it that obvious? Fuck, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t, don’t know why I bother.”

Well there’s something different. But then, you’ve never really caught Rosalinda alone like this before. It’s unusual, and it can change the context of a person. Like having a friend you only meet at school suddenly appear somewhere unexpected on a day off. Her voice still has that nasal tone, of course, she’s stuck with that, but the bite isn’t there when she’s being this blunt.

“Fine whatever, it’s not like it’s a secret. My family sales have been terrible. Nobody wants heavy industry equipment for last generation mechas. Nevermind that they work just as well for non-combat purposes, everyone wants the new hotness. Our orders dropped by half over the last six months. So Elena coordinated her gala attendance with some other girls. Serves me right, I was too afraid to even ask about it until it was way too late and then oops fuck me, now I’m the butt of everybody’s joke and it’s just one more nail in the family coffin. Father’s got me here because he’s hoping against hope that I can make a good impression on somebody and use that to get us a business deal. Or at least a loan. I suppose it was a stupid hope to think you’d be interested.”

She looks at you, kind of does a double take at all that slipping out. “..who the fuck are you and what did you with Isabelle Lozano?” That would have sounded cool if she’d led with it, but it’s more like a lame joke after taking that long to realize how much you’d reached out to her and not coming up with it right away. Maybe a bit endearing though, she committed to it even though she knew it was going to sound lame. Her face is begging you to at least feign a smile before her emotions give out and her tear ducts betray her.

It’s also not a terrible business proposition if you think about it. Your mother wouldn’t like it because you’d be giving more than you’re getting. But that assumes a low trust environment. If you can rely on long-term returns, then a deal where you give now to prop someone up and then have a loyal follower later isn’t a bad one. Though, of course, putting it in those terms hurts the prospect. Human connection is and always will be better than cold economic calculation, no matter what Almira Lozano might say otherwise. Reality has a way of intruding on that sort of thing.

Speaking of, the attendants are coming soon to check how you’re doing and what sorts of fits you like, which will then determine the range of options you get for finishing this out. So you do need to make the decision here: coordinate with Rosalinda or not? She’ll follow your lead if you offer, so you can go with the sort of uneven Serpaws-inspired dress she’s trying on or push her into something more traditional. Or you can still say no, do your own thing and let come what may.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

“Ah, this is so rare.”

The lance has found the heart of the Makhaira and for a moment, time is frozen. You have won the match, and Akai has lost the match. There’s no more movement. Nowhere to go. The Makhaira is and always was much larger than the Kathresis. So the finishing blow leaves you held together, connected by the lance, slowly drifting through space.

“I know our raiders often choose power in their designs, but before you gave me this sword, I was almost never the stronger fighter in my matches. And after, I had so few challengers. I felt invincible. I thought…I thought I felt what it was to be you, Sol.”

Her hands loosen, she lets the sword go. It floats with you, slowly and lazily rotating over its center of gravity to point towards the Arena below you.

“But I was completely wrong. Utterly. I never knew how hard it was until now. Watching you fight, watching how good you made this look. You made the lance look good too, you made me look good. I knew that, I knew the compliment. But I…I never realized. It was so much more than acknowledgment, or even respect. It was the kind of love that made me the center of your world, at least for a while. I don’t deserve it, Sol, but I’ll make up for it.”

And then, the Makhaira puts its hand upon the Kathresis, chest to chest. Gently, softly, barely able to muster even the force for that movement. A sentimental gesture, yes. But also, it’s a place where the watching cameras have very few angles.

So right in front of your face, you see the signs flash rapidly: The Aeteline is coming here, as are both the current and former empress for the finals. She signs it with a movement that indicates laughter, a private joke just for the two of you. She’s in.

Then, the Makhaira is well and truly out of energy and it slumps, the Kathresis doing all the work suddenly to hold you both in place.

***

Mirror

“You’ve given me half your riddle. I think.” She sounds excited. “I mean, I can tell you keep trying not to let the fighting get too intense. And I think you could have finished me off if you weren’t trying to avoid that. But now you’re making me an offer and telling me all about Solarel and about l-love and, I mean, gosh.”

She blushes, you know she is blushing, it is the most obvious and sincere audio blush in the history of blushing cat-girls, second perhaps to the intense longing sort of blush that little Dolly seems to have mastered effortlessly.

“But anyway, I think the offer you’re making me is real, and it’s, I’ll get back to it but I figured if you’re going to all that trouble when you could definitely beat me, you must be under some rule not to take any risks at all. Like you’re trying not to get even a scratch on that amazing mecha of yours that you’re saving for Solarel. I got it, right? Right?”

(She waits for confirmation, but then goes right on). But I mean, like I said earlier, I’m kind of the simple one, the muscle. I believe in Hybrasil, and the Huntresses and all that. But it doesn’t feel right for me to try and drag you into that. I’m sorry I keep comparing you to my friend, she’s just like you in a way. Like you both have these strong feelings and when you talk it’s like the whole world is moving around you and there are things you want so badly that everything else gets out of your way. It’s like catnip.”

She hasn’t started another move as she’s been talking, just kept her distance. She flies in now, but then she goes down on one knee, her spear placed lovingly on the ground before her, head bowed.

“And…I don’t think you’ve fallen into as much blasphemy as you seem to think. Hybrasil doesn’t prohibit knights just because the lodges don’t have the title. So I think I want to see where this goes, and I’m not betraying anybody by doing it.”

She might be naive, but she’s sincere. What will you do with your new squire?

