Phoe

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

"O-oh. Ah, dang I'm sorry."

Poor Kat's turned pinker than a rose finch in a sunrise over here. There's such a thing as being too ready to fight, y'know? It's been a very rough trip for a Fluffybiscuits, and after the last several days' worth of encounters especially it took real effort on her part not to lead with a shouting session again. Just, to have gone for the face like that when there hadn't even been a need? That was the bit that was making her feel real awful, bein' honest with you. At the beginning of the Sunshard War she wouldn't have even been able to think about popping off like that and all of a sudden it was her default. If she had time to sniffle right now she would. But war makes big girls of us all, eventually.

"I think," she says quietly and oh so very carefully, "It's been a frustrating time for a lot of uuUUUUssSSSss?!"

You could argue it was too late for the attempt at reconciliation, seeing as Rider had already jumped into the fray and that said fray involved a greater than typical number of hand grenades. But Kat knows better than that. Servants have super hearing, among their other, less zoo trivia worthy qualities. And being ghosts, feelings tended to reach them even more than words, so it's always worth taking the extra effort to understand them and be nice. Rider did say she'd fight with the power of friendship (and small arms) after all. The power of friendship (and small arms) doesn't deserve to get disrespected by not sayin' your piece.

But now? Now she was being dragged away to safety, the thing she wants most and least of all at the exact same time. And one more time, she needs to pluck up her courage and do the hard thing.

"Berserrrrkeeeeerrrrr!" she whines, flailing, "Put me down put me down put me down!"

"Be silent, Katherine. You are going to give us away."

"You too, Miss Saber?"

"Avenger."

"I'm sorry, I just don't think that name suits you!"

Ivar tilted her head as she ran/got dragged along away from the battlefield. The stare she hit Kat with would be best described as, mmmm... well I mean? Not like 'piercing', that's a whole other kind of look. I feel like a piercing stare is what you get when somebody sees through you? This is, like, stormy. You see, because it's intense and all but cloudy kinda too. She's looking right at Kat and not seeing at all. I guess it's hard when the story you're allowed to tell about yourself is defined by what you can be called, especially if nobody can seem to agree on what that is. As if to spare her from the effort, Kat shakes her head.

"Just, tell me why we're not fighting! I promise Rider she'd have help! Didn't you want her summoned?! I thought the whole point was get enough numbers to--"

"Katherine."

"E-er? Yes?" Kat's ears went flat against her head. She knew a Scolding Voice when she heard one.

"You have been around sword fights for much of your life, have you not? Perhaps war has changed too much since my time, but what would you say usually happens when a single fresh arm takes the field against a superior opponent?"

Ok so. I love Kat very much so if you don't mind I'm gonna step in for a second. It goes on like this for a while and I'd rather you not get the wrong impression so is it cool if I just summarize real quick? Ok great! So. Basically you already know this 'cause you're a smartie with an appreciation for the classics, but any hero worth half a dang is gonna save the day in precisely that situation. The entire point of Secret Swords is bein' able to take the impossible and turn it into the regular, if you catch my meanin'. I guess these particular fighters call it a 'Noble Phantasm' and not a Secret Sword but that's a mouthful so I'm not gonna bother.

But see, the thing here is that any villain worth her salt is also gonna have a Secret Sword or two of her own up her sleeve that'll flip the regular back around into the impossible. It doesn't really matter if you're talkin' about a duel or a big ol' battle between ten thousand thousand fighters all shouting under different colored flags, at the end of the day if your opponent's any good at all you don't walk away from the whole affair without takin' your share of lumps. Right? That just makes sense. Mmk, Miss Ivar's on her way to the killer line so I'm steppin' back again.

"Did you not tell me this was a battle to save the world?"

"I," stammered Kat, who at this point was super duper worried about losing the respect of a cool and also hot swordswoman, "Well I mean..."

"Ours is the weaker fighting force, Katherine. If you wish to help Rider--"

"I do! I had to cut open a dragon just to get her here!"

"Then we must accomplish our aims through cunning rather than strength."

"Y-you mean... you've got a foxgirl scheme?!"

Ivar turned her gaze toward Berserker's latest castle creation. Actually it's pretty amazing but you'd be wrong to call these things creations. They're not at all like what Sis, er actually in this context I'd better call her Princess Kikil but yeah they're nothing like the fortress mazes and puzzles that she builds whenever she lingers in an area. Those are brand new buildings, and even with a Sunshard movin' 'em along it takes a fair few weeks for the impressive ones to come together. Berserker? She's building memories. Every single castle she's dropped down, no matter how many of 'em have met unfortunate ends, have all been plucked from the real past in the real place she really lived. Probably. I mean it happened so long ago who's to say for sure.

The point is that they're English castles, and they pop up all lightning bunny quick like this because Berserker's mind and the land she's claiming already know what to do. Her legacy's a pretty incredible thing, if you ask me. Not the kind of thing that even a Roman Emperor ought to be trash talking, y'know? But Avenger... nah. But Saber's not really thinking about any of that. She's thinking about castle towns and what she used to find inside of them. And that's what pulls her face into that sharktoothed grin of hers.

