Phoe

Return to Thellamie

"That's a, a, a, a, a, a, a -- do not call me 'Ecky' -- a, a, misconception. Stereotype. Rumor. Unsubstantiated. A gross - apologies, no, I am speaking to something else entirely, the food is delicious - exaggeration. Oversimplification. To refer to the Great Game as any form of dating is. Ah. Ah."

"In the second place this assessment utterly fails to account for the fact that she, that Timtam is -- stop line of explanation. Details of Aurora examination are still not the purview of civilians, do not reveal secret information. It is of no concern of Mayzie's whom among us has gone renegade. Apologies, but no. I refuse to consider the possibility that this is strictly kink. You may be a genius but she is a mastermind and she has already com, com, compromised you."

"...Fish course astonishing. More meals should be prepared with this much care. The design intent to leave the plate so spotless actually loops back around to heighten the flavor of the bite. There is an inherent lack of mystery in such controlled narration but the specificity! I could not prepare a meal such as this. I am, mmmmmmmmmm, impressed. Almost against my will I am forced to conclude the skill involved justifies the barrier to experience it."

"...I lack the information to determine how she has compromised you. But she has. Do not hide your, your, your, ah, um, uh, your face. You are, you are, you are! You very clearly are! That is fine. I permit it. Since it is you... I permit it. We will attend the fullness of this meal and then you will -hic!- accompany me to my quarters. I require. I need. Require. My notebook. Were you bought off? How much money did it take? Did she, did Timtam apply her feminine wiles upon you? She did that thing with her hair, didn't she? I will kill her when we meet."

"...Arrest. I will force first confession and then apology from her lips. Then I will return both of these things to you as recompense. That is what I meant to say. I am. No, I am not. But I do not... imbibe. That is. My own meals have a marked preference for coffee or oh! Is that a cup of teA? Astonishing. Incredible. I had not even thought to word the wish, my deepest compliments."

"Returning to the mat, matter at hand. Nnnf. I am hot. I am -hic, hic, HIC!- overheating. When we. Retire? Return. Resume, resume the interview in earnest. I will need to, ah, need... please do not assume lecherous intent. I do not wish to harm our friendship any further than I already have."

"You... understand I could not stay. Don't you? It was not that, I do not mean to say, I did not hear the Aurora calling to me. I could not hear the voices of the sleeping dragons until I had already located the Manor. I did not choose to leave. Vespergift... threw me out. There was no, no time to, I did not! It was not my place to ask if... you were, so clearly..."

"Countertop is pleasantly cool against my sweat slicked forehead. The sake is of unimpeachable quality but at the ninth cup I question its implementation. Was it the hidden puzzle of the narration? I missed the clue entirely. I am going to have you tell me everything she told you. Not now. In my room. You will tell me everything. As you are an. An. An, enemy. Enemy agent. I will require. Need. Have to write. Your testimoney in Purple. I wish it were not necessary. But it is. I wish to hear her words. I would hear. Um. Details. Of... you said, uh, Khaganate treasure? Where would she have? No. I must not chase these disorganized thoughts."

"I am. Adrift. The sea is hazy and the waves are deeply uncertain stepping stones. My fear in this moment is that I lack the skill to navigate the maze I now find myself trapped in. Two days to come out ahead of the trap being set. I am. As my once best friend and childhood crush reminded me, currently a bounty-level person of interest to the Civils. My deepest fear is that the only certain path available to me. Leads me. Leads me to. The inevi, um, the um. Inevitable betrayal. Of. All that I... my. Ideals. And..."

"Have I? Been speaking? You appear concerned. I am fine. I am strong, stronger than this. Was I really? The... entire time?"

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

"I dunno what cruci-whatsit is." said Kat, who was brave enough to admit it.

"Is this like that time Yue tried to bring back fashion capes? 'Cause that didn't work! She just saw it in a manga and started picturing it on Hyra, but that's-- oh right, that's Yue's wolfgirl girlfriend, you haven't met, but yeah stuff that looks good on Hyra is a lot different from worldwide fashion trends and basically I'm saying you should probably think this through? 'Cause it makes you sound like you've got a lot to prove even though you said you didn't."

Ok, not protecting the dragon. That was not the hint! The dragon does not need protecting! The dragon has some kinda scary magic whatsit going on that Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits is not remotely qualified to understand but it makes her see Princess Jessic in a whole new light and oh my goshies did Cy really not think about who she was stealing from that one time at all?!?!

Right no ok, focus! Focus focus focus! Everybody's doing big hero stuff and she's not going to fall behind! There's something she's supposed to be doing, something only she can, and Miss Saber saw it but couldn't say it out loud in front of the scary old lady on an apocalypse bender so she needed to figure it out before it was too late. She didn't have a sword (...anymore) and she didn't know monk kung fu and Berserker already did the chair thing so it didn't seem like she was gonna save the day with violence. What was it, then?