***

Jade and Dolly

Ada strains, but the cords hold. She understands what’s happening. Each bit of spear damage is a place where her armor isn’t as strong, where the ions can seep in and make her body tingle and go numb. But still she strains.

She’s strong, such a strong person. Someone who isn’t allowed not to be strong. Who doesn’t allow herself not to be strong. Too many responsibilities ride on her being strong and so that is how she has defined herself. She is a matriarch. In another life, she might be a queen. The one who laughs loudest, eats most heartily, and shows her people what they can aspire to be.

But you’re fast, and you’re skilled. You know the weaves and the knots, and you have her held. You’re close, and the electricity between you is a shared spark. It’s just, it can’t last. She doesn’t follow your religion and she doesn’t believe in Jade as a goddess. Nor is she willing to indulge in the way that dear sweet Angela is willing to indulge. Angela likes the game, but that’s not how Ada Smith works. So, she’s going to break it, she’s going to snap just enough of her bonds to get her hold, then press you tight, so tight, and win her victory.

Unless…Dolly, you can see the shape of it, even though Jade can’t. You have an older sister, so you know how these things are sometimes. You can’t demand that an older sister bows and begs to you. But you can beg her, you can plead and ask, and through sincerity and vulnerability, you can move her. That’s what Ada needs right now. She needs a soft touch, an admission that Jade isn’t as confident as she sounds. A sign of real, honest sincerity that she’s going to try for the Snow Geese and that she understands how hard that is and isn’t just making empty, ignorant promises.

Offer her that, and her heart will relent, just enough that you can take the match.

***

Isabelle

“Isabelle Lozano? By all the stars! I thought you were off in the arena. What are you doing here of all places?”

The high nasal voice announces Rosalinda as though she had her own bannermen with matching trumpets. She’s not here with the whole entourage though, she seems to be off doing her own dress-fitting along with a couple of her ladies in waiting. Something smaller and more private.

Actually, if you care to get a leg up on her, the fact she’s here probably means that something happened that put her behind. Elena and her family would have already had their fittings and dresses made a month ago on TC Prime and be well en route to the gala now, attending in the entourage of the great Teresio and Antonius families. No, Rosalinda is here because she forgot or was held up on some other business and now she needs a dress just as fast as you do and it’s easier to get it done en route. In fact, you’ll probably be traveling back together in the same ship convoy, you could even spend the time on the shuttles together!

When you finally do turn, you can see that she’s added to the pink hair. Now she’s got herself stylized with one side of her head cut really short, pixie style, while the other side has a medium-length section that comes down over her neck and ear and almost over one eye in front. Instead of just pink, she has a thin purple stripe about two-thirds of the way across it, running from the part to right around where her temple is. There’s pink on each side of the purple. It must have taken several hours to get the styling done like this.

“Well nevermind that. If we’re here, we should be matching dress buddies, right? We’ll both make a bigger splash if we coordinate! I think the new Serpaws designs are all the rage!” She models the tight dress she’s wearing, which as soon as she thrusts a hip, parts completely to show the fully revealed hip. On her other side, the shoulder that lines up with the close-cut hair is bare, giving the whole thing a sort of toga-style look. “I’m planning to have them do some kind of embroidery on it around half the chest and up the shoulder. Maybe a tree, I hear floral themes are in and I rather like the idea of something that grows strong, you know? Says good things about the family and all that. Plus the aesthetic balance is good, it puts the weight on my shoulders and upper chest, where it should be.” She laughs, feigns a slight blush.

Of course, unspoken here is that if you did match her dress she’d be able to tell everyone that she was the one who talked you into the design and it would reflect well on her influence on an up-and-comer. And a pilot to boot. So you’d be giving her quite a lot if you did that. Almira would tell you not to make a single concession, but consider what you actually think of her. This is a big enough deal for Rosalina that doing something for her here, even though it’s not the style you were imagining, could earn her actual, sincere friendship if you’re not deceiving her in the process.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

Giri holds that stare, not moving. She looks at Ven ever so sternly, a big sister's look that says put that sword down before you hit someone. It's a look without fear for herself. "I am offering you help. So is Peregrine in her way. And I know, I know that Kalaya would take on the whole world to help you if you asked for it. You have to ask, Ven. If you lock it in your heart, nobody will hear it."

And then she smiles, and it is a smile full of so many things. Some of them things Ven knows all too well, pain and sadness, frustration at not being understood. But also at all the things Ven isn't seeing, all the little beauties and joys. The fond memory of the dead, satisfied with a good meal returning to their rest, and the memory of raindrops gently rolling off of beautiful flowers. And...ah, yes she had just the thing. "As for me, well...the last inn I was at served a really good bowl of noodles. Hot and steaming, covered with so much chili that the broth turned red, just how I like them. Would you like to get some?"

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

For a moment, things are sluggish. For a moment, Akaithon brings the sword around. For a moment, she considers the feeling of the lance and the way that she could use the weight of the Makhaira to force a decisive blow directly through the strikes of the Kathresis. For a moment, she calculates how much damage she’s take and whether the lance would pierce deeply enough to reach her cockpit. For a moment, she knows that it wouldn’t. But only for a moment.

Though no words are spoken, in her mind plays the same fight as yours. The old fight, the tournament fight. You know with absolute certainty that she’s feeling it. She can hear the bells that rang through Instanilios on tournament days and see the streaming pennants of the field. She can see herself fighting through you, and so she raises her sword in the block you made back then, and pulls back from the weight of the lance, brings it around, feels for herself the heft of that blade and the sluggishness of it. The deadly blow doesn’t come because she defends herself from her own lance.

