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Vasilia!

You fought with Bella once before, deep inside the Eater of Worlds. Back then, she threw herself at you like an animal breaking out of a cage. She foamed at the mouth without a shred of decorum and fought against your firearms with her claws. Just a reckless, arrogant, above all stupid creature with no regard for her own safety. And yet your instincts have always told you that you were the lucky one to get away unscathed.

This time is nothing like that. Bella does not fight like an animal or even like a monster might. She stands still for an unusually long time in between each explosive movement with her spine held so straight and rigid that you can't help but wonder if she's letting her ELF run under her skin to shock her into the posture. And then she snaps in a direction, and her body turns into a blur that inevitably kills the next thing it touches.

Sometimes it's a table or a bench. Sometimes she craters the floor or tears a hole in the ceiling. Her claws rip a stone column in half, and the aftershock of the effort blows the whole thing into little chunks that rain down with indiscriminate malice. Like before, she dodges nothing. There's no need; lightning incinerates everything before it can touch her. Her body is lit in a halo of destructive energy that makes her dangerous just to stand near.

Previously you fought Bella: servant of the Empire. Her Royal Highness Princess Redana's bodyguard, using arts she was accustomed to even if she'd rather they had been kept secret. Now you fight a creature that has been told in no uncertain terms that its next failure will be its last. Her teeth clench hard enough inside her mouth to draw blood, which runs from her lips down to her chin in tiny rivers. Steam hisses from her escaping blood and the extremities of her trembling body. How hot must she be burning herself to generate this much power? How much does it hurt her? You don't have time to do more than register the thoughts before you have to zip out of the way again of another deathblow.

This is like fighting a storm. And like a storm, it doesn't care what it hits or how much collateral damage it might cause while its rage burns down. This is power that shouldn't exist at a human scale. This is strength to threaten even a god, given the right opportunity. Your only consolation is that she either can't or won't direct it all directly at you. Not that it means you don't have to dodge and tumble just to stay alive, but it means that you can. That's a blessing right now, no matter how you look at it.

Bella's claws smash the ground with a crash that drowns out every noise around for hundreds of meters. Her leg snaps through the space where you used to be and throws a shockwave that splinters a mural depicting the taming of the first djinn. You let your glaive pull you at odd angles through strange gravity, and she chases after you with raw stupid strength. Or she doesn't, and just stands there letting so much raw electricity roll off of her body that the now quickly rousing guards have no choice but to turn all of their focus on her. Only on her.

Like it matters where they're looking. In another minute if things keep going this way there's not going to be a building left for them to guard. Bella screams, and the sound she makes defies description. It splits the room with thunderous force, inhumanly loud and inhumanly horrid. Rage, terrible rage, and something underneath it that's much worse. The wetness in her eyes burns faster than it can fall, so when she rushes at you there's no way to tell if it was tears or blood.

All of a sudden she's on top of you. You bend out of the way the grace of your gravity arts, and she snaps several bones in her arm following you anyway at what should be an impossible angle. Her iron clawed grip snatches round your ankle, and it burns. It burns so much you want to scream too, though of course you don't. In this last and worst of moments, your brain takes the time to stupidly register that despite all of the destruction she's wrought in this short while, and for all that it's pattern seems obscenely delicate, there's not a single thread out of place on Bella's dress. You should pay your compliments to her tailor, if you and she live long enough to meet each other.

Bella snarls, and throws you like a discus at the now advancing Azura guards. She plants her feet and reaches across her body to wrench her elbow back into place, and squeeze her forearm until the shattered bones realign into useful shape. The ELF quiets, and focuses into more of a cage-like accessory than the brutal storm-wings she'd let it be till now. Her eyes are mismatched pools of trembling anger, but her shoulders are heaving with exertion from her effort. Fresh steam pours off her skin from every pore. So she watches.

Roll to Overcome, if you would, and tell us what fresh technique you used to save your life. Why are you alive, Vasilia? Why. Are. You. Here?!
The gods are cruel. To have given her these special senses, these eyes, these ears, this nose, this tongue, and a mind of her own to process the world around her with and then to shackle her with duties that demand she ignore most of what she notices. To have given her a heart and filled it so full of desires that she couldn't chase any of them without losing the others forever. To have kept her alive, against her own wishes, and guided her to such a specific place only to put it to her again: friends? Lovers? Or family, Bella?

If the gods are cruel, then time is crueler still. In a single flash of a coin, what had once been an entire night to explore every possibility becomes a splinter of precious moments, swiftly draining away to nothing. And even those, she is obliged to share. Her ears and tail strain to their tips and her fingers flex and curl uncontrollably. She rolls her neck without a single crack or pop. Her shoulders strain against her dress.

She gives two of her dwindling moments to Skotia, the dark stranger who made her feel desired and beautiful. She holds him tight against her in the way that he was made to fit inside her arms, so that his ear can feel the frenzied pounding of her heart against her ribs. Her muscles feel like lumps of tangled wires against his body. The tips of her claws press into his arm and his back, and it's only through raw willpower that she keeps herself from piercing him.

Bella uncoils, and pushes him away. She opens her mouth to say something, but only shakes her head. Her eye burns like a fire as she stoops down to put her lips to his, instead. The kiss is not long or lingering, but it is hot, hungry, and full of teeth. She marks her territory with the desperate power of a huntress out of time to choose her moment. She must be swift, or she'll lose herself forever. She must be brutal, or she'll be forgotten. She brushes the blood from his lower lips with the tip of her thumb and licks it clean in front of him. And then she turns away. This is not your fault, Skotia. Your plan is not to blame. Bella's just a woman out of time.