"I mean, you really oughtta listen to me on this. Miss Sa, erm, Miss Avenger said herself that I'm a wise sage fox, and I got my degree in Cutie Law fair and square so I really know a thing or two about not embarrassin' myself. Yourself. Anyway there's only one kind of Rome I've ever heard of and I really don't think pizza with french fries on it is worth all the violence, do you?"

Mhm, that's right! We're stalling. Because any second now, Ivar is going to strike and put the friendship sword through this woman that she clearly knows from somewhere and that'll drain the tension out of the air for good and for all, and that's probably the job she needs to do! Yup. Any second now. The Lancer lady is already up to '8', which is some other number away from 10, so there's still time. Uhuh. All she needs to do is...

She's in the middle of congratulating herself on her insight when an axe slides loudly across the floor and stops at her feet. The little spark of bravery fluttering inside her chest catches again and she bends to pick it up before she can tell herself she doesn't want it. Why an axe, though? Axes weren't good for much, not like swords. You couldn't swing 'em like this and like this and like this, finishing like that. There weren't Axe Katas the way there were Gun Katas, even. And an axe could never cut down a helicopter, unless it was very super big (or the helicopter very super small, one supposes), so what good did it do?

"It's not too late." she says, meaning every word in her sweet little heart.

Her eyes fall on the phone prisons that have Cy and Angelesia trapped. She looks at the axe in her hand, and grips it tight. One more time, she leaps into action. She whispers a little prayer to herself, that form doesn't matter for this kind of thing. And a second prayer, that neither of these two get mad at her for breaking their phones. But it's for their own good. At a time like this, everyone needs to be present in the moment, y'know?

She brings the weapon down. It's the first step to being a hero. Probably. Could she get another hint?

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

It's really not fair. Like, how brave is brave enough? What good does it do finding a momentary spark when life just asks you to stoke it again and again and again and again? Ok, sure. Maybe not enough gets asked of a house fox on a daily or even a weekly basis. So realizing the foxgirl games were getting out of hand and that she'd need to be the one to save the world? That's fair. And it's fair to make her recruit her own party to do it, too. Even if that party turned out to be super scary and everyone hated everyone else. That's fine, that's fine. I dunno if there's such a thing as responsibility debt or anything but if there is that's Kat paying it.

But like, c'mon? She had to be the one to stand up to Cy. She had to stand up to Actia. She had to stop herself from calling for help from anyone she knew on an almost hourly basis. She had to march up to a rampaging mecha controlled by a death-tainted raider warlord and stab her in the ribs with the Friendship Poker. She had to wrangle the lot of her ragtag bunch into something halfway resemblin' a decent dinner (which she had to cook!) and at no point during any of this did she get to really sit down and rest. This was not the kind of adventure she'd seen once before from inside a messenger bag. But after everything, what was her reward?

Berserker, who she had to wrangle constantly to keep from destroying and/or conquering everything she saw, was frozen stiff at the sight of this new woman. Avenger, who not two days ago was closer than anyone ought to be to slaughtering the planet in the name of revenge on a single person, looked at her opponent and simply stuck her obnoxious glowing sword in the ground. Which, I dunno if you knew this? Is not a thing most fighters do when they're trying to win a duel?

She'd done the thing. She'd screwed up her courage and kicked at the phone monster and did the every day magic of a tiny impossible miracle and it saved her life. So. Why was there another non-optional superboss to begin with? And why the h*ck was it on her to deal with it? She didn't know this woman! She didn't know what a 'Rome' was or why anyone would care! Could you eat it? Could you hug it? No? Then what the fluff?! What the actual fluff? Could she really work herself up to get shouty again when she didn't know if that'd work to begin with? And, like, she'd been trainin' with Berserker for a little while but she was still less than half the demon swordswoman Yue (ehehe!) had been at the end of her first adventure. And as a little reminder, that demon swordswoman lost every fight she got in (...ehe. Heh. Ah)!

"Julia the Philosopher?" Avenger's creepy ghost voice startled Kat out of her reverie/tantrum, "I don't suppose you bothered to get any better at arguing before you gave yourself that title. Tell me, is that spear a blessing from your gods? Or is it just another stick you plucked out of the mud?"

She stood there with her back straight and her feet planted firmly underneath her. She had no weapons in her hands because plainly she had no means of fighting back, but here was a warrior meeting not just the threat of annihilation but complete and total erasure from everything she'd ever held dear. Never mind her future, to have her past stolen from her as well? Kat couldn't even imagine. But there was Ivar. 'The Boneless' she'd called herself. And even so she stood prouder and braver than any role model Kat could have hoped to have right then.