Long ago, in her mind, that sword could go anywhere because in her mind your strength was unbounded. That’s how she saw you, how she’s letting you know now that she saw you. What matter if the blade is heavy and resists the pull if its wielder has the strength of gods to wrench it from the air that holds it?

But she knew, too, the limits of metal, and now she feels them for herself and so sees deeper than ever before. The sheer force straining against her arms, the way that you bring the lance around again and again to force her to shift and change, the limits of how much pressure the joints of the Makhaira can take, so similar to long before.

With each move as she feels the limitations in her own arms, she relaxes and settles into your rhythm more and more. This is right. This is more right than almost anything. The sword sings with joy even as it strains against the speed and strength of the last. You can feel the shared rhythm with Akaithon. And…so can she. It’s the first time she’s let herself relax in the entire fight.

This is perfection, and she knows it too. Her heart knows it better than she’d ever hoped. Despite everything that brought her here, she’s allowed to enjoy this just for itself, just for the moment. No thoughts of anything to come after. You’ve given her that and she’s letting you know it’s making her heart shine.

[Akaithon opens up and will clear her Guilty condition.]

***

Mirror

“You’re talking about the Zaldarian, Solarel. The one who earned you your title, One-Day Defender. The battle’s in every history curriculum already, an analysis of what worked and what went wrong, it’s probably going to influence our military strategy for the next century. I’m familiar with her.”

Kiriala shakes her head, but it’s good banter. She’s fluid in her style, or emotional. The latter actually. Earlier in the fight, you might have said this would be a good technique considered intentionally. Switching from a waiting style, to precise technique, to a loose and flexible melee. But it’s more that Kiriala has been letting herself roll with it, at least at this point. Up through that first really good charge she was doing something precise, but when you showed her that all her skill wasn’t enough to defeat the techniques you could wield and then changed up the game on her, she swapped into something much more reactive, playing by her gut. First testing, then more aggressive, and now loose and relaxed and getting into the zone of the fight as a conversation.

She swings her spear in arcing spins, maintaining her balance, using the momentum of each attack and each block to determine her direction so that she’s never really off-balance or presenting you with a juicy target even though she can’t land anything decisive either.

“This is hard, y’know? It’s exciting, but it’s hard. When’s the last time a match went like this, even in practice? Most pilots, you exchange a few moves, find something where they’re sloppy, and then the fight’s over. Or they pull out something tricky and the fight’s over. Spear through the neck, stopped at the last second to call the match. And now you’re asking me to do a different analysis. It’s really a step beyond what I’ve been doing. I’m good at fighting, y’know? I’m getting a sense of how you move, the way you shift your tails. I can fight someone and pick up on that sort of thing that…I dunno, what’s the word? The way they lead, it’s like their moves are already happening in my head before they do them, and it’s intuitive. But your capabilities keep changing and you’re setting me different problems. Mental puzzles. Rules I’m supposed to intuit by what you’re saying and how you’re saying it. I didn’t catch the reuse of Ultimate Warrior at all, I was too focused on looking at how you moved and responded to me to really keep that in my head. And I know Solarel, but I don’t know what it means that you fight like her. Your specifications are nothing like the Aeteline’s. Maybe you could beat it with that mecha? It was stronger and faster than my little tiger, but you’ve got some things going on there that might have beaten it if it didn’t catch you off guard. Is that it, is this about getting me comfortable, getting me to lower my guard somehow?”

She continues in the melee, her spear singing as she speaks, the banter and the match going in punctuated movements. One thing you can say for her is that her endurance is incredible. You’ve been going several minutes of high intensity sparring and she’s not showing any signs of slowing or having the Ginger Tiger’s reactions falling off. That physicality really is her strength. Every Hybrasilian child learns to pounce, but few can read motion with the level of consistency and skill that Kiriala is so casually expressing.

You might also be considering about now that Hybrasil seems to have done a very poor job recording Solarel’s history. That damn old mecha of hers might have gotten in the way. Everyone was too blinded by the pure power to think about how the pilot always seemed to know how to wield it. Maybe you even contributed to that depending on how you told the story once you were free.

“...No, actually that’s fine too. I have to stop second guessing myself. This is good, this is right. I’ll go all day fighting like this if I have to. I’ll remember every second of this fight and it’s going to dance in my head when I sleep. Thank you~!”

And if anything she picks up the pace, though she’s no closer to defeating you or solving the task you placed before her.

***

Dolly and Jade

“The Snow Geese. Have you heard of us, princess? We’re mercenaries with, perhaps, a little bit of free business on the side. We live for ourselves. No grand government lords over us. But that doesn’t mean we’re like some out there, where it’s every woman for herself. We believe in honor! The Snow Geese fly together! We support each other! In our home, every man, woman, and child receives a place of honor. I and my closest guard earn our keep. But those of ours who stay at home prepare the feasts! Each teacher of our children receives their place at the table. Each elder offers their wisdom and deserves their rest. Each child learns how to practice respect and to speak her mind!”

She comes in with fierce punches. No attempt to garner distance or change the angle. She dodges, deflects, takes the spear thrusts on her strong arms and advances. You nip at her, dancing at range, maintaining the length of the spear between victory and defeat. Unconquered the both of you.

“Family is what keeps you between heaven and earth, child! It is the hall full of laughter and the heart’s pull home no matter how far you travel. It is good food, good jokes, and better dance! It is community, always having each other’s backs no matter what, no matter who. It’s unconditional love, even for the ones who stray or who do wrong.”

