Phoe

Sunshards

Oh, so she was wrong. This is what it feels like to fly.

Yue shivers, and it has nothing to do with the evening chill. What was that? What was that? What is this? She only had it for a second, just the length of a simple spin (and even that was with Hyra doing everything for her), but still! But... still. She spun and her legs went this way and her hips went that way and her arms lifted else way and she did it all while holding a sword and that meant, it meant, she was transformed into a heroine out of a beautiful song. And that's the most powerful magic that she's felt all night.

It makes her want to laugh. It makes her want to drink. It makes her want to twirl some more, just to feel the dance moving through her body a little bit more. She settles for letting another tingly shiver of pleasure ripples up her spine and grinning breathlessly instead. She's a good girl, not moving except where those warm (and strong. and soft...) hands guide her. And of course, never letting go of her sword. She could do anything in this moment. A single one of those fingers pressed atop her lips would be enough to turn her mute until it lifted.

And isn't it funny, the way this isn't a dream come true? To live your dreams you have to dream them first, and even Yue's wishing heart didn't dare imagine her first adventure could feel so soft. Or smell so nice, gosh. Or, um! Wr-wrap around her l-like, that is, the feeling of two strong arms taking her trembling ones in hand and pulling her in from behind so that the whole world turns to soft skin and softer pillows and leather. She is a puppet. If she strained, if she struggled, if she even wanted to she couldn't budge herself an inch in a direction or a manner that Hyra didn't tell her to.

The chill of the air glides across her skin and pricks through her dress like a series of sewing needles until her whole body is abuzz with tingling, prickling, tickling, bubbling feelings that she's not smart enough or fast enough to capture and label them all on her own. But if she had to try, she'd probably compare it to biting into honeycomb, or maybe bathing in the great Terraced Lake in the deepest part of the night, where just hours ago a thousand feet had passed but now no eyes were there to see you lifting yourself from the warm, shallow waters even if they strained to try. She'd call it... mmm, safety maybe. Or comfort. No, she'd call it 'strength', or maybe all of these things wrapped up into a ball, except that they're a physical thing she feels in her skin and her muscles and her bones and inside her mind and heart, not flavors or ideas. Even the subtle movements of her dress burst across her sensitive body like sunspots in this moment.

She has to force her eyes to stay open when she wants so badly to let them close and just trust everything to Hyra, but she can't afford to, not right now, she doesn't dare let herself miss a moment of her very first dance. Because, if it's her last one too she'd never forgive herself for missing even a single insignificant detail. Her heart is throbbing and for some reason her silly lake-blue eyes are lake-wet too, and every last stitch of her soul is trembling with want to whisper I love you and I love you and I love you, and shyly ask how long she would be allowed to have this, and if she really is so special then how much of herself would she need to pay to make that answer be forever?

But she doesn't do that! Of course she doesn't, are you silly? There's another question that steals out from her lips, and maybe that's the reason for the wetness in her eyes.

"Does that mean that... princesses can't see how beautiful they are? That's too sad. That's... I would never want to, I, I don't think..." she swallows and continues, and her fever spreads, "Does... does that mean that you don't know how beautiful you are?"

Breathless Dead

Waves of intense heat billow her hair and her tent-like shirt as if she were standing in a hurricane. Bolts of electricity lance so close to her that she can feel her skin tingle and the fur on her body stand up in response. Her nostrils burn all the way down to her lungs with the feeling of fire and the scent of copper spun with sulfur and the telltale bits of denser metals that start to build up whenever you draw extra power from a starship's core.

There in that inferno, Bella stands statue still. The statue traces the lines of greatest danger from the attack as easily as her old eyes would have caught a mouse creeping around in the murk, until the raw fury of having so many thrusters vented directly at her forces her to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment. Her tail flicks in the brief moment between the end of the attack and the cold air of the Anemoi reasserting itself and whipping at her hair and clothes again in the other direction. Her eyes snap open again and flash with anger and disdain colder than the yawning jaws of space. Her jaw clenches tightly as another wave of ELF lightning arcs wildly around her.

She turns her head and spits at the air where it passed.

"I said SHOW ME!"