In fact she was just opening her mouth to do a bit of barking of her own when she felt one of those long, rough fingers press down against her lips. She yelped, when she'd meant to scream. To speechify, even. She glared up (and up, and up) at Avenger, who quietly shook her head. With a flick of her hollow golden eyes she indicated that dragon still sputtering in the corner about the destruction of her tablet. Opalis? That was her name, yeah.

Katherine shuffled cautiously and heroically backwards. Ok, sure. That sounded easier than fighting another hopped-up-on-superpowers-bad-vibes-old-lady-ghost. She was so relieved she didn't even notice her sword was missing yet. Protect the dragon, sure sure! Or... wait. Was that not right? Was Avenger trying to tell her something else?

"Listen to me, Lancer. Give up on this at once. You are only going to be embarrassed by how it ends if you continue. I admit, no Servant manifested here can contest you. But these Masters are surprising. And this is their war, too."

Breathless Dead

"Oh, you do remember. I can see it aaaaaallll over your face, hmhmhm~"

Bella presses her fingers under Mynx's chin. With the palm, she pushes upwards. Her other hand descends, claws outstretched, until the clothing fit only for the Princess Redana gives up the game at last and goes flumphing to the floor in a puddle all around her. A snap of her fingers, and the ropes are around those delicate, pale wrists. Tugging them above her head, lifting her to her feet. Forcing her chest up and out, with nothing to do but watching all these eyes watch her back.

"You told me you had so many ideas, back then. For ways that I could punish you after you humiliated me the way you did. But then? You stupid, worthless slut, you never. Said. A. Thing."

Bella descends on the dress with the fury of a lightning bolt. Her claws carve it to tatters in the space of this single, vicious strike. She snatches up a tuft of it and folds it into a perfect square, murder written in her eyes the entire time. She rises to her feet. Tall and imperious, something much larger and more dangerous than a mere Praetor. Her hand once again clenches around Mynx's jaw, and she squeezes to the edge of pain. Just enough to let her mind take over and imagine more. Just enough to pry her mouth open, so she can pack it full of that stupid, shredded dress and watch the drool start forming at the corner of her lips.

SMACK! The back of her hand crashes across Mynx's cheek. SMACK! The palm hits the other side on the return. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! Hard enough to color that perfect face. Hard enough to draw out tears, to make shoulders slump against ropes now pinned against the ceiling.... and hard enough to make those soft and slender thighs press tight against each other and those delicate toes curl at the ends of their feet.

"You're going to need to endure this." SMACK! "I'm going to have to be very mean to you." SMACK, SMACK! "Things have never been more dangerous than they are right now, and your useless ass is a long walk away from where I need it. Just know this: it's my turn to drive this time. It's your mess that needs cleaning. And I. Will have you. Pay me back. For every. Little. Mistake. And prank. You have. Ever. Pulled."

But the blows stop there. Bella takes a deep breath, and she sighs. It feels so strange, using memories as a weapon like this. But in the end there just wasn't anybody in the entire galaxy who knew the Toxicrene Adept, Mynx, as well as she did. There wasn't anybody else who could do this job. At first it seemed only right to let her live out this fantasy, out of guilt or maybe just a selfish desire to have there be some kind of Redana on this ship. Before she knew better. But if they were Human there were standards to uphold. If the pair of them and everybody like them were all Human, then it wasn't all right for them to be anybody but themselves.

Bella slides behind Mynx and drapes her considerable weight against her prisoner. Her body presses close, and the backs of her fingers slide up and down the length of Mynx's butt, waist, ribs, shoulders, and neck; pressing firm on all the little spots where Mynx should be meaningfully different than Redana, and waiting to see if she yields to that reality. She plants a kiss on each reddened cheek, soft and wet to soothe the pain, and plucks the sodden packing from that constantly moaning mouth.

"But none of this means we can't have some fun, does it. How about we play Twenty Poisons, until I figure out the best way to show you your place? Here's a good first one: which of us are you hoping is going to be the one to fuck you, when we're through? My wife?"

She pushes Mynx's head up and over to look straight at Ember, then drags her tongue across Mynx's ear.

"Or me~? Oh! Don't tell me! Maybe you're thinking you'd like to take us both at once <3"

Return to Thellamie

Lower spoon into bowl, lift. Take in aroma of broth while manipulating crab with chopsticks. Place on top of broth in spoon, replication of bowl in miniature. Deep breath, insert spoon into mouth. Tilt head to allow for flavors to pass over more of tongue. Swallow.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Hesitation. Glance over, fingers splayed across napkin. No writing implement, notebook still in room. Not worth risk. Smooth napkin with fingertips, another deep breath. Lift bowl and sip at broth directly.

Empty bowl, set down. Lift sake cup, swirl. Cautious sniff. Slowly drain cup, allow tasting notes to compliment flavors of soup still lingering, gently wash palate for oncoming course.

Frown. Turn, look at Mayzie. Frown again.

"...Defend your thesis, if you please."

