Phoe

Breathless Dead

Bella

Bella

Bella

Bella

Bella

Bella

Bella

Bella

The name rings inside her ears with the sound of grinding teeth. She hears it in a dozen different voices, the familiar and the not. The sweet and the vicious, the excited, the teasing, the reproachful. It pounds inside her skull with the force of a raging storm. Her tail flicks once, in warning. And then she's on top of Beljani.

"Don't call me that!"

They slam into the far wall together without a sound except for XIII's feral snarling. One golden eye glares through a trembling slit next to the pulsing crimson one beside it. The Auspex radiates pressure. Cold waves of raw Imperial might pour out of it in bursts of hissing steam as it touches the warm garden air, and every stab of pain is euphoric. Her muscles beg to flex and snap Beljani's spine in half like a toy. Her claw tips sing to press into the soft skin as they sit just above the artery where a single stray twitch would bath the room in hot, disgusting blood to feed the flowers with.

And if Beljani gasps, or screams, or begs, or laughs at the pathetic creature trying to threaten her it doesn't matter at all, because in the moment where XIII's fingers move to squeeze tight and feel the delicious sensation of another neck crunching under her power, she doesn't see the Oratus looking back at her. What... is this? Is this a vision pushed on her by her Auspex? A hallucination? Are these Beljani's mind tricks? Her hand won't close. She steps back from the face looking at her almost as fast as she rushed in to begin with. She turns on her heel to get away from the look in those eyes. The one trying so hard to watch her with understanding and sorrow even in the middle of the pain that... that Bella put her through.

XIII paces rapidly back and forth across the room without daring to look at either of the other women watching her. Her breathing is ragged as she reaches up to smooth out her hair, to brush the fur on her arms flat again, to adjust the straps on her dress so that everything would be perfect again. Her skin burns with hot shame, or maybe with some new kind of punishment released into the air by the Master. She doesn't know. It doesn't matter. Her fingertips smear themselves across a spot on her face where she'd meant to leave deep scars. From when she'd meant to die. But her skin is flawless, as ever. No matter what the name, she's as perfect as anyone could make her. And she's still failing.

She sniffs deeply before she turns around again, her face a fiercely determined calm.

"My proper name is Tredecima. 'Bella' is a word an idiot child pinned around my neck because she was too stupid to think about anything past what I was wearing at the time. I told you, I'm finished hanging onto useless old feelings for her sake. And I don't give a single fuck if you like me or not, but as long as we're working together I won't let you disrespect me like that."

Another moment. More silence. More staring. XIII reaches for her bag and pulls out several coins.

"And for your information," her voice is careful and flat now, papering over a layer of condescension she can't quite keep out of her tone, "Azura society isn't built around our traditional understanding of power. They use these... daric, instead. One coin is trade enough for a low grade meal, but the real value's in the ring right here."

She clinks the two coins together once, twice, three times, and her only coin with any dust in it transfers its stock into the empty one, instead. Her eye flashes with the triumph of somebody with the opportunity to for once in her life exceed the expectations placed on her. But her smile is polite and subservient, and she keeps her free hand tucked safely behind her back where it can't threaten anybody. She's learned, see? She's improved, see? There's no need to punish her. No need.

"This is their power. They broke the djinn down to dust and started using them as barter. One coin's worth of dust is basically just a party trick, but the more you've got... well, like I said. They're a people capable of forgetting how badly Her Imperial Majesty broke them, who've reduced us to some sort of outside curiosity. They're solitary to the last, and they all pursue whatever path they've dedicated themselves to until they're the best in the universe at whatever the fuck it is they're doing, no matter how pointless it is.

They're proud, and they're dangerous. They think and move in ways you've never even thought of. But if you catch their interest, you can work with them. And it so happens I was already doing that, you useless twit. I told you: we are enough. But if it's that much of a problem, whiny brat, then sure. Go ahead and yank the Ikarani out of storage, too. Who gives a shit if it's overkill? Means fuck all to me how many toys we have to break to put this farce of a mission behind us."

Breathless Dead

"You're... both of us? But this entire planet's Azura! It's not like any of the texts on Tellus say, there's a whole society here so powerful they'll shrug off Her Majesty's name like some bad dream! I, if we, if I do this wrong then I'll!"

The air around her squeezes her throat and cuts XIII off from expressing any more concerns. There's nothing wrong with her breathing, and yet. She can feel the sweat crawling across her skin. She can feel the sudden sting of air in her throat and the pressure of an invisible knife kissing her skin. Her ear twitches without permission at the sound of those sheers snipping another unsatisfactory flower bud from its stem, which pulls a squeak from her throat.

Her throat that is not cut. Her throat that is not gushing blood, and is in fact perfectly fine. But just for an instant, when she'd heard the final click of those clippers -- white hot pain. the sound of flesh tearing against a dull, insistent pressure. a hole where her voice should be. gurgling. gasping. blood. thick. oozing. sickening and horrifying. drawing vomit up into her final breath but there's a hole -- she'd felt her insides turn to lead all at once. Now they softened again, and her blood rushes into her face to fill the void where it had briefly been left behind. XIII does not move, except to bend her spine into a deep and apologetic bow.

"I am sorry, Lady," her voice needs several words before it stops sounding strained and reedy, "I was... being selfish. Of course you're right. Like you said, I'm out of time. But I can do this. I can bring the Princess to heel. And I will. Trust me."

The air sweetens with the scent of flower petals as she rises again, though this too is fleeting. By the time she's fully straightened out again she can't smell anything but the normal muted smells that made life aboard the Anemoi so tolerable. Maybe she had imagined all of it. The Master is smiling, implying nothing. The garden is littered with fallen petals, while hundreds more flourish up above them. The garden is beautiful. Had it always been here? Was this ship always this way? She can't remember anymore.