She leaps, and it feels more like flight. The still air pulls at her body as she tears through it with the gentleness of a crowd of adoring fans reaching out their fingertips just to be able to say they beheld their idol and felt her softness for themselves. She could swim in a pool filled entirely with wine and it wouldn't feel half this good. And even still, not even the shadow of a smile crosses her lips. Not yet. Not yet. There are other pleasures left for her to test.

This is the part where Redana would screw things up. She would realize at the crest of her jump just how she was dressed, and fears for her modesty would pull her back to the ground squeaking and twisting as she fell desperately clutching for the bottom of her clothes until she plummeted straight into the enemy's grasp and needed to be rescued. But Bella isn't considering who might be sneaking a peak at her perfect body. And if she's thinking about Redana at all, her every thought is taken with the other Redana and how she would rise to meet this moment.

Her claws crush down on one of the jagged electrode mounts with the weight of the wicked battle axe that's haunted her dreams all this week and smashes the ELF generator into a crumpled, sputtering heap. Her claws reach deeper in and tear out a pile of greasy spokes and wires as she slides through the plover and lands heavily enough to drop her to her knees. Her ship dutifully swallows the sound of her impact. Without waiting to see the impact of her strike, Bella whirls around on the floor and rises with another wild slash that bursts through the lifelines drawn across the machine's left leg.

The plover topples over onto its back, and Bella flips lightly on top of it to perch on its upper torso. Her lips twist into a sardonic smirk as she scrapes her talons along the length of the grotesque and tasteless tongue painting.

"I guess I expected too much from space trash. Is some part of this raid not living up to your expectations? I'm so sorry, let me fix that."

Bella's tail swishes in anticipation as she slides across the plover's body with the languid ease of an apex predator in a moment of total comfort. She reaches lazily toward the cockpit and starts ripping it open as though it were made from cheap yarn.

Sunshards

"W-well, if it's for you, then... yeeeep!"

Yue gasps as she takes the hilt again and nearly tumbles over into the dirt. But she doesn't know the magic spell to recover from failure that Hyra mastered, so she has to cover her shame with bright, chirping giggles and a few test swings that have all the grace of a person who needs to think way too hard about what she's doing.

Which, of course she does. Of course she does! She's never even read a book about fencing! W-well, plenty of books about fencing, but those were less instruction manuals and more, uh, y'know, steamy romances and oh gosh no don't drop it again Hyra said to hold onto this forever! But her fingers already hurt from squeezing it so hard and even though her arm feels ok right now it's so easy to imagine it falling off after a few more hours like this, let alone a few days, and plus have you considered the paradox of which hand she's even supposed to hold it in? One supposes a good swordsmaiden uses her dominant arm for this kinda stuff, but then what's she supposed to do about dinner and cleaning and changing her cloooooooooo--oh gosh there she goes again.

"This is... really what a sword feels like?" she asks with a trembling voice, "I never knew. I mean, I've held an axe once or twice and those are super heavy too, but that made sense because you used them to fell trees and stuff and I dunno if you've seen them but around here at least they can get pretty big, so! Well, but, yeah I..."

She smiles. This is amazing, actually. It's amazing to feel the weight of a real weapon in her hands and know that it's hers, even if it's still just a silly stick she made for herself to dream a little brighter. But more than the weight, the most special part of it is the warmth she can feel spreading through her palm like sunlight or a tiny campfire. And she knows, without having to ask, that what she's feeling is the magic spell that Hyra cast that's guiding her hand and telling her what holding this thing, this weapon is supposed to feel like. It's not what she was hoping for, not just yet, but it's a special sort of secret connection, like sneaking a sip from someone else's tea to share in the... eep! Well it just, y'know! It's a thing! That people do! And it's special! It's as special a thing as she's done in her whole life, so... so there!

"In the paintings they have in town I see people holding two of these, or ones almost the size of themselves or the really really fancy ones tied to sticks and I just... wow. All the time? I bet they must weigh so much so that nobody forgets how dangerous they can be, is that right? I really, just... wow. You're my hero, did you know that? I think I might..."

Her free hand wraps around her stomach and shyly rubs her newly-dubbed sword arm. Be patient, Yue. Be patient. In the stories you don't just go and say 'I love you' just like that! You've gotta earn it by being extra super special amazing back at your savior and maybe save her life somehow after a series of wacky hijinks! There are rules to follow! If there weren't, why would they have written them down?