Silence. Snort of laughter? Why laughter? Confusion playing on face evident; subject's laughter intensifying.

"No really. I require an explanation. I have already explained to you, I am hunting her. The details of my investigation are beyond the purview of this conversation but nevertheless it is a common fact that she is a criminal. I--"

Brief pause, blink. Stare at third sake cup, slow sigh. Alcohol showing signs of taking effect. Nevertheless unacceptable to slow down pace of drinking. Intended part of meal, all plates (and bowls) to this point finish at deeply pleasing levels of cleanliness. Flavors all clear and complimentary. Storytelling as method of cooking: disrespectful of chef to not allow drink to take its course.

...Hiccup. Cover mouth. Clear throat.

"--have even been implicated via the mechanism of her schemes as some sort of wanted criminal myself. Her behavior across the Festival of Light up to and including this invitation is consistent with an attempt to ensnare me in some sort of further trap. I accepted fully anticipating this. It is my intention to discover her methodology. This is the farthest thing from a--"

Halt. Avoid cutting off an avenue of thought, regardless of how unlikely. Recheck menu, find place in meal. Six courses remain. Blink. Blink again. I'm. Sorry? Re-recheck menu. Find place in meal. Use index finger to trace to avoid confusion. Six courses remain. Ah. Nevertheless. On your honor as a maid-knight: persevere.

"...My humblest apologies. Let us proceed from the assumption that I am a fool. What evidence have you ascertained that this is an attempt at dating?"

All focus here, on this moment. On this person. Do not allow thoughts of Timtam to float upward. This will complicate the investigation.

Hiccup. Turn eyes down, feel heat rising in cheeks.

[Figure Out a Person: 3 + 1 + 1 = 5]

Breathless Dead

Bella's hand descends on Ember's head. She pushes her fingers through those luxurious tangles of hair to rub at the spots behind her ears, half in praise and half in contemplation. This is a moment where she would like to close her eyes and breathe the moment in. She does not dare. The smirk that plays across her face is so calculated that it might as well have been a part of one of Vesper's plans. Her spine is locked, her ears perked to maximum alert. When her tail twitches it does not curve so that the effect is a whiplike thrashing that instantly cancels out into absolute stillness, instead of the natural and happy sort of twitching Ember is so generously demonstrating.

"That's excellent work, Ember. Good girl."

The petting is an expected reward, but it is also an essential act of survival for the woman who should be in control here. Mynx was even more sensitive to biochemical reactions than Bella, and a single whiff of anything that could be interpreted as guilt or nervousness would be the end of everything she needed to accomplish. But as long as her hand stayed on Ember, stayed on Redana, as long as she could smell those little wisps of perfume and pleasure, her breathing stayed her own. A tale as old as time, really.

...And that was the fucking problem. Talking to Omn, talking to the Hermetic, talking to her fill of blustering Azura tyrant windbags, even just reading the store of literature she'd managed to pilfer across the trip, everything on the topic amounted to the same basic bullshit. Servitors as a concept were built around hard coded behaviors that everyone assumed just overrode the rational thought she knew they were capable of. There was a time when she wouldn't have questioned the wisdom, but since crossing the Lethe she'd seen too much, done too much, said too much for it not to start boiling her blood. Her fingers clench and Ember yips in surprise as claws suddenly dig into her scalp. Bella hastily splays her fingers and strokes with the back of her hand until calm rules the pair of them again. Shit.

What did she have for proof? Nightmare chimera of a Servitor that she was, Bella was an unholy combination of a traditional maid and a bloodthirsty warrior made ill by the scents of battle. But even though she still had zero leads on the sort of species she was made from the one thing she was certain of is that she'd been built to be a follower. Take instructions. Accept orders. Bend herself into shape to fit the needs of the person with the plan. She'd been lifted to the status of Praetor despite being a failed Imperial Maid because it pointed a ship in the right direction for just long enough to unfuck a problem that Nero was having. The awkwardness she felt about it all was only matched by the sheer rush of power that came from doing it well.

But. If that had been programmed, what the fuck? She was built for three distinct functions in an empire when most everyone she met seemed built for less than half? With that absurd lack of specialty she might as well... might as well just be... she could... call herself...

Her hand falls to her side.

Human.

Bella pulls her hand up again, twisting her fingers upward toward her face in a way that emphasizes her claws. Her smirk mutates into a horrible, toothy grin that belongs on a monster more than anything else. She steps forward, and her body flows like liquid. The swing of her hips is perfect, the bend of her waist is mesmerizing, the motion of her leg is smoother than silk. Her hand flips through her own hair with the careless of a cat, and when she feels every feather soft strand brush against her skin it tickles the pleasure centers of her brain almost as much as holding Ember had.