She speaks to you and beyond you, Jade and Dolly. There are shades of these things in Hybrasilian families but Hybrasil also has the gods, and the broader society. Hybrasil thinks bigger than this. It thinks of huntress lodges and research stations and a vast network of trade across a myriad of planets. It’s greater, grander, perhaps more beautiful. But it also forgets the small closeness of these things at times, and Hybrasil can forget the cruelties that are inherent when trying to direct so, so many people. Ada Smith does not.

“We seek only to have a place all our own. To live free, without threat of being found, whether by Hybrasil, or TC, or even the Zaldarians if they have their way. Or by other free companies of less repute than ours. We are tired of hiding, we want our own planet, a home where we can live and thrive and build our own culture!”

You’re going to need to do something. These retreating spear thrusts are like the sting of a wasp and you’ll need a thousand stings before Ada Smith drops in such a mood. Meanwhile, she simply needs you to make one mistake and the fight ends in her favor. How do you end things before that happens?

***

Isabelle

Your mother scoffs at the dress shops on Akar Prime. Indeed, they simply won’t satisfy. There’s time until the gala. Time you could have been practicing or engineering your mecha. Time you could have studied the Zaldarian hand signs or convinced Quar to start speaking to you.

Instead, you are on planet Kikuji in Shiki, home to some of the finest fashion houses in TC, albeit with a different sense of style than the capital. It was the best that could be done on short notice. Shiki is only three jumps away from Akar, just close enough to get there, rush a dress fitting, and get back in two weeks for the gala. TC Prime was simply too far to be ontime.

This is always a bit frustrating. TC controls a vast empire, yet word can’t reach home of your exploits for weeks. Even worse, the time isn’t as long when you’re the one in the ships jumping systems. For you, each jump is a matter of only several hours even though you lose two to three days even on a fast ship. You are literally losing days to the outside world, which is just how long-distance interstellar travel is in TC.

But it’s important that you make an impression and you can’t wear something old or second-rate. Kikuji does at least offer a few styles. There are long kimono-style formal gowns. There are shorter, sleek dresses that fit nearer to your body. There are shoulderless and backless dresses with slit legs. There are cross-hatched jackets and there are suit jackets, and there are the sort of silk shawls that Almira so favors (she’s already bought three new ones, keep up). There are even a few designs that must have been inspired by Mayze Serpaws, uneven work with only one shoulder and the skirt going longer on one leg than the other, though still in the Shiki style with silk fabrics and embroidery.

Who do you take with you on this journey, knowing that two weeks will become mere days and time will be so precious? And knowing your mother will be there the whole time?

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Jade and Dolly

You feel the weight suddenly ease. The Unseen Goose II has joined the effort, adding its strength to yours. Metal buckles and strains, and there is a sheer screeching as the cement slides against it, but in the end, Ada helps shove the cement-filled container off you, showering you both in dust and loose rock.

As she’s working, she looks at you. “You’re lucky this is the last match, princess. If I could get knocked out of the tournament here, I’d have shot you in the knee and been done with the match. Family always comes first and I’m fighting for them above everyone. But that business is taken care of and I think the seeding matters less than a good match between us. And maybe something after, if you’ll put in a good word with my people that the Snow Geese just want a safe space all their own.”

She recovers herself, brushing off some of the dust, an odd gesture reflected in a massive mecha-frame, but an immediately understandable one. “Now that your cloak is gone, we can have a fair fight. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving you all day to recover, if you can’t keep up, I’ll still knock you out! So, get ready or you’re going down in 5…4…3…2…1…”

[Ada takes a string on Jade and chooses to allow the match to continue on (relatively) fair terms in the hope that friendship, rather than hostility, will benefit her family afterwards.]

***

Mirror

“Ah!” Kiriala shouts as she feels the claws rake across her. It’s an exclamation, a mix of surprise and wonder more than any serious pain.

She comes across the other side of the maneuver and tilts her head, thinking. “God, fuck, now I wish Shantri were here instead of me. She’s the one who would know exactly what to do here. I’m the one who’s strong and fast and can hunt by scent and does really good signals tracing work. But at the end of the day, I’m the muscle when it comes to these mystery things, Shantri’s the smart one.”

You get the sense that she’s living in memory for a second. You clearly showed that even with her high skill level at mecha combat, she can’t just go at you. You did show her that you wouldn’t react the same way twice, and she’ll get to that in…well right about now actually.

“Okay so, fine, fine. You said the conditions were set, but the variables changed. That’s something, that’s helpful. It means it’s not a fighting style or a commitment to a certain type of response. Not like how you started the fight. So, I need to just fight then. Ha, Shantri would be telling me I’m an idiot for not playing to my strengths.” Her tone gets a little bouncier again.

“Okay, alright, let’s go let’s go! Show me something, give me something to work with!”

She changes up her tactic here. Not a blind charge or a holding pattern like you’ve seen so far. Instead she’s maneuvering in a new way. She’s using the ground as a source of unpredictability, stepping with light jumps, like she could take off and fire thrusters to go airborne anytime she wants, but she’s not so she also keeps the option of pushing off the ground in any direction in addition to her thrusters. She’s coming at you, spear this time not out for a direct stab but instead for a slash, itself in an as yet unknown direction, she can adjust it quickly and easily.

This is aggression, but in a different style, almost like if you were sparring hand to hand with staves and she was trying to bait you, circle you, and get into your rhythm. Not that you can’t shoot her if you want, but that’s in the calculations too, it’s just a longer-range staff with a higher recovery time committed to it.