Breathless Dead

"Spread out! Spread... scatter! Stop presenting a target or you're all gonna die!"

Bella's spine burns with the effort of Command. A good leader does not take the field when she doesn't need to. She does not. Her muscles are tenser than steel and her jaw is clenched so tightly that when she shouts out her orders it sends ripples of pain through her face and down her neck. Her bare foot-claws tear deep grooves into the floor.

And even with all that effort, she nearly loses breakfast to the smell. It isn't just the rank stench coming off of this ridiculous plover, with its overpowering aura of cheap fried foods and a dozen different battles it's yet to be properly cleaned on the back end of, though that's bad enough. It's the bodies. Even the bloodless ones carry a chemical fear that makes her stomach churn more fiercely than the boiling nebulae of space.

There's so many of them. Bella raises a hand to her mouth and retches violently. Her cat's eye won't stop trembling and warbling and dripping hot liquids. The Auspex stays laser-focused on the enemy plover's power line, covered up as it is by the ridiculous oversized coat and the various other trinkets and baubles, there to cover up its weakness. She lifts her hand from her mouth to give a signal. A good leader does not take the field. Her eye darts from corpse to corpse to corpse. Her people. Her army. Her army. Hers! The plover's joints crack and whirr as it twists in an absurd flourish to point its artifact weapon at Jil's head.

Bella's eye widens until the black iris absorbs the golden pool that normally surrounds it. Her nerves burn like starlight in her limbs, the crackling notes of electricity surging through her with a power that rivals the wine of Barassidar for pleasure. The rush of her blood sings with the grace of a choir in her ears. She snarls and leaps, and her body turns to liquid as she moves. All thoughts of command are left behind in the tears in the floor that mark her passage. She's a rushing waterfall or a bolt of lightning more than she's a person in this moment, drawn along the lines of those pulsating white threads as she spreads her claws and twists her spine in mid-air to put as much power as her body will let her into the blow.

Her howl of fury echoes even off of the dampening walls of the Anemoi, roaring over the clatter of the plover's severed arm clattering uselessly to the floor.

"You..."

Bella breathes in deeply through her nose. She holds the scent of her fallen warriors in her lungs, and then slowly lets them go with a steady hiss. As the air leaves her body it pulls her spine up, and up, and up, till she's standing straight and then beyond so that her shoulders roll and her back arches and her head lolls around to look behind her. Her limp hair falls every which way over her eye and her lips until she pushes it aside with another breath.

She turns to face the pirate again and flicks bits of machine gore off her claws with casual disdain. She licks her lips

"What other little tricks do they teach you backwater hicks? This can't be everything! Come on, bring it out! I left your power connected for a reason, show me what makes you worth so many of my men!"

Sunshards

"Hey Hyra, it'd be super great if you could teach me how to sword, too!"

Oh gosh no, what? She can't say that! The words turn back into air before they even make it past her impressively unimpressive little chest. She takes her hand, which was sneaking so sneak-like toward Hyra's and applies it to the much less flustering task of playing with her own hair. One unfortunate consequence of flying, did you know, is that it actually gives you super bad tangles.

Yue has to fiddle with it with her full concentration to start pulling out the knots and tease it back into some rough semblance of presentable. Her tongue creeps out of her mouth as she works, nature's most pure expression of concentration. With every little motion she feels her heart slow down again until she even feels comfortable enough to let her eyes drift shut. It's soothing. Peaceful. Even the sharp tugs on her head when she hits a particularly stubborn tangle is a part of nature. It's normal for the wind to do that. It's normal for it to fight her when she tries to remove it. And it's normal for her to want to look just slightly prettier right now, because...

"I'd really love it if you could teach me a little bit about how to fight, Miss Hyra! See, I don't have a pack so I don't know how, but if you..."

Eep! EEP! The reality of her situation crashes on top of her head like a wave. Even with her eyes squeezed shut she can see Hyra's smile twist into a playful smirk. And ooooh, what a smirk she has, doesn't she? There's that flash of teeth that's juuuust enough to say 'danger' but also tucked away so that she also feels like wherever she's sitting is the safest place in the world. And, you know, it's little things too. Like how the play of her lips make her cheeks squish in a tiny bit so there's just this, this hint of softness? Because in her neutral expression she's so sharp and full of angles that it's like she's made of knives, but that tiny bit of genuine mirth is enough to... oh! And it wrinkles her nose too, which is just, oh. Oh! Gosh... a-and, y'know, come to think of it, her lips look really, really, just unusually soft and...