These are not the answers to her questions. Was there any hope at all of calling her sister home from her soft and pretty dream? Who the fuck knew? Maybe it was hubris to trust in a hope placed on such a high pedestal. Well if it was, the moonlight washing over everything was already the perfect cure to burn herself and all her madness away.

"Well now Princess," she purrs, "How many times does this make? Oh, don't get up on my account! You never were one to pay attention during etiquette lessons~"

She stoops down on one knee and grabs Mynx from under her chin. When she leans forward, her spine curls like a bow and the buttons on her shirt strain against her breasts as they are pushed forward. After a heroic several seconds, the top one bursts free and strikes the 'Princess' on the forehead. Bella's grin widens as her face falls into shadow. The gleam of her teeth and the twin colored lights of her eyes are the only points to focus on in the void covering her features.

"Oho, why that face? You had to know this was coming. Or maybe you tried to forget? No matter how far you run, even across the Lethe, you will never be safe from me."

A claw descends with agonizing slowness, resting against the fabrics of Redana's glorious but impractical dress. When it begins to slice through the material at the chest, it draws a chorus of howls from Ceronian warriors across the room.

"This is just like on the Eater of Worlds, isn't it? I've been waiting so long to pay you back. You remember what you said back then, right? Or do I need to peel you out of this ridiculous clown suit to shake it loose?"

The claw descends lower, the dress sighs. She is watching, Mynx. Watching you. What will you do now?

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

As a rule, Kat was never quick about answering her phone. Don't get the wrong idea! It doesn't have anything to do with danger sense, or some kinda wisdom thing, or a mistrust of phones or anything like that. She loves her phone! The super cool wolf moon part's a little, uh, let's just say... she loves who that represents? That feels safe. Point is, if you'd taken her to the phone... store? And let her trade for one all by herself she'd have picked something a little bit more glittery and soft, like the sweet little kitten bapping at a crescent moon charm that dangles from the top of it when she pulls it out of her bag. But this is hers and she's proud of it and she would never ever ever do a bad girl thing like not answer the phone when it rings.

But she always, always let's it ring. Meaning she lets it play. When Kat got this phone she spent hours 'n hours n' hours picking out the perfect little jingle so she'd always know when it was her phone that was making noises and didn't get excited over nothing. Which worked a treat, except she picked such a good one that she listens to pretty much the whole thing out of habit and only ever picks up at the literal last second. Which is important to remember when you're callin' her 'cause it's easy to give up too early if you think she's just busy and don't wanna go to voice mail, but no, she's just jammin'.

Today? That saved her life. Because while Cyanis and Angelesia were busy screaming at the phone-monsters trying to eat them, Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits was bopping her head up and down and listening to her favorite tune. And that gave her a crucial bit of time to hear screaming and look up to see what the heck was happening. Which meant that when she started screaming too, it wasn't because tentacles were trying to drag her into the phone-o-verse or whatever it is that technomancy calls it. I should ask Xiu.

Still, getting an extra thirty seconds of freedom wasn't the same thing as coming up with a genius plan to save anybody, or even herself, even if speedrunning taught her that amount of time was basically an eternity. It turns out that in situations you haven't practiced, it really super duper isn't. She looked around in a panic, trying to find an out. Who could she count on? Berserker was frothing mad but was so busy defending herself she couldn't even get a proper wall started, let alone a fortress that could protect anyone extra. Cy was clinging to the table so tight her nails were dragging grooves across its surface, and the most you could say about Angelesia in comparison was that her nails weren't long enough to do the same.

Normally she'd look to Actia as the oldest fox, but someone had slipped her an extra dose of crazy powder in her coffee this morning or something, because goodness goshies what was she thinking?! If that was a genius plan to save everyone, Katherine didn't understand it well enough to trust in it. Diaofei was a monk, which put Kat on edge to begin with, but even if desperate times called for desperate situations this particular monk was frozen in shock and also chained to a crazy-powedered foxgirl. That's no good!

Wait. Oh no. Oh nyo. She was still holding her phone. Clutching it tight, even! Was it going to do the scary thing to her too? It rang when everyone else's did so you'd have to figure but sure Hyra of all people would be cool enough to find the only not cursed phone in the world? If it was for a birthday present? Right??? But her tails were bushing, and they didn't do that if she felt safe.

No girl, you've gotta throw it! Even if it's the most precious thing you own, it's gonna eat you! Why hasn't it done it yet? Oh, oh, oh goshies, what was she supposed to-- nyeh!!!

It left her hand at the very last second of her ring. She threw it as hard as she could, but too little too late. Black as night and neon green, the phone spiraled in the air before sprouting tendrils of its own that managed to lasso her delicate and desperately scrambling wrist. Not enough to hold her tight, but its pull was stronger than she was. All she had was her legs. She used them.