"...The only reason Redana's been able to make it this far is because I've been trying to spare her feelings as... a favor for how she treated me while I was an Imperial Pet. B-but at this point she's nothing more than escaped property. I'm done playing pretend for her sake. I'm done with plans she can slip through at the last second. I'm better than she is. I am enough. We are enough."

Her heart trembles as she finally uncoils from her polite and obedient stance to turn her attention fully onto Beljani. Her muscles twitch in anticipation of the hunt. Her tail lashes behind her like it's making up for lost time after a long imprisonment. Her dress clacks and sways in mesmerizing patterns that dare to mimic the starry sky. Her talons glint in the dull light of the Anemoi as she turns two mismatched, piercing eyes onto the Oratus Adept. Her lips curl into a toothy sneer.

"Don't you agree?"

Breathless Dead

She stands in front of the garden with a rigidity in her posture she hasn't shown since the moment Empress Nero pointed her to the Anemoi and exiled her away from everything warm and loving in the universe in the first place. Her ears strain on top of her head, but they do not twitch or bend to chase after faint noises. The only purpose to it is to show off their perfect shape and structure. Her face struggles imperceptibly to maintain a mask of calm, polite interest, with her lips turned up just barely at the corners to prove her mastery of lipstick and the perfect angles of her cheeks. She does not move at all, not for all the treasures of the Endless Azure Skies.

Her hands are folded placidly in front of her just above her hips, with her elbows bent at an angle exactly like the manuals prescribed for optimal loveliness. It pushes and emphasizes her chest enough to notice the shape of her breasts without crassly calling attention to it, while at the same time her fingers curl around each other to cover her talons and claws just enough to show their uselessness without letting an observer forget that they're there. Her tail rests at the exact center of her back, drifting down her legs without so much as a swish until it curls at the tip to show how well trained her muscles are. Her legs are together, to prove her manners. Her toes are pointed out, to prove she's not uselessly meek. And the whole of her body is aligned along a single straight line, as if she were pressed against an invisible wall.

She turns her head just enough to turn her good eye on Beljani. She sniffs, and her lungs fill with the calming, muted scent of the air that only circulates aboard this ship. This single ship, and no other place. She does not let herself be surprised at how much that smell feels like home. She clears her throat with a single, clipped 'hem'.

There's an answer to that stupid question, of course. Why the Master of Assassins might like a girl like XIII. It's so obvious it doesn't even bare speaking out loud: someone must. Someone has to like her, not because she is likeable but because she is here, watching a perfect garden growing in the middle of her the perfect ship. If nobody liked her, then how could she be here? Why isn't she dead? And if somebody has to like her, why wouldn't it be Her? Why wouldn't it be the very first person to look at her and see? The kind, wise eyes that looked at her and saw potential where everyone else saw only a broken kitten hadn't lost their vision. It was as obvious as breathing, and only an idiot would bother asking why.

...It's difficult not to wish things hadn't turned out differently. If She had been in charge from the beginning, XIII would not have needed to break herself. She wouldn't have had so many hard choices to make about how to use the other assassins, or hold them all in check out of some misguided effort to spare Mynx's feelings. As if she had any to spare in the first place. She... XIII would not have had to do everything alone. She wouldn't have needed to turn the hierarchy of her ship upside down just to hold it together. She wouldn't have had to face Redana until everything was perfect. The Master would have seen to it all. Her plans were always perfect, it was said. And nothing about Her ever seemed to contradict that, not in ten thousand sneaky glances stolen across the years. The journey would be ending now, nowhere near this strangely beautiful nightmare painting of an empire where nothing made sense.

Her stomach churns uneasily. She hides her reaction with a slight squeeze of her hands. So careful not to let her claws touch anything. Her neck shifts just so, and the girl who had once been a Praetor returns her attention straight forward where it had always belonged.

"What does it matter?" she says with a carefully detached melody, "I am enough. Besides, that kind of decision isn't up to me anymore."

She closes her eyes, just for one moment. Her hands clench tight enough to crack her fingers.

Sunshards

Oho? Ohoho? Ohohoho? What's this, then? What's this? Aha! Finally, now the sword is under the other chin! S-so this is what that feels like!

Do give Yue a teensy bit of credit, please. She does her best in this moment to do the thing right. At least, she tries to make it feel how she remembered feeling after every other time it happened to her. The tiny, oh-so-safe bit of pressure that tilts Tianic's pretty head juuuuuuuust so! The casual smirk and the careless hair toss that are supposed to crown the winner and bless the loser at the same time. The long, burning stare that holds the defeated's gaze and threatens to turn them into the hypnotized instead. Hold it. Hold it! Hoooolllld iiiiiit...

Ok that's enough of that! Yue bursts into a fit of giggles and, dropping her sword to the ground with an embarrassing clatter, swoops down and flings her arms around Tianic in just the biggest hug. Quick, while she's still got 'em! Laughing, almost sobbing, she pulls her very very first ever Real Duel Opponent close and squeezes every spare bit of love she's got into her.

"You were! You were! You were so! Amazing! The way that you moved and the way you planted your feet and the, the, the uh, um, the drawing thing was just so, like, I've never actually seen anything, y'know, never knew anybody could do that kinda thing while they were still fightin' but you were all like whoosh twist clack sparkle! Y'know?? And it's just so, you're so very, oh my goshies gosh can we be friends? Is it ok if we're friends even if I've gotta go someday and you don't gotta come with? 'Cause I, like, goshies. I, you, um! I've seen so much stuff and done so much stuff since I left home and I even sorta kinda saw two whole princesses doin' duel stuff sorta kinda near me-like, like y'know, like pointin' a sword at me one time an' tryin'ta turn me into a mouse or whatever maybe but then wolf stuff got involved and you don't need to hear about this sorry sorry and another time I bit the first cookie in front of Qiu, like, the Princess Qiu and she chased me with her heli-whatsit, but... but!"