"Let us be seen to retreat to safety. I will explain more inside."

Breathless Dead

It's all she can do to laugh. In spite of the danger. Because of the danger. Bella tilts her head back and guffaws in full sight of the goddess of the hunt. Her messy hair rolls and tumbles in dark waves across her neck, over her shoulders, and down her back as she rocks back and forth amid the barking of her own amusement. She laughs so hard it starts to burn her lungs and somehow that manages to make her laugh even harder, tail curling in pleasure up against the wall.

No, it was good to be alive. In that sense, even the exhaustion felt a strange kind of nice.

"My whole--" she says, but then stops herself.

The air is hot where it enters her nose. It stings inside her lungs when she holds it there. It leaks between her fangs as steam. She pulls a breath in again, carries it into the next moment, and then pushes it away with the next shape of the thought inside her head. On the third cycle she lets her eyes flutter shut, if only for a moment. Just a slow blink, and nothing more.

"...Fair enough."

She does not rise to her feet and try to bow. She does not drop to her knees and sink her forehead to the ground in prayer. Her body is still but for the now steadied rise and fall of her chest as she takes in more of that wonderful air. No sudden movements that could be taken as aggression. No fawning that could be construed as begging for any favors she is not owed and cannot earn. No showing of her claws or tensing of her muscles that might imply an attempt at defense. Under the direct gaze of the greatest hunter in the universe Bella could not be predator or prey, or even subject or priestess. Right now she had someone who could watch her back and did not need to be watched in turn. Or she was a single incorrect remark away from traveling back through the Lethe to meet Hades again. Either way it was out of her hands.

There's simply nothing to do besides relax. The tranquility of that thought bleeds into her shoulders and the knot at the base of her neck finally slips free. While her muscles fall slack her skin hisses in protest at the sudden change in shape and position of her wounds. Once again she blinks.

"I've been, mmn. Watching you for a very long time. I could never find you, but I knew where to look. You talked to Mynx all the time. Belja-- for fuck's sake Bella -- Gemini always went on and on about how she was your special girl. After she and I started talking to each other anyway. But even when Mother stuffed me inside of that suit and woke up the name that's hiding underneath this one I couldn't see you at all. Even while I was asleep! My, Mosaic's prayers never blessed her, uh... me? With your voice. You've been there, always, but I have never once been good enough to spot you."

That quiet little smile steals across her lips again. While it sits there she is beautiful, and worthy of her name. But the shadow passes over her face like an eclipse and steals it all back. She watches Artemis with hungry eyes that long to take that punch with almost as much zeal as they yearn for the touch of affection. She sighs.

"Well that's not true, is it? You were the one who woke me up from my dream. But why me? I'm more confused than ever. I can't possibly be your best piece on whatever game board the galaxy's supposed to look like. I'm even shittier as a priestess. I thought for a bit there maybe you were punishing me, but if I'm not a disappointment then, why? What am I here for? Why am I... me?"

Return to Thellamie

"Mmm. I disagree, utterly."

Rise out of seat, drain cup without slurping. Snap gesture, barrier magic around tea set. A summoned item, rather than a magically created one: it is not permissible to see it destroyed or damaged. Threat determined, priorities established - do not allow the diners to come to harm. Do not allow a mess to be created, or failing that at least minimize its impact so that it may be swiftly cleaned later. Do not allow this bitch the satisfaction of successfully baiting me.

Eclair places one hand over her heart and closes her fingers around the forming hilt of a heartblade. She pulls it free without flourish, this slender curving sword with its iridescent gleam coating it from tip to simple cross guard. She flips it over in her hand, spins once on the balls of her feet, and throws it full force at the spot where her barrier is being crushed by the lightning web.

Sparks fly. Her own barrier wobbles and shatters under the force of her blow, and she rushes in during the flash to pull the table away and preserve her teapot and the remaining supplies and dishware. This is not enough to save them, but it does buy just enough time to unsummon the set before the trap can swing all the way closed. Nevertheless a stain on her honor; she has been forced to rescind an offer of tea without offering an apology.

In the meantime, her heartblade ricochets off the impact zone and spirals up into the air where the edge of the blade almost bites into the ceiling. It sails over the net that still has Eclair boxed in and neatly slices the Rootwalker in two. She allows her eyes to briefly flicker over to the strange door all of this madness had appeared from to mark how many more, if any, had come following after to this point. With a sigh, she puts her hand back over her heart and summons the blade a second time without any variation to her technique.

"Logic is the blade that can defeat all forms of deception or sorcery. The mere fact that someone would lie to you at all, or involve you in some centuries-long scheme is itself a valuable piece of information. Take for example yourself. On the surface you appear to be dodging attempts at interrogation but with only a minor amount of inference and questioning I can paint a relatively vivid picture of your situation.

"You are familiar with me by name but not by reputation. You furthermore believe you have cause to treat me as a threat, and you believe this so strongly you are willing to endanger non-combatant diners and waitstaff for the sake of maintaining focus on the clearly more dangerous opponent. However! In your continued insistence on delay tactics where you would be better served by offense (were I such a threat) I can safely conclude you believe two more things: in the first that I am better than you, and in the second that this makes your job something more akin to an advance scout. You intend to twist your defeat into mine by discovering a weakness in my technique or tactics. This proves that you are a woman of intelligence who ultimately agrees with my beliefs."