This is the kind of moment they made security blankets for. She wished she was curled up safe in hers at home, with the fireplace crackling and a tea kettle boiling over for her to whine at until Yue turned it into hot delicious leaf juice with even more delicious leaf-juice cookies to go with it. Not for the last time! But Katherine was a brave girl, whatever her trembling knees would want you to believe: when she runs, it's forward, not away. It puts a bit of slack in the restraints this curse's tryin' to put on her. It expected her to run. It expects everyone to run, y'know?

See, people never tell you this, but when it comes to a duel it's really little things that make up the difference between victory and defeat. You'd like to imagine that having big fancy finishers or secret swords or whatever'd be really super duper mega important, and I ain't sayin' it's not or anything but none of that makes a lick of difference next to just having enough courage in your heart to believe in what it is you're doing.

Does that make sense? It means that, Katherine could've run screaming like everyone else or froze up and nobody'd blame her. She could have screamed for help and decided before she tried anything that she needed saving, and understandable as that mighta been it'd'a been the end. Maybe for everybody. There's no time but what you buy in a fight, is the thing. But her special song's a thing for magical girls and heroes, and how could she stand to look at herself in the mirror if she didn't try to live up to that? Her, tryin' to save the world and everything. So when she leaps into the air and sends a kick at her still transforming phone, her form's lousy as anything and it doesn't matter at all. It's the one thing she coulda done that the other side wasn't expecting either. It buys her time, time that was already bought and paid for by someone else who'd been expecting to use it for themselves.

She doesn't even get to say the line about asking someone to take care of the landing. Before she can fall or gracelessly tumble face first into a wall, or just plain get eaten anyway because let's face it determination or no this little sweetie weighs about the same as a loaf of bread, something catches her. Something that could not have crossed the distance with all this interference, if she'd gone the other way. A brilliant, shining laser sword slices through the tentacles grabbing at her before it cracks her beautiful Cyber Wolf Moon phone in half.

"Our plan managed to fall apart before we finished making it," muttered Ivar, "I am impressed."

Return to Thellamie

"Milady."

There are no stories of the past worth considering in this moment. There is no novel assessment to be made about the situation. There would be little point and zero value to either. Even the basic assessment of the likelihood that Mayzie had already been weaponized against her, or whether she'd recognized Eclair with the same speed as vice versa (not a ridiculous question: Eclair was a sunny blonde in her youth. still, irrelevant).

Opportunity. This is the first real opportunity to gain substantial knowledge since she'd come to Vespergift. And it would walk away from her in the next thirty-five seconds if she let it. That demands a straightforward approach. Call it earnestness to be generous. Call it desperation to be not.

She lifts out of the water. Sparkling droplets caress her bare body like a robe, dripping off of her even as new ones run down from her hair and a dozen little alcoves in her curves. She bows, to the delighted squeal of an attendant now boiling the pool with her own flustered bemusement. She pays all of it no mind.

"Have I offered you offense? Then I must make amends."

Her tail swats at the surface of the pool, spraying water in an arc that splashes down like rainfall. As it catches the light streaming in from the stained glass windows above, the droplets briefly flash in color: a dusty rose and a sigh of forget-me-not. For one instant, Eclair sparkles. Someone sighs, and touches a hand to her cheek.

"Come and share a meal with me, if you please. My treat." she steps forward and reaches out her hand, though stops short of arresting the cart, "Before you say no, consider this: it comes with a free opportunity to prove you are smarter than me. To my face. Has it been so long you can't see the appeal?"

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

There was something about the energy of this moment, soup bowls all cleaned up and the whole... uh... 'team' gathered around a mostly still intact table, that made Kat feel like everybody ought to be wearing a uniform.

What kind of uniform? No idea! An old fashioned school uniform from one of the animes, something in a deep, darling blue perhaps? A crisp black number with shiny brass buttons, fancy looking medals pinned to the chest, and an awesome looking hat? Some kind of sports jersey with those really neat shin guard dealies and spiky shoes? Maybe just a bunch of leather jackets with a matching team logo on the back? Iono! Sky's the limit I guess? Point is, she just felt like they oughta have 'em.

But, bein' honest I don't know where they'da found that stuff on such short notice to begin with and even if they had it's difficult to imagine too many on the team woulda been all that enthusiastic about the prospect at all. It's sorta like, can you even picture Ivar in a skirt? I mean yes, you can, but it'd be a daring leather number with studs and belts and whatever else like you'd find on a warrior. I'm talkin' pleats here. Like I'm not saying she'd look bad but... you don't think she'd hate it? You don't?! Really?

Huh.

Any-- and the socks, too? All the way up to her knees? And those little shoes, I can't remember what they're called, but you know the ones I'm talking about. You really think the Avenger would be fine with. I! Wow. I mean I guess never judge a book by its cover right? Can't say I'm not surprised but that really says more about me huh?