Her eyes scan across the ballroom, marking targets. The guests. The Satrap. The guards rousing from the slumber Beljani placed them under. And then she reaches Jil, and she freezes. They lock eyes for one second. Just for one second. But for a friendship formed in the darkness and deep quiet of the Anemoi, that's almost good enough. Bella's posture shifts, and her expression softens. This is pride. This is trust. Her tail flicks as she walks forward on clicking heels, and this buys them one moment more.

Jil's hand finds Bella's arm as they pass each other. The touch is fleeting, delicate. But this is enough. Good luck. I trust you. I'm glad we found each other again, before the end.

Before the end?

...Before the end.

They split. Bella turns her head again, and her face hardens to diamond in a flash.

Three times. Three times she's come to a place, and Vasilia has found a way to stand right in her way. Three times she's seen those eyes brush past her to a treasure that should belong to Bella. Three times. It's enough to know that look. Enough to know that she's made a connection somewhere in that stupid head of hers. Beautiful put her here to trust her instincts. Her eyes flick back and forth between Vasilia and the guards. Then once to Redana. She scowls. Every bird, one stone. That's how it's done, Bella.

"No."

Her voice is jarringly loud against the backdrop of Beljani's singing. Every step is the snap-crack of a knife being driven into the tile beneath her. Her right arm swings with hypnotizing smoothness against her swinging hips. Her left is held out to her side, palm up, jeweled talons glinting dangerously in the light. She passes into shadow, then light, then shadow again, at the same agonizing and horrible pace.

"That's my friend," every word is like a needle dripping with venom, "And I don't appreciate the look you're giving her."

Even this delicate dress of lace looks dangerous on her. It clings to her so perfectly that every ripple of muscle is immediately apparent to the naked eye if you're looking for it or not. It's hard not to watch the way she glistens under its silky embrace. Her mouth is full of teeth, and her eye is full of fire. It would be easier to look at without the alien deadness of the Auspex next to it. Bella tilts her neck upward and sneers.

"You think I'll let you have her? Criminal. Fugitive. Scum," she hisses, "I've had enough! If they don't teach you manners on whatever stupid little rock you crawled out of, I'll just carve them into you myself!"

Lines of visible electricity crackle across her body as her ELF thrums to life from a dozen different nodules worked into her jewelry. It bursts across her back in a terrible flash that makes her look like she's grown wings that burn two charred holes into the ceiling. She tenses, curls forward, and howls while her field condenses down across her arms and chest. Arcs of lightning climb the spots between her talons. Her tail flicks once in warning: here she comes.

Her claws cut the air in front of her like thunder. Her eyes burn with insane zeal in the darkness she creates, until they're all that lights her face. Here she is again, Vasilia. The Imperial Praetor: this unhinged, vicious animal. What do you do?

[Keep Them Busy: 10]
Once upon a time, Yue thought she knew the sun.

Of course she did, y'know? The sun's been her life for basically ever! She pays more attention to the one that still cuts across the sky than anybody I know. How it moves, when it rises and when it sets and even when those things start changing. She's studied what angles make the best light and what that light is like on leaves and rocks and tum-tums and grass and even bare patches of dirt, just to be safe.

She knows how to use it to cure aches and pains, and she knows how to use it to add a little extra zest in a good cup of tea. She knows how to use it to spark a bit of inspiration for a practicing artist, and she knows how to use it to help a really poor sleeper finally take a nap. She knows how to use it to brighten a room, even at night! She knows a thousand plus a hundred little miracles you can do with sunshine, and how long and where to gather the sunlight into her precious beads to make each one of 'em happen. She even knows how to jar it once captured for long lasting magic you can use or sell on the go. Can you pickle sunshine? Yeah, lemme see your recipe.

But the silly thing about anybody who makes a long study of anything, no matter how careful their notes may be or how many cute animals they doodle in the margins when they get bored, is that they get sucked into this notion that there isn't much else for them to learn about it. Which in her case is even sillier than Chen, don't you think? You think so, right Chen? What a sillyhead our Yue is! There's, like, what? Ten whole suns! Or there were, anyway, and the legends all say every one of 'em was special in their own way.

But still. But still. Jessic's sunshard is warm. It's warm. She thought she knew sunlight warm, but this, not even touching it she's so, all at once it overflows from Hyra into her and she's so, it's like, sweaters and snuggles and, just, every little muscle going all, and, y'know it's, but really there's, it's just so, she might've taken a hundred naps just now and not even known about it! It's warm and it's warm, and it's, well, it's warm too, if you can believe that. Her fur is all tingly nice like she just had a bath and a towel and her brain's all fuzzy happy like she'd just seen Chen cut an arrow in half out of the air or something and...

Actually, wait. Hold on. She did see that! Amazing! Amazefully amazing! How did, what the, you can do that??? Oh she is writing that one down just about as soon as she's got thumbs again, don't you even worry about that. Imagine having friends. Just imagine that! And then imagine having your friends be the most incredible people on the earth today. No, no, you're not imagining it hard enough, you can do better than that! You have to imagine the warmth, the warmth of a whole entire sunshard that's hotter and somehow also softer than twenty, no, thirty jars of perfectly farmed beads. Years of work, dwarfed in an instant by the ultimate treasure and you can't even be mad about it. Now, you have to take all that warmth and stuff it inside your heart so that it's too full and keeps sparking any time you look at your dear, perfect friends. And that is what it's like.

It's bright, too. And bright is very good for seeing stuff, whether you were looking for it or not. If you gave her a dozen dozen guesses (which I think is called a... yuck? An ick? Something), Yue wouldn't have gotten close to suggesting her journey would have her glimpsing so much as the tips of the tails of a bunch of dreams. But here they are. They put a naginata in a dragon's tail and made the whole thing feel impossibly majestic. They broke a countess' breastplate with a masterstroke so pure they should make snowflakes out of it, and didn't break a single heart with it for all of its grand strength. They put giggling, teasing softness into the strongest set of arms that have ever gripped a sword in recorded history, and mixed silks and sighs and longing touches with a hurricane to make something so beautiful you can't help but want to see it turn and dance forever.