It's ok, right? It's ok to kiss somebody on the cheek when you don't really know 'em? But you do, don't you see? You do. You know 'em almost better than you know Sis (that is, uh, your sister or whatever, assumin' you've got one and she also zipped off to the big city to be a social... uh... stalactite? Person thingy?), 'cause you've done a dance with them where you bared your entire soul just now, and you sang about love and she sang about a different love right back, and the whole thing's just like transformin' into some new and even better you, isn't it? You could poof her back into a wolf right now and promise her with seven sun's worth of wishes that she'd never get to be her human self again and it won't make a lick of difference to how much more beautiful and perfect and aware she feels now, and how much Tianic's shinin' next to her even if you told her it was her wolf curse the whole time.

"But I've never... seen anybody do it like you did. And, and I thought... it was beautiful. I thought you were beautiful. There was a second there where I really, honestly wanted you to win and then you just, just, just like, y'know, said nah no thanks that ain't me, and I'm like... you can do that? I'm gonna remember this forever. I'm gonna remember you forever. And it's, um, like, it's fine if you don't wanna be, I mean, if you'd rather just... all I'm gonna say is that, actually I don't even know what the rules are around here, do they allow visitors in prison and suchlike? 'Cause if they do then you should come to my cell for a bit, since it's actually really super nice? For some reason? Is that just how you do things up here? No I mean nevermind it doesn't matter none I just mean, like, you can come see me and I'll make you a... a cake. To say thanks. For being my first."

And she smiles, our Yue does, and she finally pulls away and her smile's got a bit of a shimmer going to it already. It's just a bit wetter than she wants it to be, smiling while she tries to stand back up. There's that subtle shifting in the air, where everything doesn't get to be perfect forever after all. That curse is still gonna extract its due, and apparently somebody owes it a lot. And even someone as super-secret-triple-special as Yue (don't tell her, ok?) doesn't have the kind of allowance that'd let her pay it off. So she can feel it pulling at her. It's happening already. The Fluffening.

But she stands her ground, as maiden turns to wolf once again. She doesn't run away or say anything more to ruin the moment, but just turns and points up at the stands where something else just as amazing as all this is about to happen. It's her turn to watch, right? It's her turn to watch with her new friend, and with Kat, and with Hyra who's going to be just, just so proud of her and tonight is going to be perfect. Just perfect, even though...

No. She's standin' her ground here, ok? Nobody and nothing's gonna make her regret pourin' her heart out here in the arena, not even knowing it might've cost her the one last chance she'd have (maybe ever) to taste Hyra's lips with hers and finally finally finally get to know what kissing her's like, girl to girl.

But, well, she's not all transformed yet, is she? She's got a moment for one more miracle. She just... can't take it. 'Cause if she goes rushin' off after all've that, she'll punch a big ugly hole right through the middle of everything she just tried to tell Tianic. So... so she'll pass, y'know? She'll let it go. See? See Tianic? Sometimes this is how love looks. And sometimes it's like...

Breathless Dead

She's never had a moment like this before.

The Olympics were a hollow mockery of the sacred games where the only prize waiting at the end was the hope of a slightly nicer punishment. Her accomplishments in service to her princess were all invisible by design, by someone else's orders in any case, and rarely amounted to more than getting the laundry in before anybody knew she was gone. And what had she managed as a Praetor? Little and less, and all of it so stained by failure that she'd vomit if she thought too much about it.

So, no. She's never had a moment like this before. One that's just for her with nobody else to pull her leash or take the credit. One that proved, that finally proved, that all the expectations heaped on top of her had been put there for a reason. A moment where she got to win, and there was nobody and nothing to take it right away from her. Whatever waited for her on the Anemoi, it couldn't change the fact that she'd made it here first.

And she's got no idea what a moment like this calls for. She'd have thought she'd be exhausted: too shaky and sweaty to do more than stand there and gasp while she waited. Instead her body is filled with energy, and she tosses her head to the sky to howl victory without caring who hears her and how they feel about it. She feels the sweat pouring off her body, but she doesn't bother with wiping herself down. She's too busy jumping into the air and slashing the space in front of her with a joyous fist. Do you see her? She made it first! She! Made it first! She prowls about the landing zone, shaking off all the little flecks of exertion with every trembling turn.

Her lungs fill with the efforts of the labor all around her. She tastes the chemical sweetness of high performance foods being crated up all around her as people prepare them to ship off world and greet weary sailors with their life saving power. She tastes sweat in a dozen different musks and flavors besides her own, all of it proud and sure of where it came from. The sourness of the work is tempered by the sweetness of what it's for, and she hungrily gulps down more and more of it just to taste the combination on her tongue. She prowls, until finally her lungs grow full, and less greedy. She tastes until the memory is part of her soul.

The song up here at the top of the world is the sonorous hum of XIII's purring as it rumbles underneath a series of crashes and shouts that mean the port workers are admiring her while they keep up their work. The heavy thuds of crates being stacked and unstacked, carried, sealed, unsealed, and fought over joins the pleasant chirps and squawks of the simpletons so surprised to see her suddenly standing there among them. There is the click, click, click of a fire being lit and the roar of it being stoked. She howls again, though quieter this time. Her accompanying motions are more strained, more flexes and poses out of a movie than true movement.

The smell of rust and flame is everywhere, as is the hissing quasi-screaming pops that accompany all the bits of debris and poseidon's lesser plagues being charred off the sides of the mauled and dented armored plating that carries every ship through its suicide mission of travelling anywhere at all. Cooked, slimy, sickening flesh and chipping shell threatens to overwhelm all of the other delicious scents lifting XIII into the air, but for a moment even that smells like triumph. She is here. She lives. They do not. Her claws flex pleasantly before she wipes the sweat from her fuzzy ears and briefly slicks her hair back.

The urge to scream and stalk about fades as her minutes draw short. This is not her ship anymore, but it's hardly been a lifetime since it was. She'd die before she let herself greet it improperly. Her back straightens. Her feet plant themselves firmly. She folds her arms behind her back. The beads on her dress clatter and sway as the last traces of her exhausted breathing dwindle down to a steady, even rhythm. The smile on her face dies in an instant to make way for a stern expression as unreadable as her Auspex. Her tail flicks behind her in anticipation.