Eclair buries her sword in the tangle of the lightning knot and twists until the threads of electricity pull wide enough apart that she can hurl a light-infused (and hastily wiped down) fork through that space and impale a second Rootwalker as it stumbles through the portal.

"However. Your stance is imperfect. Your feet are pulled closer together than they ought and your toes are pointed slightly inward. It is not enough to break your technique (which is impeccable), but in connection with the tension with which you hold your spear I feel confident enough to make this assertion: you do not believe your partner is going to arrive. Whether you have accepted this or not, Princess Heron is not coming. Is something delaying her? Or are you off mission? That is the question on my mind. And with that question in mind I am offering you this second opportunity. You refused my offer of tea, but will you at least lower your barrier so that I may defend these people without restriction? As I am without my armor and my skateboard escape is quite impossible for me to begin with, and if your goal is strictly to ascertain my capabilities and proclivities you are certain to learn more working with me in this moment than against me."

Three paces to the left. A quick turn of the head to ensure Mayzie's safety and continued cooperation. A single, very stubborn and equally jarring hiccup that forces a hand to my mouth. Shake head once, twice. Resume grip on weapon.

"Simply getting out of my way is likewise agreeable. But no matter what, know this. Regardless of your actions or intentions I will arrive at the truth. And I will walk the path my vows demand to reach it, without fail."

[Defy Disaster with Radiance: 6 + 5 + 2 = 13. Risking personal mobility and managing with style]

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

"Um," ummed Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits quite ummily, "Uh?"

You can't really blame her for reacting this way. It's a lot to chew on! And basically no time at all to get her precious little mouth around the problem. Even as she leans on her axe trying to figure out what the situation demands of her, there's a loud bang behind her and the Servant still technically occupying the Saber slot in this little sunshard war goes flying backward with her shield already half worn down to splinters. One of Berserker's mini-walls forms under her feet to catch her and then shoots her back into the battle like a slingshot, but if this kind of combo attack's got a surprise factor to it that's only worth an extra minute given how badly Lancer's got them outmatched in her current form.

Like, you can be brave and skillful and a proud, mighty warrior and it just doesn't do a whole lot of good when the enemy's holding their thumb over a big "I'mma beat you, specifically" button. Y'know? So Kat didn't need to stop and watch to know the fighting wasn't any better than a distraction. That distraction needed to be good for something more than just a bit of thinkin' done, or it'd be too late for her conclusion to do anybody much good at all.

"First of all I do appreciate you bein' polite?"

Nice one, Kat! They say that master negotiators always start off on a compliment. Leastways I'm pretty sure they say that. I say it 'cause I heard it from Sis and she read it in a book one time and I don't really understand why they'd bother writing it down if nobody says it? So yeah. Excellent instincts by our fluffy heroine here. Full points!

"But, uh, no. I don't figure it's really in my best interests to try and kill a dragon who doesn't want to be killed," a lot of frantic nodding here from Opalis, "'specially when your super duper power up whatsit's s'posda be pointed at me???? Nuh uh, no thank you ma'am!"

Ok Kat sweetie, we're getting a little bit whiny here. Also maybe don't wave the axe around to make your point? I get that it feels good but you're putting it dangerously close to your little dragon friend's right when you're in the middle of explaining how you won't cut off her head? It sends a very muddy message, is my point.

"It's not like we gave you nothing to work with, y'know? I've got a whole alliance thingy goin' here! It's mine and I set it all up myself and part of the promise of an alliance is that you don't stab any of your members to death unless they turn evil or into a zombie. And the thing is, for this alliance to work I kinda need you to do a lot more fighting and a lot less whining like... now? Right now? Or instead of an alliance you're gonna have no power and no help. That doesn't seem like a very good position to me."

Ooh ok, solid points all around. I dunno about you but I think she's on good pace to bring this one home. But you'd better hurry little biscuit, 'cause the chance your friend Miss Saber bought you is very quickly turning into mist, and while that's very refreshing on a hot summer day it's not what you need and not at all the kinda payment you can afford to take for such a brave warrior's sacrifice.

Kat sighs and drops her axe completely.

"Look. I know it isn't much, but we got you a three-vee-one here. All you've gotta do is be part of it, and then we'll figure out who owes who spankies and why this is all actually Cy's fault."

"EXCUSE?!"

"Shush you! I said we'll figure it out later! Right now Miss Rider needs to go and be a hero, ok? We'll pay for it with... um. Hrm. Ok. I have a... friend... that I can, well ok not call, someone kinda went and smashed my phone. But I can reach out to her, prolly, and even though I'd rather she not know anythin' about any of this, I'll fill her in so she can give you somethin' for your trouble. She makes a mean peanut butter and trout pastry I'll have you know! And she's pretty and she can do anything! Even kick your butt! But instead she'll make you that fishy buttercream that drives the local vixie population wild and if that's not the meaning of sacrifice I dunno what is. I'm not askin' you to go out and win by yourself but please. Just buy us an opportunity. We need you."