Yue feels the heat rise back into her cheeks. It's been doing that a lot tonight! She turns away and stokes the fire, which she knows is stupid because there's plenty of sunlight feeding into it and even if she didn't understand what that meant even a dummy could look at the way the wood's arranged and how merrily the fire is crackling on top of it and know that this is a fire to warm your body and heart in front of, or admire, or make tea or steam buns or roast waterfowl or, or, or... well, not poke at it at any rate! But she does it anyway because it's another useless sort of gesture she can do to distract herself, calm herself, and not think about or even realize the way her butt looks in the twilight as she sits there messing with a fire on her knees.

"Please, teach me how to swing a sword! Then we could fight together and it would be so..!"

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Oh, what is she even thinking? If all she wants is an excuse to be close to Hyra then weren't there much easier ways to go about it? She should just weave her a flower necklace and ask to put it on her like a normal person! Besides, the sooner she let go of all these dreams of, of... adventure and all that nonsense the happier she'd be! Even if this isn't a dream it still has to end, right? Whatever mistake that whoever made to get her face stuck on all those wanted posters, they'd notice it and fix it and then there'd be no more reason for anyone to chase her or for Hyra to protect her or for anything at all to happen except to quietly drop her off back home with an apology and a pat on the head and that'd be that.

Yue heaves the tiniest sigh and smiles the tiniest smile as Kat headbutts her hand to beg for attention. She plucks the little forest fox off the ground to cradle her in her arms and cover her adorable head in soft scritches and ear rubs. Oh, but Kat, wouldn't it be amazing? She's on a journey right now! And maybe if she, if she could just be brave enough, she could learn and it'd take longer before they reached the end, and, and, and she'd feel so alive and full of magic, and maybe she'd even fly again! That's worth an extra dream or two, isn't it? Yes it is, yes it is, oh you pretty little girl, who's so sweet as sugar, hmm?

She takes the deepest of deep breaths and sets her little fluffybippens down on her nice cozy safety blanket so she's got both hands free to fish her own sword out of the depths of her absurdly stuffed travel bag. Well, her 'sword'. It's only a bit of carved wood, after all. And if she told you it was for practice, that'd be an insult to the word. She just made it because... well, she doesn't really know. But it felt nicer to have it then not. Maybe it's because she liked to be able to pretend? She smiles again, and shyly turns her gaze all the way back to Hyra again. To her great credit she only descends into partial squeaking when she sees the way the wolf girl has sat up, and the effect that has on her perfect tummy.

"S-so, um... this is, um. I mean, no, I know it's stupid, but um. Aish. What would I need to... n-no! You should rest, it's ok! But if, y'know, while we travelled you could maybe... teach me how to hold this? I'd, I'd, I'd like that a lot."

And then she has to hide her face, because this is much too much for a simple village girl to handle, after all.

Breathless Dead

Everything in the universe is made by the Gods, and only by their divine will does anything remain so. Bella has always understood this instinctively, but only here with the help of her Auspex does she really understand what that means. Everywhere she looks: the walls, the floor, the lanterns carried by the knights, their armor, the mice themselves, all of them are wrapped in haphazard white threads. Thin, jagged, fraying things that pulse with inaudible heartbeats and writhe when she stares at them too long. They seem to her like nets holding holding her ship and her army together. Doesn't take a genius to figure out what that means.

Everywhere she turns, the Auspex fills in more of the gaps. One by one, the members of her army blip from sight. Distractions. Behind her the hallways turn to walls of such inky black that they must have learned to swallow light. Her ear twitches at the sound of a Plover impacting her ship and the noises ripple across her vision like waves after R-- after someone suddenly stands up in a bath house. Huh. Are these ones smaller than the models she used to service back home? Their touch is lighter than it should be, and more frequent. They'll breach the hangar within another five minutes, unless they're stupid. The pathway to the hangar grows brighter the farther along it she looks, until the breach point seems lit up almost as bright as day.