This is her mark of being the best. This is what the triumph of her race has bought her. She lifts her hands to smooth and fuss her hair into place three more times, returning them to the same strict folded position behind her back each time. A final snort of air through her nostrils, and the loading ramp starts to open with a shuddering groan that says the Anemoi wasn't much happier with its journey than her little skiff had been by the end. But even in pain, the dagger-ship is stately and quiet in a way that seems impressive even on this planet full of ghosts. And XIII is there to greet it, with no sign marking any bit of her that she hadn't been expecting it the entire time.

Whatever greets her now will not find a Praetor with the authority to demand anything from them. But they'll find a girl with all the power and bearing of one, who won't betray a hint of surprise or anything less than perfect poise and command no matter what faces skulk down to meet hers.

Sunshards

Tianic!

You are beautiful and powerful in ways you've never known you could be. Your every step is smooth and flowing from one motion to the next, like poetry about clouds drifting through the skies. How does it feel to realize your potential all at once? How does it feel to find out the point of all those firmly planted feet and impenetrable defensive stances was to help you bend and pivot without losing the power of your stroke?

Your sword has transformed from that kind of terrifying weight in your hands that always made you worry that either it, you, or what you swung it at would shatter with every loping swoosh of your arms into a paintbrush instead. And not just any paintbrush, but an enormous and show stopping one, the kind that's just perfect for putting on a show. The kind you'd use to paint calligraphy in the streets for people hang gliding overhead to read and marvel at, and the kind where your motion and your mastery of the art draw a crowd more than the finished product could ever hope to.

You're Squire Tianic of the Sky Castle, but tonight you're more than that. You're a beauty, battling in earnest for the first time under the moonlight. You're a swordfighter, an artist, and a future fairy too because why the heck not? Isn't this duel more magic than practice at this point? Didn't your first opponent ever turn out to be a cute girl who turned into a wolf, or a... cute wolf that turned into a girl, or a, uh... w-well, whatever the heck's going on here, but whatever it is you've gotta admit it's pretty weird and special right? And whatever else is happening, it was your sword that turned Yue into the warrior with the dazzling dress and smile before you now, and that's bound to mean you're destined for special things, too. So you're, y'know, you're allowed to dream! And if you're allowed to dream, why stop at one?

Yue, which is to say the girl Yue who is standing in front of you, presents a very different puzzle than the mischievous wolf that's been wriggling her way into your heart this whole time. For one thing she's got fingers now, attached to hands at the end of quite long arms even, so even though her wooden sword has maybe less than half the reach of your steel one, she's suddenly working with something shockingly close to a range advantage. Which is to say nothing of the improvement in her technique! But more importantly than that she's... hm.

It'd be difficult to call her beautiful, exactly. At least in the sense that she's desirable. In that way. You think? But her long, flowing, endearingly frizzy hair reminds you of nothing so much as cool milk tea as it bobs around in time with her steps. Her arms are slender to the point where your brain wants to use the word 'scrawny' instead, only for that word to slip off and go back to start for reasons you don't think have anything to do with politeness. And the curves of her body are so exceedingly gentle that she looks made for holding, and for dancing, and for admiring, and for twirling, and for so many other kinds of wonderful things that it honestly kind of breaks your heart when you realize you're probably not going to get to see most of them. Her dress is dazzling as it shifts about with every little move she makes (especially the way it keeps kissing yours) and it fits her so well she seems born specifically to wear it, and to swing a much nicer, more important sword than the one she's meeting you with right now. That girl was born to wander, wasn't she? She's a natural-born adventurer who's seen horizons from angles that'd baffle most people up here, and sooner or later she'll fall back down to the earth like rain (why does she make you think of water, anyway?) to go chasing those hills again. This castle can't hold her forever.

But right now, she's smiling. All for you. And the curve of her lips and the awkward little jam in her teeth are so dazzling and so... sincere and full of love that she seems in this moment to be the equal of a sunshard. Maybe even two! Not three though, that would be crazy. In any case, she's smiling, and when she moves she does it a lot like you are now, where every step of her dainty feet is directed six steps into the future, so that she arrives at the end of a pre-determined choreography that'll give her something that she wants. Like this. And like this. And like this. Ending like this. Again! The way her sword dances feels like all the wolf in her has leapt inside of her wrists and her blade and now all of its whirling pouncing dizzying and playful power is whistling through the air and leading you every which way around the arena.

And the thing is? She might be winning. It's hard to tell, in a fight like this, but so many of her moves are so artful that yours bend to better match them before your mind catches up to offer its own suggestion. She leads you around in a circle, chasing your own sword again so that you can clearly see her fluffy tail wagging even though she doesn't have one of those right now, and where her stroke ends you can't help but notice she's pushed the tip of your brush into the next line of your mandala, and the next piece you started drawing when you finished after that.

Sometimes she draws her own lines, too. But these are... not like yours. You honestly don't even need to glance down to know that this girl does not know the first gosh darned thing (excuse the language!) about letters or painting or any stuff like that. She'd be lucky to stay inside the lines of a coloring book for all the skill she shows at it. Awful. Simply awful. If she's ever had a teacher in her life that person should be hit with sticks. At least the lines she paints in the air are much sweeter, but she can't seem to help herself with the trying to be like you. She always brings the sword back down again and scratches another cringey line in the sand, and darned near bursts into giggles after she does it. Her twinkling blue eyes are alight with some strange mixture of adoration and playful mockery as she looks at you between her steps, always lifting her sword in salute between each dance. Like this. Then like this. Now like this. Ending like this. And flourish.