And it's, there's, Hyra at the center of everything. She's... smiling. Oh gosh, she's smiling. She's holding Yue in both her arms, soft and firm and snug, in a way that makes her woofen body feel seen and even teasingly squeezed and just so perfectly lovely she could gasp out loud. If, y'know, she could gasp out loud. Which she can't. We've been over this. She whines this time, instead. It's the happiest noise since that howl she just howled a little while back. She twists her neck and turns her soft blue eyes toward Hyra's dazzling reds. If only she could smile properly. If only she had words. If only.

What's that? A wish?

Well, she's got a bunch of those. Fifty... three? Give or take. There are more, actually, but she's got no need to wish for freedom when she's either got that or is about to get it just from the luck of who she is and who she knows. She shouldn't blow a wish on something stupid like a brand new tea kettle, even if hers is horribly dented and doesn't whistle properly these days. That would be silly, petty, and entirely too selfish for a wish from the heart made on a glowing stone filled with dragon dreams. And really there are more, stretching into infinity, but she doesn't need to get rich (or die trying) or be granted any fancy titles, and she's good on swords and teachers thank you very much, and there's no adventure you could tempt her with that's even one fifth as good as this one. So yeah. Just the fifty three little wishes. And they all compress down to just one.

I... I want to share a meal with Hyra. I want someone to cook for us and I want to sit across a table from her and look in her eyes and play footsies while we grab our chopsticks and talk until the sun goes down about how good it is. I want to see her face in the daylight, and I want her to see mine. I want. I want to hold her like she deserves to be held. I want her to hold me like I deserve to be held. I want! I want to reach her with my hand and brush her hair smooth around her ears! I want to find a market and waste a whole day trying on clothes with her that neither of us can actually afford!

"And I want to kiss you!" she screams with her very human voice as she flails her very human arms, not really thinking through what that means, "I want to feel your lips and I wanna do that thing where I find out what your teeth taste like with my tongue while we do it! I want you to touch me! I want you to see me! And I wanna see you! I wanna learn every little thing there is to know about your body, and for you to know every part've mine!"

Yue's sliding down a wave of diamonds now with her arms wrapped tight around Hyra's neck. She's burning bright with the light and warmth of a sunshard (probably) and her feet hurt a little bit, but you must admit she cuts a very dramtic, gorgeous figure with her beautiful battle dress fluttering behind her as she flies. Which, of course it does. You think it wouldn't know when she really needed it the most? There's magic in those clothes, you mark my words. Go on, mark 'em! Don't come back till you do!

"I wanna be with you, Hyra! Every day and always! And I want us to have more adventures with my friends, but most of all I want them to start and end each day and night with you! And me! K-ki... oh no."

Yue burns brighter than ten whole suns that turned the earth into whatever wasteland it was before a Princess wise enough to say "That's too many suns" finally turned up and did something about it. She shakes like a freshly planted sapling forest in an autumn breeze. Her two silly, skinny legs almost drop out from under her if not for the timely intervention of Hyra of the Wolves. Who grins, wolfishly. But humanly too. She's perfect like that.

This is a moment. It's not the moment the whole story's been building to, because whatever that is, there's a part in it for everybody. But it's a big moment, just the same. Before she can say something stupid like, 'I wish I was dead' or 'I wish I'd never said anything at all', Hyra grabs her by the back of the head and pulls her in face to face.

And they kiss, y'know? Here and now in front of everybody. Little Yue's first real kiss, and she's lucky enough to get it from the love of her life. And it's. Well. Actually?

Why don't y'all tell me about it? What's it like from where you're sittin', hmm?
There is a fire burning in the sweet scented valley between the mountains. The heart underneath it does not quicken, but it pounds. Nothing crumbles, heaves, flutters, or otherwise succumbs to kinds of things that would doom a fragile maiden. But the valley burns, and when she lifts Skotia off the ground to bring him level with her face, her golden eye burns too.

Bella's smile is a thing of teeth and vengeance but somehow a polite and refined smirk all at once. If her hand is trembling, and it is, it is not with effort or embarrassment. Her stance is too firm, her heart is too steady (pounding into her ribs as it is). Every inch of her burns hotter than a fire, but her tail flicks with a posture of bemusement.

Her eye flicks away once, then twice, looking for a clock. Her breathing slows a tiny bit. The sound of polite laughter bends her ear, and a shadow passes her face briefly, but her attention does not leave the mysterious young man again. Her ears flutter suddenly, as though shaking something out of them. She smiles again, and this time brushes Skotia's cheek with the back of her fingers. She is both warmer and colder, and that's the most warning she has to give.

"Another? No. You can't dance for shit."

Aphrodite is all about the room. He blows the smell of soup into Bella's nose, and the savory aroma softens her heart. He guides the breeze the wafts through the room just so to lessen the sting of the venom filling the hall before it can distract her from the matter at hand. He winds the gramophone and picks the music that tightens all the muscles in Bella's stomach. His invisible fingers flick the button off the top of Skotia's jacket for good, and it drops to the floor with a tiny, sensuous clatter. And then he steps back to light a cigarette, and wait.

Bella pulls Skotia close, so that their faces touch. She cranes her neck to put her lips by his ear. Her breath is hot and steamy and deliberate. So is the nip of her fang on his lobe.

"This will be a lesson, fool. When I'm done with you, you'll be a master. Every twitching. Quivering. Inch of you."

This is the power of desire. This is what the stranger buys with his daring touches, though not because he dared to reach. An Imperial Pet endures a thousands touches a day, whether she welcomes them or not. But none of those were ever quite so soft or hesitant. None of those worshipped the curves they dared to touch. None of them begged. None of them treated her like a treasure that had to be earned and unlocked. Bella's throat rumbles with a sound called validation.

