Anarion

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror and Solarel

There is a stillness that hangs in the air, but it is not the absence of movement. A silence that is not the absence of sound.

Around you and above you there is the movement of peoples, the clink of glasses and the clatter of food. Music spins faintly from other rooms as dancers strike up. The murmur of chatter rumbles through the air, and from the hangar comes the occasional creaks and groans that are convergent with the fundamental nature of great edifices of dormant metal.

Matty purrs, and Kirala makes a sort of hmmm noise as she considers, while Slate is perfectly quiet. But none of them pierce this moment. No eager conversationalists dare interrupt this intimacy, nor any grand games of politics demand your attention.

Not here, not yet. This moment is for you.

Though, whenever you do get deeper into the temple, there’s some very…vivid…politics happening between the current and former empress of Zaldaria deeper inside.

***

Jade, Dolly, and entourage

You’re at the center of some interspecies politics. This is not your fault! Probably! There might be some debates about whether you were supposed to be reigning in Angela given her outfit. But mostly it’s not your fault!

You see, Angela made her way past the Hybrasilian delegation, who had quickly spread out for food and conversation anyway, especially to mingle with Terenians from the nearest planets. But Angela, boldly had gone up to talk with the current empress of the Zaldarians. She didn’t entirely know their sign language, but they’d been standing by themselves and so she had singled them out for conversation. A soft kindness to a people who found it particularly hard, with their religion, to effectively mingle with aliens.

However, her conversation, which had dragged over a few hangers on as well, attracted the attention of Voctine, the former Empress. Though she had ensconced herself deep within the spiral, that gave her a front row seat to look down on the current empress, Nialkai. And that meant that Voctine saw her hated rival not only not coming to her, but mingling in obvious violation of the Zaldarian tenets.

Thus, you find yourself about at the center of the party, and next to you are two Zaldarians and their entourages, all gesturing wildly and beginning to shout at one another in language you can understand.

Actually, it’s pretty easy to understand: “Usurping bitch!” and “Fallen Queen” echo out from each other, and their retinues are milling uneasily. In fact, it looks for all the world like they’re going to start a fight here in the middle of the party and the fact that you’re all in the middle of them is being entirely ignored as Voctine flourishes her cape and Nialkai hikes up her wide dress menacingly!

***

Isabelle

She comes to you. Falls into your arms in fact. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” It’s hard to tell who was talking, as the same phrase comes from Adriana, Marcina Villajero, and Asil at the same time. The latter because she assumed she was the one who bumped into Adriana, even though you had a front row seat that Asil Did Nothing Wrong.

But Adriana had managed to extract herself from Marcina’s supporting arms while the latter got a drink, only to swoon directly into you and bump Asil out of the way, the latter assuming that she’d simply been too clumsy of a dancer for even you to save from herself. The troubles of being a fish out of water.

It’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever heard of. Everything you’ve ever read about Adriana is that she’s a woman with complete physical control. She was the first Arena champion! Known for her extravagant flourishes and her talent as a dancer when not in a mecha. It’s utterly inconceivable that she’d be like this. She must be sick. Or terribly, terribly drunk in a way that implies the drinking had to have started long before arriving here. Though she doesn’t smell drunk. She smells like roses, her whole dress is covered with them, and the scent is heady and makes you want to swoon yourself as she draws near.

“Isabelle Lozano!” she says, voice slurred and eyes misty, and if this is an act, she’s also the universe’s best dramatist and the entire Terenian movie industry will need to cry itself to sleep that she’s usually too busy with politics and business to appear in their works. “You know, I can’t make heads or tails of you, and I’ve half a mind to stop trying and give up on you entirely.”

There’s a sharpness to her words. It doesn’t change anything about the whole drunken stupor though. It’s more like, the intellect is just really deep in there and what you’re getting is the analysis without the filter about what might be polite to say or not.

“I mean really, you’re a prodigy when it comes to the piloting, but you’ve got basically zero mental game. I thought maybe when you took that Quar, that Zaldarian knight, prisoner you had something, but I’ve got my sources and you basically let that go. You’ve done almost nothing with her! I mean come on, you’ve got a whole alien prisoner who’s choosing to be there out of a sense of honor and you, what, mostly stick to your daily routine like nothing’s changed and sneak a few meals with her? Give me a break, girl!”