Well in any, no I mean. Hold up. The little top, too? That demure little button up shirt with the dainty cuffs? You think they could even pattern that to fit on a body like hers? Like I'm not trying to make her feel bad, it's just I mean come on right? You think her legs are long and you're right but that torso is. Mmf. Goshies. I feel like-- no yeah? Yeah no? No yeah yeah no yeah? With the ribbon sailor scarf whatsit on her shoulders and everything?

No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. No. No! I just don't see it. I really, really don't. Look, I-- hey I am not trying to body shame! I'm saying it's a crime to cover her up like that when she could be dazzling the world in a sleek black dress. Something open chested, like, with super high thigh slits, and a ton of gold jewelry draping over everything so she looks like a queen on her way to the Kikil Land Gala. Put her back in that braid? Awoo. But no. No, like, she looks crazy young and everything but I don't see high school being her

Huh? Trousers? No I guess but isn't that ceding the point? What the heck does 'Sabers are meant to be cross-dressing beauties' mean? I really need you to........

***

"The problem," said Ivar, "Is that I cannot account for any of the remaining Servants. It limits the scope of our plans."

Something about her magic seemed reduced. She no longer exuded evil energy or withered the ground just by standing on it, and her voice sounded normal again. A little softer and more airy than when she'd been able to call herself Saber, but still singular and distinctly human. Her wounds were still stitching themselves shut, but they did so with agonizing slowness. Especially compared with the invincible nightmare warrior that had attacked everyone not half a day prior.

A very frazzled looking Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits looked up (and up, and up) at her. Nothing about this strategy meeting had gone at all according to the picture in her head, and she lacked for both tact and guile enough to keep that from showing on her face and in her eyes and across her sad, drooping ears.

"I, I mean. But if we could make even one of them our friends then wouldn't it not matter? We already have Berserker and she's so strong,"

"To what degree are you able to control her in such tight formations?"

"A-and you're really strong too, and you've done all this war stuff like a million times already,"

"I do not know how I appear to you, child. But it is wiser not to count me among your battle assets."

"So if we just, huh??" said Kat, with all the emotional intensity of a girl who could not under any circumstances juggle any more bad news.

"My spirit core is barely holding together. If it comes to a fight I will win it for you but the longer we can disguise our approach the greater our chances will be."

Kat moaned. Cyanis glanced over from over top her sunglasses, but other than pausing from her very important luxury diamond nail filing she just sniffed derisively and ignored what was happening. Diaofei stared at what should have been her own loyal Servant with a look on her face that seemed half about to speak up. But she offered nothing, and turned her head down to her meditations. Her chains rattled where they pulled against Actia's.

It was Angelesia who looked the most worried, in spite of everything she'd been through.

"Your spirit core?" she asked, "Are you trying to say you're dying?"

"I am already dead."

"Lancer already explained that part to me, I meant --"

"Consider me as a weapon. A bow, specifically. I may be used to fire three arrows at the most. After that I will shatter, and not even my hatred or my promises will keep me on this earth for very long."

"Then we just need to contact Lancer! If we have her do your fighting for you, we'll manage. Plus tactics are her specialty! She'll know exactly what we need to do, even better than you!"

She grinned for long enough to realize that sounded like an insult, and then became very interested in her arm. Ivar glared at her.

"Lancer's agenda is the Sunshard, and her loyalty is to Rome. She will not join us, and I would not trust her if she did."

"B-but if I just explain it's being used to do something evil she'll listen to me, won't she? I'm her M-m, I mean! She's my Servant!"

"Girls?" squeaked Kat.

"You are also loyal to Rome."

"Wh-what does that?" Angelesia looked horrified, "But we have an alliance!"

"Girls??" Kat worried at her tails.

"You are also loyal to Rome. I do not trust you either."

"Girls!" screamed Kat, stomping her foot on the floor.

All heads turned to look at her. She quivered, but cleared her throat heroically.

"Lets, uh, focus on the important stuff ok? We're together for right now and that's what matters. Miss Saber you say you can't fight more than three times, right? But actually I don't think we should fight at all anymore if we can help it. I've just, uh, been thinkin' about it and... it's you Servants that are s'posed to power the ritual, right? So if any more of you die..."

She looked all around the table for someone who could back her up. Instinctively her eyes fell on Actia, who had the most tails of anybody here and also understood what she was trying to do better than Kat had ever managed, for all the effort she'd bent toward the topic. The four-tail merely leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

But her lips turned up in a queer little smile.

"Oh whatever let's just steal it," said Cyanis, "If we heist the heist back, that's like a triple heist or something. And it'll be easy since we don't even need to take it from Qiu this time."

"I have tolerated quite a lot so far," said Diaofei despite having done nothing of the sort, "But I will not sit and watch a pack of foxes seize a sunshard! As if you could be trusted with such a thing! This entire miserable ritual is proof enough of that!"

"Fluffy earist." sneered Cyanis.

"I... beg your pardon?"

