Phoe

Return to Thellamie

Two fingers, reach back and touch shoulder. Feel residual warmth. Allow for quiet smile, slightest tick of nostalgia. Thank you, Mayzie. Memories of you shall remain the only treasures worth holding onto in this accursed town.

Reach into apron pocket. Retrieve traditional notebook. For safety's sake, include color notes with observations taken at evidence site.

RED: Timtam was here.
BLUE: Working at Chrysanthemum? For Chrysanthemum? Possible implication of involvement up to highest levels of management. Best explanation for the procurement of my VIP ticket. Better than

Eclair looks up from her notes for a moment and frowns. She shakes her head.

Khaganate treasure. Although, thick Khaganate presence in establishment does suggest possible money ties. Raiders and houses of pleasure make for strong partnerships.

Mask missing from Lunarian-styled play held inside establishment. Style of surrounding costuming is a plausible match for Target's identity obfuscation tactics. Room cleanliness noted as exemplary, organization levels are beyond reproach. Odds of one mask among dozens going missing without active interference unlikely beyond the point of reason. I will say it again.
RED: Timtam was ABSOLUTELY here.
RED: Timtam has a connection to this place.
MYSTERY SCORE UPDATED: C+ → B-

Is it possible even that she was lying when she swore her oaths of service and sisterhood?
But then what reason would she have to invite me to come here herself?

Eclair blows on the ink to help it dry and flips her little notebook shut. She carefully caps the pen and tucks the pair of them safely away again before reaching for the twin heartblades poking up out of the ground in a crossing pattern in front of her.

There is... a song in the air. A Siren's temptations and the final musical act of a play, just on the other side of that curtain on the empty stage. All she need do is consign this place, which she now knows to be complicit in some manner of crime against the world, to its fate and she can cavort here with nobody to see her and have answers. Not speculation, she knows. Answers.

What point in decrying the lack of investigative opportunities when if the very next moment a chance to take the truth and kiss it comes along she simply walks away? What point in duty? When has she ever not been obligated to at least bend the rules of the Order for the sake of a case on its behalf? She has even already done so once tonight when she misused her requisition funding to help Mayzie. Is this not the ultimate expression of that fact? Now that she has her armor on, she!

Two fingers, reach back and touch shoulder. Three fingers. Four. Surface is cool to touch. Clutch tightly, as though to feel the hand that caressed this space not twenty breaths ago.

"Logic," she mutters, "Is the blade that can defeat all forms of deception or sorcery. I will find the answers hidden behind your mask when I pry it off of you myself, Timtam. Count on it."

Order of operations. Mustn't forget, order of operations. The cleanup comes first. The investigation follows after. After all, she need only wait in this city for two more days, and the truth would come home to see how she was doing.

Heartblade one, taken in left hand. Heartblade two, taken in right hand. Flourish, hold blades apart. Stance, tips pointed apart at 180 degrees of separation, blades held parallel to ground. Bring hilts together, join into twin-sword. Hold resulting polearm in left hand. Draw longsword from scabbard with right.

And now Eclair, walk. There are messes to be cleaned. There are people to be helped. There is a single faint glimmer of respect and trust that must be protected at every cost to yourself.

Farewell, foolish opportunity. Tempt me not.

Breathless Dead

"You do understand the Twelve Labors were a punishment, right? Or is that the point you're-- mmmn. No, never mind. I get it, ok? I get it. Can't wait to see the bullshit you've got lined up for me on the other side of this."

Bella rolls her eyes. A beat of two, and with heroic effort she surges from her spot on the wall onto one knee. And from there, to her feet. Her arms stretch toward the stars and her back arches in a long and elegant curve behind her. As her fingers bend back and her heels leave the ground so she can stand on her toes, Bella is a bow. Her tail lifts up toward her hair and together these become the string. It would take no effort whatsoever for Artemis to reach out and pluck her to send some terrible doom in the shape of an arrow at wherever whatever or whoever she pleased. All that it would cost is the woman she'd been speaking to, which is really no cost at all.