You're certain of one thing, Tianic: this is the most important moment of your life so far. And you don't want to lose this duel. Neither does Yue. There's a special person waiting for each of you at the end of this, maybe even special lips and attention one or both of you's never gotten to taste for yourselves, at least in the way you deserve. But it won't be as sweet without the flower of victory to crown it, will it? There's multitudes inside that flowing fabric and the lupine shape of Yue's dancing, but at the center of everything is a shockingly simple question:

Are you having fun, Tianic? Do you enjoy this? She flourishes at the end of her pattern again, and smiles sweet enough for you to put her in your tea. Do you see it? The opening she's inviting through? Claim your victory, Squire Tianic. If not through points then by dictating the terms of how this will end. What's it gonna be?

Sunshards

Listen. Listen. []List[/i]en. If there is a single thing to know about Yue, then you already know it. You've watched her journey outside her tiny little world of teapots and waterfalls and warm glass full of sunshine for home remedies and therapy, all the way around the world. Over hills and under bridges where she was brave enough to make camp by a river of all things. On foot and in cars where she had to learn how to drive a stick shift in less than ten minutes so she could escape from an angry helicopter. Flitting through hearts until she finally found the one she fit all the way inside, and got turned into a wolf for her efforts. Wandering the whole entire world until she found herself living in a (surprisingly nice!) prison cell in a castle floating in the sky!

So if there's anything important lurking underneath all those goofy smiles and all that fluff, you've found it. You're not a dummy. And now me I'm biased, but I happen to think there's a whole lotta stuff about lil' Yue that's worth knowing. Like how toast with sweet berry jam and a salted, runny egg on top (like a little golden crown!!) is basically her fifth favorite breakfast food, even though she only tried it for the first time like four days ago. Or how she's got this knack for always knowin' whether or not you're about to... b-but never mind any of that right now. There's one thing you're thinkin' of, 'cause you're a smartypants, aren't'cha? Yes you are, yes you... ahem! 'Scuse me.

Nah, you're right. Ya girl l o v e s stories. Breathes 'em. Her whole entire life 'fore this was constant wall to wall reading and watching and listening and dreaming up her own while she sat out in a glade somewhere waiting for sunlight to gather. Invitin' her to be part've the tellin's like asking a fox if she'd like an ear massage. Well goshies, I dunno! What d'you think?

That's why she doesn't get sucked in. And it's why she doesn't spin up some new yarn about... I dunno, a wolf that runs like the wind and pierces the Invincible Fortress with clever tricks and a trickster's determination or something. Tianic's worked really hard on all her everything and it'd be rude to blow that up just 'cause she doesn't wanna lose to it. Not that she does. Yue's stuffed to the tips of her cutieful ears with desire to pull this off and go trotting back to Hyra with a mouth full of victory. It's just, y'know, Tianic's a lot prettier when she smiles. So she's gotta do whatever it takes to make sure this whole thing ends with that pretty smile lighting up the whole arena. And it'd take a swordswoman with a lot more experience than Yue's got to manage that and win for sure, wouldn't it?

W-well, that ok! It's ok, right? You can lose a game and still win it, so long as you have fun. Right? That's right, right? That's not some secret loser's code that's gonna earn her double-jail and spankies from Keron or anything, is it? 'Cause she's still watching and all, so, um. E-eep? N-no! No of course it's right! Course it is! How's anyone gonna say you lost if you did everything you set out to do in the first place? E-except, y'know, win. But wait, the duel's not about winning. The duel is about the... goshies. Man wow, philosophy's harder than I thought!

...Hokay, right! Whatcha got, Tianic? What makes you happy, what makes your little heart sing? Yue can see what you've been taught and how badly you wanna make your mentor proud, but how do you wanna win a duel? Yue is a blur. An adorable whirlwind of fur, claw, tooth, and sword that never seems to tire out or slow down because she's fueled by that seemingly boundless well of energy called It's Really Fun To Run Around. First she comes from the right! Then the left! Then the right and then the left! From behind! Here she comes, woof woof woof! She moves with the sort of effortless grace that only an animal at play can really manage, swift and beautiful but silly at the same time in a way that'd immediately plop her on her butt if she tried to think about it at all in her normal body. But every one of her attacks are parried, and she's so good about it that only she can tell it's because she slows down just the tiniest bit before each slash to make sure Tianic's feet are planted properly before it comes. Just an extra hop here or a slide there, planting her own paws for a "power slash" even though that's not really something Wolf Holding a Sword Style is very good at. That's all. You'd have to be better at this than either of them are to catch it.

Does she smile? Is she grinning yet? Can Yue squeeze a little giggle out of her like this? She stops attacking altogether and shifts her focus to prowling just outside Tianic's range, instead. When she shifts, Yue shifts. When she rests, Yue rests, with her tail wagging delightedly behind her. When she strikes, Yue parries and slips just outside the space where all that weight and sure-footedness could get the best of her. Come, let's play! Let's play, Tianic, let's play! Have you ever met a wolf before? Do you wanna touch her fur? What if she jumps like this? And like this? What if now, every time she dodges, she leaps and rains her own strike down (though feather light) from above? Has anyone ever told you about the Terraced Lake, Tianic? Have they? D'you know what a waterfall's like? D'you wanna? D'you think a fortress could fight one? Oop, there's a smile! Good girl!

Finally, she sees her chance. It's not an opening, exactly. Or at least, it's not an opening any person could slip inside of in a normal duel. It's not an opening born entirely out of Yue's transformation either, as if Tianic had just screwed up because her expectations about how to fight a wolf were still kinda wrong. No, she didn't make any mistake at all, unless you counted grinning a mistake. Which you shouldn't, unless you're a real jerk like Princess Yin. Yue flies in for a fresh attack, but! Here's the super sneaky part: when she feels her wooden sword get blocked for the three dozenth time, she opens up her mouth! Silly girl! Her weapon drops free and her tongue flops out like a sillyhead, and suddenly freed from the expectations of sword-to-sword contact, she wriggles under Tianic's guard! Up she goes, onto her hindpaws! Pap pap! She drops her front paws on the squire's shoulders. Hiya! Wanna be friends? Please please, pretty please? She gives her first duel-buddy a series of wet, sloppy, happy licks all over her cheeks.