"I dunno Cy, I think giving it back to Princess Qiu is our only hope."

"WHAT?!"

"Look! We are in so much trouble already! Even if the world doesn't blow up, and it's gonna, nobody's getting any more tails out of this. Actia tricked us. All we can do is put everything back the way we found it and say we're really, reaaaaally sorry and then maybe we get to live the rest of our lives somewhere not named Cutie Fox Island."

"You traitor! You coward! I can't believe you! After everything I've done for you!!"

"I am not fooled for a moment by either of you. There is not a fox alive who understands emotions. This is a ploy to enter the good graces of myself and the innocent, and it has failed. How convenient to offer promises and play up the nobility of your 'sacrifice' when none of us even know where the sunshard is located."

Actia stirred. Even this slight motion drew a pained wince out of her, though when it passed she was the picture of placid calmness that should have put Diaofei to shame just as much as it managed to frustrate Avenger.

"I am surprised at you, Diaofei. You are every bit as cruel as you have accused me of being. Did our time together mean nothing to you?"

The monk was silent. Bound as she was there was no physical remonstrance available to her, and any lecture she might have been on the verge of offering was cut off by Actia's apparently having fallen back asleep. It pulled her short, and with nothing else left to her she was forced to think.

Several minutes later, her eyes opened wide.

"No. She can't have meant..."

***

Right so without at LEAST a big strong pair of boots you agree we're not halfway to showing off how hot she is! Gosh! I don't understand why this was so hard. Now where was... oh. Oh no. You can't mean I missed it? I did? Oh shoot, I did!

Ah darn it all come on I was looking forward to this! What am I supposed to narrate now? It's my turn, darn it!! Come on just give me a better chance, I won't mess around next time! Please?

Return to Thellamie

Chrysanthemum Information Gathering: Day 1

Consequence of prior sequence chain, unable to determine reaction of Khaganate subordinate
Can only note failure to respond to taunt with physical assault. Verbal response likewise inaudible.
Applause for her discretion.

Dinner, fish. Bed of rice with side of wilted spinach and fried potato. Paired with bottle of red spiced wine, Aestivali origin, estimated age of vintage 33 years. Reasonable selection, slight clash with main protein but bright and pleasant against the potatoes in particular.
Food is competently prepared, adequately seasoned. Fish described as flaky, rice moist without being wet. Spinach existed. Potatoes serve as textural contrast, overall puzzle of meal dissatisfactory. Tested for traces of poison, none discovered. Aftereffects not present, alcohol content of wine not powerful enough to impair motor functions.

Swept room after. Metaphorical sense, followed by literal. Passable grade, minimal extra dust discovered. Size in excess of personal chambers in Manor, presence of private bath. Will eschew amenities for now, greater concern for presence of traps or monitoring spells/creatures. Closet contains suspicious loose panel under blossom painting, unclear if maintenance issue. Staff appear confused when questioned. No other signs of concerning activity detected in primary inspections.

Interviews turning up little. No admission of knowledge about Sister Tammithyn or sightings of anyone matching target's description. Likewise no admissions of sighting or even more than vague rumormongering regarding Eclair Espoir (assassin, distinct from self). Some talk about a 'golden faun', discarded for present as irrelevant information, note here for reference in event of necessity.

Presence of notebook seemingly responsible for lack of clear answers. Staff respond to presence with visible discomfort, frequent attempts at subject change and physical manipulation/flirtation. Will require informal interview structure, recollected notes to be written down at end of day.

Baths? Massage? Sauna? Escort and return to room with private dinner/drinks? Uncertain which activity will result in best answers. Likely combination, ending here in room. Will attempt.

Am in process of laying trap. Have shed uniform and armor, encased in Light magic for protection. Am leaving in room for duration of stay, currently wearing white silk robe. Amount of leg exposed at present feels peculiar. Light spell has been engineered with small hole to allow for manipulation.
Do not believe Target will attempt theft of belongings: if nature of current ploy relies on discoverability as Aurora, armor and dress must stay in my possession.
However, tampering is possible and represents a tipped hand. Anticipate attempt via intermediary, hence opening in spell. Amateur attempt will target this point as a 'weakness', allow for easy determination of vandalism in broadest case/easy recognition of actual tampering techniques used.
Imprint left in spell when touched will identify culprit. If no attempt occurs, thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn
Uncertain. Will require reassessment of facts of case.

Proceeding with plan. Anticipate need for six-to-seven attendants before sample size can be considered wide enough for full scale understanding. Preference is for girls with obvious-to-unusual interest in my person, additional check for shyness/nervousness around me specifically. Choosing public baths for first inspection. Will scale location up by exclusivity to give off impression of overindulgence.
This will assist with lowering warning level of location and convincing prior interview targets I am safe to open up around.
Target has left signs here. I remain certain of that.
Mission begins.