She puts the young man on his feet. He needs to feel the ground beneath him so he'll understand how little he can do. Move where you will, fight if you want, Skotia. You'll end up where Bella wants you, in the end. Not that you will, you naughty thing. She could put you on a leash right now and you won't say a word of complaint. She could slip ornamental ears shaped like hers atop your head and slide her fingers through your hair and you'd mewl like a favorite pet. Don't deny it. You'd let her make a servitor out of you in a heartbeat, take your place beneath her and call it a dream come true. Wouldn't you?

The dance is a tango. Bella marches Skotia with her hand wrapped firmly around his hip, and where she squeezes... riiip! A slash of her beautiful talons leaves a tiny gash in his beautiful costume. Her fingers slip inside the hole and brush along the firm muscles and supple skin beneath.

They march and spin, and she slashes two tiny lines across the shoulders down the arm, to give her a better view of those gorgeous, muscled arms. They move in a line as one and she sweeps him down lower and lower until his hair brushes the floor, and while he swoons her claws brush tenderly up the inside of his thigh. She lifts him in the air to buy a moment for her thumb to probe the new alteration and see what kind of soft and sweet fabrics he's hiding underneath. The pucker of his lips and the shuddering of his breath draws a purr from Bella's chest.

She slices a tiny line along the center of his chest, and several more in sharp diagonals where she touches his abs, which are worthy of a god. She never cuts enough fabric to ruin his careful outfit. Just enough to mark him. Just enough to give her secret access to the treasures hidden underneath, just enough that she can part the fabrics with a bow or a sweep and give herself a private, Praetor's-only glimpse of everything she wants.

And she does want everything. She is in command here. She, Bella, dances with the fluid grace of a... person who feels trusted, and is free to trust in turn. She moves his hands where she wants them. When he next caresses her butt underneath her tail, it's because she tugged his arm there, and squeezed it tight until he had no choice but to obey.

"Good boy. Good. You do learn fast." She pressed a talon against his mask and flicks it down almost to his nose. But this alone she doesn't cut.

She should bend him over and bite his neck until he's marked so thoroughly there will be nothing left of him that isn't hers. She should tear his dignity away until he has no choice but to hide himself in her. She should take him, every bit of him, and not care who watches her do it. But she doesn't. She pulls him close and holds him gently, and finds this dark stranger the perfect size and shape to fit inside her embrace.

"I'm a busy woman," her voice is cold now, and heavy with the weight of a dozen burdens piled awkwardly on top of each other like a game board, "But until I tell you otherwise, you belong to me. Understand?"

Go on and nod, little pet. Go on and stand on your tiptoes to kiss her neck, if you understand and dare. Go on and trust her, if you're stupid enough to want that. Go on, then. Go on.

Or go.
There's a stranger standing here in front of her, begging for her attention. Normally she'd have blown him off by now. But normally she would not have called him over in the first place. This stranger is intriguing, and not for his strangeness. She scoffs, and takes a long, slow sip of wine.

"You can tell nobody drinks on this planet," Bella offers with a shrug, "This might have been passable three hundred years ago or whatever, but these assholes just let it sit around this entire time. Fucking snobs break it out now to show off to the 'distinguished guests'. Like I can't tell the difference."

She twists and sets the glass on the tray of a passing server. When she turns her attention to the boy again, he's still staring. At her hands. She rolls her eyes and sniffs the air. He smells of salt and sweat, in a way that reminds her of gymnasia and training and sets her heart racing. His sweat is not Her sweat, but it's... nnnnnm. Her eyes slide across his mask down to the undone button at the top of his jacket, and the definition of those slim-yet-tone, firm, powerful shoulders. She licks his lips with rather more fang than strictly necessary.

"There's nothing I hate more than somebody who's got something good in front of them and lets it go to waste. The galaxy's full of death and rot and pain, Pretty Boy. If you're lucky enough to stumble across something sweet, it should be a crime to ignore it. In fact, mmm, Praetor, aren't I? I say it is a crime."

Bella's hand is swift as wind. Her talons are cool on Skotia's cheek, but carefully curled to the side. She squeezes with the strength of titans and the gentleness of the bedroom all at once. She takes his jaw and leads his eyes forcefully away from her hand and toward more beautiful pastures. To her waist, and the inviting softness of her stomach all draped in gossamer. Up and up, there's a good boy, to the mountains rising up on her chest. And this is where she leaves him, watching her breasts. Not her face, not her eyes, but every little sway the follows the motion of her body, and every subtle bounce that makes the shifting of her feet.

She feels the heat building on his skin. She feels his mouth fall slack against her fingers. She feels his neck craning and watches his eyes begin to dart. And she knows, with a secret thrill, that this is not shyness. He doesn't try to find the floor, but strains against her grip with helpless, flustered hope that he might find the secret angle her designer did not intend and catch a glimpse of the dark buds hidden underneath the intricately patterned lace.

Bella grins. Her spine is tingling with the rush of electricity and eyes that see her, want her, need her. But her fingers show the mercy her heart refuses to, and finally tilts the boy's head up to look at her face. Even through his mask, she can see how flustered he is. His body reeks of excitement, a new and far sweeter kind of sweat that clings to his skin under his fine, rich clothes and mixes with the delicious salts that pull at the deepest corners of her memory.

"Good boy," she purrs, "What a fine citizen of the Empire! Would you like a reward from your Praetor? Then come and dance with me. The night is only halfway gone, and I've got so many eyes left to steal."

She takes his jaw more firmly and nods his head before he can ruin the moment by speaking. She feels him follow, not offering the slightest bit of resistance. There's another spark the builds inside her, and it burns like hungry fire. Beautiful trusted to her instincts, right? Then nothing she does tonight is wrong.