She starts dancing with you, leaning her head against your shoulder for support. Marcina shrugs helplessly like, what’s she going to do, cut into your dance? She goes over to reassure Asil instead and they start up a nice slow easy dance a little away from you.

“And then your other matches. The one against Smith, and the ‘win’ you had against Ksharta Talonna. (Oh and learn their names, too goddamn many Terenians who refuse to treat the other species like they’re actual people). Absolute despair on both sides of that one, don’t think I missed it! You’ve got no read on people. And let me tell you, if you want to reach the top, you need two things and it’s not the bullshit the climbers think it is. One…” She raises a finger, ticking it off against the side of your cheek. “...you’ve got to do something special. Not the same crap as everyone else who wants the job. The frauds are the ones who all try to fit in because they have no VISION. That will never get you ahead of the pack.

“Two…” and here she taps those fingers against your cheek a little harshly “you can’t make the kind of enemies who will do anything to stop you. Even self-sacrifice. If everyone you meet decides that keeping you down is more important than even their own benefit, you’ll get nowhere. The whole world will turn against you. Damn fool girl. If you waste the talents of one of the Terenius Consortium’s greatest pilots in the elimination round because you can’t see the idiocy past your own nose, you’ll have me as an enemy. And I’m usually a much better dancer than this.”

So saying, she sways and almost topples the both of you over, relying on you to manage her weight.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"I will" Giriel smiles and ventures to give Ven a pat on the back after she stands and dusts herself off. Of course it earns the "how dare you peasant" look, but there's no fire in it, and Giri grins as Ven physically appreciates it despite herself.

She moves them over from the mud, back towards the N'yari camp. She makes a sling what remains of Peregrine's ruined and muddied dress and some branches to carry the brass arm without touching it. Best not, with what it was doing to the grass. Gets the N'yari to help her make a hot firepit full of charcoal. Did you know that a campfire is just barely short of the temperature to melt brass? But if you make a charcoal pit and get it as hot as it can go, it will do the trick.

It's not that the magic strictly requires a fire hot enough to melt the brass. A magical fire could easily be conjured that would melt regular brass with minimal difficulty. But that's not the point when it comes to an exorcism done right. It's about the nature of the thing, the meaning put into it, not the temperature. Making a fire that everyone knows can't melt brass and then trying to focus some of the magic to enhance it makes the main ritual weaker. If you put in the effort instead, the magic gets stronger.

That was always the way of these things really. It's why Giri was so strong, why she carried a great black sword and not a dagger like many witches. This is not to say that a strong witch always had the better of things, Peregrine was exceptionally gifted and thin as a willow branch after all. It was just that one way to make your magic strong was to do the busy work properly. Giri sweeped and she chopped wood. She hiked and she picked things by hand. And because she didn't take the shortcuts and she put the care and the time into each bit, the symbolism would turn out right and strong. People always forgot these things because they thought that once they got good at everything else, the time didn't matter. A lot of folks made the mistake of thinking that being skilled meant being fast. Sometimes, sure, it could matter. In a fight, say. But that wasn't the only sort of skill. Sometimes making a good soup means leaving everything to simmer for as long as it takes because if you turn up the heat it will just burn instead. And if there was one lesson, it was that if you were going to make soup for the dead, you ought to make them good soup.

So, Giriel very carefully kindles the fire. She works with Ven to draw the circle, the two of them together. Their blood mixed in the lines. Same reasoning. Blood magic isn't evil, that's the superstition. Blood is powerful because it fundamentally represents the vitality of a person. Giving it up weakens you until you can rest and eat and rebuild yourself. Giving up too much kills you and yes that was evil if you drew on it for power. But that's because taking someone else's life in the vast majority of circumstances wasn't yours to make. This though, this was Ven's blood given willingly, such as she had left after the loss of her arm. And Giri's blood given gladly. For a friend.

The black sword, too, makes for the ritual. Giri uses it to draw each line, and when it's done, she lays it across Peregrine's chest. A sacrifice, a magical implement that she has sanctified and blessed and brought before the local gods and ancestors in turn. She will sacrifice it in its entirety for Peregrine. She'll have another sword made, or find one to buy to her heft, but it will take a long time to bring it in line with her black sword. The biggest loss would be that she'd need another way to intimidate people while she was traveling. It was nice to come into an inn and be left alone sometimes without having to make your hands start glowing.