If Yue's got a quality anybody could admire, it's the size of her heart. If there's a person wandering the world today who's more equipped to love every opponent she meets... well, just sayin', I ain't met her, y'know? But if there's a quality that all the pretty duelist types should like, or even be scared about, it's the thing that let her seize this quiet little moment. Our Yue's a dreamer, that she is. She's a sponge, with no formal education but a love of darn near everything she sees. So she's got a lot of teachers. Good ones. More'n you ever will.

The Wandering Tales of Yue The Sun Farmer, Chapter One! The first secret sword: Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits You Put That Back Right Now!

Chormp! Yue's jaws clamp down on Tianic's sword. Yoink! A sleeky, lupine body drops back down on all fours and steals the blade away. Zoom! She's off like a shot, (carefully) carrying the giant blade at the middle so she can balance it like a big stick while she bounds away with perfect form. The only part she misses is the foxen laughter, but we can blame her curse for that just this once, can't we? She runs with the pure joy of someone who is Good At Run, and when she pulls too far away from Tianic she stops and plops down on her butt to sit politely and wag her tail, , tilting her head all silly and just very slightly mocking-like while she waits for the other girl to catch up. But not catch her, no no! You've gotta earn that! Zip zip zoomies! Together they run around the length of the arena two... no three... four times! Four times round and about before Yue finally gets cornered roundabouts where she dropped her own sword in the first place.

Yue stops, and sits. Looking Tianic straight in the eye, she drops the heavy blade to the ground. She bends down and pushes it forward with her nose, and wags her tail for all she's worth. Well, Ms. Fortress? What kind of story are you trying to tell? Where's your mentor end, and you begin? How can we finish this with a smile?

[Entice: 6, 4, +2 = 12. Yue takes a string. Pick an option from the list]

Breathless Dead

She passes homes, works of art, workshops, alleys, stretches of empty street, river bends, and a great open space that might have been a training yard or a... something. She passes guards, artisans, families, outcasts, officials, salesmen, and a beaten down dog Servitor who stands out almost as much as she does. She passes the smells of fresh plaster, ancient stones, molted scales, wondrously mixed perfumes, ammonia, dust, and so many foods it's impossible to tell if they are mixing by accident or by intent of some genius chef. She passes piles of shattered glass, polished white marble, blackened smoke pits, and a temple so awash with colors that it must be a place where djinn are shattered and broken into service, because what else could they be doing there that looked so beautiful as she crossed beyond its reach?

She passes them in an instant. She passes everything so quickly it barely has time to flirt with all her senses before it disappears into the haze of Behind. She passes beyond the pull of normal gravity and into some strange dreamscape she could never have envisioned if she'd been so lucky to get to live her entire life in the Imperial Palace. And for all of the beauty and life around her, none of it registers as anything other than a fragment of some memory she'll torment herself with in her sleep or drive herself insane trying to call to the surface before the insufferably smug face of Prion Paula comes floating up from the depths to fight it off forever. Chanbarra chan! None of this matters. It's blasphemy to admire the serpent flicking its tongue across the universe in search of Tellus, anyway. What's important is that she passes by these things. What's important is that she is moving. She is running somewhere real to do something that matters.

And she's never done anything like that before. Not under her own power.

Desperation moves her feet faster than she knew they could. The Auspex lights a path of golden footsteps in front of her, and it's the only thing she sees that feels real. It carries her carefully past all of this slow, dreamlike life, her path never once crossing an Azurite or trampling on a creation of the Endless Azure Skies. She's a ghost to them like they are to her, a passing bolt of pure power and nothing more. Faster, faster! You're going to miss it, you dumbass! Haven't you ever run before? Would an Olympian be this slow? Why even have a father if you can't outrun his stupid drunken playboy ass? Why'd they tell you all the stories and dangle all the records over your head if you weren't supposed to beat him, here and now? Fuck! Move!!

Her mind is empty, except for running. She does not concern herself with plans or weigh her body down worrying about what she's supposed to do if when she catches up with the Anemoi. Her muscles sing a song of power and beauty and her body is alive with the feeling of crackling energy pumping through her heart into her muscles, with the fluttering of her abused and lopsided hair against her neck, of sweat wicking out of her fur before it can mat it and mar her more than this journey has already, of the tassels and frills of her beaded dress drumming against her breasts and stomach and thighs.

She is motion. She is purpose. She is all alone and sprinting out of danger and into greater danger. There is no corner of her mind or her shattered heart optimistic enough to think that a hero's welcome will be waiting for her on her ship. Likely she will die the second she reaches the end of her path and stops being Motion and starts being XIII again. Or, worse, they'll force the old name back around her neck so it can drag her under the ground and crush her into dust to be drained into some ugly ringed coin. Or maybe this would turn out to be nothing, and she'd simply disappear again.

Every possibility opening up before her on the golden path sends shivers down her spine. Her feet scream pain as her soles pound against a medley of uneven surfaces and smooth, hard stone roads that twist her about like a helix. Her lungs sting with the effort of being more lightning than girl, and only seem to exist to remind her that she's got to go back to the second from the first sooner rather than later. She passes by a million works of art, determination, and majesty of a civilization too glorious for her to dismiss. She passes them all by. She is going somewhere.

And this might be the happiest she's ever felt.

Sunshards

K-keep it together, Yue! It wasn't a fluke, it wasn't a fluke! You can do this, ok?

But it's never that simple, is it? You can't do a thing, succeed so surprisingly, and just... do it again. Not when you don't really know what you did in the first place! Not when you're so flustershaken nervous that you can only sorta remember how it felt when you were there in the middle of the motion and all. It's the problem with flying before you know how to walk, y'know?