Sometimes? Sometimes all you can do is be a good enough girl and open your eyes real wide and pathetic like, and hope that'll be enough. Sometimes that's more than you can even manage. But really, she'd already sold out all her other opportunities just to have this one. So if she can't sweetie her way through this... I think the planet might be doomed. But I can't just -- yeah, no. Fingers crossed here.

Breathless Dead

Her calves are filled with fire. Her thighs ache. Her back is a constellation of little motes of pain, before even accounting for the fresh claw marks up and down the length of it where a pair of overeager morons worked her over in the middle of their... well, it didn't really matter. Those didn't hurt the same way everything else did. Her shoulders slump from the weight her own body. To see is to be forced to squint. To listen is to have a headache.

In a word, Bella is exhausted. No convenient freezing of time for this act of love. Not that anyone expected the same miracle twice, but the chance to sleep without the fear of anything breaking forever would have been nice. Instead every choice she makes costs her three others, and already the feeling of awe and euphoria that came with seeing Mynx step into herself for the first time had faded. Faded into dread, faded into paranoia, faded into this gods-awful fatigue that permeated every muscle and pore on her body.

Never enough. Just never enough. And none of it ever good enough, no matter how hard she tries. Bella yawns, some weird ancient-coded behavior she did not understand the purpose of but could never stop herself from doing in moments like these. She slips the clean white robe over her head as she crosses the room. It's not how she would prefer to meet this moment, but it's soft and devoid of complex smells, and of all the things she had to wear it was by far the fastest to put on.

She stands in front of the basin of water in silence. Her ears keep bending to catch the sounds of moonlight approaching, but she twists them back each time. In the clear surface of the water, her reflection shows her a version of herself she has not seen in years. For the first time since she learned she was dead, there is no adornment on her face. No touch of eyeshadow or painted lips or bold accents or even jewelry that would bring out some little part of herself worth marking. She is surprisingly plain. Not particularly beautiful after all. Or maybe she is simply tired.

She dips her hands into the water, and splashes it across her face. It runs down her neck and drips on the collar of her robe, but she pays it no mind. She doesn't turn to watch when her clawtips splatter water on the floor as she resumes walking, either. Her bare feet pad across the room in absolute silence, and she lets out not so much as a whisper or a sigh until she reaches the wall and turns to rest her back against it.

Bella slumps down to the floor, and tilts her head up to look at the silver light streaming through the door frame.

She smiles; time's up.

"Am I really," she asks, "That much of a disappointment?"

Return to Thellamie

"On the contrary I believe it matters a lot. Your motivations, rather. If your fetishes are too embarrassing to discuss I am not so crass as to force them out of you."

Three steps forward, no weapon drawn. Reach with left hand and grasp at lightning barrier. Flinch away, observe smoke wafting from palm. Blow twice to cool, shake loose until pain ebbs. Retreat three steps, turning back to opponent. Wait, is this out loud again? Turn head, turn head, turn head. Null reaction. Oh, excellent.

"Your earlier strike recalls a previous assassin, erm, ah," she snaps her fingers, willing the name to come forth, "Hm, I seem to have forgotten her name. No matter. When she made her strike it was quite clear she was someone for whom combat was some form of pleasure seeking. This, however..."

Eclair pulls out a talisman and places it on the surface of a dining table. Tactical assessment: this is an information gathering technique. Its sole purpose is the acquisition of battle intel. Therefore:

She mutters a rather ponderous incantation under her breath. In a puff of comical, cartoony smoke, she summons a new requisition from the Manor: a full-service tea set, with steaming kettle, fine china depicting snow falling on a mountaintop on the side of each cup, a truly impressive array of different tea leaves (plus a jar of sugar cubes, a small pitcher of cream, blackcurrant jam, a special flowerless honey native to Vespergift, and a small sand hourglass), and a tray of madeleines and assorted financiers topped with fresh fruit. She carefully assembles a blend of various tea leaves into three strainers and pours the water through those and into three cups. She flips the timer over with her tail as she works, and hovers over the table with only one eye turned toward Injimo.

"What is the point of this? What is the motivation? You are in the role of the aggressor, here. In that capacity I would happily have guided you outside where we might safely tilt until you come to the proper conclusion about our respective skill levels, but what you're doing here instead is a bother to the poor waitstaff, who can no longer complete this dinner service with your barrier technique blocking the main thoroughfare. Kindly stop it at once. If I am not fending you off you can plainly see there is no need to 'keep me busy'."

The sand runs out. As the last grains are falling Eclair is already lifting the strainers free and setting them to one side hanging over a small tray. She adds three cubes of sugar to the first cup, and follows it with cream. The second she stirs both the honey and the jam into, and the third she leaves black. The first cup, she sets in its saucer and places it along with a plate of four confections in front of Mayzie. The second she leaves where it is, and pushes the plain cup and its associated cookies in the direction of Injimo. Then she sits, and takes a quiet sip for herself. The refinement of the moment is broken only slightly when she has to wipe at her eyes again.

