Balmas

Breathless Dead

[6,3. If this is Overcome, it's -1, and Dyssia will Pay a Price to turn it into a 10. If it's Keep Them Busy, it's a +1 and full success.]

Disruption is the key. Disruption, demolition, distraction.

And if there's one thing Dyssia knows, it's how to be distracting.

Well. You know. Distracting, capital-d Distracted. Close enough, right? You'd have to be pretty dumb to go this long in life and not figure out at least a few things about your own weaknesses, right, and how to turn them outwards?

Which, uh. Granted, does not actually work like that. Generally her distraction isn't due to having someone with a gravity whip pluck the tools out of her hands. So having the self-awareness to know that she moves on from something when it fails to, uh. When she reaches a certain level of, uh.

Look, work with her here, alright? She knows how to use a grav-rail, and how to do it well, and how to warp reality around herself faster than the people in front of her.

Or, as the case may be, above her. Or behind her. Up is relative when you're good at this.

Time and again, rituals are disrupted. Cockerels are plucked out of clawed priestess hands right as the knife is descending. Rail-wielding elites turn to pin her down, and she and her formation have gone. The Knight herself turns her whip to harry her troops, and the tip severs itself around a microscopic pinhole of neutron-star density.

It's dancing, is what it is. It's listening to the music in her head, and wondering why everyone is so sluggish. Can't they hear it? Can't they see the steps, feel how it pulses in her veins, fills her?

It's not enough. It can't be. Eventually, the Crystal Knight will rally her troops, and Dyssia will miss enough of the ritual to allow them to be smashed properly.

But Eventually is a long way away. And by the time Eventually happens, everyone will be on the ship. Can't face angry consequences if you've left them fifteen systems behind you.

And so, she dances, and leaves Eventually behind.

MASKS - Ghost Gate City

Oh. Uh.

"I think they are? But I'm not actually sure? There was a lot of shouting happening at the time, right? And I was with this mean woman, who looks a lot like Hsien, but with more tails? I've seen her on the wanted posters. I think she's her mom? And then I kinda fell through a portal, and Mr. Chan found me!

"They'd look like me! And one of them would have a ball! Unless…"

She can think of a lot of small things she can turn into, right? Like mice, or squirrels, or if you wanna be gross about it, something like a flea? Could she manage a flea?

And then once she's small, it's like. You can always go smaller, but you need space if you wanna go bigger, so if you're small and someone's fast, they could just, like, toss a cup over the top of you, slip some paper over the bottom, and you're stuck in there until you can lift the cup! Which is not an easy thing when the cup is bigger than you!

And that's not even thinking about like, what if they turned into trees? She could walk past them in the park, and she wouldn't notice!

Well, she. She'd probably notice, because then they'd turn back into lions, and she'd get cuddles. Unless she got scolding! Or maybe, cuddles and then scolding and cuddles again? That doesn't sound too bad, but it'd be nicer to just get cuddles and then more cuddles.

"They'd be animals," she decides. "And probably the mean lady would wanna put collars on them, since that keeps them from transforming because I don't know why. And there'd be two of them, probably, and she wouldn't wanna let them get too far out of her sight.

"I think. I know it's not a lot but…"

Wow, it really isn't a lot. Not in a city this size. They could be in the next apartment over--you know, the one over the place that makes all the nice-smelling dumplings?--and she wouldn't even know it.

"Do you think… I'm realizing now it's gonna be super hard to find them. D'you think, maybe, if we showed me off, it'd trick the mean lady into coming to try and find me? So we can chase her back and find my parents?"

Breathless Dead

Carefully, Dyssia lifts the goblet to her lips.

It is not the first of the night. Strength and courage drip down her throat, warm and heady and fruity, the burn of alcohol under sweet, the kind of drink you could sip at all night and never feel until you woke up the next planet over.

But it's not the the feeling she's after--it's the wisdom. Or, you know, not specifically wisdom? Not like the kind of wisdom you'd get from a hermit, not unless you know the right hermits, the fun kind? The knowledge, the certainty, the knife's-edge of presence, the purple flitting around the edges of her eyes.