You’ll have to be careful, since she’s keeping low, that any attacks she launches don’t wind up tearing up the field because they didn’t hit you. Ditto for your own counterattacks, especially anything wide-burst.

***

Isabelle

Your fight is over. You’ve won. Ksharta took the shot with just enough time to let out a final, primal scream, and then she was down. She’s not literally out, but you can see that she’s decided not to invite you to rip the Pulsar Cat apart while she’s recovering and has instead surrendered.

A clean win. Dominant. No risks and no honor.

Well, no risks now. You’ve made an enemy today, one whose enmity will live far beyond the combat arena. It is one thing to embarrass someone through superior skill, but quite another to make a fool of them.

When you return to the hangar, Almira is there in person, dressed today in a burgundy silken shawl that sparkles with gold dust above her dress. As before, what should be the incongruous hangar jacket simply accents her neck and shoulders.

“Competently executed” she says, when you land. “It gives me some reassurance we’re actually related.” There’s a great deal in that praise. Competence in switching to the Emberlight, in the fighting style, in the execution, perhaps in your choice of obedience. Absolutely no thought to the problems this could cause, or to whether you’ve done the right thing. Obeying Almira Lozano is, after all, the right thing as far as Almira Lozano is concerned. And you’ve done well.

“Come, there’s going to be a gala held in Akkar, I hear they’re actually using the arena for it to celebrate the start of the knockout rounds. We’ll need to get you a proper dress for the occasion.”

She turns and you’re expected to follow.

[Take the experience for following the advice if you haven’t already]

***

Solarel

“Sol I…”

There’s a storm of thoughts in Akaithon’s head happening right now. The pain in that voice, the realization, the conflict. Akaithon’s smart, but this is a whirlwind of emotion. She wants to speak. You can hear it in the way she trails off, how now, NOW she has a thousand things to say. In her head there are questions of ethics and governance dancing with what friendship is even supposed to mean, and above that is her own love and what sort of foundation it rests on now that she’s heard you. Are you right? Are you wrong? Is it impossible to simplify it down that far, a position with a thousand different nuances to ultimately figure out the way to navigate life.

All of that’s there and dancing, begging to burst out of her in a stream of words. But she doesn’t. After that initial reaction, the instinctive reflex that ran ahead of the rest of her, she is quiet. She takes that storm and she internalizes it. Lets it rage within her, through her, and instead she hefts her sword, your sword, and raises it in salute.

You know her, you know all the words she must be thinking about, how much she’d like to debate forever. That she chose to do what you told her is an unparalleled act of submission and vulnerability. She hasn’t made up her mind, but it’s neither has she closed herself off to you. Not now, not like this.

She charges, strong and direct, the style you taught her. Not knowing the extent of your prior touch. It’s on you, now, to show her what love means.

[Take +1 forward to interact with her]

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

“She what? But you…you betrayed her, betrayed us! She, she said. She said you were too loyal to Voctine. The Aeteline belongs to the empress! She can’t…she can’t steal it from her own knight. Trying to keep it would have been the betrayal! I…that’s what I thought. I didn’t…isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? Didn’t you…I…Sol, I…what happened? What did you, what did she do? Why were you banished?!”

She lets out a shout then, and shakes herself, the sudden movement making it difficult to keep the Kathresis in place. She rushes suddenly sideways looking for you, looking for some way to confront you.

“Damn it Sol, if it was all this bad why didn’t you ever contact me?! Why did you leave and make all those deals? Losing your mecha, going in debt to one Terenian after another just to stay in the fight without our support. For what? A Hybrasilian? Don’t you care about your own people? Don’t you care about me? You think you can…can act so high and mighty but who did you turn to when you were in trouble? None of your friends! Nobody who even knew you! Maybe you should enlighten me how you managed to pull out of the teachings of Zaldar that you should betray two empresses!

[Akaithon marks guilty.]

***

Mirror

“Huh.”

The Ginger Tiger leaps to its feet, jumps away as you ignite the tails, considering your words even as it maintains the high energy of the last few moments, turning its recovery into an attempted encirclement that probes for weaknesses.
A beep indicates that tails 4, 5, and 6 are available, which is admittedly a lot more coincidental than getting 1,2,3 to start. Maybe the system is weighted to favor the tails activating in numerical order with only a little randomness. Or maybe it picks a different pattern each time and just happened to settle on numerical order this time, with that choice being only a single random choice rather than six separate ones just happening to work out.

“I accept” comes over the comms after a brief silence as Kiriala looked for an opening, changing heights and angles rapidly but never striking. “This may be a mistake, I have the most profound feeling that I just allowed myself to get perfectly played by agreeing to this match on your terms. But I don’t care because I want to see what you’re offering. So I accept, the match will play out on your terms.”

She goes then into the same move as before. Nearly identical, high speed, covering fire. She wants to see if you’ll do the same thing or not, wants a sense of whether your choice of response relates to your rules. She might be guessing that one of them is about how you respond to certain attacks. If you do something completely different, it will tell her something about what restrictions you’re not under. It’s almost a taunt. Are you going to trick me or show me something honest~? That’s what’s being asked.

[She will take a string and spend it immediately, asking the question “what will it take for you to reveal your strategy for this new set of match rules?”]

***

Isabelle

“No. No! Fuck. FUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

Ksharta didn’t want this. She did get overconfident, tried to pick you apart and didn’t think there’d be some hidden trick. But this, this isn’t just that she’s breaking down, you’ve immediately turned the tables and lorded it over her and this isn’t fun anymore and and and and

She writhes, slams against the rope, manages a knee into the Emberlight’s stomach, knocking the wind out of you as you come around, giving her a second. She uses that second to take her still free arm and…rip her other arm off from the elbow, cutting the trap loose from its anchor point as she flies away.