First thing, she steps with the wrong foot. That kinda thing shouldn't matter when you've got four of 'em (and you don't plant a one of 'em to attack with your sword!), but it hits her right in the heart just the same. Why's her front left paw wrong? Because last time it was front right. And good form matters when you're trying to be the best swordmaiden slash tea maker slash wolf slash girlfriend you can be, so this single step might as well cut her power level in half right then and there. And... and it's not like she had a lot've that to go around startin' with either, is it?

Her second charge is as straight as her first, but there's so little heart in it that even Kat could probably parry her. For Tianic? It's no problem at all. Her massive sword slides into place with a move so simple and yet so practice it pulls an appreciative "mroof" out of Yue's jaws even as she bounds backwards to avoid the classic pivot-into-overhead-counter that smashes into the floor where she'd been a second ago. Meeps! And Yike! Wait, what?

No no no, come on come on! Focus, Yue! It's all right, mistakes happen. You're not a bully who took advantage of an unprepared opponent, you're a good girl who's been practicing as hard as anyone's ever done before you. It wasn't a fluke, ok? It wasn't! So just... focus on your paw work and everything'll be ok. She snuffles a deep breath through her nose (and smells excitement! Adrenaline! Churros? Ooooh~) and plants all four feet firmly on the ground. Just, just do better than that last time. That's all you gotta do, Yue.

She circles round and comes in from behind this time. It's a basic flank, but with the speed she's fought so hard to master that oughtta be enough, right? It's not. And it's not because even though she thought and thought and thought about her front right paw the entire time she was going, she noticed partway through that her front left was leading again. Again! It's like all her instincts were betraying her right at the most important part! Oh goshies, here she comes!

And that blow's parried even easier than the first one! Wowies, Tianic, you've got some really fast feet, didja know that? That spin! That swing! Yue could barely twist her neck in time to block it, and even then she only got enough of it to go flying in the air instead of cratering into the ground. But don't think she's licked yet! You don't need to think about what foot you're leadin' off with at all when you're diving down from the sky!

In she comes, and this time she feels it! The confidence, the poise, the ability to focus on the actual attacky part of her move! She's a fluffy canine comet and she's coming for that point! Come on Tianic, give it your best! See if it's not en--

THWACK! THUD! Fwumpa fwumpa fwumpa fwumpidy fwump fwump... thwop! Yue yelps in surprise and almost drops her sword when she's sidestepped completely and then smacked all across her side with the flat of that ginormous blade. She tumbles end over end, making all those sounds you're already playing in your head just now before skidding on her chest and... dropping. And then she really does spit out her sword, 'cause she needs a moment.

And for a second, everything's awful. She tried her very best just now! She was clever and turned around a blow, and she didn't even gunk up her technique (such as it was), and it wasn't even close to enough. Hyra's shouting something at her, but among all the clapping from this super huge crowd it's a little hard for even her sensitive wiggle-ears to figure out quite what it is. Probably telling her not to bother coming to practice tomorrow. That's rock bottom, it is. For a second, everything's awful. And then that second passes.

And the second, erm... second? It's not so bad! Yue shakes and she wuffs and she pushes herself back on the ground, and her eyes blaze fierce with the will to win. She bends down to chomp her sword and settle into a Wolf Sword Stance (which is where you're a wolf with a sword, and you stand), and... her heart's racing? Like, in a good way? And oh goshies gosh and goshikers, look at Tianic! The way she's planting her feet! The way her shoulders are set so broad and proud, so powerful! She looks... she looks like she's gonna charge without even waitin' this time!

And her face! Eeeeeeee, her face! Her eyes! Her smile! That's a girl who's takin' everything just so super seriously and got so darned sure she wasn't good enough to even be here (and goodness don't that just sound familiar?), but she's doing it! She did it! Somewhere up above her special someone's looking at her and beaming, and Squire Tianic's heart is so full of life and light that she's just about glowing, cutie that she is. You go, girl! Way to be! That was, that... that was so cool!!

Yue's own face lights up in spite of herself. Her tail wags in that kind've way that tells her straight off there's no way she's gonna be able to stop it maybe even for the entire rest of the fight. And her legs are gettin' a little wobbly and it's harder to breathe than it was before, but so what? So what? That's just the height up here. That's just old sore muscles from all that running she's been doing, plus a good solid hit from a certified warrior! That's not gonna stop her, no way and no how! This is so much fun! Let's go to five... no, seven, no! Thirteen points! Come on, you wanna go too, right? You wanna play too, right??

She gets one more second to feel things before it's time to go again. She never thought for a second that losing could be so much fun! Just one more second, then it's serious faces and waggy tails and clashing swords again, yeah? And in that second, she... she thinks about the look on Qiu's face, back when Yue bit that first cookie. When she just seemed so... w-well, ok, she's um, she's... y'know, not sure. This is only one second's worth of thinks, uhuh? But it feels the same. She's sure it feels the same as that. And maybe even the helicopter chase after. Not that it was gonna stop her from comin' back and throwin' everything she's planning on picking up while she's floating up here right back in her smug (and pretty!) dragon face, but it changes how she feels about it, y'know? Makes it less scary and more, oh! Shoot! Second's up!

Yue whirls about in a circle - the Chase My Own Tail Technique - and builds enough momentum to counter Tianic's charge head on despite how much smaller and lighter she is than the squire. And the look of admiration that flashes across her opponent's face makes her feel lighter than a hot air balloon. It makes her feel so cool and special that she wishes the Demon Swordswoman was here to see what she's done with all her ghost lessons. And that feeling doesn't do squat to help her with the rain of blows that comes crashing down every which way she scoots right after, but no matter how badly she's gettin' outclassed right now her heart keeps singing just the same.

This! Is! So! Much! Fun!! Come on, come on, let's play! Let's play! You're having fun too, right? You are right? Let's go! Come on, come on, chase her! And she's off like a cuddly bullet across and around the arena, on paws that could run on flower petals without knocking them from their stems.