She sees them, there on the sand. More than should be visible through an aging door torn only halfway off its hinge. Sight granted where there should not be.

She sees the whips, the chains, the flesh-flensers. The bruises. The glee of cruelty for cruelty's sake.

The phalanxes, already in the air, like dots on a field, but also individual feathers. Raised spears, armor, impenetrable.

Unimportant. The purple tugs at her gaze, cups her chin, lifts it to stare at a town, rising like an island from the ground.

She read a story like that once. Funny how different it looked in her imagination.

"Clear a path!" she orders, one hand rising up to point, one hand thumbing the controls at her belt. "Whoever's over there! Clear the path to this ship for them!"

She's read this story. Hell, she's been in this story, less than three planets ago. She is here, she is a miracle, but she is a miracle for someone else. That town. This ship. And all that's there to stop her is wave after wave of phalanx.

Breathless Dead

She's been thinking about this, you know. Surprise is worth a lot in these missions. Surprise is the difference between touching down with a thousand servitors to save the day or meeting a waiting army.

Or, as the ship rattles around her and the augurs calls ring in her ears, becoming so much space dust among the orbital mines. Thank you, Brightberry, you're a lifesaver and you're getting so many cuddles once this is done.

She should be scared, shouldn't she? This should be terrifying. She should be panicking, and making mad promises, and whatever it takes to keep her crew--her crew! her legion!--safe and alive. She shouldn't feel like she's coming alive again, exhilarated, vibrant, coursing with energy not entirely her own.

So when she steps up to the alter and promises she's never going to go home, it feels natural. Peaceful, even.

Oh, there are other promises. She will build a temple to Dionysus on the next ship to take her off planet. That's a given. There are few enough to Dionysus, few enough worshippers, furtive and hidden, and she will make sure there are more for her passing.

But it's the offer to never go home that feels more important to her personally. She… She's never going to see the friends of home again. She will give up an entire planet--not as a sacrifice, not to be destroyed for anyone else, but for her in particular. She will continue on a peregrination across the cosmos, helping as she can, teaching and being taught as needed, and influencing people towards Dionysus, speaking for him, housing him as needed.

It's insanity. What's the journey for, if you can never come home?

It's overpaying, it has to be. Shrine and journey and home, in one swoop? For buying even just enough alarm time to get them in?

But it means the journey continues. For all of them.

Worth it.

MASKS - Ghost Gate City

No more shop? No more Izi, grunting tersely into the mike? No Mr. Chan in the background, an omnipresent smell of coffee-two-creams?

No, no. Unforgivable. Not happening. Not here, not on her watch, not now not ever. This is gonna be the best explanation, just as soon as she can figure out how to--

"It's like, you reach inside yourself, and pluck that little string at the center, right?"

Right. Uh. Human, meet lion.

Fwoosh. Mouse. Fwoosh. Cat. Fwoosh. Back to lion puppy.

"All celestial lions can do it? I don't know whether humans can or not, because it's like, there's all this art of people turning into things? And not a lot of people actually doing it out on the street? And I don't know whether it's like heaven, where it's like, oh, no, this inborn power which is super awesome and feels good to use and feels bad to not use is suddenly a bad thing to use? Or like, you know, impolite?

"… Mr. Chan, can humans transform? Because I know one who can turn into fire and one who can walk through walls, and nobody tells me what people can and can't do.

"And it's like, I'm trying to get back to heaven? Because it's home, right? It's where my parents live? It's got the best peaches--we do those, you know, point of personal family pride, the peaches, those are ours--and it's like, down here is full of ghosts now? And heaven is full of sages who--there's this one who lives in a waterfall, right, and you'd think that she'd be all about meditation and mastering the flesh through tribulation, but no, she actually just really likes the place, and she's okay with splashing if nobody notices and--"

Suddenly, she really misses home? Like, yeah, it can suck sometimes, but also she knew what was going on over there, and what the rules were, and whether people could actually do the things in that transformation art she keeps seeing, and could… Well, could know how to do things?