With a firm tug of his wrist, Bella pulls Skotia onto the dance floor. In another moment her hands are all about him, guiding his to where she wants them on her body. And they dance, pressed deliciously tight together. Every step in accordance with her will. Is this what you came for, Pretty Boy?
So, a funny thing happened on the way to freedom.

Realistically speaking, it shouldn't have happened at all. After all, was anything really different? Sure, she's running just so, so fast. Fast enough to catch the moon, even! But running more swiftly than a song wouldn't make her heart do skipsies in her fluffy chest, right? She's known about the joy of zoomies for a while now, so as nice as it is to finally be moving about after all that time having her entire day spoken for her, it's still a little bit of old hat. Ear? Iono.

And it's not that Chen is shining and ready to do a real Double Super Princess Battle Thing, or that Rose is a one-woman whirlwind who's somehow bold and taunting and demure and teasing and quietly at peace with the whole pile all at once, either. Not that it isn't great to see them, mind you! It's amazing, and wonderful, and, and, and exciting and all that stuff! It is! But when your friends live up to the versions of themselves that you keep inside your chest it doesn't make you do flippy flops and tippy taps with your silly pawsies while you run and run and run away from them, no it does not! And it's, y'know, it's not the first time that either of them have been incredamazing, either. They've always got it in them.

And if it's not that, maybe it's the feeling of being in the moment with them and doing something just as wonderful? But that doesn't feel right either, because she's certain she's felt the thing she's feeling right now before, too.

She looks at Hyra and she... well, she doesn't gasp. We've been over that. But she'd like to. Suddenly she's not running anymore, not quite. She's hopping, skipping, bounding, almost flying for seconds at a time as she zooms alongside her girlfr-- wait a second. Her girlfriend! Is that what's different, all of a sudden?

Oh goshies. Every other time she's gone running, it's just been her. Yue, freshly (or unfreshly) wolfed. Bewoofened. Flufflefied. Awooken. I've got a million of these, don't worry. The point is, she's been admired and smiled at as she's left people in the dust, and she's been chased and dueled and all've that's been super fun and thrilling, but nobody's run with her before. She's, and Hyra's, she looks so, everything is, oh! Oh!! Gosh gosh goshies! Gosh.

Hyra's smiling at her, warm and inviting and impossibly cocky at the same time. She's running with joyous speed with the same air about her that she'd have if she were setting down a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, and just! There it is! Right there, in her fluttery maiden's heart, the feeling she's felt just the one time before! Yue leaps as high and far as four legs can take her and throws her head back in the happiest howl anyone gathered here has ever heard, I promise you that much.

How is it possible? She's already in love! How the heck does a body fall in love twice? And not even with a different person! Yue you sillyhead, you haven't even kissed her yet! Are you really going to fall in love with one girl three times in your life? More? Well, let's get you fitted for a wolf-appropriate (awolfriate?) wedding dress, 'cause honey you're doomed. In just... the best possible way. Honestly. This girl.

And the only way it could get any better is if it could match the way that they'd met, way back at the beginning of our little story. Do you remember? In the dead of night, with river demons surging every which way and turning the safest little house on earth into anything but, and a frightened, squeaky, oh-so-smitten girl slipping into those wiry-muscled arms because she couldn't keep up otherwise? It turned out that was the start of everything, really. And well, she looks a little different right now, but wouldn't it be perfect if it could be the start of something new, too?

It's sweeter than honey when she jumps. It's warmer than cinnamon when she clings to Hyra's spare shoulder and lets her girlfriend take her weight into her spare arm. It's not the same as it was then, which somehow makes it better. She doesn't need it anymore. Now it's about wanting it. Now it's something she's giving to her girlfriend. Now she's gently nipping Hyra's neck and promising she'll take the same. I-i-if that's something Hyra wants to give her. And it's choice, isn't it? It's trust that makes all the difference in the world, that makes it worth falling in love with her again every day for forever if she can manage it. And darn it, she's gonna try now.

The only thing that makes it not perfect is that she's not being princess carried, as I believe it's called, and double maybe also that she's being carried with someone else at the same time. And she could... fix that, y'know? Betcha five whole chickens if she nudged over all sly-like she'd boot Cyanis right off her perch and have Hyra's arms all to herself. Wouldn't even be hard.

But she doesn't. Yue's job, whatever else she might pick up as a hobby, is to be the sweetiest of muffins. It's why we love her. But it's Hyra's job to be the daring, mischievous rogue. And this is all her plan anyway, isn't it? So, um, wh-whatever happens, will happen. Just like it was meant to. Or maybe she's wingin' it! Can never tell what's going on behind those luscious, beautiful, perfect red eyes of hers. But if she means to or no, Hyra's in the business of making miracles happen. Sometimes those require, mmmmm, sacrifices? Every now and again?

I guess we'll see~
For a moment, Bella is pure heat against Redana's coldness. Her pupil swallows the golden iris and her teeth glint from the prison of her twisted snarl. Her talons today are platinum, and dotted with tiny jewels along her fingers, but their sharpness against Redana's cheek is undeniable. There is a moment where Redana freezes, and Bella burns. The antipodes brought together at last. Now there will be war.

And then with a sigh, the moment passes. One melts as the other freezes, and soon they are simply Bella and Redana again. Bella's face morphs from hot anger into a grotesque, predatory smile. She traces the edge of one talon along Redana's jawline with a casual sort of sensuality the would draw a shuddering gasp from almost any woman in the universe. But here, she earns only another cool, steely glare. She snorts.

"It amazes me how many of you morons keep trying to sell me on the wonders of 'the stars beyond.' I've been on the same trip as you, Princess, haven't you noticed? I'm the reason it hasn't killed you yet. And there isn't a single fucking thing out here that I wouldn't burn to cinders if it meant getting back what's mine."