That had to hurt. A lot. Mecha dull pain relative to the neural mesh, but you know that pins and needles feeling. She just did that suddenly, a shock would have run through her whole arm before it went completely numb from the elbow down. Some pilots would black out from that. Many would throw up.

“You SERIOUSLY think you can just make a joke out of me? Seriously?” The Pulsar Cat lowers its head and you can tell the pilot is shaking with some combination of fury and shame. Her good hand pounds herself in the head. “Gods, gods! I tell you what I’m here for, I try to tease you and play with you and you immediately try and make the same joke that Jade did. I’m pathetic. I’m so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid Ksharta. Not worth anything but making soup for the bigger, faster girls. Why does everyone fall for Jade when she does this?! What am I doing wrong? Fine, fuck it, fuck you!”

She’s coming for you, as hard as she can, no more toying.

You have time to draw your weapons with all of this, your advantage bought you that much. You get to choose how to meet her. In fact, you can almost certainly win this match from this position, she’s down an arm, down a weapon, distracted, emotionally a wreck, it’s really not that hard.

It’s just, here’s the thing. This is a moment of clarity for YOU, Isabelle Maria Lozano de la Estrella. Do you see how your mother’s strategy, while absolutely effective for winning this match, took no account of the emotional impact it would have on your opponent? This isn’t a one-off. This isn’t a fluke. This is your life. This is your past and at this rate it’s going to be your future. Almira Lozano cares for power and no person will get in the way of that for her. If you follow her advice forever, you will have power. And with it, a life that is an endless string of agonies. Agonies that you receive and agonies that you inflict. That will all fall at your feet. Is that your choice?

[Ksharta takes Insecure and emotionally loses it completely, escalating to a desperate final attack. You take Guilty. And a reminder. Many people are watching these matches. What you do here will be momentous.]

***

Jade and Dolly

You slide desperately, coming in under a huge storage tank as it’s collapsing. It’s better than some spots, you take no real damage, the hollow tank curls around you instead, its rounded shape helping to ensure other debris slides off it rather than punch through it, though it does slowly begin to crumple as dust and cement builds up on top of it.

There’s a silence as you lie there, but you can’t just sit here and wait, if you don’t come up you’ll be declared disabled and lose the match! So you groan and strain and push the tank off you, dust sliding in and obscuring your vision. It grew heavy with the collapse, the top caved inwards so that now you’re trying to push a tank full of cement slabs, which even with a crystal fire drive is a bit of a difficult effort.

Thus it’s as your pushing and straining, your arms occupied above your head, that you feel the cloak ripped off you. Ada did indeed use her superior strength combined with her knowledge of what she was doing to get out ahead of you, find where the rubble was shifting, and use your moment of vulnerability to take what she was after.

There you are, revealed for the cameras, covered with loose, white-gray chalky dust. And there’s Ada and the Unseen Goose II, right on top of you, your cloak ripped from your back. She pulls to the side, holding it triumphantly and all you can do is crane your neck to look at her without dropping the whole tank back on yourself. You’re in a very vulnerable position, arms up and body bare for her, the only thing keeping her from the decisive blow the fact that she doesn’t want that storage tank to fall on her either. But the second you finish freeing yourself, she’s going to be on top of you.

“Need a hand there, princess~?” she asks, taking a stance just out of range of the rubble as she watches you struggle and newly on display for everyone.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

“I desire a gift from the Empress you half-witted rust-brain”

That one sounded sincere, pent-up anger and stress as Akaithon searches around, your careful thruster calculations ensuring that she doesn’t notice the extra load on her back. The Kathresis leans into this, it’s natural for it, and the stress is evident as Akaithon looks around ever more frantically.

She inspects the remains of the gun she blasted. Really gone, not a decoy. “The Aeteline was a gift to you, a new empress took power and it was supposed to be a gift to me. Do you have any idea how beside herself the new empress was to learn that she could NOT gift the Aeteline to her champion? What do you think that did for her legitimacy in Instanilios? I’ll give you a hint, Solarel, it was not good.”

She shakes her head in resignation, by far the most dangerous thing she’s done since you latched onto her. Just an inch further and you’ll come into her actual peripheral vision. Just an inch, but there’s nothing for it, just have to hope she’s too distracted to be looking closely at her own sensors or getting that feeling like there’s someone staring just over her shoulder.

“Is it really so strange that I want to serve Naelkai? You know I knew her from before her ascension, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

She doesn’t, not with that strained tone. She likes, no, she loves Naelkai as a person. Always has, but maybe you never saw the depths of that before. Before your banishment it was clandestine after all. Snuck in between missions, a history that stretched back to before she came to the Evercity. But you can see it here, Akaithon loves her empress at a level that few people can ever come to love royalty. The kind of love that’s personal and intimate and can only happen if you knew them and had a bond of mutual trust from before they had power. She fights for this love. She would gladly betray everything else she believes in for this love.

If you wish to bring about such a betrayal, you’ll need to hurry, she’s stopped chattering to think and it’s not beyond her to figure out your ploy if she has time to consider.

***

Jade and Dolly

“Ha, not bad!” The Unseen Goose fires its rear jets, righting itself after the kick, which has done little more than chip the paint. It seems that in her new version, Ada has simply committed what had once gone to the stealth suit into basic specs: armor and strength and speed.