"If your goal is simply to divert me into a second assailant's trap, you may accomplish this by answering my questions. To begin with, who put you up to this? Timtam's games and fake wanted posters are enough to draw the attention of an idiot like what's-her-face, the large boulder the size of a small boulder, but you are a member of Princess Heron's retinue. She couldn't have tricked the legendary heroine. Did you get fired? A pay cut? Are you desperate and moonlighting as a freelancer? Is that what's happening here? As ever, the only unacceptable answers are lies."

A slight color rises on her cheeks. Eclair's fingers reach for the space where her notebook pocket should be, on reflex. But as she left it with her uniform and her armor back in her room, her hand closes only on empty air.

"Oh. Um. And, M-Mayzie, this is witness testimony so could you please write her answers in purple in case she turns out to be a culprit?"

These were the rules of the mystery game the two of them played as children. Eclair played it still. Her cheeks burn hotter still, and she dips a madeleine into her tea to distract from that. Her eyes are fixated on her assassin/witness/rude-guest-who-will-not-drink-her-tea.

Return to Thellamie

"No. No, indeed. I am unforgivable."

The intent is to speak in a cool and soothing tone. Apply rational acceptance to Mayzie's words of passion to reinforce the correctness of her anger. Placate her by proving that her words were understood and and accepted, and do not tear further rifts by making any sort of foolish attempt to 'fix' the mistake via some grand apology or whatever other nonsense. Smooth, intelligent, put together. In a word, professional.

This is not working out. Her voice cracks at "am", and in the middle of the next word there are tears welling in her eyes. Childish memories and childish fears made realized. She should never have returned to Vespergift. It threw her out for good reason. She sniffles, professionally.

"I sw, sw, sw, nnf. Difficult. Why?" her cheeks are wet now, she can't make it stop, "On my honor! I never meant to involve you in anything! Only this is not a sex thing! Or if it, erm, whatever, whatever else is going on something dangerous is happening in the world! Timtam has answers! You have answers, Mayzie! Please just allow me to--"

Eclair feels a sudden realization of impending doom. She turns and sees the spear flying straight at her chest, and there is no time to analyze her way around it. Instinct and instinct alone can save her. Luckily she is already holding this deeply excellent stoneware teacup. She slips her palm under the bottom of it and holds it steady with her off hand. She has of course already drained and dried it in the course of dinner, so there are no irredeemably rude drops spilled here. She bends her arms and pivots forward on her hips, moving into one single smooth step.

And captures the tip of the spear inside the teacup. Reinforced by the assistance of the tiniest tap of her heartblade (no more than unfocused light magic at this level of manifestation, and only a flash of it at that), stone is a match for lightning. She has captured the enemy's blade.

"Trap weapon in elbow, pivot hip and drive opponent off balance. Lift into air and-- damn it all am I still doing it? I forswear the act of drinking nine cups of sake in a single sitting forever more."

As she complains, she also follows through on her own narration. Wrenching the weapon forward, she rocks her hip in the opposite direction and snaps a perfect side kick into this interloper's stomach.

"Roll, retract, step into attack. Deprive opponent of spear entirely, follow through with hip check. Drop weapon, grapple right arm. Roll and... throw! This really does complicates matters, would you quite mind not disturbing a place of repose for these fine workers and their guests?"

There are still tears running down her face. Eclair Espoir, the Violet Flash, hiccoughs so violently that it forces her into a giggling fit. What else is a girl to do in this situation? With the suddenness of this new assault (Princess Heron's personal trainer? Does she have one of those?), what else can she conclude but that it is connected to the plot of these past several weeks? If this is not a Timtam masterstroke it is at least a piece that she placed on the board at some point. Therefore more effort is required to retain this information until it can be--

"May, uh, Mayzie. Would it be terribly rude to ask you to... write down what is happening? If you please? If you do I will... eschew our interview. Yes, I will, nnnnfffff. Tr, trade that information for this. You will never... n-n-need to speak to me. Again. Nor see. My face."

Eclair sets the teacup down on the table, and pushes it away from her just slightly to clear space in the room. And that's really all the stoicism she can handle. The Detective Princess of the Maid-Knights loses her war with open sobbing, with alcohol, and with the regret of a dozen things left unsaid and un-redeemed, as she kicks up Injimo's (not that she knows who that is) spear into her hands and twirls it for a moment to test its weight and power.

Spin, snap. Spin, spin, snap. She thrusts once, shrugs, and turns it sideways to toss it back to her attacker while she rubs her eyes on her sleeve with her other hand. There. Now she is focused. Already she can see more clearly, and with a project to distract her there's no more need for these shameful and awkward displays.

"I will confess I am now no longer certain what is happening here. Is this also a kink thing? Are you into this? Because I do not typically allow such bold advances before at least a second date."

She tucks her hand into her pocket, and something disappears inside of it.

[Fight: 6 + 6 + 2 = 14. per her abilities as the Investigator, Eclair will take a String, provoke Injimo into revealing a personal detail, and via misdirection and clever hands pilfer some form of evidence that will further the investigation of one of her active mysteries.]

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

"Enough!"