One more time they dance, and this time Bella leads. Wrapped around each other like chains, they wind around the ballroom across every conversation and cluster of self-important Azura pricks. Nothing more than fodder for Beljani's gift, just sacrifices to be lead astray for a little while longer. Bella presses her body tight against Redana's; still there's nothing. Nothing but cold stiff bodies like statues mimicking intimacy without the barest shred of passion. In a moment her heart might forget how to beat entirely.

"Yes Redana, I'm loyal to your mother. Not the Empire. Because she's the only one who sees what I'm worth. I was supposed to die for you when you left, did you know that? Of course not. Surprise! But your mother intervened. She sees me, Redana. Like you never could. I am strong. I'm strong enough for both of us, and when I prove it to the Empress she'll reward me with more than any of your precious stars ever could."

She sneers, "Not that you believe in them anymore. Look at you. Pathetic. You're nothing but a spoiled brat trying to squeeze herself into somebody else's story, because you know you can't measure up. Yes, give me that look! It's all you've got left~"

The chime of the bell freezes the blood in her body. Bella stops on the spot, as stiff as a corpse. Her hands shoot off Redana and move toward the skirt of her dress, when she suddenly stops again and glances about. Her eye rolls in the back of her head as the auspex pulses briefly. No, there's still plenty of time. She's being stupid. Bella straightens again, only to dip into a shallow, mocking bow.

Inside her chest, her heart flutters erratically. She mustn't. She mustn't go getting absorbed in anything like that. She's on a deadline after all. There's a plan that must be followed. Her hand trembles as she tosses her hair behind her with a series of bell-like chimes.

"Well. As much fun as this is I've got no more time left to play with you tonight, Your Highness. Enjoy the party, Dany. It's the last time you'll ever be free."

Bella turns on clicking heels and saunters away with the practiced carelessness of a liar. On her way to the far wall, she passes a server carrying a tray with the first wine she's seen since... since before. Since chan-barra was the only sound running through her life. She plucks a glass delicately from the offered platter and carries it with her without touching it. Only by the way does she swirl it, and sniff the air around it.

She pauses. Frowns. And sniffs again. Her eyes lock with the stranger that arrived alongside those fucking gongs. Her nose wrinkles. She raises the glass near her lips without drinking. Tantalus raises her other arm and beckons at the mystery princess, and swirls her wine while she waits. At long last she takes a tiny sip, and shrugs her shoulders. Dry and fragrant. Ancient grapes in oak barrel, strange spices tossed on top much more recently.

"Inferior vintage," she offers with a nod to Skotia, "But beggars can't be choosers, can they."

Her mismatched eyes bore holes through the stranger's skull. She sniffs the air one more time, and frowns.

"I know you. Now tell me how. You one of Odoacer's calves, escaped from the slaughter? Hmph. You're a long way from home, pretty-boy."
"This again? With all due respect, Your Imperial Highness, go fuck yourself."

Bella's voice is cool, not cold, like water running across someone's hand. Her face is a mirror for Redana's detached conviction but for the tiny smirk that plays across her painted lips, just enough to flash a trace of sharp teeth. Every beat of the song soothes the storm inside her body. Every word half listened to from Beljani replaces nervousness with confidence. She reaches deep inside herself to find the tangle of emotions associated with Redana, and finds they've been burned down to husks in the wake of her transformation. She sniffs. Her nose tells her nothing she didn't already know.

This is a formal dance, nothing of closeness. Bella and Redana circle slowly to the music with palms clasped around each other's forearms. There's significance to the gesture, some ancient ritual dating back to blah blah blah, but Bella only ever heard the story from Redana, who never exactly bothered with reading the material. Irrelevant. Around they go, holding each other tight in a spiral that draws the attention of every last person here tonight. They stop as one. A cool nod from each. They shift, and circle in the other direction.

"When I saw you here I thought maybe you'd finally grown up, but I see you're the same idiot you've always been. I betrayed you? I followed you? Which one of us stuffed the other in a closet, again? Seriously, get a clue. I'm. Doing. My. Job. I always have been. Unlike some people, I know where my loyalties belong. I know where I belong, and it's not stuck out here in the middle of nowhere waiting for luck to finally catch up and kill me."

The music shifts, and the dance changes. The pair pull close, with Redana's arms about Bella's waist and neck. The latter flicks her tail and lets herself be lead in the delicate waltz without the faintest flicker of protest or of passion. The plan is in place, and every tiny motion only confirms that it's working. Why get upset? Why not dance? Her biggest... her only mistake was not asking Beautiful for help sooner.

"Fight it if you want to, I don't care. I don't need your cooperation anymore. You can spend tonight enjoying yourself, or you can spend it pretending you're the victim here, but either way you're going home. But you wanna know the best part? I don't have to lift a single finger to make it happen."
Rose!

This one takes her a minute. Like, a big ol' minute. Really hope you didn't fire that one off as you slipped out the door. And then I hope you brought, like, a puzzle or something. Something to read? Iono what you're into honestly, I just don't want you to be bored. Maybe you just wanna watch Yue? That's kinda fun when she gets like this, y'know?

Here, lemme paint you a picture. See, she can definitely tell there's weight to your little poem, right. Some kinda... some kinda meaning behind it. It's not the done thing to burst into fancy verses 'bout beauty and time where she comes from. You more, like... well no I guess Sis had a lot of songs like that, 'cept they were mostly 'bout drinkin', and the moon, and drinkin' under the moon. Anyway most folks start up with more silly songs, love songs, walkin' to the market songs and what have you. Most of Yue's don't even have words! Not a hot audience for words when you're singing to birds and wolves and foxes and what have you.