She races off after you, using the flicker of the landing and jump angle to pick an educated direction. It’s imperfect, your cloak is back in effect and she doesn’t know exactly where you turned. “I did watch your matches. You love your boasting and you’ve got the specs to back it up. Really care for each other two, I saw how you wouldn’t stab that other Hybrasilian who dressed like your priestess. That’s worth something and no mistake. Doesn’t mean you’re not spoiled rotten with all the blessings of your little empire though. Besides, if I got your tone right, you like being challenged for supremacy over that little priestess in there. It must not be fun to be the only one if charge if there’s nobody strong to prove you can conquer, right? So let me show you strong~”

You can tell she’s enjoying this [Take a string on Ada for your fine performance.]

She’s not making herself an easy target as she speaks. Once that initial pass is finished, she begins breaking more machinery, the sound of her fists tearing through metal at high speed echoing through the factory and actually making it hard to pinpoint her through the debris. She’s leaving a trail of slag and wreckage as she moves, but where the carnage stops and the mecha starts is a tricky thing to figure. On top of that, as she moves she’s not just hitting machinery, she’s taking out supports and pillars and…

…oh shit, the roof’s going to come down on top of you and no cloak in the world will help that one. She’ll have you pinpointed from how you come out of the rubble and it will take you longer than it will take her with all that strength to recover.

If you think about it very hard, this is good, actually, in that she can only try this gambit once! If it doesn’t work then her best advantage will be lost and you’ll have open ground to maneuver (if a little unstable). So, you just need to make sure this doesn’t work! But she’s bringing this place apart fast, faster than you can fly out of it from the center of the factory, so you’re going to have to come up with something more creative quickly!

***

Isabelle

Shattered metal rains down from the sky in little shards. For a brief moment of calm you have just the presence of mind to notice how pretty they are with the sun glinting off them, a rain of rainbow glitter that would make a great memory weave image.

But that’s your autocannon, and your armor torn up, and you’re quickly running out of ways to keep this fight going. You’ve got a melee option on the reconfigured emberlight, right? Enough to block at least one of those two swords?

“Yeah, how do you like that, huh?!” She comes in again, slashing and tearing open the arm plating, no longer protected. If that keeps up you’ll lose hand functionality entirely, you can already feel that unpleasant buzzing sensation in your actual hands that tells you the damage is coming through the neural link.

“I’m a damn good pilot, and when I’m done ripping you up, I’m gonna make you squeal like Jade does until you shout it out for everyone. How do you like that, huh!”

Oh yeah, she’s overconfident. She’s just coming in hard and fast with the slashes, taking everything she can get as fast as she can get it. Now’s the time to turn the tide. The only time.

[Isabelle’s autocannon is destroyed, and her arm plating is damaged, exposing the hand mechanisms for the next attack.]

***

Mirror

Oh she’d been watching the video. See her step forward when you jump? It slightly obscures one of her hands. Not even really obscures it, you’re in an open plain, but it makes one hand forward and one back and usually people don’t look at the back hand. They don’t notice it slip to the ionic net that could encase your tails and pull you to the ground.

But, to Kiriala’s credit, the Ginger Tiger still doesn’t overcommit. She saw you coming down, but she didn’t put herself into the throw, didn’t overextend her muscles.

Your throw still strikes true, it’s too fast and too unexpected to completely dodge. But the Ginger Tiger takes it on the side. There’s a high-pitched whine as the trident blows through the shields and then the satisfying deep sounds of metal compacting as it damages her. It rakes across the right arm and down the right leg as she pushes away, and the impact shatters its way up the trident handle as well.

Everything is warped and broken from the strike, but she’s not down by any means.

“Hooooooo” she breathes, and you can hear the awe. “What a compliment! You did that for me! Sacrificed that for me, broke your routine and everything! Wow, wow!”

Her voice is giddy and a little higher and for sure this is the first time you’ve seen her roused to emotion. “Okay, alright, this is serious. Let’s gooooo!”

And there she turns that into energy and she kicks it up a notch. The momentum that had been going into dodging the trident shifts. She lets herself land, uses her spear in the dirt to turn her momentum into a pivot and fires her thrusters even harder then pulls the spear out into a charge, still firing at you.

It’s a creative take on a by the book play. Press an opponent, limit their movement with covering fire and strike a killing blow. She’s just…she executed on it really fast, with a mastery of her own mecha’s momentum and energy. It was faster than almost any huntress you’ve ever seen. It’s the sort of thing that happens in all sorts of sports. A straight throw of the ball isn’t anything special, but if it’s faster than anybody else can throw it, sometimes that’s enough to make it unstoppable.

Still, your daring play meant that she had to make this correction. It might surprise you, but you’re pretty fast yourself. There’s an opening here if you can find it. Just a much smaller one than you might have hoped.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Solarel

“I’m the best pilot among the Zaldarian knights!” Akaithon shouts. There’s a special tinge of bitterness in that. She said knights and not the Zaldarians overall. This might hurt too. If you’ve been following the last few tournaments, the category here means that she doesn’t believe that she’s a better pilot than Marna Kerne, the tribal chieftain who won the second round of the Akar tournaments and was the runner up of the last round. While you’ve been gone, Akaithon might have been comparing herself to another competitor.

The Makhaira charges anyway. She uses that massive sword you gave her, empowers it even. Some of her drive’s energy is going into shields as well, the sword isn’t quite wide enough to completely block the profile of the Makhaira. But she only needs a bit around the shoulders and the head as she leans forward into the debris cloud, rushing close to you, using that blade to take the majority of the blows. A decidedly barbarian tactic, but structured with a very precise calculated division of her total energy for maximum efficiency. City dweller theorist through and through.