It is rarely necessary (or wise) for anybody to punch a dragon. But, when it is? It helps a lot to have a Servant do it. Especially one like Avenger, who's pretty close to the same size as Opalis. So when she drops a big ol' haymaker right across that pretty, serpentine jaw it connects with enough force to make Kat wince just watching it. Terminal fluffybiscuit that she is, Katherine opens up her mouth to protest but shuts it again immediately when she sees the look on Ivar's face.

"Do you see that? We are out of time! It should have been done already! Worthless creature, how many opportunities to save yourself must I provide before you actually fucking take one? What is it you do not understand? We are outmatched. Rome will claim your precious timeshare whether you offer it or no. There is one and only one way out of this. And if you continue to do nothing even now, we will all perish. Every last one of us."

Avenger brandishes her large and horrible knife, and thrusts it into the ground in front of Opalis.

"You are a Master, are you not?" she snarls, "Then summon. Your thrice-damned. Servant."

Pulling a thick wooden shield seemingly out of nowhere, the Avenger class Servant turns her shadowy head toward Kat, who stands up on her tippy toes to feel a little less small in comparison. For at least a second or two, anyway. The really lousy feeling part's that it doesn't even help her any.

"Fluffy... no. Katherine. In the end, this will probably count as two of my arrows. See that they are not wasted."

And with nothing but the strength of her own giant body, and I guess her magical gleaming armor that doesn't work against cursed death spears probably, and a simple wooden shield and Kat's little sword to her name, Ivar the Boneless leaps over Berserker's crumbling battlements to do single combat with Julia the Philosopher.

Honestly? That seems a little crazy? Like, two arrows? Really, girl? I dunno, that feels like you're gonna get the whole darn bow smashed to bits. She's cut off from her own legend, here! All the bits that make her a famous warrior, and not just a vanity project Valkyrie whatsits cooked up by her much more famous King Father. There's a minute, maybe two, that she can hold out against the kinda firepower she's running into before her spirit core just shatters from the pressure of it all. Probably double that if she can manage to get Lancer yappin' again instead of stabbin', but who's counting?

Oh right, me. Well anyway.

So Kat, she looks at Opalis for a second. And then she very carefully turns and looks not remotely as far as she'd like to watch where the battle's taking place. Which really, a glance is enough so she up and turns back to the dragon. Ohhhhhhhh. An axe!. She very carefully sets her little weapon on the ground so she can lean on the haft a bit.

"Honestly?" says Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits, "I'd love to yell at her for bein' mean. But she's kinda got a point? So either you pick your favorite vein, or I'm gonna have to guess. Sorry about all this!"

Breathless Dead

If she could go back in time and kill the person who came up with 'Twenty Poisons', she would. But then, that'd be rather counterproductive. Bella pressed her thumbs into Mynx's jaw, and frowned where nobody could see her do it. This was the opportunity she was looking for. But twenty questions was a lot to have to figure out. And it was also no space at all to pull a person out of the hole they've been hiding in.

"That's a brave answer," she purrs with a confidence she does not feel, "I almost want to reward that."

Bella wraps her arms over Mynx's shoulders and slumps against her, so that the chains holding them up strain under their combined weight and dig into Mynx's wrists. She buries her face into her oldest friend's neck and sniffs, loudly. To prevent a sigh or any other type of concerned, weak noise from leaving her and shattering the illusion of her control, but the scent she draws in gives her renewed strength. The smell of roses has grown faint, and in its place has risen the acrid sting of artificial cleaner that represents her 'true' perfume. She blinks, unseen. Takes a second whiff. No. It's... it's similar, but it's not that same scent. Not only from the telltale, sickly sweetness of her arousal that's washing over her form, but the old fake marker scent itself is fundamentally altered somehow. It has a peppery heat to it, where before it was defined by its astringency. Still sharp, still bitter and chemical and familiar, but a new take on it. Still Mynx, but... different. New.

"Let's see how you handle this. If you want a treat after everything you've put me through, you'll need to earn it. Number two: now that we've come so close again, are you going to keep insisting you're meant to be alone?"

"I..." Mynx shudders under the touch of Bella's palms against her hip bones.

"Yes or no, Princess."

"N-no~" she manages, to the immediate reward of fingers spreading across her skin and pressing into her body with careful little pinpricks.

"Good, that's very good to hear. And still eighteen left! That's a bit surprising; I thought we'd be here longer before we got this far. Hmm, maybe that means you're holding out on me. Ok then smart girl, how's this? When did you figure out you're more than just a bodyguard to us?"

Mynx does not answer. Her breath hitches, and she rocks forward onto her toes and back again, squirming and writhing and dragging Bella's claws all over her stomach. Bella flips her hands over, to a lot of whining and an even more insistent press of bodies up against her.

"You dismissed it because Redana always acts like everybody's her friend, and not her servant. That makes you just as stupid as me. But you can't have thought I was like that too. You're thinking about it, I see it in your breathing. All those times I wouldn't let you pose as me or put yourself in danger for my sake. And you're weighing that against everything else you know about me. And I can smell you're stuck on it. You're coming down too soon, you idiot. You're never going to get the climax you're looking for if you slip away now, trust me. Would you like me to explain it, so you don't hurt your pretty little head?"