[Fight: 1, 1 = 2]

Breathless Dead

If the gods were kind, they would let XIII stay here forever. They would let no one and nothing bother her, so she could continue watching these strange ships roll across the stranger sky for the rest of her life, or at least until her daric ran out, which she could stretch well beyond Thist's three month prophecy. It's not like she'd need to eat very much to sit up here and stare, and even if she did these people were apparently too stupid to eat any of the real food that the humans had left behind when Nero called them home. And with so much unused space, she wouldn't need to worry about a place to sleep either. Not that she had any intention of doing that anymore any more than she could help it.

If the gods were kind, they would transform her into a philosopher. They would let her watch the spheres, transfixed, and contemplate their orbits from an Imperial perspective until she arrived at a new truth about the universe and the nature of beauty. They would make this lesson cost her everything, but they would let her learn it. She would forget her name, first the gifted one and then the older one. She would forget her mission. She would forget all the specifics of her home that still burned inside her head. She would forget... well, it didn't matter. She wouldn't forget. She couldn't forget. The gods were cruel, and they made XIII so that she would cling to all her memories as if they were precious treasures. Even still. Even now.

XIII reaches toward the sky as if to push one of the smaller ships onto a new path so she could see it spin and roll away. A moment later it begins the gentle curve as it lazily turns along the path she pushed, along the path the Auspex had predicted for it. Not so hard to tell where and when they'd do something. But impossible to understand what any of it meant. It'd be easy to guess it had something to do with their weird spiral patterns, but the sharp red lines her implanted eye draws through the sky for her make it obvious that's not the case. Sometimes they follow something sort of like the markings, but most of the time their trajectories are shockingly straightforward.

Which, of course they are. They're going somewhere, aren't they? This place is dead, but that doesn't make it haunted. All around her, the sounds of scraping and cleaning slither across the streets just underneath the sharp peaks of banging, shouting, and laughter that burst up from shops and homes and around the river like living monuments to the serpent people who dwell here. They are the dead, but they live here. There's a lot more to them than pointless ghost ritual. They conquered the djinn, they mastered flight and craft in ways she's never seen before. Underestimate them at your peril.

If anything, what they remind her of is stars. Or planets, maybe, whatever the fuck the difference is supposed to be. It's all... orbits and spirals and rotations, and where Humanity took the secrets of heavens and burned them for fuel, the Azura seem almost like they've mimicked them, instead. Or, or could they have conquered those, too?! How the fuck did they get these things to fly, anyway? It's no wonder Her Majesty's deathblow wasn't enough to break them. A people who thought like planets... she clicks her teeth together and swallows. She looks up at the sky again, and sees nothing but a serpent lazily stretching across the universe. Someday it would wake, and it's jaws would unhinge in that creepy freak show way of theirs, and when they did they'd swallow everything they saw.

And through that vision of terror plunges a single black dagger. XIII jolts upright faster than if she'd been whipped. Her heart stabs, knifelike inside of her. Her fingers all forget at once how to hold her bread, and the remains of her masterpiece tumble to their death off the edge of her perch. There is. Nothing. More beautiful. Than her ship. After all. And yet.

All the fur on her arms stands up on edge. Her spine prickles with fear. Her tail bushes and her ears flatten. She scowls, and leaps to her feet. The Anemoi is not here for her. She didn't call for it, she had no idea how to call for it. She didn't pray for this, even accidentally. She hadn't prayed once since she crashed, and aboard the Yakanov she'd asked every god she could think of to keep the black dagger as far away from her as it could go. XIII's fingers curl into fists.

"...Apollo." she hisses.

She paces back and forth along the edge of her roof, as bits of stone and debris slide off and plummet to the street in her wake. Her eyes are on her ship, always on her ship, and spare no thought to where her feet take her. The idea that she might fall is laughable. She paces, and as she turns she swings her arms in irritation. Back and forth, back and forth, the name of the god ringing in her throat. Hadn't he hounded her after everything else in the galaxy had left her behind? Hadn't he forced her back on her feet, hadn't he harassed her and pushed her and prodded her until she had no choice but to escape on that skiff, and then flicked his stupid godly golden fingers and brushed her here, instead of anywhere even slightly useful to her goals? He had.

"Apollo, Apollo... damn it. Damn it! Shit!"

XIII tears her fraying coin-patterned dress up over the top of her head and throws it off the roof as she passes. Are you watching, you Azura fucks? Can you see? Get a good look at Perfection while she changes, if you're not stuck too far up your own asses to turn your heads. Fuck you. Fuck you. Her muscled legs coil and burst as she races from the edge of the roof to where her coin purse sits. Her tail lashes behind her, and she digs frantically through the pile of irritatingly perfect coins looking for the micro-folded fabric she'd tucked in there this afternoon. Wasn't meant for this. It's too early for her final work. But she'll be damned if she's going to sneak back onto her ship looking anything less than her best.

She pulls the dazzling dress with its thousand-thousand precious metal beads shaped into a starry night sky. Her final outfit, just in case. Well fine, whatever. When's Apollo ever let her do something the way she wanted to do it? She slips it on, and screams up at the burning sky. The Anemoi is here, and not for her. It's here, and after her. It's a thousand years away from anywhere Dany should be going, even as part of her stupid dumbasses suicide run, and that means and that means and that means.

"Jil you useless fucking bitch I left you in charge I gave you my ship what the fuck did you let happen to it? You'd better be fine, you got that? You'd better be ok, so I can kill you myself!"

XIII hesitates with her arm halfway to hurling the bag full of Azura money straight into the river. She stares at it with mistrusting, mismatched eyes, and finally lowers her arm to tie it to a belt, instead. She promised, after all. With a final shake of her head, she takes off like a thunderbolt launched from a bow and throws herself back down into the city below. And she runs, like she hasn't since her Empress commanded her to, or die. Yield, Endless Azure Skies, to a champion pedigree blessed with holy purpose. Yield or learn what happens to whichever one of you is stupid enough to make her miss the docking.