"And it would be really, really great if you didn't get me in trouble, okay? This world is super cool and heaven is super cool, and I wanna go home, but I need to find my parents first, and that's gonna get super hard if the people with the ghosts find me, okay?"

Breathless Dead

One thousand servitors. One thousand! All following her, all choosing to go on this expedition, all believing that she can get them in and get them out and--

You know, it still doesn't feel real? Like, time was she felt like a dozen-and-one was too many, too many names to keep track of, too many emotions to manage. And that was before she found out that apparently, the dozen-and-one she'd had in Irassia were also actively managing her back?
And it's like, she feels guilty that she doesn't know everybody's name? Or, you know, can't always put names to faces? Granted, that's a problem at the best of times, but like. It feels important, here, and now, crammed like sardines in a tin, listening to the chants of the engine crews.

A thousand servitors. Too many to know personally, and somehow still not enough.

It's like, she knows--

Well, if she says the important ones, she'll feel guilty, right? She hand-picked all of them, for sure. They're all important. But it's like, some people you hand-pick because you've worked with them, and know them, and trust them--for a given value of trust, given any crowd containing Pix--and some people you hand pick because those you do know and trust have advised you that they should be included.

The Captain isn't the captain anymore, now that the Firetree is gone. Or, you know, not gone gone, but salvaged. Incorporated into other ships. Point is, she's not the captain anymore, because captaining requires a ship, and also captaining is a somewhat nebulous concept for a species that's constantly competing for top fox, but the actual point is that she's still the captain in Dyssia's mind, right? And she's one of the know-and-trust crowd.

Which is weird, right? Because like, you'd think having a lieutenant that's always scheming and plotting would be bad for unity, but it's like. Having her there means Dyssia is also always being pushed to do better? To prove that she deserves this by doing the things that would prove it?

Lots of Pix, still hanging around, and her heart warms to see it because it means she's doing something worth following. Lots of other breeds, too, all mixing with them. A few models based on falcons, all screeches and speed. Some lumbering slabs of meat, each a phalanx in their own right, like sentient bulldozers.

But it's not a monospecies, is the point. It's an alloy--a mixing of different strengths, all working together and, more or less, working together.

Manira. Manira has been a godsend. She's the perfect mix of-- How to put it. Like a diplomat, but the goat version of one? Where it's less softness and curls and more headbutting, at least when headbutting is called for. Twice now, she's smoothed over the differences between the groups, brought them to see the light, kept the crew together.

It's like, in the books, you never read about the ones that keep things together. The administrators, the diplomats, the bureaucrats. She's chosen an abnormally high number of them for this mission, she thinks. One in twenty or so.

Maybe an overreaction? She likes the Dust Knight, right, but he's…

Well. He has a very impressive hammer, and so all he sees are nails. Warror servitors, warrior legions, all set up to punch problems, and let someone else sort out the details.

She worries about it, a little. Fifty organizers isn't a lot, but it's almost five percent of her forces. They're only going to come into play once the dust settles.

Or rather, that's what she's hoping. If it comes to it, maybe fifty is too little. Manira and Gelt are good at their jobs, but she's hoping to liase and, if necessary, evacuate as many people as she can. Fifty might do for one city, but a planet?

Stretched thin. Always stretched thin. Ancient parts, only one thousand servitors to pull off a miracle.

But they'll make it work. She trusts her troops. They can do it.

MASKS - Ghost Gate City

This… is not a situation that can be solved by an elephant.

Weird, right? S'like, big stompers, able to throw your weight around, and talk about junk in the trunk, which is a phrase she's heard used and one day she's sure someone will explain! Elephants are great! Also, ears. Big flappy ears, perfect for swatting flies, which is a problem she's never had until getting here, because heaven doesn't have flies. Very satisfying to wave around.

But! But but but! The point is, that an elephant cannot solve this.

Or rather, an elephant could solve this, but only if they didn't care about what would happen immediately after that happened, and.

And the point is that Shifu is being so incredibly careful when she starts moving furniture.

Shhh, Joshua, she's doing alright, see? Righting chairs, scooting them out of the way, moving slowly, like Izi's gonna run for the door any second.