The sight pulls at her like a leash. Her legs are moving forward and the motion of her muscles sounds like music in her ears. Her tail flicks with a hurried sort of urgency as her nose picks out a scent hiding among the metals and oils and lubricants to pick up a trail reminiscent of palace halls and meeting rooms. It makes her palms itch with an ancient and familiar need. As she curls her fingers, she could swear she feels a weight enter them that's as natural to her as her own fur.

And it's that weight that makes her stop in her tracks, because the image it calls to mind is her favorite mop. That she even has a favorite mop is galling. She digs her heels in and hisses as the Auspex grows so cold the air around it curls with wisps of steam. A thin trickle of something streams down her cheek, but if it's a tear or blood she doesn't care. She brushes off her shoulders just to regain some sense of dignity, rolling her eyes when the motion makes her shirt flop over one of them again.

She clenches her jaw tight. It takes all of her focus to force her army back into her sight. Her army. Hers. She stalks back into their midst, finding a spot where a proper commander should be, and clears her throat.

"They're coming. But they don't know the dark like you do. They don't know these halls like you do. They don't know fear like you do. So hide yourselves, got it? We'll draw them to the Lanterns, and when they come that's where you'll hit them. This is the Anemoi, damn it. Teach them what that means! The old roles are dead! The darkness belongs to you now."

Bella flashes an evil grin, even allowing herself to unleash the purr building in her throat. Jil of the Bridge Clan looks up at her in awe, and through those quavering eyes, Bella beholds Apollo. Beholds Light, beyond the need for form or pretense, pure and unrestrained and terrifying. Her heart races in her chest. She swallows, but her purr only grows louder.

This is not a mistake, then.

Sunshards

"Of course I'm not hurt! I've got you, don't I?"

The smile that spreads across her face is instinctive. It's actually processing her words that take a moment. Sometimes the details drop in piece by piece, right? Like so: here's the moment where Hyra's chest rises with a fresh breath of steam from her tea. Here's the moment where she holds that breath for too long. Did she forget how to let it out? Here's the way her ears start flicking like they want to be touched. Here's those sharp red eyes turning to the ground near Yue's knees. Oh? Wait, but... and then? And then? Here's the color rising to her cheeks.

Put it all together and what have you got? Well you... wait. But she. A-and Yue. Well she just! Oh. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no! Her whole body turns warm as a summer day and all of a sudden she becomes very interested in the ball of fluff in here hand where she used to have a cloth. She busies herself with putting the remains back in her bag. They crumble to dust as soon as they leave her hands. She stops. Squeaks. Makes an even bigger show of running her hands all up and down her dress looking for similarly frayed ends where a certain beautiful-but-very-cursed girl had been leaning on it. Is that a... n-no, that's just a normal loose thread. Right? Has to be. Right? Oh gosh, don't pull at it!

"Oh gosh. Well I, um. I-is... I mean, do you feel..? I can, I can try another medicine if this one isn't working! I've got lots more we can try, and, and... and!"

Take a breath, Yue. Find your smile. There, see? Doing great, sweetie. She fishes out another pair of beads and pushes them into the ground near some of the worst of the blackened grass and shyly draws patterns on the ground with her fingers. Where they pass, some of the color creeps back into the plants. Maybe. Possibly. Just a bit. It's not as if she can perform miracles, it's just that sunlight and plants are old friends, you see? Every curse has a blessing, that's just... science. Isn't it?

"...I thought you were amazing, by the way. The way you fought, I mean. You were so brave and strong and, and, pew, zip, zap, everywhere! So patient and confident, and wow. Gosh. I've never, you know, I've never seen anyone move the way that you do. I could never do that. So I just..."

You can see it in those lake-blue eyes, if you're looking closely enough. She blushes and smiles and shyly blinks it away, but it was there, just you try and say that it wasn't! And maybe it was small, but just the same: that spark of desire, that little wish that she could be, that was as real as the sun or the stars or a river full of grabby demons (and fish! don't forget fish!). It's the coin she trades for Hyra's, the wish that she could do something amazing, be even a little bit brave or miraculous where all she has is dull mundanity. Just enough, y'know? Just enough that she could keep up. Just enough that it'd be ok for her to stay. So that this impossibly beautiful wolf didn't look at her and think she needed to ask her to hide herself away.