But the Goddess simply watches. As much as not she doesn't even really do that much. The woman, once a maid, once a Praetor, once an assassin, once a monster, once a demigod, once a queen, now nothing, settles back down into a standing position and becomes Bella again. She rolls her shoulders to feel their power. She tenses her claws against the air. And she scoffs. Then she sighs, softer this time.

"...But if I make it to the end that's it, right? Sure. That's a deal, Goddess. Do what you need with me till my sins are all washed clean. Just stop calling this shit impossible around me. I can't tell if you noticed or not, but I'm not Heracles. I don't have the luxury of using words like that. All this is for me is the continuation of the Olympics. I just. Haven't won yet. That's all."

Her feet are stones at the ends of her exhausted legs. They lift and fall without feeling as she walks away from the miracle projects of an Empire she cannot bow to and into the place where the air smells like the garden meeting the sea. Salt and rust and rotting plants, dried flowers and bones encrusted through with gleaming diamonds. A place of broken glass and shattered murals. Even the crabs give this place a wide berth.

Of course they do. No living creature wants to intrude upon the temple of Death.

Bella twists her neck as she moves. Her shoulders seem to weigh as much as her entire body, but she simply strikes them with a fist until pain takes over fatigue as the prevailing sensation. She lifts them with pride, and her arms swing with controlled ease by her sides at every step. She does not pick her way gingerly through the path in front of her, but rather crushes it all underfoot in a straight line. Fallen warriors, each and every one of them her superior, shatter beneath her heel. The crunch melds with the clacking of her toe claws against the metal of the floor and together mark her entry.

Cloaked in shadow with eyes gleaming, a tall, lithe silhouette crosses the threshold into the place where Sagakhan had attempted to explain the nature of the universe, once upon a time. Then as now, she wears a pure and simple white robe. Then as now, her body screams inside of her with the the memory of a hundred horrible abuses. Then as now, there's nowhere to go but forward. To the place where XIII was born.

But this time her eyes see clearly. She sees green and gold and blue and flecks of melting orange where before there was only swirling black and grey. This time her head is held high and the air is filled not with chanting and her own desperate screaming, but with the crunch crunch clack of her own steady footfalls and the distant sound of lapping water and the rippling plips of condensation striking a pool. This time she does not need anyone to tell her that she has claws.

She pulls the place and the moment into her lungs, and transforms it into the voice of bright and musical authority.

"Vesper."

Return to Thellamie

"...Mayzie."

Eclair stumbles when she steps forward into the space that used to be occupied by a lightning web. Without an opponent to focus on the alcohol reasserts its grip on her. It's a question of focus: control over her body, or her thoughts. Each took conscious effort and there was only enough focus in her right now for one. Her notes had never been more important than they are right now.

She grabs the second heartblade (the first that she had thrown) in her left hand, and lets the pair of them wrist against her wrists. Not even halfway to being serious; that at least was some manner of relief.

Frustration. Frustration. Frustration. An investigation where nobody and no circumstance would allow her to conduct a calm and plain interview. Minimal opportunity at best to engage in forensic analysis and evidence gathering. Even this simple trap, which only required her to spend three nights inside a house of leisure before she could collect her data, had chosen to simply shudder and collapse under the weight of unlikely legends all stuffed inside a comically dense and tiny box.

Irritating. She clicks her tongue against her teeth.

"In my room you will find a messenger bag next to my armor. Please place my tablet inside of it, next to my my pen and paper notes. You should be able to see a small black pouch with a golden butterfly clasp. Take it and keep it."

As apologies go, it's the best that she can offer. The majority of her requisition budget is inside; enough for one person to travel across Thellamie and, if they were smart and careful about it, to settle. It was meant to be used to source new teas for the Manor, but surely the Headmistress would not object to paying fair wages to a consulting detective on such an important mission.

She shrugs, and wobbles her way toward the crowd and the staff exit, which remains the cleanest path toward any other part of the Chrysanthemum.

"If you would also be so kind as to place your hand on the back of the right shoulder of my armor while you are in there, I would... appreciate that. That will disarm the trap I have placed and summon it to my person. The right shoulder only, thank you. You have performed admirably, in spite. In spite of my..."