She lifts her arms and takes a step back. Mynx slumps into the emptiness, and cannot keep her hips from squirming. But though her lips are shimmering with drool and her knees are almost knocking together from how badly they're shaking, her back is straight when she answers. She lifts her head high, and says the word with as much certainty as she can muster.

"Yes. Please, please, yes. Tell me, please..."

And in answer, Bella bites her ear, and laps at the mark she leaves behind.

"Precious. Irreplaceable. You're not Redana, but you are her equal. You are the only other person who watched the butterflies with me in that garden. And you are the one I did not have to chase. You were my shoulder to lean on when I could not stand. You were my confidant. And if an Empire stood between us, I would burn it to the ground to cross the distance. Do you understand?"

"I... I!"

Bella's hands caress the contour of Mynx's rib cage. That new scent is growing stronger. She breathes deep, and allows her fingers to wander where they will.

"I do not give a single fuck what your capabilities are or what you were made to be. I do not want a biomancer's opinion on what makes you valuable. If I were offered a thousand new Toxicrenes with all of their latest improvements, I would cave in the face of the person who suggested it. I want you. I want the woman who has lived her life alongside me, the only one in the entire galaxy who I could trust to take my place if I died. I'm going to ask you again: Do. You. Understand?"

"Bella," she moans and cranes her neck to open it for more kisses and more fang marks, "Yes, yes, yes!"

The deeper she goes, the more Bella feels her insides tighten. It's wrong. All of this is wrong. Not that the words are inaccurate, but that she has no right to say them. A hundred very childish impulses beg for her to spend a question asking forgiveness, but what the fuck would that accomplish? The only thing that could feel worse than being told that she wasn't would be being told that she was. As if she had any right to know. As if peace of mind was something she could just ask for and receive.

Besides, any sense of closure in either direction would break the spell that Mynx was under, and it still had so much work to do. Selfish shit like that didn't matter anyway. This journey was going to be the death of Bella. It was nonsensical to her that it might be otherwise. But she could make sure that Mynx and Ember both reached the destination safely, and if she got them there in any fit state to make wishes for themselves, that was all the redemption she deserved to ask for. For as many gods as hated her, that was already too much to ask. And in light of it, this clawing guilt didn't mean shit.

A new Mynx, but still Mynx. Right now what she needed was to keep it the fuck together long enough to see. After that there were only 12 other disasters to attend to. Easy. She steps in again, and wraps her tail around her sister's leg.

"You've been brave enough to die for everyone for a very long time. Are you brave enough now to live for us, instead?"

"Yessssssss~"

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know. Gods, how does a person so full of poisons manage to be this soft? I thought it when I met you, but you really are some kind of fucking miracle."

"I-it just," stammers Mynx as the heat rises up through her body, "Makes me happy..."

"Oho? And how would it make you feel if I told you that made you a treasure worth possessing all by itself?"

"Ah, ah! GgOoD~"

"Well isn't that sweet. This changes nothing, so you know. At most I am willing to split our time sixty-forty, punishment to reward. You might be a treasure, and my friend, and my precious sister, but you are also a huge fucking pain in my ass. If you get any treats from me at all, you're going to earn every last one of them with your tongue. Your tongue if you're lucky, heh."

At last, Bella lets her sister go. She doesn't undo the chains, but she steps away entirely and does the hardest and most dangerous part of this job by sauntering with casual, confident power to the other side of this exchange where Mynx can read her face freely. What she shows is not a smile, not her teeth, and none of the swaggering or sexy confidence she's been projecting throughout the game to this point. Intensity and earnestness push her features into a scowl of pure concentration. The Auspex burns red in its socket as she watches. And waits.

She puts a hand on Ember's shoulder, and pushes her forward.

"But since Dany here is joining us in bed tonight, I'm going to let her join in here too. I am giving her nine poisons to extract however she sees fit. When she is done, and only when she is done, you are going to answer this one with your body. Do not speak a single word to me about it. But let me know as only you can: when I look at you, who is it you want me to see? Show me the body that truly belongs to you."

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

"Lady I don't remember you now? What're you tryin' to get me to forget? 'Cause whatever it is you don't gotta fight a war over it! Here, watch this!"

It was dangerous and scary to be like this again, especially in the face of someone Katherine didn't know and couldn't trust because of it, but the thing about her little warrior's heart is that once the spark did catch it got real stinkin' hard to put it back out again. If she got blazin', that by goshies that's just what she'd do.

She snaps her fingers and points to her first witness.

"Ok who can tell me what this crazy old lady's deal is? Ready go!"

"...The Lancer class is famous for its bad luck. Most anyone could qualify." lied Actia, through the magic of only speaking irrelevant truths.

"My wrists! They're pinching my wrists get them off get them off get them off!!!"

"Uh, Cy?"

"They're cold and clammy and ugh! They're rougher than the hands of a hundred wolfgirl bandits! I did nothing to deserve this! Nothing!!"

"...Cy?"