"I don't mind being in danger. If it's for you. I mean, you'll protect me! Right? Or, well, I mean, I just can't imagine anything bad happening if I'm close to you. S-so, oh! Can I make you some more tea? I have a lot of leaves with me today!"

[Figure Out a Person: 8. Asking "What do you love the most?" and "How would you feel if I tried to touch you? J-just, you know, a little?" She can ask a question in turn]

Breathless Dead

This hallway stinks of fear. Frightened mice smell of fermenting vinegar in such overwhelming quantities that it burns Bella's nose just to breathe it in. There notes underneath it too, the telltale savory line that every creature that's resigned itself to the life of prey carries, but there's something else besides. It's sweet. It's incredibly sweet, even refreshing, like honeysuckle spreading across her tongue after a bitter pill choked off her sense of taste.

Bella tilts her head, and her lips curl into the smallest and briefest of smirks. Then her eyes settle on the girl's collar, and her entire face darkens. What a shoddy thing. Look at her frail little fingers clutching at it. Pathetic. She can feel her chest tightening more and more the longer she watches. Her mouth goes bone dry, and she licks her lips just to make anything happen to wet it again. The mouse-girl half squeaks in that awkward way of hers that's permanently stuck at the boundary of bravery and cowardice.

Bella blinks in surprise. When she puts her hand on the girl's shoulder, she's softer than she realized she could be. Her tail flicks its approval, making her shirt flutter tauntingly in front of what passes for her army.

"You know damn well why we're here, so don't bullshit me. We're about to deal with an infestation, and you little twerps are the only thing standing in the way of this ship getting picked clean. Lorventi's so far out of it she can't tell her ass from the infirmary bed she's tied to. And the rest of my so-called 'warriors' are apparently too busy feeling sorry for themselves to notice we're being attacked by fucking pirates."

She scowls. In the gathered light of the lanterns, her eyes glow like horrible mismatched embers burning with some sort of dark and evil power. She makes no effort to conceal her fangs, which flash and sparkle in the shifting lights. And even still, her hand is as soft on the girl's shoulder as if she were holding her own kitten.

"Bunch of fucking parasites? Know why they're coming? They think we're weak. They think we're easy. They think they've found a juicy little morsel to slurp up, and all it's gonna take from them is some theatrics from a bunch of clowns and they'll be rich enough to drink and fuck their misery away for another week. That's so insulting it makes me wanna..."

Bella spits on the ground with disgust. She flashes her talons, and a wave of power washes over the hallway with her as its source.

"This is Her Majesty's vessel. And all of you are servitors of the Empire. I don't care what you believe, that makes you better than some random space trash. And since you're the ones who come when I fucking call for you, that also makes you the best army on this ship. Today, you're the will and pleasure of Empress Nero IV Acontecimento Azurius, and I expect you assholes to act like it. We're going to greet our guests, and we're going to teach them what happens to anyone who's stupid enough to try and rob the Anemoi. Don't you dare disappoint me; if any of you let them leave her carrying so much as a spare nut, I'll kill you myself."

Her face splits into a feral, predatory grin, and she leans low into the mouse-girl's ear as she turns her to face the coming fight.

"And as for you," she purrs, "I want you to tell me what the fuck I'm supposed to call you."

Sunshards

And even now, Yue floats safely above everything that might try to hurt her. How can this be? Is Hyra maintaining her spell even though she's struggling to stand right now? Still? Is that a thing she needs to do? But she! But that's not! She can't!

It turns out? Even Yue can be a champion-level sprinter when she's got the right motivation. Though it helps that she's running downhill, so to speak. Her frizzy brown hair trails like a long scarf behind her as she scrambles down, down, down, with none of the grace of a huntress or the poise of a grand warrior or even the restraint of a handmaiden worthy of this impossibly perfect display. She clutches her travel bag tight against her stomach with one arm and her Kat-bundle to her chest with her other and doesn't give one bit of thought to how many times the beautiful silver sword smacks her thigh as she runs.