So yeah, she's... vexed? That sounds like the kinda word you'd like. Good and proper vexed. She's got this look on her face, see, like she can tell there's a trap here and she's determined to out think it. She folds her arms across her little chest and she nods a whole bunch, as if that makes her look smart or something, and you can hear her 'hmmmmmm'ing as she digests the whole thing. And then? It sinks in. You can tell because her arms suddenly drop. And then? Oh. It sinks in. You can tell because her eyes go big as dinner plates. And then? Ohhhhhh goshies, it just sunk in!

"Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-yo-you..."

Yue's a blushing, squeaking, rolling-around-on-the-bed mess. Hope you've got another minute before you've got anything else that needs doin'. At least this time you don't need a book to keep you occupied, I'd bet. Finally she goes floppin' over and covers her face with a hand and her embarrassment with a laugh that gets maybe a quarter of the way to gettin' the job done.

"...City folk're too much. Where do you come up with-- gosh! I'm not! I mean I! I mean you're!"

She laughs, and shakes her head.

"You've changed, Rose. I think, anyway. You went and got all... soft. And big. And, goshies yeah, pretty too. I don't think a 'monster from the deep'" and here she drops her voice several octaves for her very bestful bestest spooky radio play voice before instantly switching back to normal, "coulda done it. I know last time I called you a city girl you denied it, but you're definitely one now. You talk like 'em, think like 'em, move like 'em, and you're sweet and wonderful like 'em, too. Y'know, Sis was so taken with the whole idea that she just up and, vwoooop! Adventured herself right down to the fanciest part of the Terraced Lake a few years back. Never heard a word've regret about it, like... ever. Man I miss her. Oh well!

So, just, to me, it's, well. S'about the best compliment I know how to give. And I think it's about time you took it, y'know?"

***

Chen!

You get the giggles, both of you. You get the tea. You get the honey. You get little cakes made with cardamom that fall apart in your mouths (and your tea, why did you dunk them???). You get a chance to breathe. You get a shower. Then Yue gets a shower. I don't know that either of you are quite at platonic-bathing-without-towels levels of closeness quite yet. A hot springs? Sure! Not a problem! But a shower's a bit... oh, sorry. Sorry! Moving on!!

Lesse, uh... you get stretches. You get the lectures about the importance of rest and letting all those lessons sink in with sleep and a new day and a new bowl of rice'n'fish and blah blah blah. And then when that's done you get to sneak in another three rounds of practice because it's so much fun, actually. You get all of that, together. You, Double Super Princess Chen of the Northern Wind and the Southern Sandy Stuffs, are now Yue's best friend. Congratulations! I really hope you're honored, that position's been filled for over a year, and the cutie you took it from is plotting her revenge happier than you could imagine.

But now it's over. Now it's time to let Yue grow on her own again, unless you were hopin' to turn her into another, taller, sillier you. Which you're not, I know, 'cause you've done a lotta learnin' and growin' in your own time here. Metaphorically speaking about the growin' part. Obviously. You little shortie short short. You miniature croquembouche. You tiny little... no, I will not explain how I know what that is. Turn your phone back on. Gosh.

Anyway. Now it's over. Now Yue's smiling with a distant little look on her face that makes you think she's got the world on her mind, and she's wiping down her practice sword like it's the last time she's ever gonna hold it. Which, she's probably right. The crack Keron gave that thing has basically taken over the blade with all the nonsense you two've put the poor thing through. She's graduating to a real one whether she's ready or not. You tell me, in your professional opinion.

"Oh... this is so hard. No one ever tells you how... well, no. I guess they do. I guess that's why trainin' montages are a thing and, still. Still, I... still. I didn't think I'd. Um. I guess I never really thought at all, 'cause..."

Now. Now the bill comes due. Now she's hugging you, Chen. Now she's crying, Chen. Not deep, terrible sobs, but the soft sniffles of the chronically overwhelmed. You're better than she is. You'll always be better than she is. And Yue's finally good enough to realize it.

"Ahhhhh, it's not fair. It's not! D'you know how easy my life used to be?! Got somethin' nibbling on your crops? Hiya! Foxes doin' too many fox crimes in the neighborhood? Don't even gotta ask! I was the best sun farmer for at least three mountains in any direction, go back and ask anyone! And now I'm, and now it's, I wasn't even... I only went with Hyra that night 'cause I was scared, y-y'know? An' I, and... I thought. Snnffffff. I thought I'd get to see a story. See somethin' amazin'.

No one ever told me it was my story. You'd think cleanin' out a shrine and sending off the ghost of a legendary warrior'd be the tricky bit! You'd think... you'd... I just. Everyone I know now's so good at everythin'. And it's all so hard. And, and it's fun, it is! But I... I just wish. I. I wish there was somethin' I was good at again. Lotta me wants to go home. Lotta... why's Keron think I'm so special, anyway? Why's Qiu? Why're..?"

Yue dries her eyes on her sleeve, and sniffles her last. Now. Now you're friends.

***

Hyra!

You really couldn't ask for a better audience than Yue. It's only her current form that stops her from gasping perfectly at each little twist and turn in the conversation. The reveals! The counter reveals! The drama! Two perfectly matched opponents engaged in a game of wits only they are smart enough to play! Wow wow wow wowies!

But she's, as you've noticed, a wolf. A woof woof, if you will. I'm honestly not sure how that makes you feel, but for right this second don't worry about it yeah? I only put so much attention on it because... well, wolves can't, y'know, gasp. So just in case you were worried about the wheezing barks that keep slipping out of her, that's just her trying her best. Ok? Ok.

How many layers deep does the plan go? How many threads can Keron cut through without blinking? Who's got the edge here?? And, and why does this make her feel so much better about all the stuff that's gone on since she's reached the floating castle? In fact, why does yeeeheeeheeeheeeep spear spear spear spearspear oh hey! She's free!