A sigh.

"Being me. As per our arrangement, this marks the final time you are required to look upon my face. Thank you. I am sorry to have failed you so utterly and so repeatedly. Goodbye."

It should be a short walk down to the floor where the noises are emanating from. Find the mess and clean it, by whatever means necessary. Ignore the distractions. Ignore the nonsense. The investigation could continue as it ought to once the bath house was properly maintained again.

Sunshards: Chaos Sequence

Saber kept her head tilted up to watch the ramparts the whole time she was crossing through the gate. Such a curious expression on her face, too. Was she looking for the answer to a riddle? Maybe she wanted to sniff out a weakness in case she smelled opportunity later. Or maybe she was just impressed. I mean, I dunno. That's a woman who hasn't been allowed a consistent motivation since she got here. Not so different from a Berserker, if you're askin' me.

Whatever it is she's thinking, the second she's inside and out of sight of the battlefield all her attention switches to the ground. She stoops down to pick up a rock and roll it around between her fingers. Bends down even further to sniff at a patch of grass the way an animal might. Then she rises again with a shrug and just sorta, like, stomps around in random places?

"Foxgirl scheme, foxgirl scheme, foxgirl scheeeeme~"

Katherine Isabella Fluffybiscuits, meanwhile, is as happy as anybody's ever seen her. Her little feet barely kiss the ground before she goes skipping back off into the air again, happily hippily hoppily zooming around first Berserker and then Saber in a big ol' little figure eight. Her hands can't stop themselves from clapping. Her giddy laughter washes over this drab and evil castle like a drizzle of warm, clean rain. And just like that happy little storm, I'd really like to imagine it leaves the place that much cleaner and brighter for having been there.

The thing is, up until this moment she'd never been part of a scheme or heist that wasn't just Cyanis' idea, or some tiny unknowable part of that weird chuckling mountain's master plan. I'm yet to figure out what's goin' on with that by the way, it's weirdly sneaky for a mountain and Kat shuts up tighter than an oyster whenever I ask her about where she's been playing. But I'll figure it out. I'm more on the case than either of them realize. Hehehe. Right but anyway, in all the time Kat's been a cutie two-tail she's never had the chance to build up a portfolio that Cy couldn't take credit for. Even if the both of them had been swept up in Actia's plans, it was Cyanis who volunteered them both for the team up. And even then mostly just so that Kat could be around to help carry stuff, which was her usual role in these plans. The prospect of getting out there? Doing it for herself (with help, obviously)? Maybe even getting to feel like she pulled one over on someone? That had both her tails fluffing to maximum floof.

"Foxgirl scheme, foxgirl scheme, eeheehee~!"

"Katherine."

"Eep! I mean sorry! I mean eep? I mean, um, yes sir ma'am, reporting for duty! What're we stealing?"

"If we do this correctly, Lancer herself."

"Oh wow! You really think... wait," Kat puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head into Thinking Position, "No hold up that doesn't work. I know we're both, I mean, that you're new to Foxgirl Schemes but to start with stealin' a whole person's called kidnapping, and you can't steal them from themselves! This had better not be one of those metaphor whatsits, 'cause I just did a lot of skipping, sweetheart!"

But Saber wasn't listening it all. While Kat hopped and squeaked, Saber had picked up another rock out of the courtyard and used it to draw runes in the dirt. Now, I can't read these things any better than you can but seeing how there's seven of 'em I think we can take a pretty good guess where she's going with this.

"To begin with, you must understand that the gods are dead."

"Yeah? I've heard you say that like, uh," Kat quickly counts on her fingers to help with the math, "A bunch of times, but what does that mean?"

"It means what I have said. The world that I once lived in was fated to end."

"Oh right, 'cause of the ten suns!" chirps Kat, extremely helpfully.

"It," Saber blinks long enough to question her life choices, "Was fated to end in fire, yes."

"But then a Princess looked at the sky and said ten was too many, so she shot nine of 'em down! With her bow!!"