Down and down and down and down. Her feet hit the ground hard and she almost goes tumbling right onto her face when the burst of magic releases from her body. She darts her head nervously this way and that, still looking for new dangers in every corner of the darkening landscape despite the miracle she'd just seen with her own eyes. But then she's off like a shot, bounding through the grass, dropping all her stuff awkwardly on the ground as she goes so that her arms are free, just in time, just in time! Just in time to leap!

She throws her arms around Hyra and pulls her closer than she'd have ever dared even an hour ago. She takes her weight, her warmth, the creepy curse-magic pouring off her body, and doesn't even squeak when the longbow drops to the ground with a loud clatter. It's another miracle, just for her. Hyra's body, her strength and her softness and the absolutely luscious scent of exertion (oh gosh oh gosh is she a really for real wolf after all?? Oh!! Gosh!) coming from her all feels completely different from the way she did in the house, or the sky, or, or, or even just a moment ago as she fought.

All at once, this beautiful, perfect, impossible, wonderful woman is... heavy. Her body squishes against Yue's with a reckless sort of weakness that makes her heart stop beating and then start again at triple speed to make up for lost time. It's wonderful and amazing, this sense of helplessness, of vulnerability, this, this... you know? You know?? She's holding a song in her own two arms! Even as scary as everything is, it's so amazing that she can't keep the smile off her face.

"Can you stand?" she asks, "Can you walk? Just a bit and then we'll - oh gosh, you're kinda -- I-I mean! N-n-no!! You're fine it's fine everything's fine I gotcha! I do! You're the most perfect woman I've ever met in my life and your hurt and it's all my fault and I'm so so so so so soooooo sorry and I'm gonna fix it I promise but not here ok? Just a little further! Then we rest! Uhuh?"

The journey is long and difficult. It's so hard to find a proper tree for lying under that doesn't bring her close to water, you know? Leastwise, it's hard enough when a wolf woman is draped over your shoulders and you have to keep stopping to keep your travel bag looped around your ankle so you can drag it behind you and for some reason Kat thinks it's more important to bring the bow too so she's trotting around with it in her adorable little mouth like a stick and gosh darn it she looks so proud of herself and oh! Shoot! The sword!!

So she's more than a little bit sweaty herself when she finally drags this whole awkward procession to a place that's suitable for her needs. Cut her some slack, this is her first time being in love! There's a, y'know, a way to these things. Didn't somebody write a big fancy book about that? But even still, she takes the time to fish a soft blanket out of her bag and lays it out all nicefully on the ground before she finally sets Hyra down with her back propped against the trunk of the gingko tree she found growing on a small hill. Perfect!

Wood is never very far from hand here at the Terraced Lake, but Yue doesn't take the chance and fishes some old branches from her bag, tucked there months ago 'just in case'. She arranges them just so and then gently places a yellow glass bead underneath the pile, drawing a circle in the ground with her fingers until... fwoosh! She smiles at her merry little fire, and hangs a pot filled with old well-water that she tosses a mixture of fragrant herbs into with a soft little hum she can't keep off her lips.

Her dance begins in earnest now. Not the swift battle-dance of a legendary hero, but the quieter sort of dance that calls to mind a housewife on her way to market. She dips a linen cloth in the sweet smelling liquid and doesn't flinch even as her fingers dip into the boiling water. She needs to soak it thoroughly, y'know? She rolls it gently into a tube, careful not to wring it out, and wipes Hyra's forehead with a caress more delicate than the moonlight pouring across her body in the night sky. She wipes the silver maiden's cheeks, her neck, her arms, and hips, and legs. And even though she blushes a deeper red than Hyra's eyes, she manages to brave a tiny pair of scissors enough to cut away the leathers juuuuuust enough to wash her (firm and gorgeous, wow wow wow) tummy and the tops of her breasts, and... um. E-everywhere the evil magic pours, she follows.

She turns away and waves another pair of beads over a cup. There's a burst of sunlight and air so fresh and pure it makes you want to take a nap right then and there, gosh darn it, and then before you know it Yue's mustering up the rest of her courage to bring her trembling leaf hands close enough to bring her famous cherry-blossom-and-white-tea to Hyra's lips. Her blue eyes are liquid and trembling with a mixture of concern, and adoration.