“I’ve served the Empress with loyalty! I have made every offering and consulted every priestess on Zaldaria!”

Although her charge grows even more furious, she leaves the comms on and there is a moment of calm, just the riffs of the guitar. Her voice isn’t shouting as she closes. “But I guess I haven’t beaten you. The Aeteline only grants itself to the greatest warrior, is that it? It won’t grant itself to anyone lesser. It won’t allow itself to be used to bridge the gap. I need to prove I don’t need it to beat you before I’m allowed to use it.”

You have to move, the Kathresis doesn’t have the firepower to stop that charge with that sword and if you stay here, debris or not, that sword is going to cut the Kathresis clean in half.

***

Jade and Dolly

“Ha! Hahahaha!” Ada laughs. She doesn’t cloak though. She simply laughs, open comms and full-bellied. “You Hybrasilians really have it easy, y’know that? I’m not backed by a major government! It’s a miracle I got my mecha repaired, you think I can just get a new cloak, snap my fingers and there it is? I had to steal that from a Hybrasilian supply ship ahead of most of your pirates.”

She shrugs, stepping away from the light, calculating time from your leap off the cliff without saying it. “But luckily for me, punishing spoiled princesses is one of my favorite hobbies. If you want to help, maybe you can lend…me…yours!”

She doesn’t know where you are, your approach was stealthy and silenced, the space is far too dark and crowded for her to catch the slight blur of cloaked motion, and anyway Jade’s cloaking device is top of the line and barely even ripples the air!

But as she reaches the end of what she’s saying, she obviously has reached the end of a mental count. Her best guess at your momentum. And there you are, just about to reach her, but as she speaks her last three words, she punctuates them by ramming a fist into the nearby machinery!

Bam! Clang! Crush! Gouts of hot steam, oil, and pressurized metal shoot out in all directions. It’s impossible to fly straight into it. You have to diverge, and the steam cloud has to shape its way around you, outlining you in the sudden chaos.

You don’t have time to blink and clear out your vision, she’s already coming for you and it sounds like the threat to tear off your cloak is very real!

***

Isabelle

“Everybody keeps trying to do this!” You can almost hear Ksharta huffing on the other end. “I’m going to find whoever writes these stupid dossiers and they’re gonna get so many claw marks. I’ll sick Jade on them! I’m in a cult now!”

Taking to the sky was an excellent mistake. The Pulsar cat is faster than Emberlight, and you’ve flown past the point where you’d have cover for an ambush or a surprising angle.

Ksharta’s a gleam against the clouds herself, dropping her cloak, full power to engines. She approaches with the sun behind her, one of the oldest tricks, using nature to make it hard to focus on what she’s doing. Of course, the Emberlight’s cockpit can dim for handling starlight, it’s meant for space combat! But that still means it’s dimmed and your brain processes that just a hair slower than it would otherwise.

Unlike the typical Hybrasilian, she’s not using a spear. Instead, she has two smaller blades that she can use while maneuvering, cutting in and around you. The perfect weapons when she’s already up in your face. It’s hard to say that she’s feeling the overconfidence that your mother was hoping for but -stab stab stab- it’s probably not hard to get her there at this point, it’s really just a question of making sure Emberlight is still functional when you do. Maybe turn things up a little bit so she doesn’t win the fight before she has time to lose track of things.

If you have time to think in between the sudden onslaught, you can tell that she’s trying really hard right now. She likes Jade, she’s won several of her fights, but somehow everybody keeps seeing her as a joke. A novice. Nervous. Foolish. She wants that to stop, she wants to show she can win and she’s afraid if she can’t put on a legitimate showing, that all anybody will ever remember her for will be the comedy. That’s not okay!

***

Mirror

She yawns herself. Long and wide, the kind of yawn that lets you feel her tail curling behind her. Doesn’t stop firing though. “Tempting, but don’t you think they’d disqualify us both if we don’t at least try to win the match? We’re conflict resolution for empires here, and we’re entertainment. The cardinal sin would be choosing to simply not fight. In that regard, we’re both cornered already.”

She advances, without a rush. She simply walks forward, continuing the lasers, seeing how long you’ll stay planted in the same spot as she advances. Close enough for a net? Close enough for a spear? Close enough to kiss?

But there’s no rush to it, no opening, no commitment. She’s seeing how close you’ll choose to let her get before you react. The Ginger Tiger advances, spear and net at the ready, lasers continuing to strike as you deflect, maintaining the option of moving in any direction it pleases at any time, but choosing none of them.

“But since we’re both here, I want to see what you’ve got. The last girl I met who I think was like you was Shantriala Hunter, Six Thunders. Tiny little ocelot, slowest Hunter clan I’ve ever seen on the run, but stick her in front of someone for an hour and they’ll give away every secret they ever buried and five they didn’t know they had.”

She sighs and there’s a wistfulness to it. “I like skilled huntresses, Mira Fisher, I like being surprised and watching them work. So I hope you’re not just going to stand there.”

And there’s the shape of her heart. She’s not hiding it and she’s certainly not lying. You remind her of someone she’s got a crush on, and she wants to see you display your talent. Why she’s fighting at all? She’s good, she’s loyal, Hybrasil asked her to serve and she obeys. But she’s also got that tired tone of voice that says that very few people she meets match up to her and her expectations are low. The fact that she thinks you could be in that category of special someones is a big compliment and she doesn’t really want to get herself worked up about it yet.