"If you say so," says Saber in a very Rolling With the Punches kind of voice, "But destiny called to the many gods of the realms, too. For love of our world they fought and perished, and from the ashes of that battlefield those who sheltered under the World Tree--"

"It was actually a Space Elevator I think?"

"...In. Any case, the Gods are dead. And if any new ones have been born to your world, Lancer does not and would not worship them. So it could not have been a god who granted her prayer."

Very eager to move on from what should have been a simple little primer (mind you, everything Kat said was just plain right?), Saber crosses out one of her runes, pauses with a sudden frown of realizing something kinda weird, and then moves on to underline a few more.

"Hrmn. Well, if the power she was granted did not from a god it must have come from another participant in this war. Archer is dead, and his Master is--"

"I know Cy's got big 'up to something' energy all the time but I dunno if she could ever--"

"...Archer's Master lacks the resolve to follow through on a plan that would see her sealed inside of a magical prison. So no, I am not concerned about her."

"Uh, right, yeah, that's what I was gettin' at too. Totally. Yeppers."

"Right. Again I must laud your wisdom, Katherine. Then I must hardly point out that most of the rest of us have been pulled into a tenuous alliance. Rider has the acuity but lacked the agency to have put this in motion, and neither do I wish to speak ill of a warrior who took the field for my sake. Her Master is completely incapable."

"Of?"

"Anything."

Kat winces, but what's she gonna say in response to that. Is there anything she can say in response to that? It's not like she's got an argument to the contrary; Opalis seems like a good girl and all but her devotion to Comfy and Safe borders on a level of mastery I've only ever seen in demons, and that one winter where Mei Mei got a working kotatsu. Like, especially for a dragon I'm just... she should be studied, right? For future generations?

"You, I trust. And your Servant is--"

"Don't say she's dumb! She's not!" Kat stamps her foot on the ground and glares her best Battle Glare. Almost as fearsome as that time she was a whole army, "She's every bit as clever as you are! And she's a good person too so don't go usin' that against her either! You two've got so much in common I just know you're supposed to be friends! And I'm a real good judge of things like this ok? I know besties when I see 'em!"

Now it's Saber's turn to have nothing she can say. Our little Katherine may not be the master of rhetoric she'd like to be in moments like this, but the thing about having terminal Good Girl Syndrome is that it gives you a shining maiden's heart that's just unbeatable when it's thumpin' under the light of friendship and hugs and other sweet soft things like that. And this is also the girl that friendship stabbed an Avenger so hard she pulled herself out of her obsession. What're you gonna do?

So Saber does nothing. She turns her head and points at one rune in particular.

"Caster. Or Caster's Master, whom I know nothing about. But Caster found me within an hour of my summoning and attempted to bait me into killing my Master, so that wretch is playing some part in this. Our 'play', as you would refer to it, is to find his workshop and smash it to pieces. If we sever whatever spell it is he's connected to her to it should make her manageable again."

"And that'll turn her back into a good girl?"

"Frankly," sighs Saber, "I suspect she's going to try to cringe herself to death. I'm counting on Angelesia to pick up the pieces. I swear, I have never had to work with such soft hearts before. How the lot of you can manage to be so powerful despite that baffles me. I suppose a new world requires new clarity of purpose. No matter. Berserker?"

And this right here is what we call a 'no go'. Whatever Saber's followup was gonna be, all it would ever, could ever get met by is a dark glower from a small but iron wrapped knight too stuffed full of pride, ambition, and that old school bloody warrior's zeal to let go of any of 'em. Unless she found someone or somethin' special enough to help her change her own story. But bein' honest, just from where I'm standing I wouldn't be able to tell if you if Berserker's story'd make anybody happier or sadder than what she's got to tell right now. Time'll reveal all though, right? I guess in the end if I've gotta I could always

Ahem. Oh look Saber's talking again!

"Katherine, then. What we need is a path beneath the ground. That's where we're going to find what we're looking for. And it will be the path our enemy is least likely to expect from us after our brazen retreat."

"Can I ask how come you're so sure we're gonna find the treasure underground? I don't like digging."