Giri hums as she works the fire and then carefully, carefully lowers the bronze arm into the firepit. Two sacrifices. One from Ven, one from her for Peregrine. The arm would be doubly effective in that its destruction would be a boon for the Flower Kingdoms, lighten the presence of the demonic, and the symbolism of its destruction matched with the ritual exorcism for Peregrine.

Lastly, she finished brewing her pot of tea, scalding hot over that same firepit, and poured three cups. One for herself, one for Ven, and one to offer a sip to Peregrine as they started the ritual. She poured the rest out and then pointedly didn't examine the leaves, instead placing Peregrine's cup facedown once she had trickled a few drops into the witch to fortify her.

Then, finally, there was the part with all the chanting and the screaming and the shrieks of demonic agony. You know that's just the showy part though, right? When you've done the preparations properly, double checked the lines and the tools, and mentally prepared, then the actual doing of the thing was the formality, the theater done to demonstrate that the work was already completed successfully. You knew you could do it, you knew they symbols were right, and that confidence in turn was something that the hells could never understand, could never touch. Because hell was a broken thing, a purveyor of false dreams and pride born of failure. An unwillingness to learn, to do better. What better way, then, to perform the chants than with the quiet surety that comes from a job well done?

Only when they were done completely, Peregrine panting and covered with mud and sweat, the arm melted into a formless puddle amidst the coals and then buried in mud and clay...only then did Giriel let out a breath, remove the tea cup, and look over the leaves. A downward mountain trail, the sign of fresh wind, the setting sun. The signs for the end of a difficult leg of a journey, if one that still required a bit of walking before finding some warm rice and a soft bed.

Huntresses of Hybrasil

Mirror

You have a front-row seat to everyone coming in from the hangar, though there’s no need to bore you with every mundane coming and going. A few of note though.

The former empress of Zaldaria is deeply surprised that she’s not the first arrival, she had tried quite hard for the honor, but you handily bested her. She will give you the most perfunctory nod imaginable and then immediately scurry past you with a flare of her cape, her entourage following.

The Terenians are extraordinarily gaudy, though you may notice the one pilot making the entrance with the drone technology. If for no other reason than the way the leader of her entourage (presumably her mother, to the extent you understand such things in Terenian culture) sniffs. It’s plain as day that she’s annoyed at being upstaged by her own daughter, and more than a little surprised that her daughter would do such a thing. Perhaps something of interest given the struggles that particular pilot has had (and the murmurings about her victory over Ksharta, which made just about everyone watching deeply uncomfortable).
Dolly arrives soon after them, with a surprise special show right at the entrance to the space. You have a front row seat from which to leer at Jade. Slate’s there too, along with Kiriala, but they’re enjoying the show and have some idea what you’re about.

Matty will briefly wander off for a break, a drink, some food around this time.

Next of note are the arrivals of Charon and Adriana, wearing your dresses. Charon’s joy is such that he pleasantly greets you, though he has no idea that you designed the dresses at all. He is simply happy enough to share it without questioning why you might be so carefully observing the entrance. It’s an odd effect for a man with imposing cybernetics, but then he carries himself with a casual confidence that says he’s not afraid to break character.

Adriana is interesting. You might have expected her to grow angry with her own unexpected weakness. That does not appear to be the case, however. She’s asked for help and appears to be carrying off the role of damsel with a certain aplomb. She swoons, but her gaze still has a certain cunning to it. A consummate actress who, faced with an unexpected role, has nevertheless vigorously embraced the part. Seeing you staring, she gestures for Marcina to bring her closer. “I always appreciate boldness” she says, and gently places a rose in your hands as she enters.

Matty returns after this with Slate and Kiriala. Still no Solarel. Matty purrs, sips her drink, and nestles into your arm. Slate will stand nearby. Not foolish enough to talk. They weren’t sure who would arrive when, whether they’d even arrive ahead of Solarel, but since they’re here and no longer tied to a delegation they’ve come to join you.

And then, of course, there is Solarel, who made you wait for nearly everyone else to enter. Not unexpected, and yet, here she is, simple, bold, her eyes boring into you. Another battle, or something else?