"Does it... does it hurt? Still? Here, drink. It helps. C-can we rest a little bit? M-my legs are tired now and, um, it'll be... um. It'll, y'know, be f-fine 'cause Kat will guard us and... um. Um! You're very pre-- um!! I meant, brav, no, I. Um. What I mean is. Thank you. Sorry. Why?"

Breathless Dead

Her ship is trembling. The barrage of weapons fire sends shockwaves down the length of the Anemoi again and again, an endless flurry of jabs without an opening for a counterpunch. Bella can feel every little vibration rolling up her spine until her tail starts curling with the vague tingling sensation of a limb that's falling asleep.

Pchang! Clunk! She barely has time to hear the boarding cables impacting the sides of the ship before she feels the rattle in her teeth. Her ears twitch, almost as if they're annoyed at her other senses for keeping pace. Bella yawns, filling her lungs with the chilly air that's been sending goosepimples across her stomach since she woke up this morning. For some reason, it feels pleasantly refreshing where normally she found it irritating and distracting. Another dozen impacts shake the ship and set her Kaeri to surprised squawking. Bella rolls her eyes. Her ship is trembling, but it's trembling like the arm behind an invincible shield. Only a handful of these strikes mean fuck all, and those are... yes, toward the rear.

Bella stretches and lazily pulls her fingers through her hair to smooth the tangles that are building near her tips. When she moves the over-wide, stretchy collar of tent-like shirt she's wearing slips mischievously off her shoulder, baring more of her skin and fur while the soft and well worn fabric brushes pleasantly against her exposed thighs. Her tail swishes all on its own just to feel the hem of the shirt brushing so teasingly against it and feel the rush of the cool and minute breeze travelling up her bare back and stomach underneath. The fur on the back of her neck rises as she shivers in response; every slight motion of her body ripples with power.

She lifts her shirt up to adjust it to a more modest position again, but with the first shifting of her feet across the cool plastic-vinyl floor it flops right back off of her shoulder. She rolls her eyes again. This is, perhaps, a less than ideal outfit to be caught in for her first pirate attack. But in her defense, this was the only outfit she has left.

"Cut the lights."

The lights stay stubbornly on. To her right, the proud Kaeri warrior droning through her status report as if giving a full run down on the state and composition of the Anemoi's hull materials would save her from what happens next continues on. Bella's ears twitch and bend away to mute the noise. Unimportant, she can feel that in her feet. Useless, she can feel that in her spine. All around her, the most feared and fearsome warriors of the Empire flinch and shudder and frantically work at valves or levers. Idiots, the lot of them. She shoves her remora to one side and pads silently across the room to catch a servitor who's skirting the edge of the light.

She's a tiny thing, maybe half Bella's size. Mouse breed. One of the so-called 'menials' that make up the bulk of the ship's crew. She half-squeaks when Bella snatches her by the arm, but stops herself by briefly burying her face against her shoulder before the noise can finish. Bella's palm twitches, and she can feel a complex pattern of raised dots and ridges that traces up and down the length of the gold band she wears around her arm. She squeezes tighter, reveling in the sensation.

Bella huffs. The mouse-girl works her way to looking up at her Praetor, eyes trembling with fear. But unlike her warriors, it's not a fear that flinches and turns at every fresh rumble or echo of another boarding cable. It's not a fear of invaders or impending battle. This fear, almost worshipful in its singlemindedness, is directed entirely up at Bella. She sneers.

"You a fast runner?"

No response. The girl half opens her mouth as though considering the act, but quickly closes it and shakes her head instead. A moment later, she blinks and starts nodding. A shake. A nod. A shake. A nod, more frantic than any of the other motions. Her greasy, sandy hair bobs and dips in time with her tiny head, and her long, thin tail coils itself around her leg over and over in a show of complete terror. Bella sniffs. Most days someone like this would be impossible to get a read on, but the Auspex makes short work of the puzzle.

"Good. Congratulations," she says with a grin, "You've just been promoted to the head of my defense force. Get word through the ship to the rest of your, uh, people and have them assemble in the hallways by the shuttle bay. I trust you lot more than these dipshit owls right now."

More silence. Confused and terrified blinking. Bella hisses and lifts her claws above her head in total defiance of the modesty of her clothing.

"Are you stupid and mute? I said go, so fucking go!"

"...O-oh! Right, yes, of course! Um, P-praetor!"