"Because, as an Avenger one of my class skills is mana replenishment. And the strongest concentrations of magical energy I have been able to pull from have come from underneath the earth. If I were a mage plotting schemes, that is where I would almost by necessity need to work. Can you compel Berserker to open a cellar somewhere? I suppose in the worst case we could turn to a Command Seal..."

Katherine blushes all of a sudden and hugs her tails against her chest, being very super careful to hide her hands in all that floof. Her hands which, I will note for the record, do not have any red markings on them at all. Makes you wonder where they went, huh?

Breathless Dead

Ice. Every vessel in her body restricts with the sheer intensity of the cold clawing at her insides just now. The fractal patterns of frigid crystals grow in the pit of her stomach and fan outwards from there. Her spine is so tense so suddenly that she fears it is going to shatter. Her ears stretch painfully toward the wall above her head. Her breath is hissing through her teeth.

Bella's eyes leave the goddess to behold her claws once more. These misshapen and brittle tools that she'd put such pride in her entire life, attached to the long and twisted fingers of a monster who had slept so long that the universe passed it by. Her arms, with their hideous white fur and all of the acid burn marks that hadn't been bothered to get cleaned away when she'd been processed to show off more of the cold, pale skin underneath and appear more "human". All her vaunted muscles were straining and sore, but even more than that they were soft and shattered. Mosaic had moved a mountain and the attempt broke her.

Every awkward place her body pinches where it shouldn't, or stretches where it can't afford to feel on display. Her strength is built into softness, and in her awkward halfassed lifestyle she's let both slip from between her horrible fingertips. That plain and ordinary face she'd seen in the water is all that she could be. This unshaped mass of lumpy clay is all her body could ever be. Disgusting. At once too fat and too thin, too human and too animal, too burned out and too lazy. All in all completely useless. A relic with nothing to be proud of. She should have stayed where she belonged.

What had she been expecting, exactly? A pat on the head? To be told that she was special, that she had some grand fate that the Gods themselves had ordained for her? Pathetic and stupid, Bella.

Her fingers curl into fists, and it takes every fraction of power in her body to uncurl them again before she can stab her claws into her palms. Her lips curl into a sneer, and then a snarl, all teeth with nothing but her own mouth to bite back down on. She wills her lips closed again, and breathes out through her nose. She'd spent too much time among the wolves. It was so easy to hear their howling and get swept up in the power of that swell. But here on the floor, burning and freezing to death at the same time it's suddenly so much easier to see why the moon never quivered at the sound.

Her arms are trembling as she sets them in her lap. Her eyes shine like lamp lights in the dark. She forces her attention back to the goddess, who has not looked away even once this entire time.

"...Fuck you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "Don't you dare underestimate me."

The words are deliciously warm. She can feel her throat thawing and the crackle of her very dry lips as they finally taste moisture again. Her heart pounds with frantic delight inside her chest, equal parts thrilling at the terror of the hunt and the elation of the chains that fall at her feet.

"She's stronger than me? Faster than me? Works harder than I do? I don't care: she's between me and Vesper. I am going to save my sister, Lady Artemis. I'm gonna to pull her head out of her ass and I'm gonna do it without resetting her, and I'm sick to fucking death of being told all the ways that's impossible."

Even now, Bella does not bother standing. Her position has not changed and there is no show of force she can muster that will change Artemis' view of her, especially when a show of force is just what she'd said she doesn't want or need. She does not even raise her voice above the shaky whisper she'd begun with or make any secret of her terror just now. All of that is for shit. What matters is that she has a voice at all.

"Would you like it in writing? Because I'll give it to you. If I'm a failure then so be it. If I'm a disappointment even though you played me anyway, that's nothing new to me. Nero, Redana, Jil, Dolce, even Dyssia. I've let everyone down who's ever depended on me. But here I am. I'm not asking you to do the work for me, ok? But since I know you can hear me for once, this is my prayer. Light my path, Artemis. Show me where to put my feet so I can get where I set out to go. If show me even that much care, then I promise you here and now that I'll be whatever it is you need. No matter what it costs me. I will not allow a Diodekoi, not an Empire, not even a God to stop me. After that. After that, if you're satisfied, then I'd like..."

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?"