***

Solarel

There is little enough to say. The arrivals around you have no organization nor any particular interest in you. A few of the pirates do stop to glance, curious at one of the most renowned combatants. But finding you absorbed, they won’t linger. Not when there’s good food and girls to tease who will pay attention to them. So none remain with you while you stare and you walk in alone, late and nearly last.

And there is Mirror. But then, you already knew that, she could be the whole universe after all. She could, but there are others. She’s holding another Hybrasilian like her, if a little smaller and a little more drawn into herself. Purring and freely enjoying Mirror’s touch without getting in her way. And around her are two more, obviously with her though they’re standing politely to the side. Not just Mirror, but a family of sorts.

***

Jade, Dolly, and entourage

It is Kimri who moves first among the display. It is not a large movement, but being greeted by Jade in this manner, she bows her elderly head, and it is understood that this is a motion that is very significant for her because she is old and her bones ache. And it is also understood if you see the way that her fangs just peak out and her ears curl, that this is both respectful and just slightly amused. The bow of an elderly servant who has been with a family for many generations and is acknowledging her respect to the new young master that has joined the family. Tolerant and helpful and just every so slightly too understanding.

Then because their eldest and most reverend priestess has bowed, the entire rest of the Hybrasilian delegation has also bowed and more deeply still. Angela’s scoff cuts above the silence of the entrants. “And they told me it was difficult to herd Hybrasilians.” She laughs, and it’s haughty and warm and it rumbles through her exposed belly with a genuine joy. “Very well goddess, let us see this party through your eyes.” She slips on the glove quickly, with no ceremony, and she strides forward ahead of the delegation, pulling Ksharta with her (because she too has noticed that Ksharta hasn’t been feeling in as high spirits as she ought to). “Come girl, get your glove on, drop the box, and show me to the refreshments. I want to know which of the Hybrasilian delicacies will actually suit my palette, Terenian food is terribly boring.”

And Jade, you’ve got both of them, Angela with her glove fully on and Ksharta scrambling to get hers over her hand while Angela is pulling on her, and the whole Hybrasilian delegation looking scandalized (except that Kimri is still smiling), and holy shit is that Mirror who’s been standing there watching all the entrants the entire time just gazing at Dolly’s dress while wearing nothing but her headdress????

And then there’s Dolly, who’d better hurry or she’s going to be left at the back while your entourage makes a show of itself! Jade, Jade you’ve really given yourself a lot to do all of a sudden, even for a goddess!

***

Isabelle

The Terenians applaud. It’s a really good entrance after all! There are looks of envy, and the overall effect is enough to catch the attention of the advance guard of the Hybrasilians coming in behind you (though that’s about to be distracted thanks to the temporary materialization of an actual goddess, albeit a minor one).

The real trick with this routine is going to be who’s talking about it later. The other Terenians will do so in spades. Some despite themselves, out of jealousy or pettiness. Some few in genuine praise. Because, again, it was a really good entrance.

Doing the routine as you are, you may or may not see the brief moment of annoyance that passes Almira’s face before she composes herself. It’s hard for a mother who doesn’t want to live even a little vicariously through her children after all, and you absolutely did upstage her. No elegant, graceful entrance with Almira at the front for her, not with Isabelle putting on the fireworks. But of course, when you’re done, she congratulates you for your creativity and is the first and most vocal contributors to speaking loudly on the matter when the later guests arrive.

In the meanwhile, there are empresses to consort with, and some Hybrasilians with a goddess (not to mention the undefeated pilot who’s practically in the nude who watched your entire routine with her little entourage). And there’s the arrival of Adriana Teresio herself. The most powerful woman in the Entire Terenius Consortium. Though she doesn't seem quite herself, swooning as she is with the leading pilot and former champion holding her up. Is this what you expected? Do you think it’s an act to lull you into a false sense of security? Are you bold enough to go and talk to her, entourage and all? Or will you keep your distance and seek out some other company in the hope she hears the rumors? Perhaps a dance with Asil first and foremost. She’s been sticking close to your side the whole time. This is pretty out of her element, after all, and she doesn’t want to accidentally get banished from the Lozano household for a political faux paus. (Not that this would happen, but then again Almira does have that threatening aura down to a science.)

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]