Because she could just transform here, standing over Izi. But that phone is still pointed at her,a nd she does not want more pictures, and humans are weird in that they don't like it when they're being engulfed in flames?

She's tried to explain that it doesn't hurt, right? It's like… like that second before a sneeze, right? And your nose gets all pinchy, and then when you do sneeze, it's a relief? Look, look, you could hold anything you want in the fire! It's cold!

But still, she clears a space, and lets the fire wash over her until nothing but a lionpuppy is left.

"Izi? Are you okay? I'm super sorry I messed up your game. Could you. Could you delete that picture? Pretty please? For me?"

And also, the great thing about moving furniture and transforming is it's noisy, right? Noisier, certainly, than any gagged princess in the back room. We're all friends, no need to cause problems, and you can go on your way without needing to blow up the news with pictures and things.

Breathless Dead

… Where did that come from?

Bitemark. Who put that in her head? Was it Dionysus' purple dripping out her lips?

She's starting to grow familiar with the feel of the gods inhabiting her, as much as you can. Like electricity, wired through every muscle. Ares' red, Dionysus' purple. And the insistent absence of gold.

Which is, by the by, kind of a terrifying thought? It's like, two kinds of heroes get used to this kind of thing, and half of them are morality plays.

Bitemark. Huh. She's heard something about that, but can't remember what right now.

Dangit, now she wants a motorcycle. Completely impractical form of transport, but there's such a thing as style.

"I may be absent for a while. I've been given my next assignment, I think."

Breathless Dead

To her credit, Dyssia actually does consider the question.

Is she bored?

It's like, in all of her stories, it's nonstop action. Or, you know, heh, nonstop "action" of a very different sort, if your writer knows what they're doing.

And this isn't that, of course.

But also it's not…

"Not bored," she decides.

She could never be bored of this. Are you kidding? A never-ending chain of problems to be solved, puzzles to be wrangled, people to meet, in planets that are fantastic and new and with people that only sometimes want to eviscerate her! She's constantly being asked to do the new and different, a nonstop drip-feed of something to tickle her brain.

But…

"Useless," she amends. "Frustrated."

It's all new and interesting, every time. It's a learning experience, every time. She has to think on her toes and figure things out, even if the Dust Knight seems to think that the one solution he has is enough.

But…

"It's like, if you tell me to make ten thousand teacups, I'll see a mountain of clay. My brain might choke on it, might let me get good at making a mug before I move onto something new, and maybe the mountain sticks around.

"But there's an end to the mountain, if that makes sense. I might not make them today, or tomorrow, or years, but the mountain will be there, and every teacup made is one less bit of clay on the mound."

She can see the exhaustion in her own eyes, in that hynotic mask.

"It's not boredom that might kill me here. I don't abandon projects because I'm bored--I find new projects that are more interesting. This is interesting all the time!

"But it also doesn't end. Eventually, if I make enough teacups, the mountain will run out of clay, I will be a master teacup maker, I will have walked my Path, and will choose a new one.

"But the mountain of virtue just keeps getting bigger. I climb the ladder and don't gain height.

"I'm working and trying and helping, but making no progress. When do I win?"

MASKS - Ghost Gate City

[Marking Guilty]

You ever see an elephant hyperventilate?

She can fix this. She can fix this! She has to--

Oh she's in so much trouble. Why did she think she could--

Do. Not. Move.

But she could do so much to--

Or she could crush through the floor, and Izi's still under her, and--

Izi. Izi no. Izi, please.

Moving gingerly--no feet moving, see how good she is at not moving, not crushing anyone? See how good she is?--she puts her trunk on Izi's hand.

Izi. You could make her life really bad right now with that phone. She's not gonna stop you, not gonna put that elephant strength to actually wrapping around that wrist to stop you.

But she is going to make the biggest elephant eyes she can to beg--beg, Izi!--you not to pick up that phone. She is so sorry, and she's gonna fix this, and we're gonna go back to being the best of friends, and all you have to do is please, please please please let her explain, and try to fix this and just put down the phone, okay?