But Cyanis had resorted to chewing on the chains that bound her cutie little wrists. Which, as it turned out, was a horrible mistake.

"Ptuigh! Ackfth! Blegh! And they taste just awful!!!"

Kat did the only thing she could, which was to take that answer as a common cutie w and move her finger over to Opalis.

"Oh no! Is this because of the cold? I'm so sorry, I swear I'm normally never like this! I just got so riled up by that other lady's speech, and I thought -- oh hold on, I've got a voucher for a very lovely masseuse in here if I can just... find it..."

Ok well that probably counted too! Everybody kept not making the point as, uh, forcefully as Katherine would like but in their own roundabout ways they were definitely reinforcing the main concept. Which was that nobody knew or cared about Juliwhatsit and her failed pizza restaurant.

Not that Kat had no sympathy for the ghost lady, y'know? She's actually pretty familiar with having dark and terrible secrets she'd rather be erased, though she'd never try to, like, alter history to do it. Whatever Jewelbia's big whoopsie was it couldn't stack up to the time Katherine tried to surprise her friends with tea but forgot to add any tea before she served it so there was nothing for anyone to drink except very lovely cups of scalding hot water. And when she noticed and panicked she tried to take 'em back, see? But she was rushing and she would up spilling it everywhere, including her pretty new dress! And I mean luckily most of it got on the skirt which was very swishy so she didn't burn herself, but it flustered her somethin' fierce and she was halfway to pulling it off before she remembered she was in front of company and, like, see? You could be... gosh I don't know, poked with a spear in the middle of a campaign to restore the empire you just wound up in charge of right after deciding you'd move faster without your armor and then have a famous quote attributed to you that gave props to your worst enemies that you definitely didn't say, just to toss something out there I guess, and I think that'd be maybe half as forget-worthy as our poor girl's nothin' tea incident.

Oh, if it makes you feel any better, she's since learned how to make the most wonder matcha latte you've ever tried. Consider askin' her for one sometime! Promise you won't regret it. Anyway we could move on to Diaofei's testimony but, uh,

"Om, Om,Om Ami Dewa Hrih Om..."

Yeah.

All of this got just, like, no reply by the way. Which definitely meant it was working super duper well? Or that Kat'd managed to doom the entire world by choosing the Way of Rhetoric over the Way of the Sword Axe. Which she still hated, thank you Ivar! The weight of it was much too clunky and it wasn't pretty like a sword and you could only swing it like a big dumb brute (as far as she could figure) and the haft chafed her delicate hands which was taking a lot a lot a lot a lot of foxy willpower not to focus on but it didn't matter anyway because the evil would be defeated in just one more strike!

Kat turned her finger toward Angelesia, who'd come to enough to react to being pointed at. But before she could ask anything, Angelesia lifted off of the ground with a yelp, a squawk, and a yeep! Ivar had appeared again, with Kat's sword now tucked delicately against her very prominent hip, but a wicked curved dagger held in her hand opposite the girl she now held in the other.

"Much as I appreciate what you're trying to do," Avenger sighs, "We have a better use for this one."

And then she -- what? No she didn't knife the girl! What is the matter with you?! Obviously she threw her at Lancer!! Duh!

Screaming her war cry of "help me help me catch me catch me please aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" the girl-missile flew contrary to her name (the missile part. 'Cause she hit. I dunno what'd it even mean to fly like an Angelesia) straight into Lancer's face. And in that moment everything broke into chaos. Ivar scooped up Kat and tossed her at Berserker, who whatever her other faults might have been was very good at taking a hint and so grabbed her Master and one end of the Great Sillyhead Chain and started running. Avenger, meanwhile, hefted the dragon side of the group onto her back and ran apace. Between them this had the effect of dangling a very indignant and screaming Cyanis in the air across a taut chain on either end of her wrists, while Diaofei half ran and was half-dragged along behind everyone else. Which was an arrangement that suited Ivar perfectly well.

"What the fluff?!" asked Kat, "What is? Why is?? Where are we going now? Did I screw up the plan? Wait is that girl ok?! 'Cause if you hurt her I!"

"Quiet, little fox. Angelesia is fine. Whatever her many flaws, Lancer will not harm her Master. It risks too much. As for us, we are not running."

"Sure looks like we are! You are! Berserker is! You know what I mean!" shrieked Kat, kicking her little legs for emphasis.

"We have nowhere we can run to. Even with my skills anywhere we could hide would be sniffed out before we could justify the time it took us to reach it. What we are doing is buying time."

"To do...what?"

"To stab this dragon." said Ivar, very matter of fact.

"WHAT?!"
"HUH???"
"MY ARMS ARE FALLING OOOOFFFFFFF!"
"E-E-E-EXCUSE ME?"
"CREATURE OF EVIL, WHAT DO YOU INTEND?"
"NO NO NO NO, WHAT?!?"

"Not to death," Avenger rolled her eyes, "We just need her blood."

"M-my blood?" asked Opalis, politely not trying to wriggle free from the warrior woman still technically carrying her to safety.

"Yes. Enough of it to make a summoning glyph. It may not accomplish what I hope, but I still wish for you to be your own sacrifice."