She blinks, as her first act of freedom. Her second act of freedom is to stand up, and her third is to stretch and shake all of the sleepies out of her big, fluffy body. It almost doesn't annoy her how natural it all feels to do it now. Almost. But girls will be girls, except when they are wolves. And then, they will be girl wolves.

The most joyous howl in recorded history rings out across the room. No more leashes, no more masters, no more Secret Double Jail, Yue! Is! Free! And with freedom comes zoomies.

It's the first lesson she learned when her love took your curse from you, do you remember? This is how she learned that she could be graceful and pretty, be sought after and admired. It's how you finally got her to see that she could be fast and strong and good, and it's what's pushed her this entire time you've been separated. Did you know she's been practicing at... basically everything? Every day? For, well, goshies it's been weeks now, hasn't it? She's been working so hard, Hyra. For herself, but also for you.

So I hope you can spare an eyeball from the impending hullabaloo to catch the moment where she goes zooming through everything like she's been shot out of a wolf cannon. I hope you have time to appreciate how smooth her body moves now and how easily she gathers her gravity underneath her so she can launch herself forward again and again and again without slipping or breaking stride. I hope you can admire the grace in her turns and the quality of her target selection. It'd mean an awful lot if it makes you smile, y'see.

She goes sailing straight into the bound and gagged Cyanis straight away, further adding to the chaos of the moment with a series of indignant, muffled squeaks. It's not that this is a rescue per se, or at least not because Yue's been fooled by your bluff. Unless she has! In which case well played, Hyra of the Wolves! She'll feel like a right sillyhead later, but provided she's got vocal chords at the time she'll also giggle about it. Also like a sillyhead. But right now it's just that Cyanis is her friend who showed up all of those days to teach her Wolf Go and keep her company when she was so bored she thought she'd die just from that. Cutie foxes deserve cutie jail, but sometimes don't they also deserve the chance to taste cutie freedom? This exercise is left for the reader to decide, yip yip arf.

Yue can't mount a full on rescue, but she can run. She can't fight with a sword the way most of her friends can (especially with no sword to chormp), but she can run. She can run like wind becoming lightning, under leg and over every place a body needs to stand to get a good swing off. She can run to so many places that it starts to feel like there's more than one wolf zipping all over the place, and she can help in every little way she can.

But she can't, and she won't, take this moment from you. Because the best thing about Yue, as we've mentioned, is that she's a sweetiemuffin. A sweetiemuffin who loves stories more than anybody in the whole world. So like we've said so many times, and like you've seen, she knows when somebody's having A Moment. And 'cause it's you? She's happier to be close enough to watch it happen then she's ever been before. Go, Hyra of the Wolves! Your girlfriend believes in you!
She can feel the chill burst through her all at once. The shiver up her back and the burning in her limbs, the cold creeping fear in her stomach and the sting of ice inside her chest, as if an enormous crystal had taken root inside her and expanded out through what should be her flesh in a matter of seconds. Her muscles clench, and she squeezes Beljani hard enough to draw a yelp.

And then as quickly as the feeling came, it goes. Bella is herself again, standing tall and alone as she watches the latest transformation of Redana Claudius. She takes several deep breaths until she can sort through the various smokes and incenses enough to pick up the Princess. This is wrong. She is wrong. There's no lazily hidden tinge of sweat anywhere near her, no flashes of mint or orange on her breath where she'd normally have hastily shoved something in her mouth to cover the pungency of the illium delight she wasn't supposed to be eating. Each little thing is a new cluster of wrong.

But it must be her. Every step closer Bella takes confirms it. That's the rough, sandy smell of her hair. That's quiet and annoyingly soothing aroma of her skin. That is her specific perfume, down to the exact ratio of ingredients with each flower arranged atop the one beneath it with precision worthy of the Empress. Bella pauses as she pushes several Azura to either side of her, and sniffs again. Deeper. She can't find the acid tang that means it's really Mynx over there. Of course she can't. Of course it's not. Eyes that cold could only belong to Redana.

There's no warmth in Bella's eye, either. What idiot could make room for nostalgia in a moment like this? With every step she takes, the sea of sycophants parts in front of her. Where it won't, she sweeps it aside with rough shoves and a quiet hiss at any words of protest. Her dress ripples like a living thing atop her, and her body bounces alluringly underneath it. Every step that brings her closer draws more eyes. The sea parts more readily. The nerves chip away from her face like ice scraped off a window, until by the time Redana finally turns from her duties to see what the commotion is Bella is a wall of raw, frigid determination.

She reaches Redana after stepping over the shell of a battlecrab that either couldn't or didn't want to take the hint of the moment. Not a word passes her lips. What would be the point? Threats, promises, and questions always fell on deaf ears. Now there's no more time; one of them is a prisoner, or the other is a corpse. These are simply the moments where they watch each other to see which one of them is which. Bella's tail curls tightly behind her back, and unfolds again with an irritated flick.

The design of Beautiful's dress does not allow for a curtsey; it's too tight, without enough trains to gather even if it physically allowed for the particular form of submission a maid is meant to owe a princess. There's a spark of something like defiance in her eye, and though she doesn't smile for a moment she even seems amused. She dips into a slight bow, the barest minimum of ballroom etiquette, and sweeps her arm across her chest while her jewel-woven hair swings behind her with a dozen chimes.

She rises again, and stretches to her full height. She sniffs again. Nothing is different, except that she has a plan to follow. And if something as simple as punching Redana in the stomach and dragging her unconscious body back to the Anemoi was meant to work, those would be her orders. She snorts.

Bella turns her body slightly, offering herself to Redana in profile. She reaches out with her right arm, palm turned up toward the ceiling, and waits with the distance of a single gesture between them. The stillness of her body hides the hammering of her heart. Her skin is crawling with secret terrors: something is wrong here. Something is horribly wrong.

She tilts her head in question. Well, Princess? Will you dance?
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